As you all know, our mission is to emasculate every single man on the face of the planet (saving Kevin Myers and John Waters for last, as their sheer masculinity is too intimidating even to us ball-busters and we'll really have to work up to it). And I'm pleased to report another victory in our unrelenting campaign. Yes, I have successfuly conquered my boyfriend's maleness! Now, some might say he's not emasculated at all. Some might say that we enjoy an equal partnership in which each supports the other and each makes the other laugh. But no! Because if we've been taught anything recently by such sage thinkers as Buerk and Myers, we know that men showing any interest in anything other than SERIOUS MANLY THINGS is proof that women have taken them over with their touchy-feely girliness. And I think we can safely say that Patsington coming in when I was watching an episode of The House of Eliott and asking first "who's he?" and "who's she?", then "so what happened to the illegitimate half-brother?" and finally, as the credits rolled, "do you want to watch the next one now?" is proof that he has been de-sexed*. At least by the Buerk-Myers standard, and as we all know, that's what really counts, isn't it? Because if they've taught us anything about feminism (and they have!), they've taught us that feminists are all convinced that gender is a fixed construct and that women are automatically better than men. Except when they're convinced that they want to be more like men. And to enjoy something that focuses on the other gender means that you've been brainwashed. Or are trying to brainwash someone else. Wait, I'm confused! Where's Mr Myers and his subtle, penetrating (ooh-er) examination of modern gender when I need him?
ETA: pisica's comment has given me an idea. I know that many of you are in relationships with men. And many of you are friends with men. So what I want to know is, how have you managed to take away their precious manliness? And you'd better have done so, or you're out of the feminist mafia RIGHT NOW.
*As is tolerating me practically writhing about in joy at some of the clothes. I don't know how many times I wailed "oh, I want that hat!" Sadly for Myers et al, however, Patsington did not join in my clothes-lust, perhaps indicating that my brainwashing hasn't been as successful as my feminist cabal might want.