Imagine the world the way it was four hundred years ago. Imagine that young men were encouraged to learn to read and write while women were not allowed. The woman's place was in the home and the mark of refinement was to know no skills of any value. This was a time when it was a shock if a woman knew how to read and write. Can you imagine such a thing in today's world? NO! Such ideas are backwards. If a woman were to admit to you that she didn't read well and her writing was awful, not because of a learning disorder, but because she just hated to do it and she has better things to do you would rightfully consider her idiotic. Why is it so accepted then, that women do not like to do math? Shouldn't innumeracy be considered just as egregious? It's supposed to be charming when a young woman behind a counter giggles and claims that she is no good with figures when she is attempting to count out your change. If this were to happen with a male, the reaction would be disgust. Flighty bimbos across the world have accepted the maxim that women use a different part of their brains than men, that they are good with language and art, and men are better with logic and math. Just like a century ago when African Americans were considered inferior in everything except music and dance. They didn't buy it then so why should we buy it now?

I have a degree that required rigorous math education. I took the hardest, most abstract math classes available and was often the only woman in the class. I usually did better than the men who were there as graduate students. I'm not advocating that everyone have an advanced education in math, but knowledge of at least algebra should be a given, just like reading and writing is a given. I have tutored women in mathematics through university and have seen them break down in tears because all of a sudden the cute "I'm helpless" routine won't cut it. They are convinced they just can't do math. Grow up. Dry your damn tears and apply yourself. If you can't work out basic percentages and make change in your head, you're innumerate. Do something about it.

I'm one of those lucky girls who comes from a family where the women run their own lives and the men don't really differentiate between male and female when it comes to raising children. I forget sometimes that I'm "special" in this regard, and every once in awhile it catches up with me. This happened again, recently, when my father and I went to test-drive a car. (My father has a reputation as the guy to go to when you want advice on buying a new car. It's starting to rub off on me since cars are one of the things we "do" together.) I confess, though, that I do bring my dad or my uncle along to deal with car-related matters simply because it's more efficient. Not very bitchy, to be sure, but it takes too damned long to convince a salesman I know what I'm doing.

I had picked out the type of car I wanted and tested several similar makes and models. I wanted a large hatchback or a small sedan --large sedans are useless and I can't really justify a truck -- that got good gas mileage and came with a standard transmission, and no frills. I eliminated three or four and got down to the last contender, so Dad and I went down to the dealer one Saturday morning and asked if they had one with a stick shift we could try, even just to try the shifter if they didn't have one available to test-drive. The salesman looked at me -- I'm almost 22 but pass for 16 --and said, "Well, just because it has a shifter doesn't mean it's a stick shift."

Dude, if it has three pedals and the pattern on the shifter looks (kind of) like this:

1 3 5

|__|__|

| | |

2 4 R

It's a stick shift. You didn't really need that sale, did you? Good-bye.

Dealer No. 2 didn't have the car I wanted but had one very similar that I could try. However, he tried to insist we didn't want a standard because they were inconvenient for city driving. I told him I had been driving standard cars within a city for over five years and didn't think it was an issue. He persisted and we told him if he didn't have a standard, we weren't interested. We turned to leave and he caved in and he went to get the keys. We were flying up the highway on-ramp when I heard his squeaky, emasculated voice from the back seat, " ... wow, I guess she really DOES know how to drive stick ... ". He didn't get the sale either.

Dealer No. 3 was desperate to get one more sale in before the end of the month and not only didn't give me any crap about the stick shift, gave me an excellent deal on the car, even though he had to go halfway across the province to find another dealer that had exactly what I wanted. Good man. My only regret now is that I didn't get the bigger engine, but I can't blame him for that.

A former coworker of mine had her heart set on a black Mustang. The only one on the lot was a standard. When the salesman found out she couldn't drive it yet, he yelled at her and told her she was a fool. She told him it was none of his Goddamned business and he could either hand her the keys or tear up the sales contract. He, wisely, forked over the keys.

I'm often surprised at the things car salesmen tell me about women customers. I've heard about husbands picking out cars for their wives. Who buys a car they're going to have to drive for the next 10 years without actually trying it first? Is this an example of the stereotypical female insecurity with machines? It's pretty pathetic.

Okay, girls -- the secret is that most car salesmen don't know very much about the cars, either. Some of them do, but the average guy on the showroom floor is riding on what he read in the sales brochure he just handed you and not much more. Do your homework -- compare prices, get a couple of car magazines, and surf the Web a little beforehand -- and you'll have them by the nose.

I thought about something interesting the other day, and thought I’d try and expand on that further. And this is all written from a perspective of a straight, taken woman, so forgive the politically incorrect phrasing that does not include gay people.

Are emotional affairs the same as physical affairs?

Sure, with physical affairs it’s pretty cut and dry. You kissed him, you felt her up, you f*cked him. But emotional affairs aren’t as cut and dry as that.

They’re more of a grey area, and besides what would you classify an emotional affair? Would you say that if a man and woman were best friends and told each other everything - that would be an emotional affair?

Personally, I think if a man and woman are best friends, told each other everything, but would hesitate to tell their significant other about 50% of that stuff, that’s classified as an emotional affair.

I think the rule I had in my head was that it was emotional cheating if you tell another man (girlfriends don’t count) deep dark secrets and things that you couldn’t reveal to your boyfriend.

But am I wrong?

Is it possible to have friendships between men and women (a whole other animal to dissect apparently), and furthermore, is it okay to tell that other man or woman everything, but selectively filter out what you’d tell your significant other?

In addition, are emotional affairs not only the same as physical affairs, but maybe worse because it takes over your heart and emotions rather than just your body reacting to a physical attraction?

I’d definitely feel more betrayed if my boyfriend was emotionally cheating on me with another woman by telling her things he’s never told me than if he told me he kissed someone out of lust at a party and totally regrets it.

I think it’s also because emotional cheating is harder to define, but not only that, harder to prove. It’s just a gut feeling, an instinct, that probably turns out to be 90% correct, but still, I feel like there should be some hard facts to back it all up.

So my second question to everyone is: is an emotional affair worse than a physical one?

At this point, I’d tell my boyfriend everything. If a guy hit on me, I’d tell him and how I reacted, and he tells me all the times women make passes at him. I usually laugh it off because I don’t feel threatened, but I wonder if it’s the same on his end – if he feels threatened, or secure in our relationship. He seems fine so far, and if he wasn’t, I’d just stop telling him those stories but they wouldn’t stop happening. But that’s another topic altogether.

Sometimes, I forget just how trashy most of the people in my hometown are.

It really is a love/hate relationship. I guess I can compare living here to dating a girl who's really awesome in bed but still insists that wearing black pants out is fancy by default -- even when paired up with flip flop sandals (and yes, I've seen that 'fashion' statement 'round these here parts) -- it's just plain embarrassing but you can't bear to let go so you keep holding on, hoping it'll get better.

Le sigh. I'm just sitting, waiting, wishing to get out of here once again.

I can't stop screaming.

I really want out of this shitty place. I need to get out before I slit my wrists or smother myself. I don't want to become one of these people stuck here for the rest of my life. It's my biggest fear. But somehow, I always end up back here. There really isn't anything worth staying for in this shitty town.

I want to buy a one way ticket to anywhere but here. But my stupid passport needs to be renewed. We'll see how I feel in two weeks when the new passport comes in.