First, there was this text, from Johnny (whom I've written about before.) You know. The one I hit it off with unexpectedly about two months ago, and now we talk every day since then for hours? The fellow born-n-raised Brooklynite? Who drives a Lexus (blechhh) but I try not to hold it against him? Yeah. Him. I asked if he wanted to go see the new Muppet movie with me, because DUH.
His reply?
And I was all like:
It took me completely aback, not because I haven't thought about it, but damn son! Those words he chose to use, in regards to a part of my body and ultimately about me as a whole, left me completely baffled and, well, pretty angry. How blunt and cold can you be about a girl? And not just any girl! We're friends! We get along great, and it's been almost two months now that we've spent been getting to know each other for real, without sex as a distraction. So on the one hand, he'll say I'm his girl, that "we're biffles" and blah blah blah. And then, he goes and says THAT. If we'd already known each other in a physically intimate way, that'd be one thing. But we've only ever made out. We've maybe talked, just talked, about sex... three times? If that? So for him to so crudely lay that line on the table...I don't know if I want to have anything to do with him sexually now. Why? Because that's not what I want. That's not why I put in 100 days to figure my shit out. I'm more than a body part that needs to conquered. I don't want a guy who says he "puts in work", by taking me to a movie he doesn't even want to see, all for "that vagina". I want him to do it because he genuinely likes me. I want him to hang out, see a movie, whatever, because he actually wants to spend time with me. With ME. Not my hoohah. I believe, now, that I deserve at least that. I mean, come on bro. I'm all for sex, wooboy, am I ever. But I'm not for the cold, faceless, emotionally detached bullshit. If I wanted that, I'd bang a screwed-up stripper. If I wanted that, I'd turn back time about a year and do what I was doing before. So, ughhhh. There I was, feeling so positive and great and excited for "life after 100", but now...I'm at a loss.
I've noticed how much I've changed and grown, and maybe that's why this is bothering me. Because once you fully commit to self-discovery, once you are honest with yourself about who you really are and what you want, the veil falls down around certain kinda of men. Negative traits and faults in men that you were blind to before, suddenly 180 and become blindingly apparent. What my fear is, is that all men are like this. Lost, cold, detached, simply not capable of reaching heightened levels of awareness, or figuring themselves out (let alone women.) Something must have been up in the universe last night, because what followed that Johnny exchange was another conversation, with another guy.
Now, to be fair, I don't know this particular dude. I don't even know his name, only his Instagram name (it's "Lastsuspect", and yeah, I'm blowing up his spot. NOT SORRY.) We've never met, or even talked before. He is an amazing photographer I (no longer) follow, and last night he left his number on one of my photos. I was sure it was fake, because who the fuck does that with their actual cell number? So when I decided to text him, it mostly as a joke. Bear in mind, he's an IG superstar with 20k followers, etc, and incredibly talented. I admire his work, and was excited/intimidated to talk to such an artist. Basically, I was positive he was wayyyy too cool for me. And then he went and dropped THIS gem:
And I was all like:
Yeah, that disillusioned me real quick.
Soooo, let's review. You have a shit ton of followers on a photo app. You asked me where I live and what I do. All that effort on your part, I mean, whoa. Now that = I'm supposed to strip at the snap of your fingers? Why? Because you're just sooooo popular? Because you spent half of a Twitter character-maximum getting to know me? Because you typed exactly 15 words to me, 50% of them "lol", and the other 50% about as charming and interesting as "26/m/NYC/single"? That delightful interaction is supposed to have me now be smitten and starry-eyed and gratefully sex-text you? Fuck you. I don't know you. You've done NOTHING to earn seeing any part of my body. It had me so mad. All I could think was: a) I'm too old for this naked picture bullshit, unless your my man, or we're at least hooking up, b) I don't have time to waste posing in front of a mirror without clothes on, for you, a total stranger who's dick could be 3" long for all I know, and c) I have way more to offer than a hot ass. God damn it, what will it take for men to fucking recognize that? What more can I possibly do at this point? I've grown, I've gone through this challenge and evolved, I will be exiting it a changed, matured, better self. So what the hell else can I do?
Well, it's not up to me to do more at this point. I'm not mad at myself, I no longer feel like I'm lacking. I finally understand I'm not responsible for these guys being assholes. And it's not that guys aren't seeing "me" that's driving me nuts. No, now, it's: will they ever? Are they fucking capable? Listen. If you don't want to really get to know me, all of me, that's fine. But thinking I'll send sexy pictures without batting an eye? Nah. You ain't special. Forget about getting a glimpse, let alone a taste, of my vagina. I know who I am now, and what I have. If you think just because other women whore themselves out to your cocknballs, desperately seeing attention and validation, forget it. If you see me as just another hole, a cum dumpster, or a source of spank bank material, then move along. I'm not that kind of girl, I've never been that kind of girl. Besides, I already have excellent lovers in my little black book. And I mean EXCELLENT. I don't need another boy toy. I don't need another dong to play with. I need someone who at least wants to get to know me, and can appreciate that I'm not just another brainless lay. I don't think that's asking for much but apparently, IT IS.
This ties into something I said a few weeks ago, and my good friend Marika's take on it. I had said, "it's not men, it's not me, it's NYC", in regards to dating and love never working out, or even getting off the ground. Marika disagreed. She said nope, it IS men. She believes that their gender is plain ol' unable to question, dig, and discover themselves, and life, in the ways that women are. It's because at the core they're not emotional, inquisitive creatures. Their "caveman" instincts are to hunt and procreate, not to nurture and soul-search. I'm sure society contributes to the problem, since it has a tendency to prevent development of/squashing out that side of them. No matter the reason, I'm starting to think Marika is right. Granted, it's possible not ALL men are like this for the duration of their life. But I do think that solo, they are naturally incapable of self-awareness and self-discovery. If they have, or have had, strong female influences in their lives (like an amazing mom or previous girlfriend), they can get there. But they need guidance, whereas women are more naturally predisposed to doing it on their own.
Last night, and the past month of talking to guys, has started to show me how true this really is. Don't get me wrong. I don't hate guys, and I don't hold this against them. It's an important thing to recognize and to understand. But it sucks, because no matter how much a woman grows or learns about herself, no matter how enlightened and evolved she is, the majority of men will never be able to appreciate that aspect of her.
This is not great news, but to have realized it and recognized it's truth is for the best. It's never easy to be disillusioned, to have your perspective go from a girl's, to a realistic one. But it's part of growing up. At the end of the day, it's not like this douchey sect of guys came out of nowhere. It's that I finally see them. Sure, it blows that there are so many out there, that this will definitely cut down on the number guys I take the time to date/have sex with. But I suppose that's part of growing up too: seeking out quality instead of quantity, knowing who is worth investing your time in, because your time is, and you are, valuable. If that means dating less, having less boudoir adventures, I'm okay with that now. This used to be something I feared, a level of maturity I never thought I could possibly want. You can wild out, get weird, sow those oats for years, and it's fun and awesome and great. But to get that feeling of happiness, euphoria, and fulfillment from within yourself? If that's what growing up is, I'll take it.
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