Tati Bernardi: why don’t men know how to get off? – 05/11/2023 – The Worst of the Week
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Maria Beatriz writes to me asking the question of millions. I’ve been thinking about this for a few years. In fact, men don’t know how to be dumped.
If you show up at any party at my house, you will see the biggest conglomeration of handsome and interesting gentlemen who once had a relationship with me and at a certain point decided to let me know that they were going on new romantic adventures. You will also see a significant number of those who simply nipped the problem in the bud and didn’t even want a first date. I’m friends with everyone.
Of course, before that, and in some cases, I stewed for months, I wrote about three columns with hints, I created characters very similar to them who died at the end of the films, I released about ten tearful podcasts to the world, but my point is: the woman, Even those with dramatic potential can take around 200 blows throughout their lives and overcome them all. But she might try dumping lefty males two or three times during her stay on this planet!
How many times, in worn-out relationships, have I prepared myself in countless analysis sessions or lunches with friends to end everything in a loving and respectful way and saw the guy quickly adjusting himself on the couch to shout beforehand: I’M FINISHING IT! I’M THE ONE WHO DOESN’T WANT IT! I SPOKEN FIRST!!! All he had to do was stick a playing card on his forehead and shout tricks. Whatnot. I don’t even know how to play tricks, but I know that boys always need to win. They need to protect their little turtle chopsticks from rejection.
We, with holes open for so many cramps, blood, fungi, Pap smears, touch exams, obstetric violence, sexual harassment, horrible sex that decades later we understand were abuse, absurd speeches by male gynecologists, white male deputies making laws for our bodies, crude opinions of conservative relatives about our pussies, males who think that fucking properly is a performance in a porn film, babies’ heads and colposcopies… we just think: beauty, another pain, tomorrow I’ll get up badly, the day after tomorrow I’ll get up badly , I never stop getting up and next week I’m ready for another one.
Last month I had a working lunch and at the table was a boy with whom I had a very brief flirtation and, at the time, I committed the greatest of crimes: I didn’t want to continue. Despite my endless attempts at friendship and good interaction, he spent the entire meal without looking at my face. Being friendly, fun and generous to everyone and referring to me only to belittle me.
I opened my mouth, he replied, trying to make me inferior. I started to feel sad, cornered, bowed down, when I had the brilliant idea of removing myself from that scene and simply not compromising and not going through it. While eating, I had a side conversation with a friendly woman at the corner of the table. I gathered the cutlery, paid, got up and left.
I sincerely hope that my daughter doesn’t go through this. I regret that it is in a progressive bubble and not in all corners of Brazil, but I believe that my daughter will reach her 20s living with better men.
The world needs more female columnists, authors, comic artists, podcasters, politicians, screenwriters and comedians. There are already many of us, but we have to be much more. We need to tell it like it is, ridicule it, expose it. Let’s face this little planet protected by money, patriarchy and lawyers. Write!!! Let’s do what they’re most afraid of: laugh in their faces. The missing and character-forming education will come through mockery and exposure and not through moral and civic classes.
At the age of 16 (guys! SIXTEEN YEARS!) I dumped a guy at a school party. He chased me for years through ICQ, then Messenger, then Orkut, he went to Facebook, Tinder, Instagram and last week he appeared on TikTok. I block it, it comes back with another name. I block, he sends an email. You discovered my WhatsApp.
Dear criminal, it’s been almost 30 years! He always calls me a whore, of course. The woman who doesn’t have sex with them is a whore, the woman who has sex with them is a whore and the woman that the bastards “choose” to marry and make hell for is precisely the one they feel most comfortable acting like sons of bitches. There is always a whore in the prayer of the blessed without dignity. Since all we want most, often, is to be able to be a whore in peace and without some idiot like that thinking that a whore is an insult.
There was another one, about 15 years ago, I saw him playing guitar at a show. I got horny and deeply offended him with my fleeting desire. He left messages on my cell phone with cliché soap opera phrases, like “who do you think you are”. I dared not to fall in love and he spent at least five years dissatisfied. Did he write songs inspired by our one night and win prizes and money? No, he used his egolatry to harass, offend and threaten me. If only every man could suffer as a woman who writes suffers!
My love life is summed up in infinite dumps that I took and turned into material for a script, podcast, book and chronicle and about five dumps that I gave and turned into threats in voicemail, moral harassment on social networks and pathetic and childish scenes at lunches and parties.
But I would not like to conclude that this is so because we are better, more evolved, more worthy and intelligent. So I return the reader’s question to the boys: why don’t you know how to get dumped? Go to therapy and talk about it. If not for the women you have relationships with today, for your daughters who one day may want to have relationships with men who need to be better than you.
Do you have an unusual question, an unusual reflection or an unusual story to tell? Participate in the Worst of the Week column by sending your message to [email protected]
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