You don't have to say anything, you just have to look. It's the way you look. Or rather how it may be possible to interpret the way you look. Offence is defined by the offended and people like being offended. It puts them on top.
Is there such a thing as a female gaze? If there is I expect it is good and loving and everything that is right with the world, unlike its male counterpart. Do women look at men or each other appraisingly? Do they consider attractiveness? Surely not!
As Suzanne Moore comments on Valerie Solanas (over at Norm's)
Scum's terrorism will be a kind of withdrawal from the money system and workforce. Women will 'unwork' until they get fired, in which case they will get another job to unwork at. Eventually the system will collapse, there will be electronic voting on every issue, and no more males will be born, because artificial insemination will take care of reproduction. In the end, however, no more females will be born, either. Solanas makes us uneasy because she understood that one of the major problems for feminism was, and still is, not just 'men', but women's relationship to their own oppression, their willing collaboration in it.
But guys, don't despair. It's really not all bad news. Scum will conduct versions of 12-step meetings to which men can go to recite phrases such as 'I am a turd, a lowly abject turd'. Men who are rational (that includes New Statesman readers, surely?) won't struggle against Scum; they will 'just sit back, relax, enjoy the show and ride the waves to their own demise'. Now whoever said there were no more happy endings?
I am a little lost as to the level of irony here ('guys, don't despair') but I suppose it's all right because it isn't a man saying it.
Just a few weeks ago I was in the company of a number of very talented and very nice young-to-middle aged female poets who were discussing which male poets were shaggable. It was charming. (I suggested Byron if they were into necrophilia.) Two or three males sat on sofas knowing full well this was not a conversation to which they would be invited to produce a public equivalent. Perish the thought! Their thought that is.
Female strippers for men? Disgusting, shameful exploitation! Male strippers for women? Note the celebratory atmosphere in the famous scene from The Full Monty. See how much altogether nicer this is? Liberation.
Meanwhile there is always conversation.