Regret. I hate the word, I hate the feeling. I hate that for as powerful a woman as I am, I cannot turn back time. Stupid moments, foolish things said, behaviors that was dismissive before I had an opportunity to see—really see the man standing in front of me. How often have I looked at a man and based on a single moment of perception considered him unworthy of the challenge of the acquiescence of having all of me. I regret how today a woman’s life is spent guarding her boundaries by repelling intruders while trying to maintaining a wholeness of herself within that boundary. I’ve regretfully learned that you cannot. It’s arrogant; it’s lonely and pulls me further from my ultimate goal of wanting one man to spend the rest of my life with.
Part of the problem is the time the societal norms that we live in. Hook-ups, friends with benefits, pick up artist manuals, and ever present feminine men that have been sheltered by over protective mothers, absentee fathers and nary a “man’s man” role model to be found. These pubescent boys have never been taught that at their hearts, they are warriors; that honor means doing the right thing no matter what they feel. That sacrifice is a man’s purview. That making his woman happy by constantly earning her, being worthy of having her brings him no greater joy except the birth of a wanted child.
I have to wonder if men even know how often a woman is asked for sex. Even my trash man didn’t have any qualms about saying to me that he’s wanted to eff me for 3 years. I said to him, what are you talking about? I’ve only known you for 8 months. His response was that it FELT like three years to him.
Do men know how a woman could walk through the door of a mall and have a man follow her while she was shopping and barely acknowledging him just for the opportunity to talk to her? Do they know how often a woman’s answer has to be no? In the 30 second size-up game of pass or play, more often than not, it is the answer from a woman is going to be “pass”. Do men know how often we say things to them just to have them back off? I’ll regretfully admit there were times that decision was a very wrong one.
There are man-boys who think asking a girl who they are not in a relationship with to show up at a conference sans bra or panties but wearing fish net stockings is anything close to appropriate; or instant messaging a woman asking her to come spend the weekend at his place because he has a tongue that doesn’t quit before you even know her last name is the right way to approach a woman. Perhaps men aren’t taught to be a better man. Perhaps I’ve regretfully missed learning the skill of how not tell a man verbally how to treat me, but for him to choose to change his behavior through my having changed mine. How do you learn to show a man by your actions that their behavior is not acceptable, try again, without rejecting them completely? Perhaps it is in a man’s nature that he cannot overcome to have not missed one single mating opportunity to spread their seed far and wide. Perhaps the very wrong ideologies of women’s liberation have ruined it for all of us and none of us really have any idea of how to behave.
I’m not all that special; and yet by virtue of being a woman, I am. I read somewhere once of a man who wrote “the thing about women is their nothingness”. I love that. By a man’s metric we are made of sugar and spice and everything nice—but we cannot be compared (Adam’s) apples to apples. And so, man’s fascination with us is unending but it is not enough. It’s not enough to have me give up my freedom without you’re proving that you are able bodied. Able to compete, conquer and control your vision of the world. Able to cherish, protect and provide for me. Able to be unwavering in your decision that a woman is THE ONE by shear will. Nothing would make me happier than to give every part of me to a just one man; all he needs to show up—and as the kids say, “come correct”.
Memoirs of a Geisha and the Joy Luck Club are my favorite movies of all time. Memoirs for the constant reminder that all women survive by being flexible; that life, like water, constant flows and carves its own path.
I can remember having chills when watching Joy Luck for the first time during the part where the women whose husband was leaving her is told that she didn’t know her worth. It resonates with me whenever I hear those words. I heard them again this week on the TV show the Housewives of Miami. (Yes, I watch all of the Housewives.)
And I suppose it’s interesting for me because for as unusual as it is, I’ve never been jealous of another woman. I see their beauty, I see their allurement, I see how men can be drawn to them as individuals, but never jealous in that I wished that I had what they did, because I have my own gifts. But I appreciate them; Melissa’s coquettishness, Jenna’s virtue, Jana’s feistiness, Alli’s love of all things sporty without being a tom boy, Lisa’s love of all things fuzzy, shiny and girly. There’s a word in Yiddish called kvelling that doesn’t really translate into English except the best description is a combination of love and enjoyment of watching the development of qualities in another. That’s the love that I have for those girls in my life.
As for my gifts, they’ve changed over the years. I used to have what one of my mentors called ‘reverent power’. That I could walk into a room and heads would turn. I’ve purposely dimmed the light on that part of my life because right now, it’s far more important to be in a relationship with a man and allow him to be the dominant partner allowing him his light to shine. I don’t want to be the more dominant or masculine energy—it attracts feminine men. Yin and Yang…equal strength in balance.
But even as the wattage is turned down, it happens; I’m noticed. I was shopping the other day and mentally retarded boy started talking to me telling me that I must like shopping because he had seen me in another store the week before. He was right—I was there. I popped by a house to drop something off and the gardener told me that he knew me. I told him I didn’t think we had ever met. He told me that I had lived near the mansion that he had worked at years before. He was right too.
I was waiting to be seated in a restaurant a few weeks ago and someone came over to ask me how I like being famous—lol. Last summer I was walking in downtown Princeton and a girl stopped me to tell me that she’d seen my movies—more lol. I’ve been stopped just to be asked who I am and when I introduced myself I was re-asked “no, who ARE you?” I’m smiling thinking that I’ve never been in a movie—although I was once on a TV show when I was about 8 and I was an extra in a TV commercial as an adult….but I’ll save that story for another time. It’s doubtful that anyone remembers me from either of those experiences. Maybe I should have done the national infomercial about real estate when I was asked to last year. It’s about power; it’s about aura I suppose. That “it” factor that would make only a man stronger and smarter than am the right match for a romantic partner. I regret that I’ve passed by men that might have been right for me had I given them a chance. I regret that those men wouldn’t give me a second one. And I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve made the mistake of stepping outside of the limelight when it appears that these moments that keep coming across my path is the universe calling me to step back in.
Part of the problem is the time the societal norms that we live in. Hook-ups, friends with benefits, pick up artist manuals, and ever present feminine men that have been sheltered by over protective mothers, absentee fathers and nary a “man’s man” role model to be found. These pubescent boys have never been taught that at their hearts, they are warriors; that honor means doing the right thing no matter what they feel. That sacrifice is a man’s purview. That making his woman happy by constantly earning her, being worthy of having her brings him no greater joy except the birth of a wanted child.
I have to wonder if men even know how often a woman is asked for sex. Even my trash man didn’t have any qualms about saying to me that he’s wanted to eff me for 3 years. I said to him, what are you talking about? I’ve only known you for 8 months. His response was that it FELT like three years to him.
Do men know how a woman could walk through the door of a mall and have a man follow her while she was shopping and barely acknowledging him just for the opportunity to talk to her? Do they know how often a woman’s answer has to be no? In the 30 second size-up game of pass or play, more often than not, it is the answer from a woman is going to be “pass”. Do men know how often we say things to them just to have them back off? I’ll regretfully admit there were times that decision was a very wrong one.
There are man-boys who think asking a girl who they are not in a relationship with to show up at a conference sans bra or panties but wearing fish net stockings is anything close to appropriate; or instant messaging a woman asking her to come spend the weekend at his place because he has a tongue that doesn’t quit before you even know her last name is the right way to approach a woman. Perhaps men aren’t taught to be a better man. Perhaps I’ve regretfully missed learning the skill of how not tell a man verbally how to treat me, but for him to choose to change his behavior through my having changed mine. How do you learn to show a man by your actions that their behavior is not acceptable, try again, without rejecting them completely? Perhaps it is in a man’s nature that he cannot overcome to have not missed one single mating opportunity to spread their seed far and wide. Perhaps the very wrong ideologies of women’s liberation have ruined it for all of us and none of us really have any idea of how to behave.
I’m not all that special; and yet by virtue of being a woman, I am. I read somewhere once of a man who wrote “the thing about women is their nothingness”. I love that. By a man’s metric we are made of sugar and spice and everything nice—but we cannot be compared (Adam’s) apples to apples. And so, man’s fascination with us is unending but it is not enough. It’s not enough to have me give up my freedom without you’re proving that you are able bodied. Able to compete, conquer and control your vision of the world. Able to cherish, protect and provide for me. Able to be unwavering in your decision that a woman is THE ONE by shear will. Nothing would make me happier than to give every part of me to a just one man; all he needs to show up—and as the kids say, “come correct”.
Memoirs of a Geisha and the Joy Luck Club are my favorite movies of all time. Memoirs for the constant reminder that all women survive by being flexible; that life, like water, constant flows and carves its own path.
I can remember having chills when watching Joy Luck for the first time during the part where the women whose husband was leaving her is told that she didn’t know her worth. It resonates with me whenever I hear those words. I heard them again this week on the TV show the Housewives of Miami. (Yes, I watch all of the Housewives.)
And I suppose it’s interesting for me because for as unusual as it is, I’ve never been jealous of another woman. I see their beauty, I see their allurement, I see how men can be drawn to them as individuals, but never jealous in that I wished that I had what they did, because I have my own gifts. But I appreciate them; Melissa’s coquettishness, Jenna’s virtue, Jana’s feistiness, Alli’s love of all things sporty without being a tom boy, Lisa’s love of all things fuzzy, shiny and girly. There’s a word in Yiddish called kvelling that doesn’t really translate into English except the best description is a combination of love and enjoyment of watching the development of qualities in another. That’s the love that I have for those girls in my life.
As for my gifts, they’ve changed over the years. I used to have what one of my mentors called ‘reverent power’. That I could walk into a room and heads would turn. I’ve purposely dimmed the light on that part of my life because right now, it’s far more important to be in a relationship with a man and allow him to be the dominant partner allowing him his light to shine. I don’t want to be the more dominant or masculine energy—it attracts feminine men. Yin and Yang…equal strength in balance.
But even as the wattage is turned down, it happens; I’m noticed. I was shopping the other day and mentally retarded boy started talking to me telling me that I must like shopping because he had seen me in another store the week before. He was right—I was there. I popped by a house to drop something off and the gardener told me that he knew me. I told him I didn’t think we had ever met. He told me that I had lived near the mansion that he had worked at years before. He was right too.
I was waiting to be seated in a restaurant a few weeks ago and someone came over to ask me how I like being famous—lol. Last summer I was walking in downtown Princeton and a girl stopped me to tell me that she’d seen my movies—more lol. I’ve been stopped just to be asked who I am and when I introduced myself I was re-asked “no, who ARE you?” I’m smiling thinking that I’ve never been in a movie—although I was once on a TV show when I was about 8 and I was an extra in a TV commercial as an adult….but I’ll save that story for another time. It’s doubtful that anyone remembers me from either of those experiences. Maybe I should have done the national infomercial about real estate when I was asked to last year. It’s about power; it’s about aura I suppose. That “it” factor that would make only a man stronger and smarter than am the right match for a romantic partner. I regret that I’ve passed by men that might have been right for me had I given them a chance. I regret that those men wouldn’t give me a second one. And I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve made the mistake of stepping outside of the limelight when it appears that these moments that keep coming across my path is the universe calling me to step back in.
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