Quoted: Quoted: Drunken college girls are a great American institution. OTOH, the author makes a good point about the false sense of security women seem to get from today's modern culture. Have you ever watched that show Sex in the City? My friends fiance owns all the seasons and rewatches them all the time. She parades around mimicking the mannerisms and attitudes conveyed by the characters...it is deeply disturbing as well as frightening to see people adopt this sort of "culture". Its till just boggles my mind to witness in my short lifetime how easily people adopt their entire values and belief system form television. Speed I feel bad for you.  That show is absolute poison. Nature allows no vacuum.  If the values are lacking, something is going to show up as values sooner or later. I can’t understand that show.  Why would anyone want to glorify being a shallow, greedy, self-centered gossiping whore?

+ 1 I go to school with these kinds of people. Its the liberal retard thing going on here and believe me when I say people from all over the US have come to New York City to live the life of a character on sex and the city, said from their own mouthes. Makes me want to vomit in their coach bag.

Quoted: Quoted: College girls can be major idiots when drunk. During my senior year, I had a drunk chick open my door (around 3am) and crawl into bed with me. I didn't know her and she was wearing her nighty. I ushered her out ASAP and my real worry was who would rape her and would she only remember my room.   Apparently 4 years of college didn't dumb you down. Wise move. Only thing different I would have done would have been to try to get some sort of signed release from her. Worst case, a thumb print on the dotted line.

It helped that, in my freshman year, I lived next door to a room that had, the year before, been the locale of a gang-bang that turned into a rape.  For all of the next year, reporters would come up and videotape status reports from in front of that door.

Four male students were charged with raping a female student, with reports that she repeatedly left the room during the encounter to get sodas.    I can't remember how that turned out, but it left a lasting impression.

The girl in my bed was looking for "Chandler", the frat boy who lived next door to me.  I'm sure, as usual, he was already banging away at some quality tail.

In addition to his great quotes, Robert Heinlein had the following very appropriate comments about this.  

"Stupidity cannot be cured with money, or through education, or by legislation. Stupidity is not a sin, the victim can't help being stupid. But stupidity is the only universal capital crime; the sentence is death, there is no appeal, and execution is carried out automatically and without pity."

I Can't Seem To Make My Apartment A Safe Space For Women

By Marvin Balsam
December 22, 1999 | Issue 35-47

Like many single guys these days, I'm rather proud of my apartment. It's in a decent building, the furniture's tasteful, and I keep it nice and clean. All in all, it's a real nice place, and I spend a good deal of time keeping it that way. But if there's one area in which I've failed, it's in making my apartment a safe space for women.

I've tried, mind you. Believe me, I want women to feel comfortable when I bring them here. I play soft music, I have some rather nice houseplants and wall tapestries, I make them soothing tea. I even read from the many poetry anthologies lining the bookshelves. I do everything I can to make it a nurturing, woman-safe space. But then, just when I think I've got it down, another woman somehow winds up finding her safety compromised.

You'd think that after everything I've done to create a supportive, non-hostile environment, women would be safe here, but that simply isn't the case. Oh, it's not as bad as when I first moved in a couple years ago. It definitely wasn't a safe space for women back then, let me tell you. If you know where to look and what to look for, you can still see the signs. There were a few times that women felt so unsafe, they insisted on leaving right away, and I almost had to force them to stay. I can even remember one comely young co-ed who got so uncomfortable, she tried to force her way out.

I don't remember what happened after that.

The problem can't be the neighborhood. My apartment's in a good part of town: reasonably close to shops, right between two nursing colleges, and a five-minute van ride from the deep section of the river. And, like I said, the interior's totally redone. I've got a nice collection of Native American pottery, some cozy floor rugs and plenty of world-music CDs. What could possibly be more woman-safe than that? It's perfect! At least, so I thought until I tripped over that waitress in the shower one morning.

So, obviously, there's still a lot to do. I suspect that my chin-up bar could be contributing to a phallocentric and possibly misogynist environment. And I wouldn't want a woman to spend too much time in the trophy room—women don't like taxidermy. Furthermore, the makeshift workshop in the bathroom could be "othering," as could the giant strap-on six-D-battery razorcock above the fireplace. And it can get pretty awkward explaining why, once inside my place, you need a key to get back out. These things are all on my to-do list.

Okay, so my apartment is still a work in progress. But when I'm done, I want any woman, no matter how big a lying, betraying, filthy whore, to feel safe here. I think I have a good idea of what still needs to be done. I have pretty strong feminine instinct, probably because Mother dressed me up like a little girl until I was 14. Perhaps I'm not as good of a listener as I could be when women are trying to express their emotional and survival needs. It's just a matter of being sensitive and trying to understand what they're saying—even when they've lost their tongues. With their help, I just know I can make this a safe space for women.

I know girls who party like that and I know at least one that partied like that and got raped. I don't understand it.