Growing up, we were friends with a family (we'll call them the Smiths) where the father was a very wealthy doctor who came from a very wealthy family. Millionaires. The home was a gift from the parents, etc.,

His wife was a self-proclaimed "liberated" woman, who flirted with every man, acted very masculine in some respects, and insisted that women and men were no different, and all that silly bullshit.

She was also not a fraction of a breadwinner that the husband was, and something tells me she never pitched in any of her own money for the cruise vacations and international trips they'd constantly take, either as a couple, separately (I found out years later that they were in an open marriage, which I feel is somewhat unique for being 30 years ago), or as a family.

Anyway, our family was together one day for a function, and she started flirting with my dad in a joking way. Her husband and my mom were there, too. I was maybe 9. She was just joking around, but my dad played along innocently, and I made a comment about thinking this was inappropriate.

Feminist golddigger asked me why, trying to get me to say it, so I did: "Because you're his wife," I said, pointing at Mr. Smith. Then she began with her silly feminist bullshit.

"I'm not his wife!" she said, clearly trying to make me feel guilty, and trying to make what I said seem like she was his property.

I looked at her and responded with a calm, collected, and simple: "Then why is your name 'Smith'?"

Total silence. She was completely at a loss for words. Her husband, who was a 6'7" alpha who thought he was big shit because he came from a millionaire family and was one of the more wealthy people in the city -- he just sat there, stunned into silence himself. I could see them both struggling to try to come up with a response but they sincerely couldn't. I just sat there, quietly, looking at them, waiting for them to say something, because no matter what they could have come back with, it wouldn't have worked.

I'll never forget the look of both pride and restraint (at keeping her smile at bay) that suddenly appeared on my mother's face.