about.
âRoss,â I say. âThere was this woman who lived in the eighteenth century. Her name was Mary Wollstonecraft and she was fed up with women having to follow men around all the time. And she was fed up with old Rousseau who wrote about how women should be breeding and breastfeeding. Basically she was fed up with dickheads telling women how to be women. This was way before the suffragettes or anything, I mean women werenât supposed to even have brains before the nineteenth century. Anyway, Mary wrote a book about womenâs rights, insisting that they should be equal to menâs, and that it was high time girls stopped being raised to think that the most important thing in life was to please men. Thatâs how people thought in those days, that a womanâs duty was to please some dolt. Pretty soon everybody was saying nasty things about Mary because she was challenging the status quo, so there she was, all alone in some attic, writing down what was important to her.â
I donât hear anything in the bathroom. I try to remember if there are razors in there. âRoss ⦠?â
âWhatâs your point?â she says.
âJust that you donât have to care what people say. People always talk. Words are wind, Ross, one big fart.â
âIâm not like you. You donât care about anything.â
I donât argue. Like I said, the only time Iâve been heartbroken was when my hamster died.
âWhat happened to her?â Rossi asks.
âWho?â
âMary whatâs-her-face.â
âOh, well, she met some painter she had the hots for but he was already married. She asked his wife if she could move in with them but the missus wasnât too wild about that idea so Mary took off to France thinking thereâd be some radicals there. She wanted to educate French women about how they didnât have to be doormats. The hitch was, the French Revolution was getting going and they didnât like freethinking women there either. Pretty soon those French Revolutionaries were talking about sending her to the guillotine. Fortunately she met some American adventurer she went nuts over and he told her to go to Scandinavia to educate women because the Swedes wouldnât cut her head off. So off she goes on her good mission, spreading the equality word. When she gets back to London she finds out that the adventurerâs been banging boots with some tart. Mary got so depressed she walked around in the rain, figuring if her clothes were soaked sheâd sink in the Thames. She didnât, though, a boatman pulled her out.â
This doesnât seem too smart, actually. If you want to sink, use rocks. Maybe Mary Wollstonecraft didnât want to drown. Maybe her dunk in the Thames was a cry for help.
âThen what happened?â Rossi asks.
âShe left him and met some other guy she respected and trusted and who respected and trusted her. They got married, even though neither of them believed in marriage, and they had a baby.â
âAnd they lived happily ever after,â Tora contributes.
âNo, actually. The placenta got stuck in her uterus and some doctor shoved his arm up her and tried to yank it out but it broke into pieces and got infected. She died two weeks later.â
âThat is a horrible story,â Rossi says, flinging open the door. âWhy would you tell me such a sick story?â She looks really annoyed, which is a healthy sign.
âItâs a true story.â
âSo let me get this straight,â old Tora says. âShe was this feminist type but she got married.â
âBeing a feminist doesnât mean you donât marry.â
Rossi grabs the Triscuits from me and starts chewing. âTheyâve started a virtual sex network.â
âWho?â
âKirsten and Nicole. They told me I could join, then they go spreading this smut about me.â
âYou want to
âRoss,â I say. âThere was this woman who lived in the eighteenth century. Her name was Mary Wollstonecraft and she was fed up with women having to follow men around all the time. And she was fed up with old Rousseau who wrote about how women should be breeding and breastfeeding. Basically she was fed up with dickheads telling women how to be women. This was way before the suffragettes or anything, I mean women werenât supposed to even have brains before the nineteenth century. Anyway, Mary wrote a book about womenâs rights, insisting that they should be equal to menâs, and that it was high time girls stopped being raised to think that the most important thing in life was to please men. Thatâs how people thought in those days, that a womanâs duty was to please some dolt. Pretty soon everybody was saying nasty things about Mary because she was challenging the status quo, so there she was, all alone in some attic, writing down what was important to her.â
I donât hear anything in the bathroom. I try to remember if there are razors in there. âRoss ⦠?â
âWhatâs your point?â she says.
âJust that you donât have to care what people say. People always talk. Words are wind, Ross, one big fart.â
âIâm not like you. You donât care about anything.â
I donât argue. Like I said, the only time Iâve been heartbroken was when my hamster died.
âWhat happened to her?â Rossi asks.
âWho?â
âMary whatâs-her-face.â
âOh, well, she met some painter she had the hots for but he was already married. She asked his wife if she could move in with them but the missus wasnât too wild about that idea so Mary took off to France thinking thereâd be some radicals there. She wanted to educate French women about how they didnât have to be doormats. The hitch was, the French Revolution was getting going and they didnât like freethinking women there either. Pretty soon those French Revolutionaries were talking about sending her to the guillotine. Fortunately she met some American adventurer she went nuts over and he told her to go to Scandinavia to educate women because the Swedes wouldnât cut her head off. So off she goes on her good mission, spreading the equality word. When she gets back to London she finds out that the adventurerâs been banging boots with some tart. Mary got so depressed she walked around in the rain, figuring if her clothes were soaked sheâd sink in the Thames. She didnât, though, a boatman pulled her out.â
This doesnât seem too smart, actually. If you want to sink, use rocks. Maybe Mary Wollstonecraft didnât want to drown. Maybe her dunk in the Thames was a cry for help.
âThen what happened?â Rossi asks.
âShe left him and met some other guy she respected and trusted and who respected and trusted her. They got married, even though neither of them believed in marriage, and they had a baby.â
âAnd they lived happily ever after,â Tora contributes.
âNo, actually. The placenta got stuck in her uterus and some doctor shoved his arm up her and tried to yank it out but it broke into pieces and got infected. She died two weeks later.â
âThat is a horrible story,â Rossi says, flinging open the door. âWhy would you tell me such a sick story?â She looks really annoyed, which is a healthy sign.
âItâs a true story.â
âSo let me get this straight,â old Tora says. âShe was this feminist type but she got married.â
âBeing a feminist doesnât mean you donât marry.â
Rossi grabs the Triscuits from me and starts chewing. âTheyâve started a virtual sex network.â
âWho?â
âKirsten and Nicole. They told me I could join, then they go spreading this smut about me.â
âYou want to
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