Feminism was made by a man

Sometimes — just sometimes, ladies — I believe feminism was made by a man.

By a guy who wanted to have more odds in his favor. Make things easier. Save some money. Be more efficient on his time using.

You know, that guy who always got what he wanted, without anyone ever noticing. Like, before the game had begun he had already won because he had planned it all along from birth.

Like that guy you never saw in class and always got A’s or whatever the grade he needed to have in order to get that scholarship he wanted to have to get that easy-big-paying job he was aiming for long ago since you where only in middle school.

Like that guy who knows something that must be known, and nobody knows it but him, until this guy just shows off with knowing it and gets the epic finale victory.

That fucking guy who is like Dr. House meets Sherlock Holmes meets Captain Kirk.

Like the evil guy is cheering up and that fucker had won before the episode even started.

And deep down that evil dipshit knows like, “Motherfucker knows something I don’t. He failed and he’s still smiling. What did that man gain? I didn’t fucking win. I must not win. Fuck winning.” And he just decides to end his plans because winning is bad because this guy is failing but still smiling, and that was all part of the plan to begin with and now this guy just won — again.

That guy who is an average 6 but when he speaks to girls he’s like a 25+.

That guy with a cool name , like — something like: Leo.

Yeah. Fucking, Leo.

I can even picture that guy in the past. Going to the bar one night. And seeing nine girls and just one skank to have a one-night-stand-er. Like “Shit, now there are like twenty guys here, nine religious bitches who we must first take to dinner, take her to the movies, talk for hours over the phone, buy her three expensive gifts before we can get some action; and only one gal’ we can meet and sleep with the same night. What a bummer.” He goes.

And he desists that bar night with his friends and decides to go -all cranked up- home. Mad about the bad probabilities of going out to a bar and leaving without a girl to have some enjoyable sex. Because the odds are very bad. Like Hunger Games bad.

So he rests in bed and decides to start his super mutant mind power to change the odds of the game, you know. Turn the tables ‘round a bit.

Like humming into the ceiling in bed, “why can’t it be like nine girls who want to have one-night-standers and just one girl who just likes to take it easy? I mean it’s cool to have a girl who wants to get to know you and all that jazz, but ten to one? Shit’s wrong, man, shit’s wrong.”

So he gets this weird idea to spread. To put an idea on women.

It’s a positive idea, but it’s those kinda half motivated for the positive thing and half motivated for the benefit thing — sort of idea.

And he says “fuck it” and decides to try it out.

So he goes out with one girl and he goes something like:

“Well I think if you want to have sex with a guy that you just met at a bar, you must have the right to do it and not be called a skank or whatever afterwards, babe. I mean, men do this all the time and they are not called upon anything, right?”

And the girl goes like “Mhm.” Because she’s listening carefully now.

And he goes like “I mean, haven’t you seen a guy and go like daydreaming right away being in bed with him, just getting to know him intimately, like right away that night, babe?”

And the girl goes like “Well yeah”, and Leo — fucking Leo goes like “Well that’s what I mean, babe. I just think girls deserve to have equal rights as men, and not be frowned upon, ya’ know?”

And she starts smiling because the idea makes total sense now.

And he goes like “And if you like a girl, fuck it. Men like girls, why the fuck can’t you get a little piece of action from a girl, or two, and a guy, huh? Why them and not you guys, huh? Are they trying to exploit you, babe?”

And she goes “well yeah, Lee-o, but what if my friend tells me it’s weird?” And he answers quickly something like “Just tell her it’s not about sex, it’s not about making out, bathroom blowjobs, going down, drunken threesomes, or fucked up orgies in weird ass places where you wake up one night and wish you didn’t remember but you do. No — it’s about equality.” He pauses, “If men can have the sex with the curves, why the fuck not the women, huh? Why the fuck not, babe?”

And then he takes her to dinner and the movies ’cause that would make no fucking sense to her and she would think he’s such a romantic and treats women like the ladies they are, and the idea would dive in so hard like that guy from Inception with that rich heir fellow.

And then he goes out with another gal and goes like “It’s not right, sugar, It’s just not right and that makes me mad.” While eating his sandwich, chilled as fuck from the inside, “Women are no lesser than men.” And she goes like “Well I don’t know,” being a little bit insecure about the fucked up idea that Leo is bringing to the table.

And he goes like “If you want to pay dinner in a date, you must have the right to pay dinner in a date. If you want to pay the bills of the house, you must have the motherfucking-right to pay the bills in your house, babe. It’s your fucking house, anyway! Why would they stop you? Let men be the ones who stay inside. Doing shit in the house, going to the gym mid-day, drinking margaritas all day long, making sweet ass BBQ’s and loud LAN parties with their friends. Fuck them, I say. Fuck them…”

Then she goes like “Oh Leo, you’re such a dreamer.” And he drops his sandwich ’cause he’s fake-rabid-furious now, “No, babe, women must have the right to pay what they want to pay. If men want to pay it, women should have the right to pay it too.”

And this one’s smart and jumps in to interrupt and says like “But what if we don’t produce the same as men in the job? But fucking Leo is smarter and goes lion-solid like “Well you ask for equality!”And she goes deeper like “But what if a man Is smarter and produces more units, sales, results than a woman in a company?”

And Leo goes even deeper saying “Fuck it, don’t ask about the results, don’t dwell on the objectives of the job, if he get’s paid more, you deserve to get paid the same. It’s not about who makes better for the company, it’s about ‘dicks and vaginas’, babe.”

And she goes like “Mhm.”

Then he goes out with another one and another one.

And they ask things like, “But what if we are not the same? Like we are more honest, we are more organized, we are more respectful. And men are stronger and better at other things than woman, and that is okay with us because women have good things too and men also have good things to offer, Leo?”

And Leo — you know, fucking Leo throws some distracting thoughts like, “Well fuck that, who says you can’t lift the same as men? Run faster? Play harder? Make the same money than what they do?”

And then he goes back to the main focus like, “I mean, babe, why are we talking about what advantages has each gender, huh? We shouldn’t be talking about who’s gender is better at what, babe. Neither about now knowing that we know the advantages of each gender, how to use them to make the world a more productive and better place. No. What we should be talking is about women having the same as men. Dicks versus vaginas, babe”

And some go like “Well but what is the same?”

And Leo goes like “Whatever they ask, you fucking ask the same, babe. If they don’t give it to you, scream ‘equality’ over and over again. You are not the same, but you are the same, you feel me babe?” And Leo keeps keeping it ambiguous as-fuck because that’s easy to chew on and they can dwell on it for centuries like that weird subject called ‘love’. Yes, an ambiguous subject without clear demands and proper objectives as ‘love’.

And he goes out with another and another and another and another…

Until the virus, I mean the idea, has spread wide enough.

And here we are now.

In feminism world, also known as “After Leo (AL).”

A place where woman have the right to get men into bed.

A time where you go out to a bar, and when it used to be one out of ten possible candidates to-have-sex-with ratio, it’s now fucking girls’-no-cover-night, nine to ten ratio.

Chicks go out wanting to have sex. I mean, yeah ‘fun’ is important n’ all, but they are having sex tonight.

It’s like men-hunting season. Every season.

Even the fucking waitress stares at you. The fucking waitress who used to hate being winked upon, and perversely tipped at. Yeah, that girl. She’s fucking laughing at every lame joke you throw at her. And god they are lame. But she brings another free vodka to get you horny-drunk and easy to get to your pants on. And yes, you finally leave with her.

Mother-fucking-Leo.

Where woman have the right to pay what they want.

Close to half of the money men used to spend on dates, dinners, movies and gifts has been moved to the travel, fun, investments and personal wardrobe budgets.

No wonder BBQs are selling plenty as f — .

I mean, some girls even pay for the whole date.

Or the motel!

Or even for the rent and the bills of the house!

Jeez — what a nice time to live in.

Mother-fucking-Leo.

And when you used to spend hours talking over the phone to your girl, days thinking about ‘what was she thinking’, weeks to build up strategies to make her to want you more, and months to get in her pants; now — now it’s efficiency at it’s peak: Go out, get laid the same night, focus on something productive. Keep doing it, become better at it. Go out, get laid the same night, focus on the same productive thing again. Eventually becoming a pro in that thing you’re constantly doing with your lots of spare time. Make money, get more women.

And then, then thank that guy:

Mother-fucking-Leo.

Wada guy.

…Wada guy.

-B.