There may be little point doing another post on women, as I’ve probably alienated most of my women readers, whilst keeping the even-minded ones. One such cool babe is Nunyaa who commented on the semi-tongue-in-cheek piece on Femdroids:
A mute robot would be the perfect model lol , kidding.
She’s so on the money, Jo, she generally is and one lady with her head screwed on right.
Two valid criticisms of yours truly is that at one end, I’m way OTT in “scathingness” over certain types of women and at the other end, maybe too gushing on other types. Not one to do things by halves, your [not so] humble blogger does not apologize for that. Other criticisms have been that I’m trapped in a 1950s time-warp on women and that I only like demure, compliant ladies.
Yesterday, perhaps I’d have to concede they’re right. I work in a shop some days and yesterday I ran the shop on my little ownsome, which was fun, if a bit frightening. There are two things to mention – before work and during it.
Before work, I dropped into my regular tea rooms, getting there, as usual, just as they were opening, an interesting time. The owners weren’t there but three elusive ladies I’d seen around were – all three of them – and they were running the show. It’s no accident that these were classy girls because the owners know which staff to hire and which not.
One thing characterizing the relief manager and the other girls under her was the work ethic, the sensible heads, free of the garbage this blog rails against, which stuffs up so many western women’s minds and the second thing was the sane attitude to the other sex and it was not just because I was a regular there. The relief manager kept coming back and sitting nearby and we were talking about everything under the sun but most frighteningly – agreeing. She is so cool – in her spare time she’s an actuary, would you believe?
Anyway, she’s departing the tearooms and we were wondering how we could meet again, which we’ve now sorted. That’s getting off-topic, the point being that if she can be like this, then where do the Harmans and Toynbees and Middletons and Gillards [actually, it’s stretching it to call them women] get off with their bilge? Uggghhh – are they not revolting?
You know how the French have this image of Marianne as their poster girl and the Americans have their Columbia? Well this lady yesterday had that open, honest face of the English at their best and the Engish Nats could do far worse than to have her as their pin-up girl. That’s why, when I’m granted the honour to be favoured by one such as her, I get so scathing about the other sort who drive us men out of our trees.
I told her, by the way, that her idiosyncratic way of hoovering caused me to rewrite one of the characters in Dark Logic with her mannerisms – I acted them out for her and she took it in good part – a young lady who can laugh away a criticism of her! My goodness. So, all of that plus the tea put yours truly into a great mood for the rest of the day.
The shop. You know, I was watching the steady parade of browsers and buyers and male readers might forgive me if I don’t go into detail on my observations of the men – not an interesting topic, lads – but the women were of all types, obviously some who are attractive for many reasons and some who are not worth breathing space.
It was just reaffirmed yesterday that a pretty shell is no criterion. Why are we so obsessed with a woman’s outer shell looks? For me, if she’s halfway decent to look at, then that’s all that matters in the looks department and more important things like how she looks after herself, what’s swirling around in that brain of hers and how she carries herself and speaks are the critical factors.
There’s a type which is quite aggressive and you can predict what she’ll do. She’ll stride in and start smashing the clothes hangers apart with poor gross motor coordination [this type bashes keyboards as well], causing items to fall to the floor from the racks and she’ll just leave them there and move on to the next target of her mayhem. So, she’s already demonstrated hardheartedness, obliviousness, arrogance [that I’m expected to pickup after her mess], ugliness with the body posture and I don’t even want to start peeking inside her mind.
Contrast that with a lady who walked in just … well, normally … items dropped on the floor again because they’re always slipping off the hangers. She knew just as much what she wanted but the whole manner was one of consideration. She picked the item up and not only placed it back in the right position but also turned the hook of the hanger the right way. When she reached the counter, I was already half in love with her.
Ten girls of around seventeen years or so suddenly descended at one point, like a swarm of butterflies [I’d prefer not to use the collective noun “rabble”] and you know, they were fine – not an ASBO among them, minus shrieking, minus bones through the nose, minus scars all over them, minus babies in pushchairs, plus a good-humoured attitude – they certainly knew their clothing – if only all our young could be like that.
In came Ms Expensive and this is one of the types I detest – her value as a human being, in her eyes, the wearing of Prada or whatever – pretty shell but horrible haughtiness, nose up in the air, thinking she’s a queen and totally conscious that lesser mortals like us are devoting our time to watching her. I did the opposite and didn’t give her another thought until now.
In came Ms Wannabe Expensive with her laughable dress sense and mixing of styles, as long as they carried an ersatz label. Naturally, the make-up was caked on. Then came Ms Lead-your-long-suffering-partner-around, striding in front of him to the racks and as the guy passed me and nodded a good morning, I’m afraid I crossed the customer/staff line and said, sympathetically, “I know the feeling -I’ve been there.” He grinned and thankfully, she never heard it.
She had the shell, she might have been lovely but sadly … she wasn’t.
Slowly, over the course of the day, the ones I warmed to were those who came in with a sense of surroundings – perhaps that’s the best way to put it – and a sense that she was in a two-way arrangement. Almost to a woman, these ladies were very feminine and OK, I confess … demure. What they did to me was bring out the best and I’d help them all I could.
Don’t get the idea that they lacked character – at one stage, late in the afternoon, three quite ebullient characters came in and we all got into the discussion of whether the checked jacket suited one of them or not. As she was well-endowed, she was never going to close that jacket [I wondered whether to offer my assistance but then let the idea slide] and her girlfriend pointed out what all had been thinking. I pointed out that of course she couldn’t wear the stripes with those checks. She liked the jacket and it was good, admittedly so she said she planned to lose weight but it wasn’t actually weight which was the issue – it was the bust.
They were fun, those three.
I forgot to mention that before work, when I went into the supermarket to get my lunch, there was an elderly lady ahead of me, completely at odds with the rush-all-the-customers-through-at-breakneck-speed attitude of modern supermarket life and I’ve just completed a Yougov survey a few minutes ago now about precisely what I’m about to say about supermarket employees.
Your [not so] humble blogger was annoyed with the way this lady was treated. This lady avoids those auto-machines because they’re not human. She made a pleasantry which went right over the checkout-woman’s head, the latter asking, “Are you going to take your card, dear?” Our lady was nonplussed – she’d just made a comment about the weather or whatever and the checkout-woman could have responded, it would have cost her nothing and it was clear that our lady was about fifty years out of date, from an era when the shopkeeper exchanged pleasantries with the customer.
She was so lovely, this elderly lady, a bit shaky, so how the hell could the check-out woman be such a yahoo? There are times I don’t want to live in this day and age but if I didn’t, I’d never have met the teashop relief manager.
Surely it’s possible to combine gentility, character, fun and caring for oneself in one package? Surely women can be ladies? Just why don’t they wish to be? It’s so much more pleasant for us and then we can treat them well. Either way, I’m going to obstinately and steadfastly gravitate to those who do and their wish shall be my command – I’ll always put myself out for them.
As for the others, I’ll still be civil [except on this blog] and will give them a quick smile before moving on. Hopefully, they’ll not know what I really think of them and most likely, they wouldn’t even care.