On my inner right forearm I have a tattoo that says “Je suis,” French for I am. At the time I wanted to get something bold, one word that defined me at my core. When I was at the tattoo shop however, I couldn’t come up with anything. I didn’t want to confine myself to one word that word forever brand me and hold me to that definition. So I opted simply for I am, followed by an ellipsis because that’s the only way I can ever properly describe myself, I simply am.
This same line of thinking however, doesn’t quite seem to work for the opposite sex well at least, the guys I encounter.
Having accounts on multiple dating sites at one point or another has required me to expose myself to a large number of people whom would otherwise never have had the delight of critiquing me to their hearts desire.
What I’ve noticed with the people who message me and those who I’ve been on dates with, is that they have this idea of who I’m supposed to be and when I don’t fall into that idea, I’m set aside for someone who does.
Let me explain.
If I’m talking to someone and sex comes up. I’m supposed to act like I don’t want it, but only slightly. If I flat out reject someone, I’m a bitch. But if I tell them no but keep talking to them anyway, I’m saying no when I must mean yes. Fuck you society. If I actually do along with the fact that I’d like to sleep with someone, then I can only go as far as the dude takes it. He can tell me all day long about all the various things he’d like to do to me, as graphic and disturbing as it may be. And I[m supposed to just sit there and be like, “Mmmm yes.” Totally acceptable. The minute I turn around though and follow this dudes lead and say anything without first having been told anything, it’s now gross and too forward and apparently now I’m just thirsty. WTF?
Same thing goes for when I’m supposed to be “sexy.” Let me just say that I have no idea what the hell sexy is even supposed to mean. This last guy I went out with said my nose ring, the rasp in my voice when I get tired, my voice overall, and speaking in Spanish was all sexy. Uhhhh ok. Anyway, when a dude has this impression of me I don’t know what I’m supposed to do to keep it up. Act coy and play hard to get? Isn’t that the image the media portrays? So when I go and act like I normally do, because I figure well being labeled sexy doesn’t have anything to do with anything I’m doing, rather with things that go along with my daily life, the image becomes distorted and now I’m boring, no longer exciting. Again, WTF.
I used to host a sex talk show on some internet radio station. When I tell people this, it’s suddenly implied that I love talking about sex and I have sex on the brain 24/7. Sure, ask me or tell me anything, I don’t mind! Not. For the most part, I don’t. However, it’s not something I want to talk about repeatedly.
These are just a few examples. But the list goes on and on. What is so hard to grasp or comprehend about a person being multifaceted? I have to be innocent, yet sexy. Sexual but not experienced. Smart but not too smart. It’s exhausting trying to fit into someones idea of what they think you should be when you yourself don’t even know what that is. I’m always being myself so when someone is attracted to me I figure I can go on being myself, what’s the difference? Apparently a ton.
I feel like I have to put on a one-man show to keep these peoples attention, “Look at me, look at me!” The minute they glance away, that’s it. Game over, time to set up from the beginning for the next candidate.
Why is it the societal norm for a woman to try to attract the man and get his attention? Why am I supposed to be the one to put on my best behavior to secure a guy? It’s gross and has taught men that if there’s a woman who won’t fit the bill, they can just go right out and find one who does, one who will willingly dance when they tell her to.
I’m over it. I’m tired of trying to figure out what mask I have to hide behind or what persona I have to develop to hold a mans attention. If I have to spend the rest of my life sifting through an endless revolving door of one bed sheet after another simply because I refuse to be a part of the show, so be it.
I’ve stopped caring to erase my Tinder account. It can stay, it’s not the app that bothers me but its users. Some, not all. I’m not giving up on dating, not at all.
I’m just playing by my own rules now.
I am not going to let society in its ringleader role determine who or what I should be.
I am going to take it all at face value.