(Anti) Feminism, part 3 – The Phenomenon of the ‘Pick-Me’

 

 

Ah yes. We have reached the end of this angry rant with my favourite topic.

Not least because I am, by the standards of Twitter’s feminists, a big fat, giant, massive pick-me.

I don’t believe pick-me exists in the Oxford dictionary, but by and large it refers to a woman who doesn’t hate men (and vice-versa, but I can only speak from the perspective of a straight woman).

You defend men, believe they have feelings and should be looked after the way women are? Pick me! You want to look after your man; you want to show him love, cook for him, and do nice things for him? Absolutely a pick me, disgusting! For shame! You like men for their personality and their character, rather than their money, clothes, possessions etc? Ew, I hope he picks you sis. You don’t want all men to die? On God, we gon’ get someone to pick you.

Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? That’s because it is.

The only anti-pick-me narrative I agree with is that of a woman actively bashing other women for the approval of men. Being snide, bitchy, and unnecessarily rude just to get a few laughs out of men; laughing when a man hurts a woman who has done nothing wrong; supporting an abuser just because you think he’s sexy. Purposely putting other women down and trying to make yourself look better. That’s a real ‘please pick me, I’m different to the other basic bitches. I’m so much cooler and better than them, please pick me, they’re all ugly ogres and I’m so different to the rest; you’ll never find another girl like me, I promise you that. You’ll be thinking about me when you’re with her lol I’m so different, I leave a mark on people.

But obviously, people have watered this down to suit their own agenda, and now pick-me generally refers to a woman who apparently does and says things as a mating call, because we obviously don’t have our own brains, and everything we do in life is solely in the quest to attain male approval. Which is very telling for the people who use the phrase. What a phenomenon.

I want to dissect it and destroy it.

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Ridiculous things I've heard this Ramadan

Except this time, they’re from Muslims.

We’re halfway through Ramadan and I can’t tell whether it’s going really fast or really slow. It’s harder, I cannot lie. I am but a shell of myself, a zombie going into work with shit skin and minimal words. I see everything 3 seconds after it actually happens.

I think I wrote something last year-ish about questions I’ve heard during Ramadan in general. I’ve grown up since then. I’m older, wiser, angrier. Very impatient. I have no time for ignorance and stupid people, and the more time I spend on twitter, watching the influx of 17-21 year olds spew their bullshit, I’m seeing more ridiculous opinions and lack of education. Lack of self-awareness. Lack of consideration. Kids these days really look for any reason to be offended – it’s like they enjoy the idea of being oppressed, they get a kick out of being controversial for no reason. I feel like an old angry lady waving her stick around at the children outside for being too loud. But in my old age and wisdom, I’ve also learnt to be much more tolerant. I know, it sounds so ironic given my impatience. But I’m more forgiving, less judgemental; I adopt more of a ‘let people be’ stance. So let people be. Except people who stay stupid things.
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Something that she ain't seen yet [Hey Assbutt: Love, pt.1]

I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve done a hey assbutt, aka one long bullshit rant. I guess I’ve kind of gotten my shit together in the sense that I don’t have the time to complain anymore, but alas; this part of me will continue to thrive.
Let’s talk about the L word. We all like to think about and not talk about the L word. We all like to talk about and not think about the L word. The L word is a stressful thing. I’m gonna do it.
To avoid confusion, I’m talking about ~romantic~ love. Gonna bump some MJ and begin.
Honestly, what even is love?
Platonic love is simple. One of the strongest feelings ever, because you don’t even have to like the person to love them, to care about them, to want the best for them and to be there for them always.
Romantic love is more annoying, but I haven’t properly felt it. I once thought I did, but in hindsight, I was terribly, inconceivably, dangerously wrong and it makes me nauseous. I have a good idea of what it is, and I would love to confirm it, but I’m not about to risk my heart for the wrong person. I, too, am cringing at the soppiness of that sentence so I’ll bring it down a notch right about now.
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Eleven movies you need to watch before you die

Haha, Eleven, get it, because I still haven’t watched season 2 of Stranger Things.
Winter is upon us, (yes, Winter, because it’s getting really cold really fast) and it is thus time to break out the fat socks and double up your duvets. Yes, you can choose to stay in on a Friday night and not feel guilty about it. Yes, you can get out of bed at 12pm on Sunday and get back in at 8pm. Yes, it is time to eat a doner kebab and go straight to bed.
What can I do on a Friday night, k, if I’m not going out clubbing?‘ you ask? Well, friends, here is where I arrive in my usual grandiose style and hand you a list of the best movies ever made. I urge you to steadily make your way through these, savour every single minute, and finally present to me a 1,000 word essay on what you liked and didn’t like.
We don’t know when our last days are, so get cracking please x
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Wear my scars like the rings on a pimp [8 Important life lessons]

I haven’t watched the new episode of the Walking Dead yet, so if I see any spoilers I will punch you in the face.
Welcome to another shitpost.
With 2017 coming to an end, I started thinking about shit that I’ve learnt, things that I want to keep on board throughout the next year. Things that I think everybody should follow. Everyone has shitty days, some more than others, and I wonder how I genuinely still feel kind of okay even during those times – how anybody does. Honestly, it’s probably because I know who I am and I know what I want. Whatever shitty times befall you, it’ll pass, even if it takes hours, days or months. It’ll always pass.  Every now and then you’ll find yourself in a tiny moment that makes you feel like everything has the potential to be great.
Anytime I feel like shit, I think ‘What would Dwight do?’ And then I stop feeling like shit. Dwight would not feel like shit. Dwight doesn’t wallow in self pity. Be Dwight, always.
Anyway, I’m gonna stop rambling and tell you the most important things I’ve learnt. This time I’ve even made it a little more attractive and coherent by bolding the headings; learn to be more considerate towards others, got it x
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After all you're not my type [Books I'll never finish]

I get an influx of followers and then writers block decides to hit me bad! Amazing. But here I am, being the literary person I am and talking about books. Books that I hate. Books that I want to love. Books that I love but can’t finish. As my bookshelf grows, the percentage of unread books increases. And every now and then, my eye will catch a particular novel that I’ve tried, tried, and tried again to read, and just couldn’t. It haunts me.
Let’s talk about my bedroom for a sec. Oo er. I had books spilling out of my cupboard, falling off my desk, on the floor, in the corner, under the bed. Everywhere. Since then a lot of them have been moved to a sickasfrick bookshelf, which means I have more space for when I buy more books that I don’t intend to ever read!
I’ll show you my setup one day. It’s pretty weird for a blogger. No minimalism, no clean fresh look, no millennial pink. No candles, succulents, or quotes. Just a poster of Senna and a framed Patrick Bateman. That’s me. An improvement after a wall plastered with Kerrang and Metal Hammer pages, and various posters from HMV and Camden Market. But I digress. Again. Here are a bunch of books I’ve never been able to finish; please bear in mind that I am a Chuck Palahniuk girl through and through, so cut me some slack when I’m unable to finish a romance. Thanks, let’s begin x
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