The joy of talking shit on the other sex

Saying that one sex is “better” than the other has always struck me as hilariously immature.

We get frustrated in our relations with the other sex and then try to make some barely-substantiated negative generalization about them, or some poorly-informed positive observations about our own, in an attempt to feel better. This is a topic on which everyone is biased.

It’s no surprise that, as a species that reproduces sexually, sex is the first thing we notice about another person—we immediately categorize them as male or female. Everything else about their character follows after that observation. But when it comes to someone’s merits and flaws as a human being their gender rarely has much to do with it. A person is either warm or cold, selfish or unselfish, honest or manipulative. Good people sometimes do bad things, and bad people sometimes do good things, so you can’t even draw the line that way.

Of course we always notice the negative traits the other sex tends to have. It’s because they matter to us. We desire a happy relationship with one of these alien creatures, and their baffling behavior which fucks things up for no reason that we can understand ruins our chances at every turn.

But how much of this really has to do with the fact that they are male or female? Some of it, maybe, but the most you can say is that men and women are more prone to certain types of riduculous behavior. But for the most part we like generalizing about the other sex’s retardedness because it makes us feel like we need them less-it numbs our burning desire to be happy with one of them by shitting on our hope. It feels good to talk shit on half the world when you’re fed up with them.

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