How to Pick Up a Feminist

One of my good friends came into town looking for good time. DC sucks, but coming from my hometown, which feels like a giant suburb without a city, this was an obvious place for a change of pace. My friend would be easy to entertain, too. “Honestly, I’m down to just have a bottle and call some girls to come through,” Slick told me.

“The girl I’m seeing has friends that will come through,” I said. “But I don’t think I can get them over here, but they can definitely meet us somewhere on Saturday. I’d rather just go meet new chicks, though.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“She’s cool, I mean, but she’s not someone I’d bring out in public all the time. I keep her around but I’m not that excited. But I’ll hit her up and make sure she brings bitches.”

“Awesome. All I need is to just talk to them and I’m good,” he said. Which is true. Everyone who meets him likes him. The night we planned to meet them, VK and I witnessed a most ridiculous nighttime street pull. He jumped into his African King character, and then flipped back and forth between that character and himself, in a serious yet hilarious fashion. He was dropping gems like “I want to stick my spear in your booty” with a perfect accent. VK and I couldn’t stop laughing. It was so funny we had to cross the street and hide behind parked cars to avoid being a distraction. And to laugh more loudly. He has serious social skills. Without them, it would be impossible to run his own business while not being the best at instructing. If everyone feels good they will keep coming back.

But I wasn’t sure if he truly knew what he was up against in DC.

“Yeah, but they’re feminists.”

“You were mentioning that before. Hmmm. I’ve always wondered about feminism. Do you know what it really is?”

“I can’t really say,” I said. I really couldn’t think of anything.

“Well don’t they like more sex and being on the pill? I think that would be a good thing for guys, right?”

“You’d think so,” I said. “But if I were you I wouldn’t bring it up. Save it for post coital snuggle-talk.”

Like the nice guy I am, I had her and members of her FemiCunt Clan waiting about a half hour before we arrived. One thing I forgot to do was to tell FemFan what to wear. The previous times we were out in public, she looked decent. But not this night. The four inch heels were there, along with a short, tight, white miniskirt, which were fine. Good, actually. But it was her top that upset me: a red, baggy sweater that looked like a stringier form of cashmere that didn’t flatter her. A complete 80′s throwback that fit in with the worst fashion ideas of that decade. One would think she only cared about how her bottom half appeared, and said “fuck it” and threw on the first top she could find. To top it off, she had cut her hair a little bit, making it not even shoulder length anymore, and put it in a lazy ponytail. It was all unacceptable, but something I’d have to deal with later. I was there so Slick could get some.

FemFan had two friends with her. One was cute (cuter than FemFan) but dressed as like a typical feminist: sloppy. The other was not cute, but had a decent body, and wore clothes tight enough to hint at it. Definitely the fuglo of the FemiCunt Clan, at least from all the ones I met that I’d entertain the idea of smanging, but still doable. Basically a butterface.

CuteFemiCunt had a guy who looked fresh out of college with her. The dynamic was unmistakable: beta orbiter without a clue. When she went to the restroom, he tried to bridge the obvious divide and become friends. But it didn’t take long for him to creep me out.

“Yeah I know her from college,” he said. ”We used to stay in the same dorm. I don’t think she remembers me yet.” I thought about telling him not to bring that up, but I had Slick to look after. This boy had no chance, anyway, even if Slick wasn’t around.

Everyone got settled in and made introductions. Slick was next to CuteFemiCunt, and started chatting her up. “So Rookie says that you guys are feminists.” Here we go, I thought. CuteFemiCunt looked at me with the dual expressions of “are you for real” and “save me” on her face. I wasn’t about to do that, and I hoped that Slick would right the ship. He didn’t.

In the moment, I couldn’t understand why he didn’t listen to me. But looking back on it, if he thought it wouldn’t be a problem, I can understand. Back where I’m from, you just don’t meet any feminists. You may not run into the most attractive girls, but the area is filled with people who accept the gender differences. There’s a lot of military, and a lot of girls that like roles that accompany that lifestyle. And you know that feminists hate that so they fled to DC to congregate and man-hate. There was just no way for him to truly understand how bad of a topic that was to start a conversation. I also think he was genuinely curious. But I steered the conversation away and included everyone to keep it fun. It helps when you’re wearing a crazy shirt that generates compliments.

I glanced over at Slick, who might have been sitting there quietly for the first time in his life. His eyes were wide as he stared at the floor, pondering how the hell it had gone so wrong so quickly. His hand was scratching his head the same way cartoon characters do when they’re stumped. In all the years I’ve known him, not once did I see him not be the center of attention with everyone having a great time. Welcome to DC.

Despite keeping the group entertained, I made a mistake. I lost track of time. It wasn’t exactly closing time, but it was late, and the girls wanted to engorge on some grease. They suggested Ben’s Chili Bowl, and Slick agreed. Just what I wanted to do.

Slick had pretty much given up on CuteFemiCunt, and let the boy try to talk to her, while he chatted up the butter. ButterFemiCunt took pride in telling him, a black guy, about the history of the restaurant. And she really knew a lot about it, the culture, the black man’s struggle. Something told me that I should have been embarrassed, but I was distracted by not wanting to go there to eat, and being next to FemFan and her ridiculous outfit.

As we walked up to the restaurant, we noticed a limo parked outside on the curb. Slick saw the opportunity for a well-timed joke, and let it fly:

“Whoever’s in that limo is like: ‘yeah, it’s about that time ladies,’” he said, while clapping his hands to get everyone excited. “’It’s time to get to work and make that money! Yeah, and you better not come back until you make as much as you can!’”

I wanted to burst out laughing, but held back as much as I could. But I couldn’t stop the huge grin, because even though I thought it was hilarious, I knew where this was going.

FemFan immediately got in his face. “I don’t think that’s funny. At all,” she said, visibly upset. You could hear the fight in her voice. The other two FemiCunts joined in to express their displeasure. Slick’s eyes showed his disappointment. Such a joke, such timing, couldn’t possibly lead to such vitriol. He was being booed off the stage, by CUNTS! I felt for him, but quickly steered the convo back to the food, and we all went inside.

As far as I was concerned, the night was over. Slick had already moved on, talking to various people in the place, and would have stayed all night talking, but I was ready to leave. The boy was doing his best with CuteFemiCunt, probably talking about all the times they passed each other in their dorms, and the times he said “hi” to her but she probably didn’t hear him. But none of the girls were giving my boy any play, so why stay? I told FemFan that we were out. “Why??” Duh.

Outside, Slick and I talked about how the night went. “Rookie, you remind me a lot of my younger brother. You just don’t give a fuck.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. When you said we were leaving, FemFan looked like someone had killed her grandma. She looked at me, and begged with her eyes, pleading, for me to do something to convince you to stay. I looked at her gestured back that I’d love to help her out but I can’t.”

“Yeah, I mean, her girls weren’t into you, so there’s no point on hanging out with them. Did you see what FemFan was wearing?”

“Yeah, and I get it, I can see why you aren’t all that excited. And you were right about not bringing up feminism. I totally dropped the ball.”

“Man you should have seen your face,” I said. “You really looked stumped!”

“I was! I couldn’t believe it.”

—–

Later, FemFan told me that, of all people, the boy was upset the most when we left. “He was really disappointed. He had a bottle at his place and wanted everyone to come back and join.”

“He probably wanted our help with CuteFemiCunt.”

“Yeah, and it’s funny, because she told me she wasn’t into him at all. It was weird.”