>>15
Well, the points I try to make are seldom, if ever, based on arguments from biology, as I belong to the generation that was marked forever by the first thrilling rays of the post-structuralist enlightenment concerning the non-existence of anything "outside the text".

Not that one really has to have been into any of that high-falutin' French stuff at all in order to have a negative gut reaction to girls saying things like "She's going out with a guy I used to fuck" and to guys accepting and imitating that usage.

I had a girlfriend in London long ago who was totally allergic to all my Foucauldean-Derridean bullshit but who had nonetheless developed an astonishing critical sensibility, quite as keen as any "discourse analyst's", for all that was implied in turns of phrase like that, even though English wasn't her native language.

She used to turn green with fury when she heard a girl talking about how she'd "fucked some guy" and begin screeching in her face that "you didn't 'fuck' HIM, dearie, he fucked YOU... and none of your silly Scary-Spice posturing is EVER going to change that fact."

She turned green with a sort of envy, though, too, possibly, since I early on learnt, through many a difficult hour in bed with her, that there was a part of her that absolutely hated the fact that girls get fucked and that guys do the fucking - and hated it all the more because she was aware that there was also a part of her that DIDN'T hate it, but eagerly embraced it (a sort of irreducible "fifth column" within a personality that was, in large part, much more impeccably and authentically feminist than the pseudo-feminist personalities of the "just some guy I used to fuck" bullshitters).

But the fact that the better, more human part of her devoutly wished that sexual intercourse WERE reciprocal and egalitarianally reversible (in the way that the usage "girls like to fuck Alpha males" implies it is) never seduced her into the fond delusion that it actually IS.

Let us pause, then, in a moment's shared reverence for the memory of Ms. Stefania Garlatti-Costa - a heroine for our era even more than for the era, 25 years past, which I've just referred to - who gazed unblinkingly into the face of the Medusa of human sexuality and was turned neither to stone, nor to sugar, nor - most distasteful among all the distasteful possibilities - to spice.