I know it’s been a while. A few days. I’m on the train, headed home from a sacrificial day on campus. I’m drained, but looking forward to spending time with a good friend. We went out last night and shot pool for a while, played table hockey, and even threw a few darts. He helped to take my mind of Mr. Yesterday. That’s a good thing, because I can dwell forever and ever.
I just keep wondering about the process of love these days. There are so much more horror stories than beautiful fairytale-like ones, and even the fairytales have a grim, dark secret world behind them. I wonder if my day will ever come. I know many of us have this day.
I’ve never been the one to dwell on love, and whether it would ever come my way. I think I knew pretty early on ion life that I probably wouldn’t have kids and that I wasn’t interested in guys. I almost always had a crush on someone, but it never last too long. I always lose interest. I thought that once I got older, I would care, but I still really don’t want to be married tomorrow. I actually just yearn for a male companion that will eventually want to settle down, but would rather get to know me and that time, all while enjoying my benifits, and allowing me to enjoy his as well. Why not both be benefactors in one another’s goodness?
Maybe this is what God is trying to stop me from doing. Jogging the recesses of my mind, I am able to see that I fear commitment. It is the reason why my ex was never given the chance to meet anyone aside from a few family members that I knew either wouldn’t care, or was more concerned with my happiness than what he did or didn’t do for a living, though I must say that the latter be more of a reality. The relationship could never be completely whole if it was a secret, which I had stressed so much on every guy I had ever dealt with. Being secretive was crucial to the survival of the “friendship”, which was not the case for most of these guys.
Sad to say, I would toy with them, like play things, and once my interest went out the window, or they were driven mad by my wrath and the web I had spun them in, they were cut off from my supply of intoxicating seduction. I am quite sure I’m being taught to change my ways, though difficult, because I view men as an object that I must break down, before they attempt to destroy me, of which they will. All men will eventually destroy a woman, whether by buying her a drink and encouraging her to get loose, so that he may have his way with her, or by cheating on her in their marriage. Men destroy.
I am a woman, which sometimes I do regret, but I am who I am. As a woman, I get my menstrual cycle, crave dark choclate, once a month I get cranky, have sporadic moments of insanity caused by emotional distress, and I also have to crouch to urinate. I am viewed as a nurturer, and naturally, I am supposed to be loving and modest and lady-like and stay within the norms of societal and cultural views. I can’t openly admit that I have an oral fixation and that I’m always horny, or that I think about sex often, but that’s because I’m a woman, and I’m in the Church. I can’t be me.
Between not being able to be myself and the innate need for all men to break me down, I get a little tired. I have yet to meet or know a man that wants to give to me. For every man that I know, it’s about what I can do for him, and sometimes, how quickly I can execute his commands or wishes. It is no wonder that I’m always celibate, with fleeting moments of spontaniety, where I allow myself to be “satisfied”. Unfortunately, only my vibrator has taken me to the moon and back, but this is only confirmation that men are more concerned with their own satisfaction. We women were created for them anyway, to be used at their disposal until they have had enough, isn’t this right? Then they toss us and find something new that doesn’t nag as much.
Feminist?… do I have to have to admit it?
Say whatever you want, but people screw each other up. I can say that if more men were not all over the place, watching where they planted their seeds, and who with, they could elimate a lot of problems. Also, women are just as accountable for their actions. If more women would stop taking whatever they can get, and allowing seeds to be planted within them without a care of how solid the foundation is, there would be less messed up people out there. Maybe then, I wouldn’t be so messed up, being weary of all men and their hidden agenda. Maybe then, I would actually be able to meet a guy that hasn’t been broken down, and in need of a subject to cast his projection of himself onto me.
Mr. Yesterday is suffering from abandonment issues. He never knew his father, and when he did meet him, his father was unpleasant and did not care about him, and soon after that day of meeting, left once again. Mr. Yesterday finds it easier to abandone than face reality. He’s done it throughout his entire life, with school and work and even with his friendships. When I look at him from this aspect, I feel a bit of pity. Of course I am still upset that he has yet to pick up a phone and call me. I’ll eventually get over it all, but when?
I don’t know. Maybe when men start to treat women like women, and not the rib from their rib cage? Maybe then it won’t hurt so bad?