"Go on a date with
girl.
Take her to nice restaurant.
She orders a shrimp cocktail and several drinks.
Ask for the
check.
The waiter places the check in front of me, not in front of her, not in the middle of the
table.
Look of horror comes across the
girl's face.
I reach for the
check and place my credit card inside.
She begins to tremble.
Tears well up in her eyes.
I can tell she is paralyzed by fear at the oppression she is experiencing.
I chauvinistically place the
check with my credit card on the
table in front of me, daring her to do something about it.
The power of my oppression of this woman surges through my body as I lean back in my seat and stare directly at her.
She is shaking with fright, the oppression strangling her voice away.
The waiter returns to take the
check away.
All is lost to her now.
Men at the other tables begin to stand up and
clap.
Women all over the restaurant begin to shriek and cry.
I feel my erect penis lift the tablecloth in front of me.
I ask my date, "Did you enjoy your dinner?"
"Y-yes... thank you," she says behind a mask of tears.
I lean forward, a devious, patriarchal smile spreading across my face.
And I tell her: "It was my privilege."