"Be careful out there. There will be boys who try to mislead you with
exaggerated notions of love when the majority is only interested in one
thing."
My late father imparted that knowledge on me after
he’d stumbled upon a love letter his ten-year-old daughter had written
to her crush.
Naturally, I hadn’t the faintest idea what he was
on about at the time, but for some reason, not once did I ever forget
those words. And of course, with growth I came to realize their value.
Now,
as a black woman in my mid-20s, I find myself being forced to relive
his words as I try to find myself in a time of insatiable lust.
In
a time where women are discarded for not relinquishing what is
colloquially referred to as "the cookie"; 'small boys' with entitlement
issues will lay on the guilt trip so thick that you end up being overly
critical of yourself for not being "easy".
I’ve had to defend
myself to guys who felt slighted that I dared starve them of my vagina
when they could just as easily get it elsewhere, but opted for mine
instead.
One even had the gall to accuse me of being petty! And
as a young woman with traditional values (well, somewhat), it horrifies
me to think that this is the quality of man that will raise our sons.
Not
taking anything away from the decent men, I do believe that they still
exist. And maybe I’m naïve for believing that love and lust
can coexist in an era that’s bordering more towards the latter.
My
belief, however, was almost shattered a few months ago when a dapper
gentleman lost his cool and told me I was being irrational for not
letting him penetrate me in the backseat of his car. I wasn’t going to
let him have sex with me, period. We weren’t even exclusive.
Reflecting
on it now, I suppose I should be grateful that he was cordial enough to
take me back home instead of ditching me in a remote dump somewhere.
Things
could’ve gone completely south – he could’ve chosen to violate me after
realizing his courteous attempts failed dismally. In spite of this, a
part of me anticipated an apologetic phone call the next day.
I
convinced myself that once he’d recovered from his erection, he’d
realize that his feelings for me weren’t shallow. Of course that didn’t
happen.
If that’s how a woman is treated for being honorable then
I shudder to think what women who apply the opposite have to deal with.
Perhaps my rant would carry more weight if us women weren’t
partially responsible for how some of us are treated by men. We’ve made
ourselves so accessible that men just don’t feel it necessary to work
hard for our interest anymore. For some of them, being committed seems
redundant. We’re just not worth it.
The media isn’t helping either
(well, does it ever?). We’re made to feel emancipated for being
promiscuous. Curse you, Sex and the City!
My concern is the inherent fear of the many women scorned, that the tale of “the good guy” might as well be fiction.
It’s
becoming much harder for women to be involved with a man without having
to compromise ourselves in some way; and because we are so desperate
for acceptance and to be desired (desperate for anything that’s remotely
close to affection, really), we give in to every subtle coercion by
every hairy dick named Tom.
Perhaps love hasn’t become difficult
to find because we ceased to demand it as a prerequisite. Perhaps it’s
become difficult to find because we’ve stopped nurturing it within
ourselves.
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