Gender Relations page
I have bad news people. It's us. We men are the weaker sex. You don't have to trust me on this. Just go interact with them (female people) and you will also discover the same. I make this claim based on a certain unconditional power of theirs, the power of female persuasion. This is their greatest asset. They can elicit any spec of information that they might desire. They can cause any action they wish. They can have absolutely anything they want that you can provide them with. Many of you have already experienced this. It has always been presented to me oddly enough by giving me what I want: attention. This is combined with a few mild actions similar to what might be considered flirting on their part that make us actually want to do whatever they tell us.
It wasn't always this way. Long long long ago, like in elementary school, we were king. They had cooties and I for one joked about not being able to afford them. Face it. They were icky. There were a dozen clich�s to be used against them, and we believed in them.
I'm sorry that you guys had to hear it from me, but those days are gone now. We will forevermore be their subjects. I can here only submit what I have experienced in my contact with the other gender. Keep hope, however, because the last in the list is an essay detailing one possible last straw to grab at. It is particularly important to publicize this glimmer of hope, so please tell all your friends to visit my page, and go ahead and E-MAIL me comments on anything at all here.
There is a group of people beside us, my friends. At one time we were united against them. We derided them. They were the diseased. They talked, walked, and above all thought differently. I did not of course reveal that we had the means to destroy them, because I knew they were vital to our existance, and the possibility that each of us would come to accept some of them. We let them live and grow. Then, as I predicted, it happened. Some of you relented. You associated with them even to the point of losing touch with us. I, of course, being committed to our earlier goals, attempted to preserve our segregation. I gave many short reasons as to why they should continue to be shunned. You acknoweledged these truths, but ignored these cliches that were so deeply ingrained in the truth. In contrast to a member of the other group, the logic of these cliches was lost on you. You began to think they were not icky. They were not out to get us. Even when these truths issued out in action, despite your claims of hurt, you lacked discipline to stop. Your front wheels lost traction, and power could not be redistributed quickly enough to regain control. Well now my friends, I have conducted my own studies, however unintentional they might have been. My involuntary participation is the very thing that legitimizes the analysis. I must submit the following. I came across a pair from the so-called weaker group. I too was beginning to doubt my own cliches, and wanted to do something. As the events unfolded, I was suprised to find myself as an equal among two of the group I spent so long ridiculing. They soon formulated a request for me. I sharply denied. Then they gave me something. I prized. This newfound control given to me made me want to oblige their request. It was then that I lost control. I needed something to do so I could assert in my mind that I still had it. I tried to separate myself the two, but it was exceedingly immpossible. I was one to them, an entity they could both look at identically. I ignored this point and proceeded with the plan forming in my head. I enlisted the one to acquire the other. We were unsuccessful in our attempt. I realized long afterward what had happened. The two were never separated, and I was never with the one, and therefore I had no chance of finding the other. I had been betrayed by the very one I had enlisted for being tailored for my goals. The ultimate disgrace occurred when I realize my source had been turned. All of this is shocking enough, but the point is reached only here: I still am prey to my source. I am imprisoned by it, for some reason I cannot think, I cannot withhold, I can't let go. That is where the danger lies. Now that I am a victim along with all of you, I must admit it is hard to break away. We shall forever be prisoners and live only to tell others of our plight to the youngsters who will be joining our group, and they too will not heed our words and become trapped like us. Then what is the point of this you ask? Well, the truth is that they haven't taken everything away. We still have something that they did not think was serious enough to tamper with completely. We too occaisionally forget of our treasure, but it is now that I implore you: don't let it go. Regardless of what happens elsewhere our treasure will be there. Those that experience it first hand are idolized by us, but for safety's sake make sure you keep it close. I would guarantee to you that as long as I live it will too, but I may die, and my first unfatigueable promise was broken in the events of the last paragraph, so no one else, not even me should be trusted with this. That is why all of you must keep it safe. Each and every one of you must remember it and carry it always. None of us are quite sure when it hit us, but it did, and we've been doing it ever since. It is the one thing that we, and we alone have. They may try to understand, or even try to play, but these occaisional exceptions are false. They can't really know. It is the one thing that unites us all. As long as we remember, we will realize it's beauty. Even those in our group who can't understand the complexties just yet it their still untampered youth may point and run and experience the game. If not for our own, for their sake, please preserve football.