You ever wonder what it’s like to have sex with a woman who doesn’t like men? Let me tell you about an intelligent crossfitter named Emily who is an aspiring attorney. I swore I’d never date another pitbull of a woman but there’s something that’s intriguing about someone who is passionate about something and is actually physically doing something to right their perceived wrongs in the world. Emily is passionate about social consciousness, but let’s be honest — the squats don’t hurt.

Emily is always ranting about some injustice in the world. One day it’s the wealth gap and income inequality, the next it’s gentrification. But you know what really gives Emily that sparkle in her eye? Feminism.

Em is a feminist. Most women are today, to varying degrees, but this is the one who comes into my house talking about male privilege. I fight the urge to tell her to get the fuck out because I believe she is a bit misguided. In fact, I think it’s more important to inform her that there are a select few men who have the power to influence society the way she claims we all do and that neither I nor my father before me are one of them. I’m just a black man trying to make a living expressing myself.

Early on in the dating process I’d steer these conversations to a place where I knew there could be no resolution. What is feminism? She argues that feminism is about gender equality but the majority of feminism I have been exposed to is women touting female superiority to men. I really wish they’d figure that out. Wisely Emily backs up her argument with the suggestion that I read Feminism is for Everybody by Bell Hooks.

Damn, that’s sexy! I don’t agree with you but, get over here!

I approach her and she jumps all over me. So much for taking it slow. Lips touch, clothes fly, skin on skin…tattoos…tattoos? Not just any tattoos, it’s a tramp stamp. I’m amused, a feminist with a tramp stamp, but I’m still turned on. Never underestimate the passion a mentally stimulating conversation can bring about. This is the moment when the ravisher becomes the ravished.

“When you’re having sex with a feminist, it’s her way. Spontaneity goes out the window. Nothing just happens.”

When you’re having sex with a feminist, it’s her way. Spontaneity goes out the window. Nothing just happens. She knows what she wants and how she wants it — it’s all about her. You’re just there to replace her dildo with a living breathing entity. My suggestion, if you ever find yourself in this situation, is to lobby for your satisfaction after she’s arrived. Best practices, if you will.

After that moment has come and you both sit there in the euphoric darkness catching your breath she’ll say something like, “I just want you to know I don’t usually do this. You caught me at a weak moment.” Again, fight the urge to tell her to get the fuck out. Don’t take offense at this, it’s not about you. She’s just communicating her insecurities about embracing her own sexuality. It’s as if she needs to justify having the primal urges of a woman. She hasn’t thought about how saying something like that would make you feel because after all, men don’t have feelings.

“There will be confusing times like when she complains about some guy staring at her in the gym and feeling objectified, but then it’s still okay for you to smack her on her ass when she’s on the way to the kitchen.”

There will be confusing times like when she complains about some guy staring at her in the gym and feeling objectified, but then it’s still okay for you to smack her on her ass when she’s on the way to the kitchen. Sure, dating a feminist isn’t easy, but no relationship is easy. On the bright side you can use some feminist knowledge you learned from her in your next discussion with a pseudo-feminist and when they’re dumbfounded you can tell them “I’m dating a real feminist. You’re just a bitch who listens to Beyonce.”