Well hello there. It’s been a while. Mainly because July passed by in a haze of, well, summer. We have walked barefoot; we have laid in the long grass, stared at the stars late into the night and generally enjoyed a warm sultry reverie, the likes of which we haven’t seen for several years.
And now it’s August, the month in which London really switches down a gear. I must be careful. The last time I bleated something like that to someone (young, had just moved to the city) ‘August is the most relaxed month in London. Half the city goes away and the rest of us enjoy the warm empty streets of the Smoke’, hardcore rioting broke out the next day. Said young person came to work looking like a nervous wreck as she’d spent the night ‘watching young people break into the shop beneath my flat’. Ahem.
So riots aside, what else has occurred? A whole lot of talk about rape, that’s what. And trolls, there’s another one. What IS happening in the world of women and men? I sometimes think the world has gone mad. Is it just me? Two weeks ago, a woman campaigned to keep women on money. Which is to say, she campaigned to celebrate the cultural contribution of women by making sure that in 2016, Jane Austen will appear on a ten-pound note. Well, you’d think another riot had broken out.
I don’t get it. Are women really that threatening, scary and overwhelming? Is this really worth repeatedly targeting and tweeting women with the threat of rape? Horror aside, what a weird thing to do!! This is the thing that gets me. With the greatest of respect to the opposite sex, I sometimes feel that men judge women by their own standards. By which I mean, just because men have the hormonal disposition to take over the world and run a patriarchal shop, they think that if they give us some ‘power’, we’ll try and do the same.
Highly unlikely. We want to be educated. We want not to have to worry about rape, domestic violence and our fellow women folk having their clitoris’s removed with pieces of glass (or indeed, any sharp object). We’d also like to control our own fertility. And to be paid equally. These all seem reasonable things to aspire to. One assumes that men would want the same if they were women….(just replace the word clitoris with penis).
What gets me the most is that a younger generation of women have mostly been bullied out of thinking that it’s cool to voice an opinion over such matters. Even in my lifetime, I can’t tell you the amount of times I’ve given word to the above, only to be asked ‘what? Are you one of those ‘feminists’ then?’ With a wrinkle of their little noses as if someone just silently broke wind.
I’d like to leave a long pause for reflection here but I shan’t. Here is another thing a few (note, not all, just - an unfortunately powerful - few) men don’t get. Wanting this stuff needn’t be to the exclusion of men. Women like men. We like the way they look, we like the stuff they say, we like the way they make us feel, the cool stuff they can do with their bodies - and ours. And we want everyone to have what they want. Because that is our nature. This is why women are nurturers, baby growers and bridge builders. We don’t want what we want to exclude the opposite sex – or anyone - from anything.
Let me say it again, we want everyone to have what they want. This is entirely possible by the way. It’s just that some people don’t see it that way and think that it would be a better idea for women not to get ideas above their station. Hence legislating, even in the Western world, to send women back to the 18th century. Dull, unimaginative old white men mostly.
Well, who needs a physical riot when you can create one with words? Just a random collection of thoughts to tie in with the theme of the day! Regrettably, today’s story may do little to cheer you. I would have liked to have ended on a high note. The upside is, like many of your stories, it is well written and full of spirit. This gives me hope. And we still have the rest of summer to warm our hearts. And that’s everyone’s hearts please note: men, as well as women.
Meanwhile, what is that smell?
‘Hey Kate, just contacting you on the story of how I lost my virginity!
I'm from London, UK.
I was 14 at the time and it was like a usual evening….myself and my best friend cruising the streets of Deptford with nothing to do but hang around and smoke.
She contacted a friend of ours, an 18 year old skate boarder named Dan, who must only talk to kids because his friend of choice was to bring another minor, a boy I'd never met before, 15-year-old Rick. I gave Dan £15 to run into the supermarket and grab me my personal litre of vodka for the evening and remember the refreshing feeling of a friend with ID.
As the evening progressed, we sat on the stairs of the supermarket car park talking about nothing as I happily swigged my Glens straight from the bottle. As I steadily and speedily got more drunk, (by myself I might add) I started wondering whether or not I had a little thing for this new kid, Rick. Apparently he must have been thinking the same thing as, noticing that half the liter was gone, asked me to 'come over here' as he walked into the distance.
Me, being the naive adolescent I was, followed him until we found a quiet bush in the corner of the car park. We were kissing which I didn't mind, but then the boy got his penis out which I wasn't quite sure what to do with.
After awkwardly rubbing it and probably causing him pain as he 'ouched' because I yanked back his foreskin, he pushed my head down when the sudden realization occurred to me what he wanted me to do. In secondary school, sucking cock was apparently the only activity that occurred between students and I'd never actually participated in this popular activity until now.
After that session was done and dusted, we awkwardly proceeded to do the deed against a brick wall enclosed in the bush. He seemed to have some problem getting it in whilst we were standing up, so he suggested I lay on my back amongst the shit-lined floor.
Me, being very drunk and unhealthily compliant, proceeded to do so. He thrusted for about 30 seconds until he came, when I thought: ‘well, sex is over-rated’.
I never spoke to him again after that. Looking back on it I wish someone more deserving popped my cherry, and if I'd stuck to that method of thinking, I'd still be a virgin today.’