Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Sometimes I try to Believe.

Sometimes I try and believe in the goodness of men. Sometimes I try to believe that they aren't all the way societal cliches claim them to be.

Sometimes I try to believe that they will listen to me. That they will be interested in what I'm saying and not how pretty it is when my mouth moves.

Sometimes I try to believe that it doesn't matter if I have make-up on that day or not because I never care if they have make-up on either.

Sometimes I try to believe they will see past my blond hair and full mouth and cleavage and see me as a whole person.

Sometimes I want to believe that it is my wit that charms them, and nothing else.

Sometimes I like to believe that they really do want to be making eye contact and that it is not a chore to not look at my lovely breasts (I really do have brilliant breasts). Or watch my ass sway as I walk somewhere.

Sometimes I try to believe that they won't their manhood insulted if I know more about politics then they do. That they won't want me to walk around in 5 inch stiletto heels so that I can turn them on. That they won't feel the need to avoid real conversations. That they actually do want to communicate and commit.

Sometimes I like to believe that the fact that I have an ivy league education, that I own my own house, that I own my own car, that I am completely independent and confident doesn't make them feel like they don't know what they could offer me. Sometimes I like to believe that men know they are actually much more than just providers and protectors. That they can be needed in a woman's life for more reasons than just those. So many more reasons.

These attempts at belief go out the window when I change my facebook page photo to one of my recent  photo shoots. Photos I have TAKEN, not photos that I am IN. The photos I take are of very stunning people most of the time, and when I put a new one up, I usually get about 10 to 15 requests from strange men I have never met who send me a one liner like "Hey, you're hot (though, let's be honest, in this day and age it's usually, "Hey, your hot.")

That's really when my beliefs about what I imagine the amazing possibilities that reside within a man sort of wane.


JMH said...

I don't feel particularly compelled to defend men. By and large I don't like them because they're sort of loud and crude and awful. But men are like that. We like to stare. We're wired with a powerful visual pleasure trigger.

What I've had to recognize is that that natural salacious impulse can be controlled, its aggressiveness harnessed and directed in ideally a creative manner, but at the very least in a socially appropriate one.

As for the ego, though, if you can learn something from a person, man or woman, go ahead and learn something, you know? Learning is sexy. I can certainly be proud and stubborn and easily wounded at times, but mostly I try to let the ego go. It's going to cause me more pain than pleasure.

Stella said...

JMH--I think we all have naturally salacious impulses, though some women feel it unwomanly to have those and so, oftentimes, pretend that they are not there. But I do believe evolution has come far enough that some level of control could be expected. But maybe I expect too much from the human race in general. I know my high school students think I do.

I go back and forth about my ego. For so many years I felt it wasn't right to accept acknowledgement (though I sought after it, and when I received it, I demurely brushed it off). I feel like it didn't get the room it needed and now I'm sort of trying to see what life would be like if I embraced it more. I don't think I'm explaining this right, but I'll think about it some more and try to articulate it for you soon.