Experience has made me rich.

Men pay for dates.

I pay to get my eyebrows waxed twice a month.  I pay for manicures and pedicures and facials.  I pay for hair color and cuts.  I pay for makeup.  I pay to shave more of my body.  I pay for tampons.

Men pay for dates.

I pay for open-toed shoes, closed-toed shoes, boots, sneakers and sandals, in varying shades.  I pay for more than one belt, and multiple pairs of jeans, pants, and dresses, skirts and shirts of varying types and uses.  I pay for one outfit for yoga, one outfit for the beach and one totally different outfit for hiking.  I pay for various outfits for various events, because it would be noticible and notable if I didn't.  I pay for purses.  I pay for bras.

Men pay for dates.

I pay for pepper spray.  I pay for diet advice.  I pay for self-help books.  I pay for greeting cards.  I pay for jewelry.  I pay for products that are sold to me at parties.  I pay for gifts to bring to baby showers and bridal showers and bachelorette parties.  I pay for annual visits to the gyno, and I pay for birth control.

MEN PAY FOR DATES.

"Dating is so expensive!" the little boys cry.  As their bank accounts grow, and our bank accounts founder.  As we struggle to juggle the costs - and yes, the desires - of womanhood and the costs to compete (nay, survive?) in our feminine market.  As men judge us for not being pretty enough, girly enough, thin enough AND not being further along financially, perhaps more conservative in our saving habits.

"Men pay for dates?" the little boys ask.  "What about equal rights?" the little boys posture.

You're looking at them.

Men Pay For Dates.

There is extensive discussion of this post in the comments, and a follow-up by me here.

tag: dating