Excerpt from my rip-offs of Letters From Earth, the Divine Comedy, and The Naked Ape. Pertaining to abstract sexual relations.

 

"Men, when they so often speak of female "moods," are in general being thoughtless dullards, as they often are, and biased, as these mortal high ape creations often are, more broadly.

'Don't men also have moods?' The men ask, as if to stress that women are weaker in dealing with theirs.

But I'm a more logical and empathetic sort of high male ape. I've realized that if I were able to entirely support and grow hoomin (hue-man) life in my stomach, and then suffer the agonies of birth and releasing my precious child into arguably sick and evil society, I would be moody too. It would at the start even be something like an 8-10 month fluctuating mood, at times resembling insanity, terror and Precious Body-horror, and at least a stark unreasonableness, and it would all be justified. All these shifting tectonic emotions. Even for some time afterwards.

Best of all the DeviantArt Liliths we could find

  

It's only ugly and equitable then to discuss menses, if we're going to bab-ble about moods somewhat coherently. For several days a month, every grown woman is subject to a chronic biological moodiness, (madness) as a forced and painful cave-cleaning of key internal organs, emotions, and the mental state. Some women in particular suffer a typhoon of irritability, and a blind monsoon of surliness and the will to argue, and others still more severely affected appear to be possessed by foul spirits. I sometimes in writing call it The Lilith Period, jokingly, you understand, just simply because one old ex-girlfriend of mine was so mean and crazy during this mechanical shedding of her uterine wall.

A biological process they never signed up for, and had nothing to do with. Whereas men have nothing even remotely similar, as a trial of their intrinsic biology, let alone such a regular one. If only women could use a somehow unstainable sock instead of expensive sanitary sponges, and Midol, we might be somewhat more equal in our pain and sporadic autonomic madness. Apart from the barbaric, thankfully singular ritual practice of circumcision, there's just no natural corollary between these two experiences. Indeed, men often run away during their partner's visit from Aunt Lilith, and do things they enjoy, outright, and chortle with the boys, often making fun of their periodically hateful, bleeding women. Those poor women with their eternal wound, and the burden of dealing with sillyass fucking men.

(Ah, circumcision: a deeply, inarguably necessary ritual---almost like Abraham's, but more symbolic---of ancient cleanliness and deference to theology that's best left to a parenthetical mention, and the (hopefully biological) men in short white robes. A word that's almost, almost laughable for its clinical breeziness. Anything ending in -ion must be good, carry on and so mote it be)

But... in some old-timey cultures, both men and women are prey to the cringey, ceremonial, forcible tearing of one's vulnerable, youthful genitals which the "westerners" call circumcision. In any case, medical or otherwise, and for the google record, I'm not one of these individuals who believes that the "wo" in "women" is related to the womb, as such, when thus used, intoned, and then spelled, because I've researched the unmystical etymology of these important wards.

Anymore though, because of our general spiking stupidity as a species, women increasingly aren't even in touch with their own organic processes and menses. Some of them probably think they bleed out of their pussies and suffer grueling cramps and emotional turbulences every month just because men suck, and dominate medicine now since the long centuries of Witch-hunting, and produce the factories that produce the tampons, sponges, and weirdly cheap painkillers, and may perhaps even enjoy their suffering, just as they do earning more money than and from them.

Surely in the future we won't need wombs anyway, because of Science."