Page 67 of Omega Artist
Chapter Twenty-Four
Woman
Aliénor… As Alie G
—It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World—
“But it wouldn’t benothing, nothing without a woman or a girl…” James Brown sang, but I wonder what the song’s female co-writer had in mind.
This blog post won’t be filled with the usual pieces of advice on maintaining a healthy lifestyle or inspirational thoughts on female empowerment.
Today, I’d like to share my pointless mission. My raw experience. My near-failure. So, I’d love to hear your feedback in the comment section. Thanks!
Here goes.
Once upon a time, there was a hopeful princess with a vivid imagination who dreamt of finding her own prince. Not a fairytale prince in tights who would rescue her from a supposedly gloomy future with magic tricks. Not a Prince Charming in white who would give purpose to her supposedly dull life with his mere presence. Not a billionaire prince in a suit who would woo her and make her supposedly half-life complete. To make sure that she wouldn’t overlook her own prince, she made a list of all the criteria that he should meet.
Once the princess embarked on her quest, she realized that the world wasn’t magical. It wasn’t a fairytale. It was biased. Despite her supportive family who taught her to be her own person, the princess reluctantly molded her behavior to society’s expectations, to no avail. Critics persisted. Words changed. People judged. Again and again. And here she thought it was the twenty-first century!
As a defense mechanism, she managed to lower the volume of society’s demands. Disparaging messages. Mixed messages. Discouraging messages. They became white noise so that she could carry on without doubting herself each step of the way. Single-minded, she was compelled to find her place in the world as a person first and foremost.
Ignore the difference in opportunities. Ignore the difference in paychecks. Ignore the difference in treatment. It doesn’t take a scientist to notice that women and men are different. Should that mean that the former is “le sexe faible” as the French say, and therefore the weaker sex who is bound to be ruled by the supposedly stronger one?
I think not. But you see, that princess is me. All my life, I’ve been told that I was an independent person. All my life, I’ve been taught that I was free to determine my destiny. All my life, I’ve encountered the exact opposite, and especially when it comes to sex.
Here’s an area where the gender bias and stereotypes are so ingrained that both men and women think it’s acceptable to condemn a woman’s behavior. Meanwhile, the same is praised when a man is concerned.
Let’s see… If I find a guy clingy and dump him, I’m a heartless bitch who rejected his feminine side. If it’s the other way around, it’s the girl’s own fault for being a needy bitch who got in the way. If I collect men because I love sex, I’m a slut; he does the same, he’s a god. If I can’t get attached, I have daddy issues; when it’s a guy, it’s because the girl doesn’t satisfy him in bed. And if I get called names on the street, it’s because I asked for it by wearing a skirt that’s too short… You get the picture.
Setting genders on uneven ground is ultimately a lose-lose situation. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not playing the victim or counter-stereotypes here, but I wish for our patriarchal society to reflect on how to move forward, rather than in a vicious circle.
So far, society puts the blame on me, undermines me, and tells me what being a lady entails (while at the same time manipulating the definition to blur the lines, to add double-standards, and increase guilt). All because I love sex, although I have never been unfaithful, deceptive, or conniving.
To me, sex is fulfilling when two consenting adults play by their established rules. To me, sex is filthy only if you don’t clean up, not due to outdated moral standards. To me, sex is beautiful because it can ultimately create life. I refuse to refer to consensual sex as dirty. I refuse to apologize for loving a good fuck. I refuse to acknowledge what some judgmental assholes call “The walk of shame.” I will never be ashamed of owning my sex life because it is part of who we are, as human beings. Men and women are in this together.
My crusade against gender bias was set into motion by a mundane, but real, situation. Girl meets Boy on a hookup app. Boy is looking for one-night stands and says so upfront. Girl agrees to his terms. (The story doesn’t say if Girl was secretly hoping that Boy would eventually change his mind.) Boy fucks girl. Girl is happy. Boy is happy. One night turns into more. Girl is confused by the discrepancy between his words and his actions. Boy dumps girl for no apparent reason. (The story doesn’t say if Girl was seen as too clingy.) Girl stalks Boy. Boy brags about his conquests with other male friends. Boy is worshipped by his friends. Boy is asked how many girls he’s fucked recently. Girl cries over her misfortune. Boy is already back on the hookup app. Girl eventually gets over boy. (The story doesn’t say how long it took her.) End of story? Not quite. Girl gave me the opportunity to set the record straight on a silver platter.
It has nothing to do with how tough Girl took it at first. It has nothing to do with how Boy treated Girl because I wasn’t there to witness it. It has everything to do with how people—friends of both genders—condemn my actions as a female while admiring a man for the notches in his belt.
Granted, I could have hunted down an ex who treated me poorly. I didn’t. Instead, I chose a random guy. A random guy who embodied everything that I despised. A random guy who lured Girl with actions that contradicted his words. A random guy who loved the awe his friends showed for his sexual prowess. He deserved a taste of his own medicine.
In turn, his less than honorable behavior made him the perfect vehicle for setting an example and proving my point. Be held accountable for your words. Be true to yourself. Be treated equitably, no matter your gender (or race or sexual preferences, which should go without saying, but that’s not my mission for the moment). Because why not? Not better. Not worse.
So, Boy and I began interacting online after I admired his paintings. (I really do, and secretly bought a few of his canvases!) Their darkness appealed to me on an intrinsic level. Our unlikely connection felt easy. Our numerous conversations were genuine (at least on my part). Our online relationship blossomed… until it ignited. I teased. I enticed. I played… and soon, he was hooked. He admitted rubbing one out to the sound of my voice. I confessed the same. One day, he disclosed that he didn’t do the dating game. He didn’t do commitment. He didn’t do marriage. (Don’t ask!) We were on the same page, and I told him as much. To which he dared to call me the perfect woman!
Against all odds, I traveled hours to meet Boy on his turf. There, I intended to seduce the heartless playboy for the sole purpose of demonstrating my point: same action, different perception when conducted by Boy vs. Girl. Power. Control. Equity.
Weeks after meeting in person, I ended up at his place and, trust me, this part wasn’t planned! It involved a late-night karaoke session near his place. An urgent need to pee. A passed-out drunk Alie G on his couch.
Anyway, I appreciated that he didn’t push it when I explained that my upper body was a hard limit, and we tested our compatibility between the sheets. OMG! I wrote countless posts about how important a healthy sex life is… Well, Boy made me update my definition of good sex! Off. The. Charts… And I couldn’t get enough of him. I should have ended things after the first time we fucked, but I caved when he asked to see me again. I would have proven my point. I would have proven my point without considering whether we were equipped for something casual. I would have proven my point then without losing my focus. This is my only regret.
And so, I chose to put my self-appointed mission on hold. I embraced the interlude and basked in this alternate reality. A reality where a hot forlorn bad boy became my daily fix. And God, was he addictive! The sex was too mind-blowing to be overlooked. I somehow lost myself in sensations that I had never felt before. But I never lost track of why we were together. It should have been so easy. Casual. Emotionless.
I resent you for straying from your online pledge. No dating games. No potential commitment. No foreseeable marriage. I agreed to these terms. I resent you for not staying true to your real-life actions. Anonymous hookups. Unstoppable manwhore. Bigmouth jerk. I resent you for being nothing like the Boy I was told you were. Cocky. Alpha. Player.
Still, you would never qualify as my own prince. It was never about that with you. No matter our improbable affinity, similar tastes, and undeniable chemistry. You can’t deny that we are polar opposites in so many ways, and orgasms aren’t among the lofty criteria of my perfect man checklist.
Sorry, not sorry.
