I had my period. That time of the month. I had a long talk with my uterus, why do you do this?
Men do not have a uterus, they get off easy. Fertilize and stand by and watch us suffer. How is that equal?
Once our uteruses are put to work, then the rest of the package comes home to roost. Childcare, homecare, submission to the oppressive male in order to have sufficient support to be able to provide childcare and homecare. The roles are fixed. A path well traveled. For many a path they dearly desire, for some of us a path imposed on us by being born with a uterus.
I thought maybe if I was gay? But I am not and I hate that I am not. I enjoyed playing gay with my roommate. But when it comes to ‘wanting’ sex, I ‘want’ a dick, not pussy. It’s illogical, why does my uterus and my ovaries ask that of me? Surrender my vagina, my uterus, my ovaries to male domination. Why does a baby’s call to its mother wake up that desire in me? Why does a man’s firm hand and authoritarian voice wake up that in me? What is it that makes me want to be the dinner fixer, the dinner server, the dinner cleaner upper? I want him to sit and be served. It’s a condition, and I have it, it starts with my uterus. Without I would tell him to fuck off, fix his own dinner. But my uterus will never let that happen.
Odd, my wife does none of that stuff…including being a slave to my wishes. She’s what makes me want to be gay. I did, however, manage to cause my testicles enough self inflicted damage to the point of destruction and eventual removal.
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