This is a bitchy post, if you will, but I’m on a tear.
I’ve decided I really prefer men over women.
Not all, but a good many of them.
Men are known to cheat and lie, but for the most part they’re never maliciously mean, at least that’s been my experience. Quite often ingenuous and stupid come into play more than…I’m out to get her, no matter what.
It began with my mother who wasn’t much of one, although if you saw how she fussed over me with food and proper dress, you would have disagreed. The truth is, she didn’t like me very much. I know that sounds odd, a mother not liking her child, but it became obvious the moment I began to bloom. Rather than a budding daughter I became a creeping competitor. Considering your mother’s your first role model, boy, did I get gypped.
Then we had my best friend in high school who had an affair with my first boyfriend. I actually walked in on them doing it on her canopied bed while Led Zeppelin blared in the background. On top of the indiscretion, she clearly wanted me to know since she left the door wide open. As many years ago as that was, the image has never left me…she on top clad in his favorite football jersey while he moaned, don’t stop…don’t stop.
I refer to that as an indelible pain even alcohol can’t dull.
Since then, with the exception of a few special women many I’ve written about, I’ve chosen men as confidants feeling more comfortable in doing so.
Of course the women in their life aren’t always thrilled. I lost a close friend last spring because of something horrible his girlfriend did that placed him in the middle. The loss for me was great and can still be felt, but it certainly confirmed what I already knew…women can be mean and ruthless… and they bite too.
To my credit, I always try to befriend a man’s love interest to show I’m no threat. But I remember writing in an earlier essay, Quasi Modo’s wife would naturally think you’re after Quasi. Women are just so afraid of losing their man, and yes, that’s always a possibility, but to automatically assume everyone’s a predator is unfair.
Just recently I saw a lady on the Avenue who to this day thinks I had a fling with a fella she was with twenty-five years ago. I didn’t, but she still doesn’t believe it seething as she slithered by. Imagine carrying that resentment around all this time. She’s lucky with a weight that size to be able to even walk straight.
Another woman whose boyfriend is a great pal, recently wrote something so unkind I’m still reeling from it. I know enough not to take the bait after what happened with my other friend, because if I erupt, something I’m dying to do…bye-bye friendship. A man will always take the woman who feeds him and does his laundry…and as much as I want a pal, I’m not about to separate his whites.
Just because I’m single doesn’t make me a piranha. Despite my mother’s blatant bad behavior around married men, I’ve learned, after much trial and error, to keep my mitts off, even if a couple isn’t married.
Jean Harlow once said, going after a married man is like shopping in a secondhand store. She died at 26, so she didn’t have a lot of time to alter her outlook, but it makes an impression just the same.
Envy, jealousy, fear…if women would just focus on themselves more, because that’s when you’re most attractive not just to men but the whole world, they wouldn’t have time to be cruel, for sport, to their innocent peers.
Food for thought.