More Relationship Myths
Have you heard the urban legend that says all guys and girls are the same? Yeah, it goes something like a guy and a girl are in their car making out in a remote part of a forest. She hears a noise and breaks off a kiss to say ‘What was that?’ The guy, a total stud, by the way, says ‘Nothing but the beat of my heart, Baby’. She buys that stupid explanation and continues her pre-fornication rituals. This time there is a loud thud and he breaks off the intense session to say ‘What the hell was that?’ She immediately starts crying and saying how she’s fat and he doesn’t want her. He adjusts himself and leaves the car in a stupid search for whatever made that noise. Punch line to the story is that they both end up dead but their memory will live on at slumber parties and camp fires forever.
Lee says: They say girls are made of ‘sugar and spice and everything nice’ and boys are made of ‘frogs and snails and puppy dog tails’. Hmmmm. Apparently some of the bitches I have met along my life journey were some sort of the weird spice like old pantry oregano or something. And some boys I’ve met have been nothing but raw sugar mixed with deliciousness. But it doesn’t matter really. We are programmed to see men and women in a certain way and that same programming defines a very specific aspect of love myth which is:
Myth: Being an independent woman means you hate men/Being an emotionally available man means being a pussy.
Why the myth? Why do we need to pigeon hole men and women? Why is it so important to maintain this myth?
Easy. If we do not maintain these ideals then we run the risk of unbalancing the status quo. Society is accustomed to dysfunctional love. By letting men and women have love when they don’t play by the rules, in other words, they don’t toe the line by comporting themselves like good automatons with sweetness and machoness respectfully, then some people are gonna get a little uppity and think they can behave anyway they like. After this will come anarchy and then the dreaded people marrying their pets. It behooves a society to maintain a certain gender behavior requirement. It makes things easier, doesn’t it?
I am one of those ‘independent thinking women’ who has been called every name you can possibly imagine because I was not dressed in pink, I did not coo or squeal with joy at the thought of puppies and I have been known to drop more than one word from the seven you aren’t supposed to say on TV. Most of those words I like to string together to paint a perfect picture. On good days I have been called a dyke and on days where people didn’t care how I felt about the insults I was called unlovable. All this because of my way-of-being, which people think was created because I did not like men. How wrong they were.
I am an independent women and I adore men. I have a deep admiration for the complexity and simplicity of a man. I also know that a man’s vulnerability defines his manliness only in that the more vulnerable he is, the more powerful he is. He can handle the roller coaster of life better than a man that uses his teeth to open his bottles. He allows himself to feel the pain and joy of life. Thus, these are the real men not the two dimensional Marlboro assholes who have more in common with robots than a real man. But why listen to me? I’m just a bitter, unlovable dyke who hates men.
Paul says: Unlovable!?! When she says things like that, I just want to cry and give her big hug. Then, again, I am just a big pussy who is obviously pussy whipped, possibly gay, and completely without a backbone. Apparently, that is the downside of being in touch with my emotions. The upside is that I love to give hugs.