And now back to work again. I’m enjoying it – currently writing an essay arguing whether or not women are passive “the playthings of fate” in Anglo Saxon literature. I’m looking at it through the awareness of benevolent sexism; the idea that women are to be protected and put on a pedestal. Basically take the principal of chivalry and extend it further – women are treated nicely when they behave in the right way, and only have agency because men allow them to.
Last night I embarked on a Lord of the Rings marathon, the extended version! I failed hard though, had to duck out half way through Two Towers because it was 2.30 and I wanted to get back to Hairy. Plus there was a guy who was making me uncomfortable – Hairy said afterwards that he was hitting on me in the manner of a five year old, but basically it wasn’t cool. You know when you poke people in the ribs and some people squeak/make a high pitched noise? Well I’m one of those people, and the guy kept doing it for over an hour. Not constantly, but enough that I was thoroughly sick of it. Typically me, I didn’t realise how unhappy it was making me until I left and thought it through. It was the fact that he wouldn’t have stopped, even if I’d asked him to because that would be me be unreasonable and not having a laugh even though I’d just had to sit through constant rape jokes.
I know I’ve been busy all weekend, I just can’t really remember what I’ve been doing! Saturday I know I caught up with a friend of mine that I haven’t seen since June, so that was really great and we had a good few hours sat in the pub talking about everything under the sun (read dissertations!) and then giving each other bands that we should go look up.
I’ve also spent a stupid amount of time playing a game called Torchlight II, mostly wth Hairy but on Sunday afternoon his brother and their friend came around and we all played for about 4 hours. It was mad and sugar fuelled!
Hairy’s off out tonight with a couple of his friends from a few years back. Another rant here about men being douches: one of them said that he should ask me to give him his balls back so he could have a guys night at the pub. The assumption that I’m the one in charge who would actually stop him going out is the thing that I don’t like – yes Hairy asked me if it was ok, but that was courtesy and naturally I was going to say yes. It means that the bottle of Ballycastle (knock off of Baileys) sat on my desk doesn’t need to be shared!
I don’t like it when people assume that I’m the domineering girlfriend – if they knew us at all they’d know that between Hairy and I there is an understanding that we both need each other, but we respect each other as people. I do not keep his genitalia in a pouch, and I don’t like it when people think of me like that. That’s how I used to be, and it’s not a good way to be. Hairy isn’t in thrall to me, and to be fair I’d probably just lose the pouch holding his man bits anyway. I’m no good at keeping hold of stuff (tee hee!).
Anyway, tipsy rant over. I’m off to entertain myself while the Hairy one is drinking with his hairy friends.