When a Craigslist Casual Encounter begins, “Maybe this is asking too much, but…” it’s probably too much. Especially when that “but” is followed by, “I’m looking for inspiration and was wondering if there are any women out there who would be willing to share some of their goddess-energy with me, to put some spark in my day: I would really like to see your tits.”
Three weeks ago, Asheville, North Carolina’s biggest (and bounciest?) admirer of women, or at least their bosoms, published a lengthy personal ad on Craigslist in a desperate attempt to see some boobs. Not just any boobs, mind you, but “real, happy tits,” not “some porn-industry, air-brushed, media-approved, silicone-infected, professional skin-jockey.” He goes on:
Are you really going to let the failed moral standards of a repressive, patriarchal, Puritanical society stop you from showing me your t*ts? Think of the poor, sad Puritan pilgrim-woman, with her t*ts all bound up and hidden away. Are you going to let them get away with that?! No, you’re not! You’re going to laugh and smile and shake your t*ts in the face of The Man. (I would happily represent that Man if you had any symbolic civil disobedience planned. Let me know if I can help out.) You’re going to send me a picture of your happy, bouncy tits.
The world needs your t*t-energy!
And you’re not going to listen to the sour-faced, self-appointed “feminists” who want to spread their toxic life-hatred (‘Our women are being manipulated and objectified as mere sex-objects…” Piss off, bitch! Keep your twisted, frigid analysis to yourself.) F*ck ’em! F*ck the bitter haters! They’re your t*ts! Your body! Your power! T*t power!
Why is this guy wasting his best material on Craigslist, when surely women’s colleges the world over would love to have him as a professor? “T*ts 101” at Barnard could be a huge hit, until Professor 2 Much 2 Ask starts talking about needing “some of that serious t*t-mojo,” at which point he’d run out of Manhattan with pitchforks and torches. Here’s who he’s looking for:
A) First, you should meet the following criteria. These are important, because the whole point of this is that I want to witness your real-time, in-the-moment, love of your wonderful womanhood and your bouncy goddess-given gifts:
1. you should have happy t*ts
2. you should be proud of your happy t*ts, and you should try to live up to the high ideals that your t*ts represent (love of self and others, life-positive, the future is important, etc.)
3. you should feel no shame about doing this. I want you to be happy and frickin’ proud about being a woman and about your happy t*ts. You’re doing this because YOU want to do it, because you know this is a liberating sacred gesture, because baring your breasts is an act of self-affirmation. And I want to bear witness.
4. your happy t*ts should be unhampered, bra-less, free and easy, unashamed, proud and happy. but, whipped cream would be okay, as would cake frosting, chocolate syrup or most any other happy food. cold oatmeal or hospital food = not happy, not okay. got it?
B) Second, take a picture of your happy t*ts. Close your eyes and think about what a miracle you are, about your potential as a woman. When you feel the self-love, when you feel your own power, when you truly feel that your t*ts are a force for Good in our world, snap the picture, and send it to me.
C) Third, you will spend the rest of the night feeling happy, liberated and free. You’re friends will ask you, “why are you smiling so much?” and you’ll just smirk and stifle a laugh, but feel REALLY happy, ELATED even. I will spend the rest of the day with a big smile on my face, grinning like an idiot, touched by the joy-giving power of your happy t*ts. People will see us, each living our own private lives, being really happy, and will realize that life is actually pretty good, and then they’ll feel happy too. And other people will be inspired by their happiness, and so on, and so on…and your happy t*ts could send shockwaves of happiness through the city. You have that power!
I have the power! (Assuming I had boobs.)
But seriously, folks, this guy truly loves and respects women (and “their happy t*ts”), which I honestly believe. And all it took was 1,500 words about breasts on a section of the internet usually reserved for “My Gloryhole Is Open – m4m.” If that’s not feminism, I don’t know what is.