Pleasing The Man
My sidekick is a blonde bombshell. Since middle school, she has been a magnet drawing in every guy. I admit that I have fallen into the background, never living up to her standards.
Out at the bars, I wonder what must be wrong with me that I never get hit on. I’m not bad looking. Maybe it’s my height? Am I intimidating? Do I seem cold?
My guy friend - much too drunk - says that I gotta stop hanging out with such a gorgeous woman as my sidekick. That she is so hot, no other woman can compare. He also tells me that I should grow out, letting me know that he finds short hair hideous.
I still contemplate it. Is that what I am doing wrong? My hair? Would men find me more attractive if…
Would I finally find the relationship I have been searching for if….
Yes, growing out my hair is certainly the problem.
I remember caring. I remember butterflies in my stomach when I had a crush on a cute boy. I remember my first kiss, and why I first fell in love and how it felt and I can’t seem to ever get those feelings back again.
The world is spinning faster, we are all becoming desensitized to sharing ourselves with one another.
I want to believe there are souls out there like me, people I will meet one day who don’t lead with their dick or their eyes but act with their heart and mind.
My sidekick doesn’t want to be judged on her looks, and neither do I. We both are passionate, intelligent, deep people who just want to find someone who can see that side of us without feeling like we have to settle for something less. We don’t want to spend our futures in misery just because we feel like we have to please the man.
Times have changed, and it’s not all about you any more.
If you want something real, and I hope that you do, you must give yourself and try to pretend for a second that you are actually interested in more than those big blue eyes or bountiful booty.
And sex. We are becoming desensitized to intimacy of any sort. I had butter on my toast this morning…I kissed a guy…I washed the dishes, and I had sex. It’s become routine, and we give it no second thoughts. We don’t even feel guilty anymore. And we probably don’t really know who we are fucking. They certainly don’t know us, the real us.
We use sex to validate ourselves. To feel, for a second, as if someone could love us - at least in one way. At lease we can please them somehow. We never think for a second whether we even like them. Isn’t that insane? Why don’t we have more self respect? Why do we feel like sex is all we are good for?
I used to be a hopeless romantic. I used to want to wait until marriage. I used to write poems and paint pictures and sing songs for men I really liked. I used to be more vulnerable in my passion. But as time drew on I realized that no one cared. They would listed to my song and say alright, fine. They wouldn’t understand my humor. They would be bored by the poetry I sent them.
I fuck men. I fuck a lot of men. I have spent my entire life trying not to admit the more difficult things in life, even if they are true. Things like the fact that I fuck men who I know don’t give a shit about me. They don’t know me, and they don’t want to. And as soon as I bring up some subject that is too “sensitive” for the fuck-buddy zone, I see them flee. Things like “why did we never actually date?” or “Do you really only like me for sex?”
Rest assured that in most cases, those questions will never be answered, and you don’t want to know the answers because you already know them.
The answer is that I am a hypocrite. The thing that is wrong with me is that I have been fooled into believing no one wants to get to know me. No one will ever really want to love me. And so I shouldn’t love me. I should give men the one thing I know they won’t pass up. I should please them the only way I know how because then at least they might want to see me again.
Some days I play the role of a strong woman. The truth is that all of us are cowards. We can’t admit the truth to ourselves, let alone others. We place blame where it shouldn’t be placed and we make all the excuses in the world to validate our actions. All of us just want to be loved, but many of us don’t think we deserve to be known, or that others deserve to know us. We judge people within the first five seconds of meeting them and decide then and there if there is a connection or not.
As my sidekick walked down the street with the man she had just met, his hand on the small of her back, I felt only envy. I shouldn’t care - she is being judged just as I am; on a impromptu first impression that is most likely wrong. She is just as single as I, and just as far from finding someone who wants to know Her.
I hope some day we can find love.