Monday, April 24, 2006

I can hear the Twilight Zone music. . .

My feelings today can be summed up with this image:




That's right. It's THAT FREAKY. *cues Twilight Zone music*

This is a personal story. Some names have been changed to protect the guilty and the innocent.

So, at school the other day, my boyfriend came up to me after my fourth period class. I know, I know, this seems like some crazy teen gossip thing, but believe me, it gets much more disturbing and much more feminazi-mode worthy. Back on the subject, he told me all about how he was talking to one of his friends (we'll call him Bob) about what happened over the weekend. Well, my boyfriend then proceeded to inform me that Bob had announced that he had sex over the weekend. I'm thinking "Okay, big whoop" at this point, until the other bomb was dropped on me. He then tells me that after some of the other guys told Bob he was lying that Bob said "I can prove it!". When the guys asked how, he said it was because there was blood on his bed. At this point, I thought "Okay. She was either a virgin or he's a mutherfucker, or maybe even both", so I started freakin' out and going into crazy feminazi mode. So, I told my boyfriend that I thought Bob was a crazy-ass weirdo who needs to learn how to control his joystick a little better, and I guess later in an instant message, my boyfriend told Bob that I was not happy with his behavior. Well, I later found out that the product of this conversation was gaining the knowledge that Bob was a virgin and so was the girl, so I figured I'd give the kid (who seemed really sweet, innocent, and nice when I met him) the benefit of the doubt and assume that she was a virgin who just bled a lot. He said that the blood thing freaked him out, too, so I figured he was pretty blameless in the whole ordeal, and I told myself that I just freaked out so much because of his whole "I can prove I had teh se><0rz " thing. End of Act I.

So, today at lunch I sitting and talking to another friend of mine who was at the infamous Bob sex table. We'll call this friend of mine Pete. So, I told him how freaked out I was by what my boyfriend told me about their conversation, and Pete then proceeds to tell me that I didn't even get the whole story and that Bob also said that he had taken pictures of his bloody bed after his girlfriend had left. At this point, I went OFF. My face mimicked that picture of the owl up there, and the same expression came out of my mouth, except I did not use mere letters. At this point, Pete is asking what I'm so worked up about, so I tell him! Also, my friend who was also there (her name will be Pam) was wondering what we were talking about. So I told her the details of Act I, and she also took part in a reenactment of Mr. Owl up there. Pete, however, is entirely oblivious. When I told him what my problem was, he acted like I was overreacting. He said "What if she gave him permission?". So, I gave him a Judge Judy: "Don't pee on my leg and tell me it's raining, mutherfuckers". Well, so I gave him the explicit version, but believe me, that's totally what she wants to say. So, it pissed me off that Pete saw nothing wrong with that kind of behavior, because there most certainly IS something wrong with that behavior.

End of Act II. To be continued, however.

So now I ask:

What in the world would possess a male person to take pictures of the product of what might have been a lot of pain on the part of their sex partner? I mean, right now, I'm thinking Bob has zero respect for women, especially the girl that he had the thrill of deflowering. What makes a guy think that he has the right to photograph something that could potentially be incredibly embarrassing for a girl? Not only that, but what gives guys like Pete the notion that it's okay to condone that kind of misogynistic (not to mention freaky and disturbing) attitude and behavior? Is there no guy who will pipe up and say "What the hell is your problem? That's freakin' disgusting. Man you need to grow a pair"? Why is it that every girl I asked an opinion of made a face like Mr. Owl, but every guy I asked shrugged and said "Eh. He's just weird". Weird is an understatement assholes, and until you guys start doing something about this kind of shit, it's just going to continue. However, seeing as how it's so low on your "Get laid, get laid, take pictures if there's blood" to-do list, I have a feeling that women will be cringing at the spread of stories like this for a long time to come.

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