-- that a --little friend will be
coming to visit--. A --little friend-- who (it seems) will be just as
catastrophic and humiliating a mess as the one who has (just now) paid a
first most unwelcome social call.
No one wants to be a woman.
Taxing the limits of my own not-inconsiderable imagination, I have no
doubt that had I a --little friend-- who paid me such --visits-- -- in a
desperate attempt to cling to what remained of my sanity in the
aftershock of the full extent of the horrible news --sinking in,-- I am
certain that I would very quickly set about the business of
manufacturing a fairy-tale world for myself in which I was -- in all
other regards -- indistinguishable from a gender which does not . . .
.. . . leak?
No one wants to be a woman.
But, to me -- unless you have been forced, by virtue of being a husband
(caught between the Rock of Feminism and the Hard Place of your
marriage), to hollow yourself out and Believe any number of Impossible
Things Before Breakfast -- the fact that no one wants to be a woman in no
way validates entrenching the misapprehension (either in law or in
societal custom) that men and women are interchangeable. To do so, it
seems to me, is to once again march in lockstep with the communist model
of picking and choosing evidence for its ability to support a given
hypothesis rather than framing an hypothesis from the best available
evidence.
To me, the best available evidence in terms of gender, is that -- in the
two-gender human --race-- between man and woman and their (respectively)
--present-- and --absent-- genitalia, with the arrival of the --little
friend-- in the feminine camp and with no analogous --little friend--
arriving in the masculine camp -- men take the gold medal and women,
alas, take the silver. It seems to me that women have the option
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