Any man in his right mind would not walk into a fired-up feminist rant. I spent yesterday all worked up over the inherent misogyny in everything we stand for as a civilization, hating the fact that I work in a male-dominated workplace where lots of inappropriate and uncomfortable things are said/done every day and wanting to rochambeau every man that crossed my path.
An idiot boyfriend would have asked me if it was that time of the month. He promptly would have been stabbed in the spine with a corkscrew. If I am showing signs - glimmers even, of a bad mood, don't you dare reference my hormones. Besides, a bad mood is dramatically different from the hormone episodes because during a hormone episode, I essentially turn into The Incredible Hulk and rip things apart with my bare hands while growling ferociously and only a glimmer of my human self is left to sparkle in my glassy, dilated pupils. It's not that time of the month, injustice just gets me riled.
My boyfriend showed up with wine, carried me into my bedroom and gave me a massage. He then proceeded to tell me that while he intellectually understood all of my frustrations, he would never truly get it because he could never experience it and he was sorry. That's a man who will never punch me in the face if his team loses in the Super Bowl.
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