Today, I had a discussion about an upcoming International Women's Day luncheon whereat I've been invited to be a guest speaker. Not sure exactly what will go in my speech, but some of the themes the committee are touching upon are sustainability and growth as women. I am considering mentioning the protagonist of my first novel; she was particularly designed to be a strong type. By strong, I don't mean stoic and self-sacrificing in the face of adversity; I mean she has a metaphorical set of cojones and always asserts herself. She also makes a mean Caesar salad, as does her creator. There are not many strong and ruthless heroines in popular culture, most female characters are secondary to the male characters in the story. I had a chat with the committee member about how at present it's topical that women are consistently told to be polite and spare feelings. Yes, I'm talking about the photo of Grace Tame wherein she appears to be giving Scott Morrison the greasy eyeball. Shit is being lost everywhere as people talk about how rude she was and how it wouldn't kill her to smile. No, it probably wouldn't; but rude? She was civil. She was obviously uncomfortable, and given Grace is neurodiverse, she probably wasn't inclined to smile and possibly didn't pick up on a social cue that she 'should'. So, that's what people are blathering about instead of the fact she was groomed as a teenager and has worked like a Trojan for the victims of sexual assault. The firefighter who shouted that Morrison can get fucked has an offer of a lifetime of beers, whereas a woman who doesn't smile near him is hauled over the coals. Go figure.
So, Grace should just simper and smile. Women should just simper and smile because we mustn't hurt a person's feelings, must we? To be honest, I will often tell a little white lie or make a mitigating comment to soften a blow because I do not like to hurt people's feelings. I'm nice like that. However, there have been times in my life when I have told an outright lie to defuse a situation when the truth would have been better. It is like an ingrained Pavlovian reaction. Let me tell you about a situation when I softened the blow to save a guy's feelings, when the truth should have been offered (or thrown with near decapitory force because the guy concerned was such a stupid twonk).
It was in the workplace. I was twenty years of age. I had moved to the Big Smoke and being trained in this role by the guy, similar age to me, who was leaving. He probably thought he'd try it on with the new girl, who still carried a scent of eucalyptus from the gum tree she had brushed by as she left the bush.
Speaking of scent, this guy had a case of B.O. that could have blistered paint. It was like he had a peeled onion stuck in his armpit. We had to go somewhere, and when I smelt it, I thought: 'Shit, I hope that's not me!', and took a discreet and surreptitious whiff of my armpit. I was relieved it was not me, but not looking forward to spending time with this pestiferous stinkbag. This was the least of my problems. Everything he said was a double entendre or a lie.
I decided to steer the conversation by asking what the other people in the office were like. His answer, verbatim, was: 'Some of the girls think they're smart just because they're secretaries, but we go out in a group, and they all try to play with my penis, but none of them get me hard.'
No, I am NOT making that up. I was in two minds: firstly, trying not to laugh at the visual I was having of a group of women stampeding for this guy's dick; and secondly, I was offended that he thought I might be stupid enough to believe that utter codswallop.
Well, he decided to ask me out. I declined (yeah, shocking, I know). Later through the day, he approached me and asked would I reconsider his offer of a date. Again, I declined. He asked why I did not wish to go out with him.
I am too bloody polite and kindhearted for my own good. I gave my standard Let-Them-Down-Gently reply of, 'I'm not looking for a relationship at this point in my life.'
Why, oh WHY did I give such a milquetoast of an answer? Why didn't I just let this warthog scrote have the truth? Why didn't I reply, 'Why won't I go out with you? Number One: you stink. Number Two, and most importantly: you're a fucking idiot!'
Yes, this is probably a case where honesty would have been the best policy.
The memory of that made me just shudder. So did the picture of Scott Morrison washing someone's hair today. Who else saw it? The person being ministered to is clearly an employee of the salon, if her shirt is anything to go by, and if I was pressed into doing something like that by my employer, I'd want a monster of a pay rise. UGH! I don't like anybody other than a professional touching my hair at the best of times, and the thought of Scomo being let loose on it just makes me want to be ill. The desperation for publicity in that stunt is palpable through the photo, but hey, Scotty's holding a hose this time!
