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I have, in the past week or so, had my sexuality insulted twice in mutually exclusive ways.

Now I don’t mind the insults, I haven’t exactly explained my sexual behavior before, and so I’d find it understandable if I was that kind of witless patriarchy accepting bint.

So no, I am not going to either, I’m not Dawn “I’m so proud that I don’t bend over for passersby anymore, did I mention I don’t bend over for passersby anymore? Because I don’t anymore, bend over for passersby that is” Eden. Who, in the unholy name of fuck, are you to lower me to that level?

But I do find it interesting that both mutally exclusive insults relied on extremes of behavior, and put them forth as the only logical alternative to their prescribed modes of behavior, whatever that may actually be in the case of the guy who called me frigid and dateless (which wouldn’t be quite so funny if I hadn’t broken an ex’s nose with my pelvis area a week or so before I started blogging here, I slipped on the toilet seat if anyone actually cares about the how).

Because if you have any sex at all without a wedding ring being involved, then obviously you must be nothing more than a free prostitute! And you can’t have sex while also objecting to porn (or KY Jelly, or whatever Matt A thinks I was saying), because porn is the same thing as sex of course.

Of course both extremes are symptoms of the Always Fucknant philosophy of Patriarchy, if you’re not married and therefore always fucknant for your husband, you’re always fucknant for all men. Saying “no” is a manly activity like playing with powertools or fixing cars after all, and therefore bad for the feeble female figure (which is the important bit of the female, that and the meaty haunches, mmm, cannabilicious).

And don’t worry fellas if either of those don’t actually allow you to fuck a woman, there’s the magazines and videos full of women and their pneumatic bosoms for you to express your native right to fuck at, and don’t worry if that means you can’t personally abuse them in someway, rejoice because they have seen clear to abuse themselves on your behalf.

With being Always Fucknant of course, comes being Always Pregnant, because if you’re forced to be always fucknant, you must be ever prepared to face the unwanted consequences of such things being thrust (literally) upon you against your will (regardless of the original point of the actual CDC report).

For those not yet entirely clear about what Always Fucknant means, I’ll spell it out for you:

Always fucknant means more than merely being ever available for some poking from the patriarchy’s mighty lance of insecurity, it means being being placed vagian first on the end of the patriarchy’s pike, like the heads of those decapitated traitors of yore, and thenceforth open to public discussion, critiscism and condemnation regarding the whens, wheres, and hows of your every vaginal doings.

I do not put my sexuality on display, I do not really put it out there for comment, maybe the occasional dirty joke, comment or tantalizing hint at my sexuality, but I don’t need to go on endlessly about it, mention it at every chance, force feed people a warped sexuality that twists and perverts heterosexuality into an act of tyranny that the tyrants use to keep us oppressing ourselves, because we’ve always been at war with Eurasia, and our benevolent tyrants have more important helots to focus their personalized oppression on.

I don’t need “straight pride”, I have self respect.

Always Fucknant means that instead of heterosexuality meaning “I’m secure in my sexuality, and therefore happily lower the ladder for homosexuals and bisexuals and everyone else who’s big on consent and small on rape and dressing up as a furry animal, to in turn feel secure in their sexuality”, it simply means not having the sort of self awareness that comes from questioning the norm, searching for yourself (and finding yourself waiting back where you started).

Heterosexuality in the Always Fucknant paradigm means accepting dogma over personality, accepting that you do not own yourself and eating the untermenschen that are placed in front of you to devour as you in turn are devoured by your social superiors, to not ask the first question, the one that comes before you question your superiors in all things, which is to ask: “Who the hell am I?”

And when you don’t ask that question, you renounce your personality, you replace individual actions with ritual and traditional Rite. You embrace homogeny and tradition in place of self respect, and call abject fear of the alternative strength of spirit.

The Lady of the Lysol, Dawn Eden. would almost be admirable in that sense, she tasted, she supped, and she stepped back and embraced the old rituals anyway. Which is still individualist, if tradition becomes something you cannot choose, then the counter-traditional merely becomes another hollow dogma that robs us of personality.

Yet why do I still smell fear and willful ignorance from her? Maybe it’s because Dawn forgets that she was only able to choose what she has because she was able to seek, to look, to question in the first place. If she hadn’t, she’d probably still be a hairy lipped hippy.

She objects strongly to the idea of the counter-traditional as an empty and hollow dogma, yet wishes to rob people of the choices that she took and rejected, because she has forgotten that the answer was “I am I” not “I am you”.

She has also forgotten that if what she has chosen is correct for other people, and if the bed she lies in is one that people will want to share with her, then she doesn’t need to force them to sleep with her.

Like men really, because when it comes right down to it, Always Fucknant is the part of the patriarchy that says that rape is good and consent is an optional bonus for the post-coital slutshaming rights only.

It is the part that hides the fragility of the patriarchal male ego (the one that has not asked “who am I?”) behind a veil of abuse and terror. And the whole purpose of asking yourself who you are is so that you don’t fear measuring up, because you find out the only person you’re measuring up against is yourself.