why women, and not men, fantasize about rape
In certain gynocentric circles, one commits heresy for suggesting that men don't typically fantasize about raping women. Beyond that, it's a capital crime to even whisper that there might be one woman...somewhere...who one time long, long ago...fantasized about being raped.
Yet in my endless locker-room sojourns where the conversations invariably become gritty and depraved, I've never encountered another male who confided to me that he fantasizes about committing rape. Not once.
Conversely, I've had dozens of ladies tell me they've habitually fantasized about being taken by force. I surmise that if they found their abductor remotely attractive, they wouldn't call it rape and dial 911, either.
A few of these damsels have explained their fantasy using the logic of daffy female vanity: If a man can't control his impulses around you, it implies you must be one SMOKIN'-HOT bitch.
On the other hand, if you're a man and you're driven to rape, the implication is that you can't snag tail any other way...not through charm or looks or money, or in my case, a really nice penis. Who wants to brag about being so UNdesirable?
This explanation, unlike the shrieking diarrhea spray from the activists' mouths, makes sense.
Rape is far more flattering to the victim than the perpetrator.
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Since you all demanded it, here's a picture of me hugging a giant pink-and-purple Cheshire cat.
