Summer is drawing to a close and the students are back like an invading horde to occupy my town again for the next eight months. The relative quiet has been shattered and every other lawn around campus is already covered in red Solo cups. Classes haven't even started yet and already the sorority girls can be seen staggering down the streets at sunrise, clad in the sparkly club dresses they donned the night before, obviously hung over from a long night of partying and being vigorously raped (as the feminists would have it) after who-knows-how-many of the aforementioned Solo cups full of panty peeler. The Walk of Shame is a time-honored institution on American college campuses and will continue to be regardless of feminist efforts to stop it.
I witnessed what I consider to be the male version of this phenomenon the other day at work. I was dispatched to an off campus apartment complex around 7 a.m. or so the other day. I arrived at the address and called the customer to let him know I was there. Shortly thereafter, two people came down. One was a girl, early twenties, short, pudgy but not yet obese, with a bit of acne. She was a solid 4 as is, but could probably make 6 after a year or so of proper diet and swinging a kettlebell. She was accompanied by a good looking guy the same age, but he was clearly punching down with this girl.
Anyway, I observed the body language between them as the approached my taxi. They barely spoke. There was no touching. She looked tired but alert, but he was obviously red-eyed and hung over. He slipped some cash into her hand as I opened the sliding door and, as she got into the van, the guy made bleary eye contact with me before slouching back into the building without saying a word. That furtive glance told me that he was not proud of himself.
This was clearly the morning after a drunken sexual peccadillo. My guess is that they were both at a campus bar or house party and she took advantage of a guy who was too drunk and horny to defer to his better judgement.
It occurred to me that, if feminists are really interested in equality like they claim, and if alcohol really does make it impossible to consent to sex, this girl is probably a rapist and he was her victim. Of course, the first two assertions are ridiculous and this guy was not raped. This was simply a typical one-night-stand that they both clearly regret (if one more than the other) and will likely forget about after a few months. If the tables were turned, however, that guy could have found himself in a world of shit based upon nothing more than her accusation.
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Why does the bizarre feminist outrage over this innovative new roofie-detecting nail polish remind me of the Wizard of Oz freaking out when Toto pulled back the curtain?
What if this product accidentally shows date rape via rohypnol to actually be quite rare or entirely mythical?
What if the outrage over this turns out to be the Wizard screaming "Pay no attention to those drunken sluts behind the victim narrative!"