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"As for you," I said, turning to Shelly, "do you seriously believe that you were treated like a slave or that you were 'oppressed' as a housewife and mother? I don't blame you for thinking these things because you're young and you haven't experienced much of the real world yet.
I earned enough money to allow you to raise our daughter full-time, without you having to worry about holding down a job at the same time. " I gently removed my daughter's arms from around my neck and kissed her on the forehead. What I will never understand is how someone as old as your mother could believe such nonsense." With that, I did as I said I would and packed my bags.
I watched in disgust as one kid after another entered the van, exchanging high-fives as they passed each other. As I approached the van, I could see it rocking, and I could hear the moaning and groaning from inside. To this day, I don't know how Shelly managed to find her way home. I don't know which man's clothes she was wearing when she suddenly appeared at our front doorstep. I made sure to lock the doors so that she would have to knock. Her hair was a knotted mess, and I could see little leaves and sticks matted in it. She must have hiked through the woods at some point, I gathered. "There is also no such thing as a 'rape culture,'" I continued. All of these mythological bogeymen that your teachers and professors - and mother - have put in your head are nothing but excuses for failure.
One of the kids noticed me approaching and elbowed his friends. I imagine she must have felt pretty embarrassed standing there, with all of our neighbors watching, as she begged me to allow her inside her own home. As long as you can claim to be a victim, you have a built-in excuse to fail.
While Shelly chatted with her new "classmates," I ducked into a men's room stall. I just needed to confirm for myself that what that college kid said in the men's room was bullshit - or that maybe he wasn't referring to my "MILF." When six o'clock passed, and I still hadn't seen any suspicious activity, I breathed a sigh of relief. Behind her, with his back to me, was a young man with his pants bundled around his ankles, plowing into my loving bride as if he were trying to dislodge a golf ball from her throat the hard way. " the kid shouted without bothering to look over his shoulder. I tossed him out of the van, and he tumbled onto the pavement. He hesitated for a moment, as if debating his options, before he flipped me the bird and strutted away. She curled up into a fetal position and wrapped her arms around her knees. (In retrospect, she would've been better off had we spanked her.) "One," I said. That's rich." "I told you I can explain," she said, lowering her voice. What possible explanation could there be for you to fuck around behind my back, shit all over our marriage, and destroy our family? I simply sat and waited to hear the rest of the story. I couldn't help but shake my head and chuckle once again. You couldn't possibly relate to what we have been through." "Mom spent all those years being oppressed," Alicia continued. "I earned my degree," I said, "and I made the Dean's List each semester. I then started my career at the very bottom of the corporate ladder, doing shit work for shit pay.
Instead, she appeared to move from the front seat to the back. Shelly tried to open the passenger door, but I had locked it. Now she is finally living her life, and doing what it takes for a woman to succeed in this patriarchal society." "That's right," Shelly said, "and don't even start to judge me about my sexuality. I learned to reconnect with my ancient, inner, female goddess. And I won't let you deny me the air that I breathe! "Also, there's no such thing as a gender wage gap," I continued, ignoring her.
As time went by, and Shelly began her second semester, she became very active with the "hashtag-resist" movement.
She began spending her weekends organizing marches and protests, knitting pink "pussy" hats, and creating hand-written signs to pass out to the other protesters.
She was excited just to be out of the house for a change, and she seemed excited and enthusiastic about starting the "next chapter of her life," as she called it.
About a month or two into her first semester, she became more active with campus activities.