Damn Miley. Her twerking at the VMA show has totally hijacked where I was going with this blog post. But now I have to address it.
I first found out about Miley Cyrus’s performance when a former student posted on Facebook (while the show was in progress), “What drug is this?” After I checked it out, I had to reply “Celebrity.” She certainly seemed hell-bent on grabbing for attention, among other things. Afterward, I saw her act referred to as “desperate,” “disgusting,” “pornographic,” “embarrassing,” and much, much more.
I’m a little embarrassed myself to admit that I re-posted on Facebook the picture comparing her twerking ass to that of a raw chicken. But come on, the likeness was amazing! (Miley, you’re young, your estrogen levels are high; you probably have a cute ass. But those shorts did not do it justice, girlfriend.)
It’s amazing the number of people who have weighed in. So if attention was her goal, it certainly succeeded.
Many articles and blogs criticized her performance. But some stood up for her right to do with her body what she wants. At least one called her out on the “racist” nature of the way she grab-assed her dancers. And at least one commented on the inappropriateness in light of Robin’s being married. Miley’s dad said, she’s still my little girl. Robin said, she’s the bomb. (Of course, what else could he say? “No, don’t help me sell any more records.”) Robin’s wife didn’t seem worried; I guess she figured there’s no competition there.
Miley herself said, you’re overthinking it, I didn’t think. Like that was just a spontaneous show? Boy, that Robin must be even more irresistible than I imagined.
She also claims that she and Robin told each other before the show, we’re gonna make history here. Puh-leeze. I hope she said that; I don’t want to think that Robin has such a narrow view of history.
So there we have it. But back to that attention for a minute, have you noticed that it’s not even in the news anymore? Much less that it’ll ever appear in a history book? Oh, fickle fame…
Meanwhile, what I had wanted to write about, following up on what I posted in Part 1, was the temptation for a woman to go home with a sexy guy like Robin who, as in his music hit of the summer “Blurred Lines,” is entreating her to give in to her animal nature. As compared to comedian Louis CK who warns that we may be putting ourselves in mortal danger if we do.
What a conundrum! Should I address it from the standpoint that a woman has every right to claim and enjoy her own sexuality? (She does.) Or espouse the opinion that women might be tired of having to be the gatekeepers of sex, and then be called prudes and cockteasers for it? (We are.) Or go the other way and remind everyone that women risk more in having sex than men do, such as pregnancy and a greater susceptibility to some sexually transmitted diseases? (We do.)
The tack that I feel I have to take agrees with Louie. Maybe I watch too many serial killer shows (a hobby I will discuss at a later date), but he is absolutely right when he says that the greatest (human) danger to a woman is a man. (I add human because automobiles actually wreak the most havoc on both sexes.) Sure, there are plenty of men who adore us, revere us, long for us, would do all in their power to help and protect us. But there are also plenty who resent us, feel entitled to us, want to hurt us, or just don’t give a damn about us. And we can’t tell which is which just by looking at them, talking to them, or letting ourselves be charmed by them. The only way to tell is by getting to know them, and that takes time.
So the hard truth is that if an attractive guy wants us to go home with him, wants to take us home, wants us to get in his car, or asks to come in to use our bathroom – ANYTHING – it may feel rude, but saying no (nicely) can be a life-saving measure. If he’s really interested, he’ll understand our dilemma, respect it and wait, too. And if he doesn’t, if he gets angry or moves on to his next mark – then there’s our clue about what kind of a partner he’d likely be. Selfish. Shallow. Half bear/half lion. The closest thing to a zombie we’ll probably ever meet, and hopefully escape.
By the way, I’m interested in words. I looked up the origin of “twerk” and read ‘probably a combination of twist and jerk.’ I think it sounds more like twat and work, but either way, I don’t like the sound of that word.
On the other hand, I love the word “assitude” (which I think I hear in “Blurred Lines,” although when I looked up the lyrics, they differed, and none showed it – suggesting to me that the public isn’t even sure what the song is saying!)
Well, if it doesn’t say it, it should. Assitude is a very clever portmanteau. And it’s definitely a word I can get behind. (Ouch.)
Female Bonobo apes know how to use their assitude! Learn more about its role in mating in Licking the Spoon, my book in progress about food, sex and relationship.