A Day in The Life…

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By Rachel Krick

Imagine a world in which women were taller and stronger than you. And had a preconceived notion that they were smarter than you, too. Imagine waking up in the morning feeling obligated to apply different colored liquids and powders to your face, not because you love getting up extra early, but to be noticeable to women. Imagine going to the gym and spending your entire workout getting gawked at by sweaty, hormonal women breathing more heavily with every one of your squats. Attending class and having every woman ignore your existence until there’s a group project or test, and then every empty seat within a 6 foot radius has a female body in it, leaning in ever-so-closely to see the answers that you assumed were yours, and yours only.

Imagine your level of attractiveness being determined by the size of your penis. Or your ability to twerk your pecks in circular motions. Imagine getting texts after 2 am from drunk women asking to “come thru” or to let her “hit it,” because that’s so inviting. Picture listening to rap music, and hearing lyrics about women making all the money in the world, and men simply exist to practice their skills in the bedroom. What if lyrics and music videos only defined the type of body that women want, and the ways it must be able to move and shake in order to be considered sexy? Imagine if women thought only with their libidos, and lost any sort of filter they may have had when approaching you on the street, whispering crude remarks and staring at your crotch as you pass by.

Imagine magazines and runways plastered with male models with the type of shape that is impossible for 95% of the male population to achieve. Imagine women simultaneously expecting you to have a build like Bradley Cooper, dance moves like Chris Brown, and a personality like Noah Calhoun from the Notebook, all at the same time. Not to mention being exceptional in bed, but not so good that women can sense you’ve slept with “too many” other people. Think about going to the bar, just to have women spend their entire paychecks trying to blur the lines of consent and take you home. Imagine having too many of your friends raped by women too selfish to care about the damage caused by their actions. Hearing the same lines over and over again like a broken record: “Not all women are the same,” “I’m too busy for anything serious,” or “You’re the only man I’m sleeping with.”

Imagine the prerequisite to making a decent living being the ability to menstruate; regardless of your intellect and skills, you will only earn 77 cents to every dollar that women make. And the dress code will include shoes that make it impossible for you to walk comfortably, let alone run away. You’re hired because your employer thinks you’re good-looking, which seems fine, until she tells you the only way you’ll make it in the company is to drop your boxers. Imagine being continually told that men get uglier with age, while women only get more attractive. The word “divorce” triggering panic or terror, and forcing forgiveness after infidelity.

Imagine, after experiencing any or all of the above, that women still expected your love and adoration. Your trust is something that is no longer earned, but expected. And your past is something that need not apply. The world has taught you to be guarded and cold, but women expect you to be open and honest. Your only hope is a future void of heartbreak and inequality, but the only way to reverse the damage is for your counterpart to take a walk in your shoes.

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