There flared between them now the old fundamental antagonism which is implicit in the relationship of man and woman. Civilisation has overlaid it with codes of conduct, religion has tamed and poetry sublimated it, but it is still there, a thing to be reckoned with, its native savagery ready to break out if once the barriers are let down.

That's from the Patricia Wentworth I'm reading now: 'Eternity Ring'. Because my brain's littered with snippets, it made me think of a line spoken by a female character in Robert Heinlein's' The Number of the Beast'

Men need us but can just barely stand us; every now and then they just have to discuss our faults.

The reverse is equally true, of course; I'm hosting a girls night on Thursday and I'm certain we'll spend a lot of the evening moaning about our husbands...not seriously unhappy, any of us, not at all, but it's a safety valve of sorts.

And now I'm thinking about the criticism that's sometimes made about slash; that one character is always made into the woman (or man in f/f I guess). Maybe it's just because without that conflict, things would be awfully dull?

And this day just got more blah; thirty minutes of coding and page updating needs to be done again, because I collected my Giles/Andrew drabbles under one title...and didn't remember it was the exact one I gave my Faith/Buffy ficlet until too late.

::kicks something soft. I'm aggravated, not stupid. Well, not very::
.

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