Joshy, I <3 you.
shhhhh! i said no names!
Wait, what...did I miss something? Do you not want your name on pweb?
I was laughing disproportionately hard at this, and the continued confused posts to follow, while at work. I totally got it before the explanation came in.
However, back to the matter at hand. This thread is making me feel increasingly lame, just as an aside -not because of anyone else, just me- so I'll probably/hopefully shut the fudge up after this.
Holy cow, did the last few posts I've made seem probably not directly related to the original emo-thon. Let me try to connect the dots.
I bring up my weight/appearance more often than your average person, most likely, but it almost seems as if the people around me bring it up more. Sometimes good (crazy patrons calling me beautiful, which is nice to hear but kind of creepy), sometimes bad (relatives, well meaning friends) but all pointing to the fact that, in this culture, looks matter. "If you just did your hair this way..." or "If you dressed better..." or "Maybe lose a few pounds..." or "Your face...makeup would cover that." Backhanded compliments, oh yes.
Okay, for what purpose do you want me to do that? Because it's not until I get too much of those conversations that I start feeling s***** again; otherwise, I think being plain is fine. To attract someone? Ah, yes, to attract someone. That is one of my big issues. That is what leads me to believing that I'm not good enough for anyone. That unless I look a certain way, no one is going to want me.
It just so happens that all the men in my life mention some truly unobtainable-for-me ideal and as much as I don't want to do the pointing fingers at whose fault
that is, between them, Hollywood, and corporations, they're making people think that this so-called ideal
is ideal and they're making a whole lot of women like me feel like s*** for not being in that very small group. It's why I refuse, adamantly, to feed into that. Are supermodels attractive? Yep. Do I care to give that whole image more power? Nope. Ask me what's sexy and I'm going to start pointing to beautiful women who are a bit more realistic and no less sexy because of it.
Now, the thing I definitely don’t want to do is villainize men. I have done that in the past, quite a bit and probably the quite recent past at that, and it was wrong of me to do. It made me feel better, not going to lie, but it solves nothing in the long run.
Re: we are our own happiness factories and you can live without a man and be a-okay, I don’t disagree with either of those sentiments. But general-you can’t get to happy without being honest with yourself about what you want in life and for me, even aside from all the pressure I feel from outside sources, that includes a significant other.
Do I think that should be priority number one/my life’s ambition for happiness? No. Will I consider my life complete should I ever start dating? No. Am I saying it’s impossible to be happy without that? No. But to ignore that want and pretend like it doesn’t exist because it is something that has never and feels like it will never work out for me is as equally wrong as pinning all my happiness on it.
I sure wish I could be the great feminine ideal and say that single life is what I want, that I’m enjoying the s*** out of it, that it’s how I work best, that it is easy and natural but there is that little voice in me saying, “It’s good the way it is, I’m content with this, but I think it could be better.â€
I want to have someone by my side to share all the little s*** that, independent of them, makes me happy. Friends can be that to an extent but anyone who tells me it is the same is bullshitting themselves and me.
So when I say “That kind of happiness is not meant for you so find your happiness elsewhere.â€, it is not me being enlightened, forward, independent, or even simply correct, much as I'd like to pretend it is; it is me being upset that this thing I want truly looks like it’s not a part of my life plan and not because I don’t want it but because it doesn’t want me, so I had better convince myself that happiness elsewhere is my
only option,
ever. If it never happens for me, come the end of my life, I
will feel like my life was less than it could have been, that my accomplishments don't mean any less but that I still missed out.
I’m sorry if it’s wrong to own up to feeling that way. I’m sorry if it makes me pathetic or lame or codependent or undoes the 60s or is backwards. I’m not asking for a man to come into my life and support me financially (not happening) or to get me pregnant (might happen, depends on the man) or to propose marriage (less likely to happen than the pregnancy thing but also depends on the man) or recreate chick flicks (unrealistic). I just want someone I like spending time with to have my back, let me have theirs, and to have some wicked fun hot monkey sex in between all that.