An Expose About Men, Insecurities, Relationships, And Female Empowerment.
Mic check 1, 2. Let’s begin.
As I write this, I feel very high strung. Maybe from anger, maybe from years of pent-up annoyance. Although the years of my heart being broken have dissolved into minutes of sullenness, I know I can no longer get my innocence back. I have loved at least three men in my life. I don’t fully remember what it was like, but I still feel the ghostly presence of the love I once had for them, like a vinyl spiraling when I turn on the memories. Twice I have been forced to move on despite the lingering feelings of tenderness. Once, I wanted to leave a scathing review saying, “scum of the earth, won’t recommend.” But I would have been looked at as crying over spilled milk.
As a woman, I can say that sometimes we get attached the moment we see a glimmer of light from an unworthy man. So attached that years after the intensity of our feelings have dimmed, they remain drumming in our veins, just no longer as loud as cymbals. Deon Cole said, “we settle for levels we should have been passing in life.” It’s what we do, and that’s why I have to leave this scathing review.
It’s been three years since anyone has lit a fire inside me. When I catch a man looking at me through the flames of his desire, I am no longer responsive. It’s like he brought his little bonfire to a tsunami fight. The reason I quench their thirst is that for so long, men have longed for the scientifically proven perfect woman that God did not create. I always despised myself for my lack of flawless symmetry. I felt like a fairly used iPhone bought on Swappa, never the girl in mint or excellent condition. I hated the girl I couldn’t be, the Instagram look that I just didn’t fit. Maybe if I was a little bit of this, that, and the other thing, I would have been able to make HIM stay. I never fully considered how glaring it was that HE was also hugely lacking in ways that mattered. Other women shunned me for doing exactly what my male counterparts did. For wanting a taller man, or a man with a smaller nose. “Just take what God gives you,” they said. “A picky woman ends up alone.”
At the age of 26, the doors of my weight have opened and expanded. I realized that I have never truly accepted the woman I was growing up to be. I have fought a losing battle with my weight for years. I have tried and failed to return my body to its childish state every time I got a little round. Why? Because in this social media generation, Christian mothers, flaps at the back, fupas, and stretch marks are seen as simply unflattering. You should look pale like the cast of twilight and feel like you’re about to pass out to be considered beautiful. You should have round breasts, tiny waists, and big buttocks to be considered sensual. It’s no wonder plastic surgeons are making banks, and dietitians may be the next Bill Gates. I see that same insecurity in my sisters, my best friends, and women around the world. In all sincerity, it makes me question why we put ourselves under so much pressure to fit a social construct that seeks to destroy us.
Even with my deep-rooted insecurities, I have dated men who at the stages of their lives should have matured from caterpillars to butterflies. Men who should have understood the concept of evolution; that it is okay for our 18-year-old bodies to change at 30. That no woman can be one-size-fits-all. Not in height, shape, religion, character, or sexuality. Imagine my shock when these so-called matured men turned out to be maggots struggling to evolve into flies. I should have swatted them away. Or at best, rinsed them off me like lather after a cleansing bath. Instead, I peacocked less so they could outshine me. Now, I know that I’ve had it all wrong all along. Broken or whole, these men could never validate, fix, or complete me.
The term “boyfriend,” has always left a bitter taste in my mouth. In truth, no man has ever felt like he was truly mine. Neither have I ever been secure in my relationships to show the world that I was “truly happy.” It is true that sometimes, I have sought after the wrong men. It is also true that all my relationships have not been bad. But at this stage, one rotten apple has spoiled the whole bunch. I knew that one day, the dreaded “I hate men” speech would write itself. I risk the chance of sounding like an angry woman to say, — I have never disliked men more than I do at this very moment. It’s like all my insecurities suddenly have a voice. I have stayed mad at myself for so long for not being exactly what these men needed. It’s like my diffidence and the empowered woman I so desperately needed to be stayed intertwined until the pull of my awakening naturally ripped us apart. It’s never been more clear to me that at this moment that I no longer feel the need to find a man. It feels less and less natural. By design, women are the ones to be found, not the other way around. So no man has heard from me in months, and in the words of Taylor Swift, “I am doing better than I ever was.”
Ladies, it’s a shame that we’ve put men on such a huge pedestal that they no longer value the chase. Even the women who play “hard to get ” are dropped the moment they’ve been gotten because the excitement has waned. It’s like these men want us to keep running for the rest of our lives. But they run out of breath and on their next pit stop, meet a more willing woman. God, why are we always so willing? It’s a shame that we’ve allowed these types of men to exist simply because we’ve always thought that it is not good for a woman to be alone. So, we succumb to less than our ideal man, while they become porters to clay, trying to break and mold us into the perfect image of who they think we should be.
It is truly insulting and berating for a woman to fall in love in the 21st century. Without us, these men won’t even exist, we give these suckers life. God didn’t make us first and realize that we were lonely. He created man and saw how pathetic he was, still sucking on his thumb at the age of 30. So, he created a woman to pick him up from the dust where he lay. She’s everything that he isn’t. In retrospect, the first woman should have told The First Man to go fuck himself. Or raised her hands, folded them into fists, and smacked them together like Ross from Friends to signify her disdain. She should have given him the middle finger like Kendall Jenner does the paparazzi. Maybe it would have saved us the stress of having to fuck with them in real-time.
If you are at that stage where you’re okay with your hands between my legs for the rest of my life, I feel you. Especially if it saves you from the stress of having to love a man who is not truly worth your time. I’ll leave you with some simple advice. Ladies, a red flag is a red flag. Not a yellow flag and definitely not a green flag. Take these men for who they are and not who you want them to be. Stop giving kingship treatments to a generation of servants. Trust your gut, if the fish stinks it’s probably in his pocket.
Are they still good men out there? Probably. Should I find one, I will come and amend my review. Till then, 1 out of 5 stars to all the men in the world. I really, really would not recommend.
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