Furthest Right

A Short Fragment

A young girl heard me speak, and asked: “Sir, what is the definition of a definition?” I was highly intrigued because I read genuine wonder sparkling on her delicate features. And admittedly the question was a good one. The sun shone upon the garden and I smelled the freshly cut grass – deeply inhaling the air in celebration because genuine curiosity was still to be found in the world.

“A definition is a thing human beings have come up with to make rational conversation possible at all.” I answered, “Then it remains the question whether it is rational to make further demands for this thing.” (The demand being that that thing could itself be defined.)

“What if I say it is necessary to do so?” One of her friends inquired. The luminosity searing from the skies briefly flickered on her fair and golden strands of hair.

“You can,” I said, “but you would have to bring your grounds forward to make clear why it is necessarily so. And I think at that moment, you’d find yourself in trouble.”

They nodded. Another girl approached us. She was one of their companions, and somewhat different; whereas the others looked like girls in the proper sense, this one seemed desperate to look like a young woman. “Why are you even talking to us?” she said – it wasn’t a question. “Don’t you have a girlfriend? Don’t you have a car? You’re twice our age, you shouldn’t even be talking to us.”

A woman told me, “Don’t be so obsessive about me”. I said; “Obsessive? You’d like to think others would obsess over you so that you can turn them down.”

When I tried to speak to her rationally about the topic, she posed the query if I perhaps preferred her to have no opinion and just to pump out children. Adding – before I could reply – that thankfully those unhappy days were over in the Western world.

“That’s the thing with your insincerity,” I answered, “drawing your power from the narrative of feminism; painting a picture of the world in which the evil of men, at the blink of a moment, will lead them to drag you in chains to the stove. Lock your wrists to the cradle . . .”

“Yet,” I added, “at the same time you use your sexual attractiveness to bait men, to seduce them, and to let them buy your drinks. You wear more make-up when you apply for a new job than when you go to work to your current.”   

You see that’s the problem with women these days; if you just talk to them casually about daily stuff, they’ll think you are too formal and too boring. If you try to charm and enthral them a bit, they do their best to explicate anything sexual in it, and feign to be offended by it, so that they can talk down on you and feel better about themselves.

This drives on the power that we feel that deep down inside, admittance of sexual desire is something to be ashamed of; a narrative grained upon us by Protestantism and the Victorian era and now exploited by women. A girl loses her purity the moment she finds out her sensuousness and sexual attractiveness can serve as a source of power – that she can bring sentiments up in a man and then condescend him when he gives the most innocent testimony of them.

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