Cockblocking Minus the Cock:

…alternatively titled “Another reason women are worse than men.”
Okay, so we’ve delved into the world of cockblocking as far as men go. We have established a pattern of behaviour and accepted that it’s human nature. We have also observed that when it comes to getting some, all rules are off. Enter the world of the female mind…(at this point I suggest everyone put on protective headwear and carry a heavy flashlight.)

Women, unlike men, are not driven as wholeheartedly by the simple desire to get some ass. Although that is sometimes our sole purpose in journeying out, more often than not there are more complicated reasons behind our devious behaviour:


We either
a) need to prove we are the best looking, funniest, most charming one of all of our friends,
b) need to reinforce a failing self esteem that has most likely ended up in its current state of destitute because of bad friends or bad men,
c) cannot stand the idea of another woman being happy in love while we are not similarly occupied, or,
d) we are actually looking for that one great relationship that will change everything and will stop at nothing to secure it for fear of never finding it again.

Let’s address A First: I stand firmly by the statement that women are far more competitive than men. I also say that men and society have made us this way. Take, for example, The Bachelor. An entire show dedicated to 25 desperate women who will fight tooth and nail for a chance to marry the same man. These women throw themselves at this man in hopes that he will decide that of the 25 Barbie’s in the room, her boob job is the most authentic, her caps are the brightest, and her scripted conversation is the most stimulating. This is the society we live in. It’s the same in a bar room. When I walk into the bar, the first thing I do is check out my competition. ( I should point out that the real first thing I do happens at home when I chose the outfit that will make me most attractive, spend hours on hair and makeup, and wear shoes that make me wish I had no feet.) I mentally disparage myself for eating dinner when I see the pixie stick in the skirt. I laugh meanly at the girls who clearly squeezed themselves into something that should have been retired during the Clinton administration. I do a quick sweep and decide whether or not I need to pull my shirt a little lower or talk a bit deeper or toss my hair more often. And if I should decide that there’s a man worthy of my attention, Lord help the woman who wants to prove she’s hotter than me. Cause Mama didn’t spend all day gettin hot to have some pixie stick take what’s mine!

Okay, B: This is a lesser cause of cockblocking, only because the subject of the attention is usually rather interchangeable. However, it happens, so I’m including it. If I had a dollar for every time I have gone out and had a girlfriend say, “I’m going home with someone tonight if it kills me. I just need affection, even for just a night.” I would be a rich woman. Somewhere along the way, we got brainwashed into believing that sleeping next to someone would make us whole again. We started to accept that all the emotional damage caused by meaningless, respectless sex was worth it just to have someone hold us. Human touch became the magic elixir hocked at carnivals of Life, where they promised to make you feel less empty and less alone, but leave out the fact that in addition to hair loss and weight gain, you may end up even emptier and lonelier than you began. When a woman is looking to take it home…you had better not stand in her way. Cause if she thinks that this thing will heal her heart, I promise she’s not gonna let a little thing like another girl get in her way. Even if that girl is her friend.

Let’s address C : We all have egos. Whether they are over-inflated or struggling for life, we have them. We all, despite what we may say, want to be the best of the bunch. We surround ourselves with people who make us feel great about ourselves and will talk more shit than a boat of sailors the first time we feel our position being threatened. This is usually when the Big Bad W is pulled out. WHORE.

Sue: I can’t believe that Bob is talking to Jane. She’s such a whore. I mean, she’s been with like a billion people and she always wears shirts that show her cleavage.

Sally: Isn’t Jane your best friend?

Sue: Oh, totally, I mean, I love her. But she is a whore. And I just thought Bob was better than that, ya know. Guess I was wrong. Well, good for them. They deserve each other.

Sally: Were you and Bob dating or something?

Sue: No, but I’ve been friends with him forever and Jane should know better than to be all up on him like that.

Sally: I’m pretty sure they’re just talking.

Sue: Whatever. She doesn’t “talk” to anyone. She’s a ho. Ugh. I think I’ll tell him about her past, you know, for his own good.

Sally: Right, okay. Remind me never to get on your bad side.

Sue: Oh, Jane knows I love her. I’m just doing what I think is right.

This is the conversation heard in every corner of every bar, club, party, and school in America. Women are allowing themselves to fall victim to the misogyny of a condemning society by using these words. Whore, ho, slut, bitch, these are all words created by men to demean women, and we have made them our own weapons of destruction. You can literally destroy relationships, friendships, and all bonds of trust with a few of them. And I’m as guilty as the next girl. And we all need to see what we’re doing. Cause we are only hurting ourselves. And when it’s our turn to cry, bruised egos will be the last of our worries.

Finally, D: This is a sticky one, and I approach it cautiously and respectfully. Let’s get personal. I thought I was in love. I believed with my whole being that I was with the man that I would marry and whose children I would bear. Then he had sex with someone else. HE had sex. And, in true female form, I took it out entirely on the girl. I name called, I said and wrote things that make me sick to my stomach now. I became everything I loathe. I took him back, licked his wounds, and swore that I would kill the girl given the opportunity. She had ruined my happily ever after. No, wait, he was there too. And where as she only had a friendship with me, he had a year of “love” with me. But I pulled the worst of the female cock blocks. I tried to destroy another woman to preserve my happy ending, and all I really did was hurt her and tear myself up. There was no happy ending, there was no future, but I was so caught up in my imaginary forever that I took someone else down with me. And that’s the worst.

So…women of America, we need to realise that by hurting each other we are really just hurting ourselves. There are TONS of men out there, if you don’t believe me, get a myspace page and see how many icky, shirtless men want to “hook up wit cha.” And who wouldn’t fight for a love like that? ;)

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Posted on Monday, February 6th, 2006 and is filed under Love and Relationships. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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