I don't hate men
I'm allergic to them
Trigger Warning: If your feelings will be hurt because I talk about why women don’t need D anymore 1 in this post or if reading this trigger warning in and of itself makes you think I’m vulgar 2 in a bad way then you probably should stop reading now. I’m working on my comedy this week and you get to participate. Constructive feedback on my jokes will be accepted but not-all-men-blip-blap-bloop-thots need not clog my already overwhelmed inbox.
I took this photo in Kenya over the summer, with clients in the vehicle, and I wasn’t the only person who asked our driver to pull over.
I recognize that I’ve built somewhat of a reputation as a man-hater. This is not wholly accurate.
It’s not that I hate men. It’s that I think I’m allergic to them. Whether it’s just the tip or a good dicking I have to call in the troops — boric acid suppositories, probiotics, plain yogurt (I like a healthy snack post bang).
It didn’t always used to be this way. My vagina used to be footloose and fancy-free. As long as I peed after sex, it could do whatever it wanted. Not anymore. Sometimes just the thought of fucking a man upsets it.
Perhaps this is why so many women in their 40s all of a sudden (lol) become lesbians 3. Even our pussies get tired of men. They see a big cock coming their way and they’re like “Excuse me, mam, I am no longer going to be a petri dish for the patriarchy.”
And who can blame our pussies? Penises have always been so unreliable. They come and go as they please. They don’t knock before they enter. They leave their shoes on inside, tracking mud all over the place and fucking up the new rug you bought at Ikea.
I mean, do we even need penises anymore? Sex toys4 have come such a long way and they make men work hard. They refuse to quit, lasting as long as you want them to. And they don’t make a mess on your belly or back and then walk away leaving you incapacitated, wondering if they’ve gone to fetch a towel or catch the last five minutes of the game.
Imagine men thinking the most physically demanding thing they did in a day was summit a peak or train for an Ironman. And you’re like no bb, you have to compete with my collection of sex toys tonight. And I want you to turn on Strava to track your performance because I won’t settle for anything less than King of the Mountain.
But how I turn Strava into a feminist app is another joke for another day…
If you saw me perform this set live, would you buy me a drink, either because you think I'm funny or you're embarrassed for me?
The only people who really know how I feel about D are my besties and said D that is still permitted on the premises.
Have I been studying Ali Wong and Michelle Wolf? Yes, but not in a weird online stalker way. Am I trying to see if I can get away with being as vulgar as they are? Obvs... Am I pulling it off? You tell me.
This is good for people with penises too. Get more tools in that shed of yours and make them scream.