WAYT: Chick hits

We women don’t do ourselves any favors.  What are we thinking?  Poor attitudes will be our ruination.

Historically, there have been books, movies, works of art, catch phrases, etc. ad infinitum about how women are so confusing.  It must be because we’re given so many messages throughout our lives about how we’re expected to act that when it’s all said and done, there’s no clear right or wrong.  We’re left to make it all up as we go along and sometimes it gets ugly. 

I would not (read: cannot) classify myself as someone who has a lot of friends.  This has always been the case for me.  Sure, when I was young, I had friends (still have a few today, SW and AW in particular).  I think the reason for that is because when we were young we were nice because we hadn’t honed our skills at meanness.  Learning to share (or not) was simply cutting our baby teeth, so to speak.  It’s when you start to learn more about yourself that you begin to see differences in others. 

Many people look at me and see things they don’t like.  Some people don’t like me because I’m thin, because they think I’m mouthy, and sometimes, simply because I exist.  Most often, the reason that others dislike me is the fact that I don’t care whether they like me or not.  Others read my indifference as a superiority complex.  I’ll admit to that, in a way – read on. 

I spent many years torturing myself because I didn’t have friends and I couldn’t manage to keep the few I thought were the best.  And then I realized that I had to learn to like myself if I wanted to attract people who could like me in return, lumps and all.  So I spent many years trying to find ways to like myself.  Eventually, I gave up.  I realized that being yourself should be effortless.  If you have to defend yourself and explain away your idiosyncrasies, you’re not being you.  I stopped and I was still and now I’m me.  So while I may come across as seeming “superior,” truly what I feel is “self-assured.”  I’m not afraid of me and that grates on people, especially those who aren’t okay with themselves. 

I’m constantly repaid for my years of effort with the venom of other women.  (Men typically could care less about women and our drama, unless they’re the men who (mercifully) chose to attach their lives to ours.  God bless you, Frank Arnolts.)  If I choose my husband over a female friend, I’m clingy.  If I choose my baby, I’m overprotective.  If I choose anything over another woman, I am not a faithful friend.  Lots of women believe that we owe one another unbreakable solidarity due to the common denominator of our chromosomes; I think that’s ridiculous.  Many women are very high-maintenance and require constant reassurance, especially from other women; I think that’s ridiculous. 

In my experience, most women respond to any perceived slight with something passive-aggressive.  The phrase “just kidding” is a prime example.  There’s rarely a conflicted moment in the history of the world that passed between two women when one of them got their feelings hurt and didn’t feel a need to dig back when it was past the time for recriminations.  It’s the trademark of our gender.  I try so hard to squash that behavior.  I’m not to the “typical” girl.  If you want gushy affection, look elsewhere.  If you want sappy pity, I mete it out sparingly.  Life is tough enough without acting foolishly and playing silly games. 

As a species, we’re doing ourselves a disservice.  This is why we’re considered weaker.  We let our emotions get involved when the majority of the time it’s not warranted.  We should really take lessons from the boys and wear a stiff upper lip.  Sure, constantly reminding myself that I don’t care is annoying, but it saves me a lot of wasted effort trying to talk rationally to an irrational woman.  I stick to what I believe in and I don’t cater to the insecurities of others.  We’re all wasting our time if we can’t find it within ourselves to see things clearly and honestly.

I know that I’m not perfect.  Many times, I’ve succumbed to this behavior that I despise.  But knowing myself means admitting my faults and owning my weaknesses.  I’m getting better and better at saying sorry and swallowing down that selfish pride that makes me want to bite back.  What about you?

This post isn’t inspired by a specific person or thing, so I’m not trying to do the “passive-aggressive social media sidestep” here.  I’m simply telling you, my readers, about my experiences in life.  I’m sure there are people who know me that will read this and practically roll their eyes out of their sockets and then get mad at me for secretly writing about them.  For the record, that is not the case today.