Having spent a great deal of time as a “helping” professional, I have heard the feminine mantra echo through my brain more times than I can remember. Get in touch with your feminine side.

The message comes wrapped in a number of ways, from the direct command to just access my internal, repressed feminine, to the much more subtle messages about women’s superiority in matters of emotions, communication and interpersonal relationships. I am not even counting the whole “women at one with nature” thing, or the unending spiels about women’s enhanced morality coming into the workplace and politics. I can only handle so much femininity at once, so I am going to stick with the basics.

Today, I make it happen. Today, I choose to connect to my inner feminine, and reach for being the most complete human I can. Today, my anima rules.

I start the day early, imagining I have a vagina, and it is the source of my inner goddess, the pinnacle of my feminine nature.

So far this is how it has gone:

I woke up with a slight headache and my hair was a mess, so I immediately took it out on my partner by being rude, demanding, petty and unreasonable. The coffee she made for me was not the kind I like, so I left it where it sat, took her credit card and drove to a Starbucks, by myself.

It was kinda cool, though. There was a nice looking woman in the line ahead of me talking on her cell phone. Well, she actually wasn’t all that hot, not at all as good as I can do, but I heard her say something about being a dentist, so I didn’t just write her off altogether.

I know, I DO have a partner, but hey, nothing wrong with having a plan B. right?

There was this other woman there, actually the girl working the counter. She was very friendly and I caught her looking at me a few times. It was kind a creepy, actually. A counter girl at Starbucks, with me? As if!

Anyway, I guess I was in too much of a hurry to drive back home, because I got pulled over for speeding, which of course I was not doing. I quickly unbuttoned the first two buttons on my shirt, and cried/flirted a little when the cop stepped up to my window, but I got a ticket anyway. It was like he could not even see my feminine side at all. Bastard.

Well, the ticket really pissed me off. You-know-who is going to have to shell out for this one, too! I didn’t make that lousy cup of coffee, so it is not my fault that I had to go to Starbucks, by myself, which cost me time and made me hurry. My partner deserves to pay for the ticket. I don’t know why I put up with her.

Anyhoo, I got back home, my coffee now cold because I had to waste my time with that stupid cop, and my morning was ruined. Naturally, I took that out on my partner, too. And can you believe it, she had the nerve to tell me that the ticket was my fault!?!? Eww! I am so getting back on the market!

But that is the problem, too. Where are all the good women who know how to honor my feminine side? I find it strangely sexist of women who won’t listen to me blame them for every little miserable detail of my life; who are so stupid that I have to actually tell them what I want instead of their being able to read my mind.

And I have yet to find one that sees my feminine side and accesses her masculine side to pay homage to it. Where are all the enlightened women who want to take care of me?

I wonder about the almost cute dentist in Starbucks. She was dressed very nicely, and I spotted her driving off in a Porsche as I was leaving. Surely she has the resources to give me what I want and the smarts to make a cup of coffee without fucking it up. Like I said, she wasn’t all that hot, but she was the kind of woman that I might have sex with if she didn’t say or do anything stupid.

She might even make a good starter wife. Must note the day and time I was at the Starbucks and go back. I hope that creepy bitch behind the counter doesn’t undress me with her eyes again. If she does I will sue.

And that brings me up to the rest of my day. I am torn on how to spend it. I can either go shopping (I still have you-know-who’s credit card), or maybe I will start a blog and tell the world about how my feminine side has been repressed.

And it has, you know. It is the best example of absolute proof there is of how the masculine has dominated the feminine. And it demonstrates a problem I have been having all morning with getting in touch with my feminine side.

Every time I take out my frustrations on my innocent partner, this godforsaken masculine voice keeps popping up and telling me that it is wrong, and my stupid masculine self keeps listening. What a buzz-kill. I wish I were feminine enough to be able to easily displace all my negative feelings onto other innocent people, but I am just not there yet.

There is also something about forcing others to pay for my mistakes that my masculine side keeps screwing up as well. It’s like my feminine side knows I deserve to take what I want and not look back, but this repressive masculine asshole inside me keeps raising objections!

If I can’t even shit on people emotionally, or steal from them, without this male fucktard inside me mucking things up with a sense of right and wrong, then how the hell am I supposed to express my femininity in all its divine glory? I feel like a sociopath trapped in the body of a Good Samaritan. I am transvalued.

I feel so screwed! I may not be fully in touch with my feminine side, but I have come far enough to know that if I feel something the world is supposed to treat it like its real, even if it makes no sense at all. That is what being feminine is all about!

But I am still left wondering, just who will honor my feminine side? My partner wouldn’t. The cop sure wouldn’t, and I suppose that says a lot about the courts in advance. Where does that leave me? Do you have any idea how much all this sucks?

I guess there is nowhere else for me to go. I am going to spend the rest of the day spending a ridiculous amount of money on inconsequential bullshit, most of which is designed to cater to my vanity, and then I will take the nascent awareness of my superficiality and uselessness and morph it into a slogan to justify anything else superficial and useless that I want to do.

You GO boy!

Now, that has a ring to it! Perhaps if I say it often enough and loud enough it will drown out this masculine voice of reason and accountability, and I can get on with the business of expressing my feminine nature without the oppressive chains of human decency holding me back.

I know, I know, not all femininity is like that. There are some women who are completely fair, accountable, logical and unassuming. They are full grown adults, steeped in the expectations of mutuality and compromise. They are great human beings. They are in touch with their masculine side, and it shows.

But being like them is defeating the purpose. I am already like them!

I need to get in touch with and utilize the kind of femininity that rules the day in modern life; the kind of femininity with which most people are familiar. I need to get connected to my inner shopper, my repressed Bridezilla, my stifled princess to which the world owes all. I don’t need my inner Dr. T., I need my inner Christina Aguilera. And I need her to take control without all this pesky masculine droning on about integrity. I just need a way to pursue everything I want regardless of whether I have earned it, and regardless of whether it hurts those a lot more deserving than me.

I guess it is time to call on my inner feminist.