There’s something really amazing about men who openly admit that the fictional character of Kara Thrace provokes castration anxieties in them. Saying this automatically tells anyone with common sense that either:
1)You have a penis that’s two inches long and doctors have told you there’s nothing they can do for you.
2) Or you still wet the bed at 35.
Or both, of course. Whatever it is, you clearly have something really wrong with you that manifests itself in the most obnoxious sort of anxious masculinity. What’s fascinating is that the men who are so clearly crippled by bad self-image that they are threatened by a fictional woman flying a fictional spaceship actual brag about scared so easily. You’d think they’d realize that this had the opposite of the intended effect—-you want people to think, erroneously, that you’re a big boy who doesn’t wet the bed. So why on earth do you trot out fears of empowered women that are beneath kindergarten-aged boys? You really might as well hang a sign around your neck explaining how toilet training still isn’t working out for you.
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There are also some people like, umm… this friend of mine I know, who had poor bladder control and wet their bed for an embarrassingly long period of time who find women as bad-ass as Kara Thrace far from emasculating. Or so my, umm… friend tells me.
The facts that my wife, when she had cancer (she’s better now) alternated a week of construction with a week of chemotherapy and is easily the toughest person I know, and could kick the crap out of most men she meets were definitely points in her favour rather than against.
I know my own durability and ability to kick the crap out of most people I meet were points in favour as far as she was concerned. Some people like tough, strong people of whatever gender. Or so I’ve been told.
And my friend doesn’t wet the bed anymore. Or so I’ve been told.