Bitchiness: The Gender Debate

What better topic with which to commence my Blog.

It is universally known, even if you've been living in a cave for the entire duration of your High School education or any other period of your life for that matter, that all women are born with a bitchiness gene. It's just there. You inherit it along with your vagina and the gene that compels you to fill a wardrobe full of shoes that you "neeeeed".

For those of you who still live in a cave and will therefore be receiving this via lucid dreams, let me explain: if a man has a problem with you, it's quickly discussed and concluded over a pint/paper/fisticuffs or else left alone, in which case both parties pretty much forget what the problem is in the first place; if a woman has a problem, she will be incredibly sweet to your face all the while speading rumours that you are, in fact, a post-op transvestite named Clive.

Okay so it's not that black-and-white. However I would like to meet someone, gender regardless, who doesn't at least partially agree with me on that front. Men, I admire you. The number of times a girl has deliberately wound me up and I have had to affix my mouth shut with No More Nails so as not to turn around to the second closest girl and whisper, "She obviously doesn't shave her armpits".

I guess the trick is this: women work in cliques, men work in groups. Women are fighting to be Alpha Female and not shop consistantly at Primark and subsequently be labelled: "Cheapass"; whereas men are just happy to indulge in each other's company without having to remember that Jim once did your ex to piss you off and Barry called you a racist last week*.

More on this subject later.

* Apologies for the rough generalization, and of course to Jim and Barry.