These are real quotes from real men that I know and work with on a daily basis.
“I think England was where I saw yoga pants for the first time.”
“Mmmm… Yoga pants!”
“Yep! Best invention ever.”
“I hate all these hippie faggots out here. (There were a lot of hippies at the state park we were climbing in.) I know they can hear me, but I don’t give a f—, cause I’ll still stare at their hippie women all day long.”
“Check it out. Six-o-clock, 500 meters, pink shirt across the canyon. Yep. I look over that way and all I see are pink boobs.”
“Did you see that one at the camp site? So much potential, if only she would wash and do something about the dreadlocks.”
(Me referring to a couple of highschool or college kids climbing next to us.) “Man, those kids could climb!”
“Yeah. They were pretty good. Of course both of them together weigh about as much as you do by yourself, but the chick had a nice ass. I know because I was staring at it the whole time she was going up the rock.”
Different group of guys, this time at a fairly nice Italian restaurant:
“Dude, did you see her breasts?! She walked right in front of our table, dawg, that’s like dragging a piece of meat in front of a den of lions.”
“That one over there! You don’t wear yellow pants unless you want to get spanked, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Oh, she looked over here! She wants it, dawg, you know she wants it.”
“I heard her say she’s divorced. You know how those over forty and divorced chicks get. Experienced and desperate.”
“Dude, she would spread her legs so wide!”
I have, of course, carefully selected only the most PG-rated comments.
I’m not sure why I am posting this. It isn’t my usual style to post about things like this, and I think afterwards I will try to write something beautiful to cleanse my palate. This post feels almost like vomitting. You know how it is when you throw up. It is hideous while it lasts, but afterwards you feel a hundred percent better.
The temptation for me is to despise the guys who look at women like this. I can’t help but think about the women that I know, and care about. I imagine what these guys would say and think about them, and I get angry. And after all, these random women, climbers, hikers, hostesses, waitresses, fellow diners etc. are someone’s sisters, or friends, or girlfriends. They are people that you could get to know. You could have a conversation with, you could listen to their stories, you could know them, love them, respect them. Instead they choose to reduce them to a possible sex fantasy.
I am tired of dealing with it. I am tired of being around them. But I can’t despise them for it, because no matter how hard I try to see women differently, no matter how much I legitimately hate that way of looking at women, I still know exactly what they are talking about. I don’t have to follow their eyes or their nods. I have already seen her, and I’ve already made my own decision on how to respond to that sight of her. I hate being around it because it drags me down, perilously close to half-thinking the same sort of thought. Even more I hate it becuase it reminds me of how little difference there is between me and them.
And I am supposed to be the witness in all of this!
Heaven help us all.