5 Things My Inner Feminist Hates About Me

1. Most men are at least five inches taller than I am. This means that, often, when I am hugged by male friends and family members, they have to lift me off my feet. Don't I sound so cave-womanish by saying I like that? "Me tiny little woman. You big, strong man who easily lift me off my feet."

2. I like to choose what I want from a menu, tell Bob, and let him order it for me. My inner feminist hates to go out to eat with us. I just snap at her, "I have to do so much in life. Why not let someone else who is willing to do so do this for me?"

3. If I am lugging heavy boxes/bags, trying to open a door when my hands are full, etc., and I see a perfectly capable man watch me without offering to help, I hate him. I have been known to decline an offer of help (very politely. I don't know who all these rude women are who have, apparently, cowed all the men I know from ever wanting to hold doors, because they all have stories of women snapping and yelling at them when they did so) when I really don't need it, but I consider it horribly rude of a man not to ask. I tell my inner feminist this has nothing to do with gender. I'd hate a perfectly capable female (especially if she obviously seems bigger and stronger than I) if she saw me and didn't offer assistance. However, I'd be lying if I said I don't like it when a man holds a door open for me even when I am hands-free and not burdened down with a thing (I won't hate him if he doesn't, though. I probably won't even notice, as it isn't something I expect).

4. I don't want to be asked, "May I kiss you?" I just want a man who so desires to do so, to do so and not to be wimpy about it. Just kiss me with all the passion you are feeling, if you are. Don't do it again, if I tell you not to, but if I like it, I am likely to say something like, "Could we do that again?" (I'm speaking theoretically here. I'm a happily married woman, but if men, other than my husband, were to start kissing me passionately, I don't think I would remain so.)

5. I don't mind at all if I get whistles and appreciative looks from strange men on the street (especially if they are attractive strange men). It happens very rarely, but I have never felt the least bit threatened when it does. No, I'd say it puts a spring in my step. It gives me a tiny little taste of how movie stars must feel. Inner feminist may be sulking, but I just say, "Look, it isn't as if they yelled something nasty or lascivious at me. That would be completely unacceptable." But that's never happened to me, and if it did, well, I have a middle finger for a reason.