I swore to abandon discussions of men and relationships. However, sitting here sipping on my soy latte with the beautifully, chill, crisp fall air blowing across me, I am inclined, in this perfect moment, to break my own rules. This is pretty much solely due to Natalie's quest for me to ramble my thoughts for the future book I'm not going to write, but will pretend to write, but really should write.You know, one of those. It will be a best seller, if it were real. Okay, enough.
We're discussing her recent male failure. An issue we are both too accustomed to. However, we remain optimistic that one day each of us may get the chance to share a bed with a male equivalent to ourselves. For now, we spend our nights as if we are in middle school again, by staying late up, verbally illustrating our dreams and having slumber parties with our best lady friends. Except now, red wine is involved, and our "boy" issues hold vastly more weight than previous years. We huddle together in comfort as the other females of our generation silently shout MARRIAGE BABIES MARRIAGE LOVE COMMITMENT BABIES MARRIAGE!!!! We don't want that. For now, at least, and who is to say ever.
We are "other," and this male-esq mindset makes other
woman hate us and men afraid of us.
Great. Where to go from here... We do not revert and give in, even though sometimes that option seems nice. I find that anyone other then us "un-settlers" have a much easier time finding female companionship. But then again, I would rather remove my freckles from my skin then conform to a lifestyle I do not believe in, especially to make "friends". Life is exciting for us free women. But, like most men, this freedom has a long tail which trails behind our every encounter of undressing, awkward first dates and flirtatious behavior.
Behind our backs we keep one hand with our fingers crossed all while the other hand is shoved down our newest victims pants hoping that we either get a good fuck out of this, a lasting relationship or maybe a few free meals or shit... all of the above! OH! the man that makes us melt physically and mentally, now that's who we're holding out for. For those ladies who didn't hold out and settled, they gaze at us with admiring eyes whispering envious, harsh statements underneath their breath. All the while clinging to us as to catch any drip of the sensual, sweet, free, seductive behavior we leave behind.
We each are imprisoned by different things, but it is a difference in prison statements. They get life without payroll and we're stuck in the can for a couple of years paying for our the minor crime(s). There is hope for us; we aren't dead yet, goddammit!! In fact, we're more alive than ever. And this energy we elude, this challenge we casually graze across men's laps everywhere, keep us as this higher class of women. But up here, drifting above the norm, we're still looking for that one to hit us down and capture us. An owner we have no problem being a slave to because we know that when he slips his hand up our skirt there is more than just friction being exchanges through body parts. There is a deep binding connection as real as the blood that's now pulsating through our body. Fucking right. This is what I'm holding out for. Until I'm struck from my free gliding life, I'll continue joyfully skipping through life picking up men as if we're in a grocery store food shopping.