Dude, we don't need rescuing. Aight?

Are men naturally inclined towards rescuing damsels in distress, even when they're not asking to be rescued? Can't we sit here and revel in our sorrow for a bit? (We all get off on it in various capacities, you know) Is that too much to ask for? Did I concern myself with your business so much as to fake concern for you after a particular point, that you thought it appropriate to encroach my space? Is the concept of boundaries not understood by men or people or this nation or this world? If you think you know me so well, don't you think I would've asked for help if I wanted it, replete with ways to fix this broken soul, to stitch up this big torn bag & baggage? Do I look like a woman-child to you? That concept does not apply to females, oh irreverent male. We fuck up, we lick our wounds, we clean, we weep to heal, not to hang a sword over your heads, and we amend. And look at our glorious selves today! Your nineteenth century mouths still only look dubious. They say something but they want quite something else. But thanks for being there at our beck and call. Arrive on time when we call you. Oh, and don't come around without an invitation.