An open letter to Victor Pride (the internet’s favorite misogynist).

by shanrahwakefield

Dear Victor  PIC

Dear Victor,

Hey babe. I read all your stuff and aside from being uncontrollably attracted to you sexually, I think it’s just uncanny that we both love coconut smoothies. Smoothie twinsies! Sorry if that was that too forward. Anyway, I was wondering if you could autograph my vagina?

Secondly, I have a gut feeling you’ll be able to help me with this problem I’m having. I’m experiencing rather crippling confusion about what kind of girl I am. I know for sure I’m not a “fatty-patty”, thank CHRIST. If I was, I may as well have killed myself by now, amirite?!

I did wonder for a second if I was a black woman, because one time I said to this guy, “I’m just as good as you”, and he was all like, “Cool.” The thing was, this man could spell, preferred warm showers, and I think it had been a full week since his last gym sesh. I understand that makes him a sissy as opposed to a real man, which would make that entire interaction a write-off.

Then I saw the bit about the Asian girl you met at LAX, but I’m not really Asian-looking.

So I’m thinking I might be “shy girl”.

victor p 1

One time I wore only minimal make-up, ‘cos I started applying it but then couldn’t be fucked finishing, and then this guy “got hard” around me. That’s the first thing that makes me think I might fall into the shy girl category, but I’m also open to accepting that may have been a fluke.

I tried to use the 1-10 scale you referenced, where 10 = beautiful. I’m not sure where I sit on the 1-10 scale. Before, I was thinking “oh, definitely between 8-10”, because my parents said I’m beautiful. But then I was all like, “oh, now I’m so not sure,” because my nose is kind of huge, and sometimes when I look at myself in the mirror I have crazy self-doubt and then I cry like how Jake Gyllenhall did in Brokeback Mountain. OMG, does that last bit about crying in the mirror make me a shy girl? Like, because of the insecurity factor?

victor p 2

About the gigging thing… well, I laugh a lot. Hehe. I write “hehe” in texts sometimes, too! I’m so giggly. But not in an overly forward way… sorry. I hope you didn’t take that as me being forward. Anyway, what I meant to say is that I giggled and laughed the whole way through your article about shy girls! Like, every sentence! I giggled and laughed so hard that I almost pissed my frilly yellow girl-knickers in public (which I know would be OK if I was with you, because you’d protect me with your axe – I sure hope you carry an axe? – in the case of any such embarrassment). Tick for the ‘shy girl’ box?

Please don’t think that me saying “box” just then was a whore thing. I know it’s a slang word for vagina, but I didn’t mean it that way.

So, I was getting super-for-real sure that ‘shy girl’ described me perfectly.

Then I had an epiphany. A really scary one. And this is when I became petrified that perhaps I’ll never find myself a husband like you. What if, as you suggest, I’m confusing my own ‘shy girl’-ness for “mental instability or depression”? And this is when the all-time low of my confusion hit me like a ton of man-bricks. I suddenly had an independent thought about, like, this thing. I thought: what if I was lucky enough to run into someone as ripped and charismatic as you are? Someone as capable of accurately and positively representing “masculinity” as you are? If we were alone in a gym and a 120 pound dumbbell accidentally fell on your little toe, would I be a dutiful enough girlfriend to cry for help?

The little girl voice in my brain squeaked, “no”. That’s when I realised that maybe I’m not the perfect shy girl.

Coupled with my unruly predilection for talking back, I’m starting to doubt myself. Will I ever find a real man like you? And what kind of girl am I, Victor?

Please help.

With love, giggles, and an intense-but-not-too-forward hope of someday becoming your property,


PS: How big is your penis? Just so I can get the proportions right in the portrait I’m painting of you, to go on the ceiling above my bed.

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