I Was Going to Write an Article for Bitch Magazine

I was going to write a short piece for Bitch. It was going to be about unmarried women. Or it was going to be titled, "Why Unmarried Women Aren't Trusted". Scary, huh? I'm glad I didn't end up writing the piece because it would have just made me pretty depressed. And it was going to be cliche anyway. But anyway, unmarried women just aren't trusted. Having that stupid ring on your hand makes people think you can manage relationships, but more importantly, it makes people think that you're not trying to play them. You're not climbing the ladder. You've already established your social class, and you're happy with it. You're proud! Fuckin' Yay! You can be trusted not to try too hard to exceed yourself and your colleagues because you have stated through your marital junction that you are certain about your stupid fucking social status, and you're proud of it too! Yeah, so that's why I decided not to write the article. Because I realized that every piece of BS that I write is too personally driven. They wanted something like a compilation of interviews, not a feminist rant by a frustrated bitch who's not very well-read. Basically, they're saying that in order to be a valid feminist (a valid bitch), one must be versed in journalistic methods, cultural history, and factual crap for fake back-up to arguments that can really only be based on feelings had by women who have experienced personal slights, due to their marital status or their "sexual status."

Eh. Maybe if I tried to write it, I would have done a great job and they would have published it. Instead, I was at work, worrying that I had to work harder and later, because my bosses don't trust me. They treat me like I'm young and immature, even though I'm not. They assume that I drink alot. They assume that I'm not interested in culture because I must be more concerned with dating. But that's all my fault. I should have gotten married back in my day. If I only had that ring on my finger... Then I'd be in the societal rank of "I'm not threatenting." Woops!