More facebook evils; where are the salt n’ pepas of today? and madge’s toyboys
***My last post was about Facebook and its dubious presence in our lives. Well, this one is going to touch on one of the greatest irritations of all that Facebook has splotted, spewed, plopped, pooed, splurged or whatever it is onto the social horizon. The follow up “move” of friending.
Way back when, if you invested a good deal of time in a flirtatious if at times over-earnest chat with a single attractive person on a friday or saturday night, and they didn’t fancy you, they wouldn’t follow up. Their name would not appear on any of your screens. If they did fancy you they would be forced to send some sort of message, even a one word text (“hey”) or an email. You’d know. Now, alas, they can shoot you a pathetic parcel of ambivalence, an electronic “what’s up” – but without the hassle of words because you’re just that important – by simply friending you on facebook. It conveys this: I remembered you, I’m vaguely curious about you, but not really, and since you probably expect some follow up, I’ll do this and only this: here. And it’s like a little nod of the head. Great. Woopdidoo. So what is the purpose of friending on facebook when it’s in place of sending a follow up message to your chat or asking for a date? It’s not like its going to make you friends – sure, everyone friended everyone they met back in 2004 and 5, but now people tend to be a little more selective. It places you firmly between a non-friend and non-interest. Great. See why it annoys me? Screw you, facebook.
***I was listening to Salt n’ Pepa in the car today with my friend Marjie: the album Very Necessary. It was absolutely brilliant. It was angry, funny, clever, bolshy, predatory, full of heat and love and aggression. And self-made. What happened to women like Salt, Pep and Spinderella? In 1993 we had lyrics like this: “If I want to take a guy home with me tonight it’s none of your business! And if she wants to be a freak and selling on the weekend it’s none of your business!!” and, when describing the man she likes at a man at a party: “no, the bow-legged one. Damn, that sounds sexy”, and more exciting still, “Ohh, he’s the cutest brother in here. And he’s comin this WAYYYY!”. Whereas now we have Cheryl whining about parachutes and being caught “you’re gonna catch if I faaaalll” and Rihanna going on about umbrellas as if they’re orgasms and Gaga talking rubbish it’s impossible to understand and wearing bacon dresses. Lily Allen doesn’t count because I knew her v vaguely at school and she was annoying – also, she sings in a whiny poppy voice whereas Salt and Pep BELT IT OUT. And talk about grandmas who carry mace and “will stick a 45 in your face” – with what strikes me as first hand experience.
It does make one think about the downward trajectory of women in the public eye in genreal; the transition from curvy, glorious Cindy and Claudia to dullard andro-girl Agyness Deane and scary child Lily Cole; from Margaret Thatcher to ….Sam Cam- ie, from glass ceiling smashers to smug yummy mummies who CHOOSE to leave their workplaces (if you can count designing notepaper as a job) to breed and sit around enjoying hubby’s income while admiring the fruits of their loins. From feminists like Germaine G and Naomi Wolf, who wrote the Beauty Myth with example after example of unfair dismissal of women and ill treatment of women in courts and rape case analysis and so on, to…well, me, proud author of What the Hell Is He Thinking? All The Questions You’ve Ever Asked About Men Answered (Penguin, 8.99).
***Finally, Madonna is on to her second 20-something boytoy in the last few months. She’s over fifty and no man that you ask will describe her – as currently seen with sinewy hands- as hot. Much as they won’t with SJP either. Yet she’s scored and scored well. Hot young things, barely legal, just scoops them up and spits them out. What she’s doing is reverting to her true sexual spirit; why should she satisfy herself with the not in shape, grizzled 50 somethings that older A list men become? She shouldn’t and she jolly well won’t, thank you. That said, there is just the faintest whiff of sadness about Madonna and her kiddy blokes that are barely older – sexually speaking, that is- than her daughter Lourdes. One can’t help but wonder if she dates them because they’re the ones too afraid to say no.