Dear Nice Guy™,
So, there you were, swiping along on Tinder, when you came across a pretty girl. Let’s call her Betty. You checked out her profile, and she seemed like a cool gal, so you gave her a right swipe. Lo and behold, a match!
After chatting some, you and Betty decided to meet up. Low-pressure; a casual dinner date. You talked, you laughed, you had a nice time. The date ended, I’m sure you felt, on a positive note. Betty came home and recounted the date – her first Tinder meet-up, in fact. She’d been quite nervous beforehand, considering “Don’t meet up with strangers from the Internet” is basically the first lesson you learn in Not Being Kidnapped 101. She said you were very nice and had enough in common to keep the conversation flowing, but that she didn’t really feel any sort of “spark”. Overall, though, a positive Tinder experience, considering she hadn’t been murdered. Continue reading “an open letter to a Nice Guy™”
Last time on Feminist Mythbusting, we busted myths such as feminists’ hatred of men, their lack of a sense of humour, and their “whining”. Of course, there are many more myths to bust, so let’s get to it! Continue reading “feminist mythbusting, part II”
My personal experience with Fifty Shades of Grey went something like this:
Because I don’t live under a rock, I’d heard whispers about it. I was mildly intrigued, as most people would be upon hearing that word porn had somehow managed to become a socially acceptable bestseller (as an aside, once I overheard a classmate telling our elderly male prof that she had read it on her tablet in bed…like, he knows what it is! It’s not a secret!). I had the distinctly awkward experience of noticing that my mother owned all three books, and the distinctly awkward-er experience of witnessing my mother lending the books to my grandmother. One day, when I was alone in my mom’s bathroom, I noticed it on the bathtub ledge. Curiosity got the best of me, and I flipped open the first page. Continue reading “fifty shades of absolutely not”
So, I have a confession. This might come as a surprise, but…I am a feminist. A big, huge, raging Crazy Feminazi™. Actually, that really shouldn’t be a surprise. If you’ve read more than one of my posts and haven’t figured that one out for yourself, I don’t really know what to tell you.
As you’ve probably noticed, feminism has kind of been having its day in the light for the past couple years or so. Some might even call it “trendy”. Nowadays, it seems that every time a female celebrity gets interviewed, she gets asked the question, “Are you a feminist?” And, I mean, I guess that’s better than asking mundane questions about their diets for their latest movies or where they get their hair done or whatever, but many of their answers have revealed something about the public’s view on this controversial topic:
People really, really don’t know what feminism even is.
Of course, I’m far from the first one to try to correct these misconceptions, but I thought I might as well add my voice to the crowd, because I really like hearing myself talk (reading myself write, whatever, same/diff). So, without further ado, here are a few of the most common “myths” about feminism that I encounter in my trollings around the Web and in my daily life: Continue reading “feminist mythbusting, part I”
Dear dude on the subway three Thursday nights ago,
It was 10 o’clock on the night before Halloween, and the first night of Halloweekend. Halloween is one of my favourite times of the year; you get to be whoever and whatever you want, be as sexy or silly or weird as you want, and nobody will say anything about it.
Or so I thought. Continue reading “an open letter to the dude on the subway”
To preface, I will note that I actually planned to write this back in March, shortly after the first post. However, for reasons you may or may not remember from that other thing I wrote, I obviously did not. Thus, I will say that time has likely muddled my memories slightly, but the general happenings did happen and the message still rings true. And now, back to our story…
Last time on the Leather Pants Saga, after realizing that I had become too fat to wear my leather pants properly, I proceeded to spend the evening wearing my pants secretly unbuttoned. My stomach made it through the night free and unscathed, and I looked super awesome in my pants.
On this particular night, my lovely Edinburgh flatmate and I were attending a gathering at a friend’s place. Like many such nights, the plan was to hang out and pre-drink at the friend’s and then move on to a bar/club. However, I was sick with a cold, and my flatmate had to be up early the next morning, and we were both hella broke, so we were not planning to join our friends for the bar portion of the night. There were about 15 people at the gathering, and we knew most of them, so all was fine and dandy. Continue reading “adventures with leather pants, part II: an observation”