call home; because going through old things and remembering and realising you can’t remember some things because of pain and hurt and blocking it all out, end up having to defend your choices to every member you talk to.
Realize no point in bringing up what you wanted to talk about. Pretend to be cheerful instead.
Sigh.
rule no. 1) Don’t have a joint fucking bank account.
rule no. 2) when your partner says you can’t buy a fucking croissant because HE deems it too expensive, turn around and say
FUCK. YOU.
Seriously, fuck that noise. If any partner of mine ever tried to control my finances, my spending, or whatever the fuck I wanted to eat for breakfast, they would be an ex-fucking-partner in SECONDS.
JUST. NO.
It doesn’t matter if I’m getting paid and buying a fucking gram of coke with my money, and snorting it butt fucking naked in a bathtub filled with coins, YOU HAVE NO FUCKING RIGHT TO TELL ME HOW TO SPEND MY MONEY.
Express concern, sure. Give an opinion, sure. NEVER DICTATE, OR I’LL FUCKING DICTATE HOW FAR MY FOOT FITS INTO YOUR ASS.
you are your own person, you are independent and you AND ONLY YOU have control over the things you want to do!
This shit makes me glad I’m queer, feminist (but not radfem, thankfully) and fucking single. Thankfully all the people I am attracted to are feminists too.
ranting because I’m worried a person at my work may be making the wrong choice; however it is her choice to make, and I am only giving my opinion. Bleh.
"In contemporary society we’re expected both to praise the miracle of birth and deplore it as the wages of sin. We expect men to take cold showers if they get an erection, and to take Viagra if they can’t. We encourage straight women to kiss in bars, and actual lesbians not to. We expect young men to have sex they’re not ready for, and young women to decline it when they are. We’re expected to say we like oral sex even when we don’t, and to say we dislike anal sex even supposing we do. We’re expected to buy sudoku books with bikini models on the cover and to read Playboy for the articles. We’re expected to gradually lose interest in our spouses and not to have affairs. We’re expected to stress about unplanned, unwanted pregnancy and to see stopping to put on a condom as unromantic. We expect to believe men don’t read romance novels and women don’t watch porn, even though there’s maybe a 30% crossover both directions. If you’re a woman you’re expected to zealously guard your hymen up to the point you get married (whether you wanted to or not), and then upon receipt of a marriage license you’re expected to turn around and let some guy pound away at it whenever he wishes (whether you wanted to or not.) Looking in another direction if you’re a man you’re expected to run screaming from the room if your wife puts her purse down too close to you… because your wife’s purse might somehow magically “make you gay.” We’re supposed to pretend that women faint at the sight of blood, and ignore that men are far more inclined to. We expect women to depend financially on men and expect men to dump their wives for floozies at the drop of a thong. We’re expected to think a model is sexy if she’s in a Victoria’s Secret poster at the mall, and we’re expected to think a mom in workout pants and a sweatshirt isn’t sexy if she’s in the same mall pushing a stroller."
— “Why I Blog About Sex” (via lizdexia)
(via kittiecupcakes)