The Huffington Post is ecstatic over a new version of the Christmas classic, “Baby It’s Cold Outside,” created by a singer-songwriter couple who found the original song “aggressive and inappropriate.”
Apparently, Lydia Liza and Josiah Lemanski found themselves tortured by the unrevealed fate of what they imagine is the date-rape victim described in the tune. “You never figure out if she gets to go home,” worries Lydia to CNN. So they made up new, consent form-approved lyrics, complete with phrases like “You reserve the right to say no,” and hipster favorite Pomegranate La Croix sparkling water replacing that suspicious drink.
Since the dawn of time, men have been trying to convince women to get it on, and women have made them jump through hoops to get there. This basic, politically-incorrect male-female dynamic seems to be lost on millions of my fellow Millennials, so allow me to relieve Lydia, Josiah, and their fellow feminists of their anxieties about the lady’s well-being.
The man and the woman in the song had sex, and they both enjoyed it.
(For my next trick, I’ll explain to you why Jimmy Stewart does a double-take when he sees the bed in his new married home in “It’s A Wonderful Life.”)
Every year, campus feminists and their hysterical media counterparts reiterate their concerns about the song’s “problematic” nature. One feminist columnist could barely stand to listen to the lyrics; “even typing those four, slimy words forced me to take seven showers,” she wrote. Though the critiques range from the laughable to unhinged, all of them focus around the idea that the man in the song is convincing his unwilling partner to stick around, and perhaps drugging her – “say, what’s in this drink?” – to do so.
These staggering misinterpretations of the courtship dance between a man and a woman can only sound reasonable in a culture that insists that there are no differences between male and female sexuality, sex differences in general are a societal construct, and traditional masculine and feminine behaviors are problems to overcome through indoctrination.
Meanwhile, back on planet Earth, most women enjoy being the object of male pursuit. Most men enjoy pursuing women more when that pursuit has at least the veneer of a challenge. That this even has to be spelled out shows how confused relations between men and women have become in the modern era.
If the 1960s were about sexual “liberation,” the 2000s have been about trying to put that genie back in the bottle through an ever-expanding notion of consent. If the only legitimate reason to condemn sexual activity is lack of consent, it stands to reason that the concept of consent will have to be stretched to cover territory previously governed by archaic notions like fidelity, morality, and loyalty. Enter the affirmative consent contract, because contracts are such well-known aphrodisiacs.
The world wrought by the contradictions and fantasies of modern feminism, besides being ruinous to many young men, is just so d*mned unsexy. No wonder women having casual sex aren’t even getting orgasms out of the deal, and women today report being more unhappy than they did under the dark days of The Patriarchy. Their partners, boyfriends, and husbands (throuple partners?) are asking “may I?” before every step of the deed.
In the new version of the song, when Lydia croons that she really “can’t stay,” Josiah responds with “Baby, I’m fine with that.” Ladies, let me give you a piece of advice. If you’re dating a man who responds to your flirtations with resigned acquiescence, walk out that door and don’t bother coming back, no matter how cold it is outside.