Princeton Mom Susan Patton (I’ve written about her before and her frantic injunctions that IF YOU COLLEGE GALS DON’T GET MARRIED NOW — RIGHT NOW! — you’re going to die a SPINSTER surrounded by your cats) has said another thing.
I feel bad giving her views more oxygen, but this concept really delights me.
You see, in an interview Monday with Fox News (which has come up with some delightful suggestions for the Modern Woman lately), she noted that the way to fix what is wrong with your marriage is to “stop acting like such an entitled princess.” Why are you acting like an entitled princess? Well, you see, because of Feminism.
Patton admits “there was a time for a good long while when women’s perspectives and considerations were just not even on anybody’s radar. We have over-corrected now to the point that we are so all about women’s priorities and women’s balancing — men are doing all the same things. The only difference is that women now have become so emboldened by these antagonistic feminists that they have lost sight of the fact that this is the man you married.”
A little feminist over-correction is a dangerous thing. And now we have Entitled (Feminist) Princesses on our hands.
I love this concept.
That is exactly the trouble with Modern Marriage. The Entitled Feminist Princess (EFP, add one letter and it’s my Myers-Briggs result!), who insists on having the Death of the Patriarchy carried to her on a silver platter while cisgendered heterosexual men fan her with palm fronds.
“Beulah,” the Entitled Feminist Princess says, “burn me a bra.”
“Hold the glass ceiling open for me,” the Entitled Feminist Princess says, lying down on a litter borne on the shoulders of the long-suffering patriarchy.
“Now bring me more cats,” adds the Entitled Feminist Princess. “I keep no husbands, only cats. Cats never mansplain. They just couldn’t. It’s not how the verb works. And there is no such thing as catsplaining. Cats can condescend, but they condescend equally to everyone.”
“Someone add 23 cents on the dollar to my paycheck for me, please,” the Entitled Feminist Princess yawns. “Take dictation, please. I wish to contribute to the #YesAllWomen hashtag.”
The Entitled Feminist Princess is followed everywhere by a loyal attendant who responds indignantly to street harassment for her.
“Dismantle me a patriarchy,” the Entitled Feminist Princess says. “I can’t. I might break a nail.”
The Entitled Feminist Princess has someone flip open a big book for her so that she can read over and over again the deconstructed stories of other Entitled Feminist Princesses.
Entitled Feminist Snow White got really upset when the prince wanted to wake her up by kissing her. (“I can kiss myself and wake myself up on my own,” Entitled Feminist Snow White huffed.) Entitled Feminist Ariel got furious at the suggestion that she would ever give up her voice just to get closer to a man. (“My voice is the most precious thing I have,” Entitled Feminist Ariel said, pouting until Ursula gave her legs anyway, for free, just because she was a woman. That is how being an entitled feminist princess works.) Entitled Feminist Cinderella was furious that a man pursued her to her home and made her try on footwear, just because she danced with him one time. (“That isn’t how courtship works!” she insisted. “If he thinks that just because I was wearing a glass slipper, I wanted him to contact me, he has another think coming.”) “Same here!” chimed in Entitled Feminist Rapunzel. “Long hair is NOT an invitation for strange princes to climb through my casement.”
The Entitled Feminist Princess sighs and gazes dreamily out the window. “Someday,” she murmurs, “my prince will come. He will be a large clowder of cats standing on each other’s shoulders, cleverly disguised in a big coat. And that will serve Susan Patton just right.”