Space Hogs

I’ve read a lot recently about men being society hogs, among other things and of course there are exceptions, and even the majority being exceptions, but regardless. Men are hogs: seats, tables, meetings, media, rooms, societies. Enough is enough.
Close your large manly legs. I don’t care if your junk is larger than life – I don’t want to see it straining against the fly of your trousers because you think it’s okay to take up the whole goddamn seat we are sharing on public transport because you won’t sit with your knees even remotely close together.
Keep your shit in your own area. At a table of four, you don’t have a right to spread your papers and books and computer and pens and dirty used tissues and snacks over half of the fucking table. Nor do I wish to hear your comments that aren’t under your breath when everyone else in the room is listening politely, and I certainly don’t want to feel your breath permeate my space or worse – touch my skin (arm and neck by proximity) because you won’t breathe politely instead of lecherously over everyone because your manly lungs like your manly thighs, need room to expand.
I’m actually in meetings this weekend (shock! horror!) and have seen men speak over female counterparts over and over again, without malice, certainly, and I think without being aware of what they’re doing, but they also don’t talk over male counterparts.
And don’t even get me started about politics.
Damn it, you guys.


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