We’re not all like Donald Trump and Billy Bush.
I feel the need to say that because, over the past 24 hours, I’ve seen myriad people suggest that men are men, and the behavior of those two serpents perfectly symbolizes how we all speak and act behind closed doors, out of the view of the opposite sex.
It does not.
Are there a lot of pigs out there? Absolutely. Are there Bush-like nimrods who view you as pieces of meat? Without question. Are there Trump-like nightmares who deem you as tits and ass before brains and instinct and intellect and potential? Certainly.
But not all of us.
I, for one, don’t suck on Tic-Tacs before meeting women. I don’t want to start kissing you. I don’t want to grab you “by the pussy.” I am not like Donald Trump and I am not like Billy Bush and I am not like Bill Clinton. I don’t cheat on my wife. I don’t cat call. I don’t see you as a potential hookup. I don’t walk extra close to smell your perfume. I don’t peek down your blouse or up your skirt. I don’t imagine you naked. I don’t wonder if you’re wearing a thong. I don’t aspire to kiss you, fuck you, rape you, abuse you. I don’t worry about you working at the firm, because you might be a distraction for the male employees. I don’t expect you to dress a certain way, walk a certain way, look at me a certain way. I would never hire an intern or nanny or babysitter because of appearance.
The last time I tried having sex with a woman married to someone else was never. The last time I “grabbed someone by the pussy” was never. I’ve surely spoken of certain women as being “hot” or “sexy” or “beautiful”—and that’s as far as it has ever gone. Not merely for me, but for the majority of men I call friends.
We are not all Bill Clinton.
We are not all Billy Bush.
We are not all Donald Trump.
We are not all dogs.
But I understand why you may well think we are …