Young and Beautiful: A Rant, Again

I've made this blog my emotional outlet and you're all just going to have to live with it. Read at your own risk.

[Disclaimer: all caps sentences and excessive uses of exclamation points are, of course, used ironically. I'm driving the point home. Pay attention to that.]

---

October twenty-something. already almost November. I was dumped recently which, on its own wasn't too bad- it barely even made me cry, which is probably because he dumped me within 48 hours which is pathetic and humiliating to admit, but sadly I'm no liar so that's the truth. I must be quite the male-killer to send him running two days in and yes, it's all just part of my charm.

He broke up with me!!!!!!! How did I manage to get broken up with? It's a genuine question. It doesn't make sense to me. You know in How I Met Your Mother, when they have that theory about a Settler and a Reacher? I was the Settler. Genuinely, I was the Settler. How did he... end up breaking up... with... me...? I'm not sad about it. I'm not angry. I'm mostly confused as to how this happened, for the second time. I settled, and I got left behind, but for what? What did I do wrong? I don't think it was me, to be honest. It wasn't my fault. It couldn't have been my fault.

And yet... I'm still sitting in front of the Wix dashboard and typing out a blog post that I hope to god no one will read because I'm just externally processing. I'm crying profusely as I write, which sounds like a cry for attention but I could not be more serious. I wish I could tell you exactly why, but I can barely articulate it. To backtrack: He wanted to "go back to being friends" and I agreed purely because I wanted to make those little passive aggressive jabs that I make sometimes to make him feel horrible, and I did- but roughly half an hour ago he asked me what was up, how I was doing... and proceeded to ask me because he was "just wondering"... could he still get some nudes? He'd send back videos with the audio on, of course. It had to be transactional, it had to be fair. I laughed reading it at first, then promptly broke down crying. Not because of him specifically, but because it's always like this. It always always ends up as me realizing that what matters isn't the type of girlfriend I am, or what I say, what time I call him, whether I write in my diary about him or write a song about his eyes, and especially not how I make him feel. Because somehow they never feel anything except for their dicks. They just want to see what I look like under my big t-shirts and my hoodies. It never matters whether I have an opinion on politics, or if I care about the ecosystem, or where I want to take my career. At the end of the day, the words coming out of my mouth don't matter unless i'm saying yes, you can see my photos, yes, i'll sleep with you, yes, you can do whatever you want to me yes yes yes yes NO!!! No, you can't. No, don't touch me. No, don't ask me that. No, don't send me a photo of it. No, no, no no no. No, it never matters. No... no doesn't mean no, right? No means CONVINCE ME!! I'M OPEN TO IT BUT I'M SHY. NO MEANS I'M OKAY WITH IT BUT I CAN'T TELL YOU THAT. No it doesn't, 'no' should mean no. 'No' should mean absolutely not. 'No' should mean stop. Hell, STOP should mean stop.

But it never does.

And it never stops.

They say they heard I'll send to whoever. They say they heard I'll hook up if they come to me. They say they heard I'm down to get in their car and drive to a secondary location, it's a surprise they say you dont want me to ruin the surprise do you? Yes. I want you to tell me where exactly you want to take me. I want to be able to open the car door and leave when i feel uncomfortable. I don't want you to sit that close to me why are your hands there please dont do that. Why are we going somewhere private and empty? Theres's nothing here.

Oh, that's why.

One time, a boy told me that if I didn't want to have sex after we started dating he would have to cheat on me. He would have. To. Cheat. On. Me. Because I wasn't comfortable giving him something that was sacred to myself. I explained to him for an hour that there was a line I didn't want to cross and he spent another hour and a half coaxing me into believing him when he said that the line was an unnecessary hinderance and we could just ignore the line if we really wanted to.

I almost agreed with him. I almost agreed but somehow as I was teetering on the edge of concession I remembered who I was and hung up the phone. He came back two days later and swore he could 'abstain for me'. I didn't mean it, you're so hot please dont't give up on us, come back. I informed him that I didn't believe him, and ended it.

This is the cycle. This is the cycle that repeats itself, they say don't dress that way if you don't want to be objectified, don't wear makeup like that if you don't want them to get aggressive when they ask you if you're single but they've obviously never walked alone on a cloudy day in sweats, makeupless with a messy bun and been shouted at by men on the street who want us to smile. I can cover every part of myself that you find appealing and somehow it won't matter. I'm still an object that doesn't think. I'm still an object that shouldn't speak. I am an object.

---

!!Someone may take offence at what I've said and correct me but this is an opinion. This is how I see the world. I am not writing for the sake of feminism or to embarrass the boys I've mentioned, should they ever have the misfortune to read this. I had an inspiration and this was the result, and that's all.