Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Feathery Strokers?

So, I'm reading some fun (read "trash") while I'm on Midwinter Break... It's called Anybody Out There? by Marian Keyes. A couple of years ago, I read practically everything that the woman ever wrote, and this latest bit of refuse reminds me why I so enjoyed the previous bits. Too many funny parts to list (and I'm only about 100 pages in), but I HAD to mention the concept of "Feathery Strokers."

To quote the novel:

Jacqui's Feathery Stroker test is a horribly cruel assessment that she brings to bear on all men. It originated with some man she slept with years ago. All night long he'd run his hands up and down her body in this lightest, feathery way, up her back, along her thighs, across her stomach, and before they had sex he asker her gently if she was sure. Lots of women would have loved this: he was gentle, and respectful. But for Jacqui it was the greatest turnoff of her life. She would have much preferred it if he'd flung her across a hard table, torn her clothes, and taken her without her explicit permission. "He kept stroking me," she said afterward, wincing with revulsion. "In this awful feathery way, like he'd read a book about how to give women what they want. Bloody Feathery Stroker, I wanted to rip my skin off."

Is your man a Feathery Stroker? Are you?

Is he afraid to eat nuts from the bowl on the bar? Feathery Stroker

Does he stay friends with all of his exes? Feathery Stroker

Does he notice your shoes and handbag? Feathery Stroker

Does he say that pornography is exploitation of women? Feathery Stroker

Does he say that pornography is as much exploitation of men as women? VERY Feathery Stroker

OR

Did he just do you last weekend over the kitchen table? Real Man

Does he eat red meat? Real Man


Admittedly, the whole "Feathery Stroker" thing is a bit subjective... and I'm not all together sure that my own man is not actually a Feathery Stroker. (In his defense, he plays in dirt and eats red meat.) But I will say that while women may not be disgusted by the men who loan them a t-shirt to sleep in the first time they spend the night, but they always remember the ones that rip off their jeans in one fatal swoop.



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