…real genuine fear, she said not a word more, licked dry lips, left her half finished drink, got up and walked away, looking over her shoulder.
An hour or so earlier, as the weather here has broken and the sun was in the sky, I walked down by the river, stopped at a pub, bought myself a drink and sat outside.
Before long I was joined by some other people, all strangers, and we got talking about the economy and what not, and one of the wimminz present said something about how the economy is bad for the wimminz too.
“That’s too bad” I said, in a voice devoid of any sympathy.
She wasn’t hip to this, and tried to tell me why I should care.
“Let me stop you right there” I said, and told her a little about me, a man who has travelled the world, a man who can make the water potable and make it flow, a man who can make the electricity and make it flow, a man who went to secret family court, where, contrary to everything we are told about justice and law, zero evidence of any kind is required to find you “guilty” of all sorts of obscene allegations, and you children will be abducted from you and the entire paternal family.
Meanwhile ALL the men at the table are nodding, not interrupting, but looking me in the eye and nodding… if they themselves do not have first hand personal experience of what I am describing, they all know someone close to them who has.
“Bottom line” I finish up, “is I will give a fuck about wimminz issues, when wimminz give a fuck about my issues… to be specific” I say “when I see wimminz protesting outside the courts and chaining themselves to the railings and PHYSICALLY and FINANCIALLY supporting men who have been fucked by the state, then, and only then, will I begin to give a very small fuck, about the welfare of those specific wimminz only.”
She looked at me for a moment, and at her girlfriends, and laughingly pointed at the river winding past the pub, and said “So if I fell in there and started to drown, you wouldn’t save me.“… clearly expecting Mr White Knight to come out.
“No, I would not” I said, in exactly the same totally uninterested and uninvolved and uncaring tone that I would have used had she asked me if I might ever be interested in a 419 scam.
“You cannot mean that” she said “bu bu bu but it would be illegal to sit there drinking your beer and watch me drown!!!”
“Unfortunately” I said “I have not had the appropriate health and safety training to dive into a river and save someone, besides, how would I know it was not all a big joke and you were not crying wolf?”
There was a pause, and she asked if I would jump in to save “him”, pointing at a guy sat opposite to me.
“Fuck yeah” I said, “I *am* my brothers keeper”
She looked at me with real genuine fear, she said not a word more, licked dry lips, left her half finished drink, got up and walked away, looking over her shoulder.
Not fear of me, because it was as clear to her as it was to everyone else at the table that I would not raise one finger to harm her, nor would I raise one finger to save her.
One of the other girls said “this is creepy” and it fell on stony ground.
The “him” opposite looks at me and says “did you drive here or walk?”
“Walked” I said
“Then my friend,” he says “I am going to buy you a beer, and you are not going to fucking insult me by refusing it.”
And so like one tiny shred of crystal dropped into a saturated solution, the “Fuck you bitch” attitude coalesced and grew around the table, and where before there was flirting bullshit and open sexual innuendo, there grew very formal and very polite and very dismissive discourse from the men to the wimminz, and within 20 minutes the wimminz left, trying one last sally “coming boys?” to which the boy in question, who was all of 18, replied “Nah, go and buy your own fucking drinks, I’m staying here and chilling.”
We spent the next three hours discussing everything from motorcycles through computers through tools through great roads to drive on, great dishes to eat in foreign climes, music, you name it.
A couple of hours into it I said to the young lad who told the wimminz to buy their own fucking drinks that I hoped I hadn’t spoiled his evening, he laughed uproariously and informed me that sluts are two a penny, but being able to sit around and table with MEN and discuss anything without fear of upsetting some slut was one of the best nights he had had in ages, and was I ready for another one.
I woke up this morning to a text message from one of them “dude, bbq at my place monday evening, no slits, coming?”
We, as a nation, certainly in this region, are so prepared for a “reset” and the next level / change (when I say we I mean the men) that it surprises even me, that wimminz who got scared and left was far more perceptive than I. She got the atmosphere instantly, it took me three hours and more beer than I could handle to get it.
What scared her was not an atmosphere where any of the men there would do her harm, but an atmosphere where someone had pressed GAME OVER and suddenly none of the men there would lift a finger to support or aid her, not even in pursuit of access to her cunt.
It was only after several strong black coffees this morning that it came to me, and I am not sure it is an expression that will mean anything to my american readers, as I have not even heard it used in this country for over 20 years.
The wimminz at that table were “sent to Chelsea”, and that is what scared them.
When someone was “sent to Chelsea” it meant that everyone else at the workplace simply ignored them wherever possible, and where not possible dealt with them as politely, and courteously, and firmly, and dismissively as possible.. it was usually reserved for “blacklegs” and “lackeys”, but was the ultimate in “cold shoulder” treatment for those who it was felt had betrayed the group for their own immediate gain.