I really love glitter cappuccino in the morning. I love the flavor of it and yes, I happen to love the fact that it actually glitters! It’s a specialty creation from Mumbai, Gold and Diamond Cappuccino, three dollars a cup and worth it.

I doubly adore my coffee time because it I’ve always felt it was my way of bonding with Reagan. Through the years of disagreement, anger, resentment, and “don’t you dare marry him” sentiments, we’ve always found a way to keep our sisterhood going strong.

In fact, Reagan’s actually enjoying our conversations again, not just because I got her addicted to cappuccino, but also because Rey Ramirez has been the center of attention lately. And I’m sure she loves talking about that jackass rather than me criticizing her husband Nicholas—as usual.

“Well, that's what I told him," I repeat to Reagan. "That just because he helped me out doesn't entitle him to a date. I really hate it when guys put that kind of pressure on girls, as if we’re required to say yes to be polite.”

“Well sis, is it possible that he wasn’t actually trying to manipulate you into bed? Maybe he was just, you know, being nice?”

“Oh really?” I say with a raised eyebrow. “You do seem awfully fond of Rey Ramirez, sis. Are you suddenly a baseball fan?” I send her a devilish grin.

“No, no!”

“Uh huh, you’re just very concerned about him, I know.”

I taunt her with one more knowing look. Even a complete dolt would know that Reagan’s marriage is failing. That tends to happen when you’re married to a complete asshole like Nicholas. But I know my sister. And I know she has the hots for Rey.

“Come on, it’s not like that,” Reagan says with nervous laughter. “I just think, you know, I’m friends with Nate and Rey is his best friend. We’re like a family or something.”

“Yeah or something. A really screwed up family.”

“Call me crazy but I really think Rey…you know, he’s arrogant, he’s a rich kind of jerk sometimes. But my suspicion is that he likes you.”

“Yeah right. He’s the kind of guy who likes everyone with a skirt. Or jeans. Or long hair. Or a vagina. I deal with sexist pigs like Rey all the time around our neighborhood.”

“Well, the difference is that he likes you. But he doesn’t really like all those girls he uh…dates. He’s just a nice guy in that respect.” Reagan laughs.

“Really? A nice guy? A nice guy who goes through that many women in a day’s time?”

“Wait a minute. Are you slut-shaming him?” Reagan asks with a knowing smile. “I never thought I’d hear you slut-shaming somebody. You once told me that the worst thing about rape culture is how sexist men shame women for being sexual. But now you’re saying that you expect guys to be celibate? He’s a sports star. Women want him. You really expect him to say no? Wouldn’t that make him rude.”

I bite my lip and stare down my sister, knowing she’s got me beat. But still…very weird this fixation she has on Rey Ramirez. Not to mention the weird thing she has with Nate Jiggur, another womanizing pig.

But I have to admit one thing…

“Okay…maybe you’re right. Maybe I did overreact to his act of kindness. Maybe it was like a nervous thing, that he hits on women when he can’t think of anything else to say.”

“Definitely. From what Nate tells me, Rey is a standup guy. And it’s not like he said anything about sex. He just offered to take you out. Free dinner, probably a fancy place, you know.”

“He has that much money?”

“He’s in the MLB. Major League Baseball?”

“Ah, I really only watch international sports.”

“I know,” Reagan laughs. “Listen…just my advice. Don’t assume the worst of everyone you meet. You’re always going to be disappointed that way. And you’re going to turn everybody against you. I mean, so you hate Rey. But what if you scare away your future husband because you’re always talking about how terrible men are.”

I give her a pouty, resentful look…which I know she’s smart enough to interpret as surrender. I can’t bring myself to say you’re right, but I know there’s truth in what she’s saying. Maybe Rey really was just being a gentleman for once in his life.

“So…you really think he likes me? Even though I’m not his type?”

“How do you know you’re not his type?”

“Because I don’t even watch baseball, I mean more than just the World Series. And didn’t you once tell me that he likes…older women? You know like…like…”

I give Reagan a bashful smile.

“Are you implying I’m old?” she laughs.

“Nooo! You’re a total cougar though. And that’s what I heard Rey likes.”

“Well I’m off the menu,” she snaps back.

“That only makes them want you more.”

“The topic is YOU not me, sis. Just keep an open mind is all I’m saying. Me personally, IF it was me, I’d be jazzed up to date a millionaire. But hey, it’s your life.”

“Hmmm. Well, money doesn’t matter to me,” I reply. “But I don’t think Rey is my type because he’s a player. And I’m not. I am single but I don’t feel the need to date every cute guy I meet. Maybe that’s just one of things we don’t have in common.”

“Gotcha.”

“Sooo…if you see Rey again or Nate, you should let him know that.”

“Know what?”

“That I am not interested in dating him. Because I don’t date players. It’s not a Feminazi thing. I just date guys who are real, you know?”

Reagan gives me a funny look and opens her eyes wider, before nodding and ending the conversation.

“You know it’s an interesting debate,” I add, already thinking ten steps ahead like I tend to do. “The whole male and female perspective is very different when you think about it.”

“You’re learning quickly,” Reagan says with a sweet smile.

“It gives me an idea for an article, actually. I’ve been dealing with writer’s block lately and I think I could turn this into a piece for the New York Times.”

“Really? That’s exciting!”

“Yeah…I really think we need to reevaluate dating etiquette for the modern age, since so many people are confused. I’d really like to make an objective commentary and open people’s minds a little bit.”

“Oh yeah? Cool! What do you think the title will be?”

“Hmmm…”

---

“…It’s about time we accept that men, whether consciously or not, are primarily concerned with spreading their seed at the expense of the woman they intend to mate with. We are genetically disposed to reject inferior semen and male volunteers that offer our fertile wombs this DNA. But men are genetically disposed to volunteer indiscriminately because their survival depends on quantity, not quality. Womankind, on the other hand, must evaluate each specimen, determining whether such a man is truly worthy of her fertility.

While most men have left behind the primitive habits of lower primates and do not try to illegal to “rape women”, they still are guilty of perpetuating elements of rape culture. For example, practically all men objectify women sexually. They feel entitled to talk about their large breasts, bubble butt, or even speculating about how “good” a woman might be at oral sex. They treat women like sexual objects, figuring that their fantasizing and degrading comments about women are sexual experiences they are entitled to as free men—regardless of consent.

I recently spoke to a well-known baseball player, one who shall remain nameless but who is a homerun hitter for the Yankees who notoriously has a predilection for “milfs”.

His gut reaction to meeting me was not to become my friend or ask me about my life, but rather, to speculate on when I wanted to “date him” since he was “very popular with women.” It was a sexist comment and yet a sin that men continue to tolerate…”