| The Fear is in Their Eyes Summer 2001 After many years of only suspecting, I have finally been able to confirm that men fear me. Actually, it's more like fear combined with a strange attraction, the kind that keeps them coming back for more. Here's why. I am the kind of person who doesn't take shit from anyone. If I feel a certain way, I'll say it, period. I am always careful not to be rude, or mean, regardless of what I may be thinking--I guard the words that come out of my mouth and make sure they are true to what I feel, honest, but not insulting, because I know all too well that one day I may have to eat them.. Now for some reason, men hate this. I can no longer count the times I just "tell it like it is" to a guy, whether he is a friend or a date, only to have him give me a baffled look and return with some lame comment. Because of how I am, because of what I feel about myself, I know that I, to say it in a cheesy way, carry myself with confidence. The secret is that I am nervous inside; for some reason, I constantly feel stared at, and I can never be sure if it's because my ass looks good or I look like an ass. So, to combat these anxieties, I put on the face of a woman who has no qualms. Even if the truth is that I do look like shit, I still like who I am, so acting confident is no huge task for me. But what happens? For years now, I see or hear of men who would like to approach me, but never do. I already suspected that there was an element of fear invloved, but I wanted to confirm for myself. So, I sought the council of men who have known me for many years and whom I know will be dead honest with me. They only served to confirm my thoughts. According to them, men don't approach me because I give off unapproachable vibes. They say that my character is pretty transparent, and that even a stranger can tell that I am independent, intelligent and not at all easily impressed. And these are bad things? To many men, they are. My man, who apparently likes the "challenge" of being my partner, explains that I am not the type of woman who offers an easy way out. Tall tales, bragging, money-flaunting, cheesy come-ons--all are utterly wasted on me. That would explain why most men I engage in conversations get upset, or act stupid, when I dismiss their rationalizing or flat out tell them exactly what I think, and they just don't like what I have to say. There have been those who as a last resort throw out the word they reserve for when they have nothing intelligent or useful to say: Bitch. Those, I know, fear me and all women who have a bright, wicked mind and are not afraid of using it. Women who don't regard them as the superior sex, who don't take needless, mean shit. And if being a bitch equals all those things, then hand me my crown and watch me ascend the throne as Queen Bitch. Pussies. |
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| Image copyright DC Comics 1979 |
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