Ever since Mango Mussolini’s “grab her by the pussy” moment, I have been reading quite a bit of disturbing news regarding how some men apparently think they have the right to women’s bodies. Nevermind that women are actual people with their own thoughts and feelings — we are literally seen by some dudes as playthings only, subhuman maybe.
It is rather discouraging, to say the least.
Today, I came across this gross tidbit, courtesy of Raw Story, about some total douchebag named James R. Fouts, 74, who is the current mayor of Warren, Michigan:
“Think I want to date a fucking 60-year-old hag?” Fouts opines. “Fuck that shit. I’m not interested in any old ugly hag. I think after a certain age they are dried up, washed up, burned out.”
(snip)
“They are pussies when they are young,” he says. “And when they get older, they’re just mean, hateful, dried-up cunts.”
Alright, so … Little Shiz is, I guess, a “pussy” and I am a “mean, hateful dried-up cunt” because I am pushing 50.
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK! It’s seriously hard for me to believe that someone could think that way, let alone say it. Like, out loud. Like, with other people present in the room. And one of them apparently recorded it and you can listen to it at the link, if you want.
I will not be joining you.
This tidbit reminded me of my own history regarding men. Some of it is awesome and some of it is awful, but we’re gonna concentrate on that last part because it’s germane to the story of Mr. Asshole Fouts.
Several years ago, I was in a public library with Little Shiz. We used to go the library all the time because we both love to read. Once Little Shiz hit the age of about 10 or so, I would let her roam around the kid’s section by herself and would go check on her every 10 minutes. Sometimes, we would stay there for hours, just having fun and reading cool shit.
One day, as I was perusing the latest Dean Koontz novel, a man came up to me, smiled meekly, and handed me a note. He said, “I noticed you are here with your daughter, and I don’t want to bother you, but I just had to tell you this!” He seemed quite shy, but he dressed like a little punk and was a good 15 years my junior. I opened the note and it said “I think you’re absolutely beautiful! If you are interested, I would love taking you out for a cup of coffee!” He included his phone number.
I was floored, because this type of thing doesn’t happen to me often. The man was looking at me, hopeful, and I said, “Aww, thank you so much! You have just made my day! Let me think about it, and I’ll call you either way, alright?” He smiled broadly, said “OK!”, and disappeared.
Just then, Little Shiz appeared and said “did that guy just ask you out?” I said, “Yeah, he did!” And she proceeded to tease me about it for the rest of the day because, ya know, she was 10 and that’s what kids do. Heh.
Later on, at home, I told my roommates about the guy, and Jesus H. Christ, they would not let the thing drop. “CALL HIM!” they bellowed.
So, the next day, with my two roommates giggling like teenagers — and listening in the next room — I called the dude. He was very nervous, and he seemed friendly enough, but something was … off. The bells and whistles in my head started going off after the first five minutes. He was unemployed, which doesn’t bother me that much, but he said he wanted to start his own business and he has a band. LOL, a “band”. I don’t care that he’s younger than me (I actually prefer younger men, truth be told), but I gave up any aspirations I had of being the second-coming of Alanis Morissette many moons ago.
The dude didn’t ask a lot about me, but talked about himself incessantly. Because my roomies were listening and egging me on, I set up a date with the guy for the following weekend.
The more that time passed, however, the more I became increasingly uneasy. I honestly only set up the date to get my roommates off my fucking back. But the more I thought about it … the dude dressed like Eminem. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but he’s not my type. He says “I seen” instead of “I saw” when he talks, which drives me goddamned bananas. He doesn’t want to know anything about me, but he loves talking about himself. And he comes across as shy-creepy. He’s off. Something is off here.
I decided this was not going to work.
So against my roommates’ very loud protestations, I cancelled the date. I decided to be as nice as possible about it, and I detest it when people just “ghost” you, so I left a voice mail for him.
He texted me back for the next three hours straight. Stuff like:
YOU FUCKING BITCH! I never liked you that much, I just wanted to see how big your tits really are!
You were gonna be NOTHING! but a notch it my bed post! NOTHING!
Your daughter is hotter than you are, you fucking CUNT!
And on and on he went, until I installed an app on my phone that blocked his number. And I never heard from him again.
Needless to say, I am very, very happy I cancelled the date.
This is the kind of shit women everywhere have to put up with from certain, entitled men. I will never understand the willingness of some to dehumanize others.
By the way, Mr. Asshole Fouts is also a racist and an ableist. He was caught on tape saying:
“Blacks do look like chimpanzees,” the voice says in one recording. “I was watching this black woman with her daughter and they looked like two chimps.”
(snip)
In December, Flouts (sic) was fired from his weekly show on 910AM Radio Superstation after his voice was caught on tape saying disabled people “aren’t even human beings.”
I hope they throw this dickhead out of office soon. Ugh.