Patty Zigger flicked every boy in Mrs. Linder's 8th grade. They learned to steer clear of her, to stay close to the bannister on the stairs to the biology lab, and to eat at the far end of the dining hall, but they still wondered at her marvelous sexual
ambition, and what she would be like in bed.
Now, this being the mid 50s, no 8th grade boy had even gotten close to the
sexual act itself. At best all they could hope for was a brush against one of
those tempting breasts of Nancy Boone. The rest would have
to wait.
So what to make of Patty Zigger? She was not as seductive as Nancy Boone – no
girl in fact could match Nancy’s perkiness, lightly lipsticked lips, and
especially her pert, inviting, and irresistible breasts – but still, there was
no mistaking Patty’s sexual interest.
In this, a more sexually sophisticated age, her gestures might have multiple
meanings – her neglect and desire for sexual attention being the last among
them. A transsexual perhaps, a closeted woman whose desire for a penis could
only be expressed in a frustrated, aggressive way. A fully mature woman in a
young girl’s body for whom any touch of the male was a signifier, a sign of
fulfillment to come. A lesbian who, even at her young age, understood the
nature of male predation and insult and who, while still inhibited from showing
her true colors and to immature for serious political conviction, knew that
there was something wrong with men.
In that, a much less evolved and more innocent age, boys were simply and
uniformly concerned with what was under Patty’s shirtwaist and Nancy’s blouse,
and what they would do once they found out.
Sex was on their mind all the time, from morning to night; in Mr.
Smith’s math class and Mrs. Taylor’s English grammar.
The girls in the Muirland Country Day 8th grade were no different. They
wondered what ‘it’ looked like, how it would feel inside them, and especially when they
could find out. The sexual reticence of the times and the moral strictures of
both church and community inhibited any resolution to these questions, but they
were on everyone’s minds night and day.
Bobby Parker did indeed grope Nancy Boone in the backseat of his Ford
Galaxie, parked on the service road along the 8th hole at Mountain Meadows
Country Club. She kept pushing his hand away as he drew her closer, kissed her, and caressed her shoulder. She knew exactly what he was after, wanted
him to continue, but needed to dictate the pace.
She like all girls in New Brighton understood that boys were incessant and
irremediable in their pursuit of sexual favors but were so naĂŻve and
inexperienced that they could be deterred and, if necessary, ridiculed. There
was nothing so fragile as the male ego, they learned from an early age, and that
knowledge was power.
Of course there were those boys who couldn’t take ‘No’ for an answer; but all
the girls knew who they were and most were attracted by their male assertiveness. There were those who got into the backseat of the coupe willingly; and those who had no interest in being tempted, romanced, and enticed, and who simply went home.
There were plenty of girls who wanted to be touched, caressed, and loved; and
who knew precisely what they were doing when they accepted ‘his’ offer; and
plenty more who abided by the censorious rules of the day and demurred.
These latter were more willing to go out with the inexperienced boys because
they – the girls – could always be in control. They would be the arbiters of
pace and rhythm, and if a blouse was unbuttoned or a belt loosened, it
was they who decided when and how.
These young girls learned about male sexual behavior before it got twisted,
frustrated, and difficult. Boys simply wanted to touch them, to feel them, to
kiss them, and ultimately to make love to them – nothing offensive, predatory,
abusive, or disrespectful. They were acting according to the way God made
them.
The girls also understood their own sexual nature and how it fit in with
or rubbed up against social norms. They were to be the pursued, never the
pursuing. Always diffident and reticent, never eager or passionate, but
temperate, accepting, and patient.
They of course knew how to game the system just as their sisters and brothers
in previous and future generations had and would. Male sexual pursuit is a
given – an obvious, simple, and uncomplicated one – and women have always known
how to dismiss, deflate, and ignore it.
The attractive girls in Mrs. Linder’s 8th grade were never frustrated, for
they knew that they would always be pursued. There were no social, religious, or
community injunctions which could stop them. The Darwinian sorting which
started in the 8th grade would continue until mating, and girls would always be
the determinants, boys the dependent variables. Boys were helpless in the
thrall of their hardwired, unfairly riveted sexual desire. Girls could always
use this impossibly vain and naĂŻve desire to their advantage.
One had to look no further than the works of Shakespeare to see how savvy,
smart women bested men all the time – Portia, Rosalind, Beatrice, Goneril,
Regan, Viola and many others used men as their playthings, tricked them,
conspired against them, and always won the day.
The more confident girls were aggressive. When they found the right boy –
not too demanding, cute, promising, and attractive – they did the fondling, gave
the sweet inviting caresses and soft kisses all to remove his inhibitions and
reticence. ‘She who initiates controls’ was their motto.
So groping went on every Saturday night on the service road along the 8th
hole at Mountain Meadows. Girls were tempted, boys enticed, a delicate sexual
balance sought, and by midnight most issues had been sorted out.
No one reported Patty Zigger to the principal or to the school
administration. No boy tattled to his mother about her behavior. They felt in
no need of protection or alleviation. They were quite happy either to avoid
her, to meet her, or even to pursue her.
In the same vein Nancy Boone, who could never keep boys’ hands off her, never
went home crying, disconsolate and put upon. She knew precisely who she was,
what she was, and the effect she had on boys. She was in control; and even at
her young age knew precisely how to puncture a soft male ego. It didn’t take
much, she knew, to pop the inflated sexual balloon.
So what is one to make of the current groping hysteria? Men and women both
are reporting incidents that happened thirty or forty years ago. What is going
on here?
It has been well-known for years that Hollywood is an
intensely competitive, highly sexed place. Starlets sleep with producers to get
the roles they want, and producers take liberties with the most impressionable
and hopeful among them. If not exactly consensual, these liaisons were at least
contractual. Both parties knew what they were giving and getting.
It should be no surprise to learn that given the star culture of Hollywood
attractive young actors try to bed the beautiful women and men around them? Are
there cases of actual abuse? Of course. There are boors in every industry,
men who will never understand what’s what, and who are so arrogantly
self-centered and entitled that they will do anything to anyone at anytime.
They, however, are not the issue.
The only relevant issue is contractual. Who agreed to what under what
circumstances with what level of agreement or complicity?
An ancillary issue is individual strength, will, and resolve. What woman has
not repulsed an aggressive male advance? In most cases, except when dealing with
the most obtuse, ugly, and deformed male personalities, rejection works. Women
are not the victims that feminists ironically claim. Strong women are the
descendants of Tamora, Volumnia, Margaret, Hedda, Hilde, Laura, and Dionyza. We
can take care of ourselves, thank you very much.
The culture of victimhood is infectious. It has extended beyond reasonable
assumptions of sexual discrimination to include sex itself. The sexual protocol
mandated by the State of California (ask permission every ten minutes) is absurd in its notions of safe spaces and
assumptions of total individual irresponsibility. All men are predators say the
radical feminist Left, and every measure to protect women from their malign
intent is justified and called for.
Such abnegation of individual responsibility has spilled over into racial and
ethnic arenas. Blacks can and should be understood and exonerated for their
antisocial actions because they are the victims of white supremacy and
oppression. They are given a bye for dysfunctional families, a culture of
disrespect and questionable street creds, and an ethos of hostility towards any
established white authority.
Individual responsibility; honorable, intelligent behavior; respect,
compassion, duty, and courage all play second fiddle to the airing of any and
all grievances in a culture of blame.
It is time to return behavior to a more private sphere. To consider it as an
expression of individual character, not social arbiters. In other words, time
to woman up.
Monday, November 13, 2017
I Was Groped, But Then Again, I Did My Share Of Groping–Memories Of Yesteryear And An Era Of Individual Responsibility
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