I love a nice set of tits.

I mean, seriously. I don’t mean they have to be big. In fact, small shapely tits are every bit as nice as big ones.

Oh, and I like a nice round ass, too; curvy with a smallish waist floating over hips that flare at just the right angle. I like well-formed thighs that lead up to the promise land, and smooth knees above shapely calves. Of course, all that combined with a woman’s pretty face is a crowning glory; full lips that promise supple kisses and great blow jobs, clear eyes and unblemished skin. All this combines to make a woman utterly fuckable, and visually that is what I like most of all. I like to look at women that are little fuckmuffins.

And I really like it when those fuckmuffins are sexually liberated and adventurous; when they like to please and be pleased, not living life with prudish sticks up their asses made from the same wood that forms the chips on their shoulders. It makes them a fuck-ton more fun.

If you have a problem, with any of this, you can go fuck yourself.

Of the now almost endless list of things that have grown annoyingly stupid and sanctimonious about feminism is the Victorianesque shaming of my sexual programming as a man. Even with the so called “sex positive” feminists, the most hypocritical assholes of them all, the only positive sexuality they embrace is that of women. To them, male sexuality, in all its glory, is something to be buried, controlled and allowed to surface only when it serves the sexual needs of some narcissistic, horny, self-absorbed little “sex positive” princess.

The FAT (feminist and traditionalist) clause applies here, also. And the traditionalists have been at it longer than even the feminists have. Who are those traditionalists? You will know them by their obsequious silence while feminists shame men for committing the scurrilous act of looking at women sexually. Or better yet, as they join in with their “men can stop rape” bedfellows to twist and distort the natural inclinations of young men with Puritan sexual guilt that marches in lockstep with the feminist hatred of male sexuality.

Gynocentrism, as the name directly implies, is about the pussy, not the dick.

Now, all that being said, is woman-as-fuckmuffin all I care about? Hardly. As a matter of fact, I would throw fuckmuffin to the curb faster than you can say “patriarchy” to spend time with a woman of good character and intelligence. I have learned in life that my dick has a healthy agenda for humanity, but not necessarily for me. So as my values have matured, so has my taste in women.

The point here is that my development in this way is a product of normal masculine development. It is not a result of feminist fucktards trying to shame me for liking tits, or traditionalist fucktards trying to shame me for the exact same thing.

And I am the one that benefits from it, not feminists, not traditionalists, and not fuckmuffin, who is prone to act indignant when she feels sexualized (by the wrong guy). She can become so angry at being “objectified” that you can see her tits shake right through that tight sweater with the neckline that plunges to the vicinity of her toes.

You see, if you want men to quit sexualizing women so much, all you have to do is get out of their way. Time and experience will lead them to understand that fuckmuffin should be regarded with same respect as you would afford a stinging insect. The scar tissue from burns bear messages; important ones. Like, “Hey man, those tits are nice, but pay attention to how she ACTS.”

Most men get this with time. And they learn to value women for much more than their looks. Again, they do this without the chiding of neurotic ideologues or the shopworn moralizing of pious freaks whose main problem is that they are ashamed of their own sexuality.

And until they get it? Leave them the fuck alone. There is nothing wrong with them. Nothing needs to be fixed. If you want to help a young man like that, just start encouraging him to connect the dots between fuckmuffin’s propensity to take her own picture and post it to Facebook four times a day and her ultimate tendency to make him miserable. Eventually he will get the connection. And if he doesn’t, maybe that makes him happy. Either way, it is none of your fucking business.