The life of a woman is far from one defined by glamor and ease; rather, it is one closely attributed to empty nights and missed opportunities. It’s wasted youth and incessant day dreams. A woman's life is full of exasperation and frustration, as we spend our evenings drowning in the wait for men to make a move, to do anything remotely forward.
We wait because, as women, if we make a move, if we go after what we want, we’re overeager, desperate, crazy or whatever other stigma society has attached to the female sex. We’ve been confined to a life of believing that men are supposed to call, text, make the first move. If women believe in love, they are crazy and obsessive, right?
If women believe in meeting someone special, they are deluded and naïve. If women want to find someone to just f*ck around with and have casual, yet intimate sex with on Tuesday nights, they are dirty sluts.
Our parents, films and our favorite books have reiterated the notion that men are a strong, nurturing and passionate species who go after what they want. However, that’s not the men we know. Men today are passive, weak and just generally unambitious. They stalk in the corners, getting drunk enough to make even the slightest move, something likely to be nothing more than a passing glance or a slurred come-on line. They line up at bars and night clubs, like animals at a watering hole, looking for the woman who will fill another Friday night, another one to tell their friends about come Saturday.
Men wait for women to come on to them, only to dismiss them as sluts and whores. They wait for the hot girl to get drunk enough to convince her to come back with them. They saunter around with their buddies, hoping to catch the eye of someone dumb enough to get into a cab with them.
We women, we take what we can get. We jump on the slightest bit of tenacity because at least it’s something. We’ve lowered our standards of romance to free shots of Fireball and a friend request two days later.
We consider whiskey gingers and bottle service to be grand gestures and romantic lead-ons. We reread our texts, hoping to find little hints of appreciation and admiration in-between the drunken comments. We think cigarette breaks and cab rides are mini dates, where we can talk to a guy, human-to-human, rather than feeling like it's a conversation between man and his conquest -- that conquest being us.
We don’t expect invitations to dates or flowers. We don’t expect calls or sober drop-ins. We don’t even know what dinner dates or brunches are, unless accompanied by girlfriends. We don’t hope for praise and open doors. We wait around for a last-minute "What are you doing?" SMS on Friday night, and we call it love.
Men respond with the conclusion that women are a mystery; they just can't even begin to deduce what we want. Men say it’s impossible to find a good girl. They say all the good ones are taken and the pretty ones won’t go for them. They think it’s the woman’s job to make it as easy and open as possible for men to make a move.
Putting myself in a man's shoes, I've found this belief to be cowardly. If roles were reversed, it would be completely different. Maybe women have more respect for human connection, or for intimacy. I can't help but wonder, what if we quit the games and left the passivity behind? If I were a man, this is how I would get a woman.
If I were a man, I wouldn't let anything stop me.
I’d go up to a girl and tell her she’s beautiful; I'd ask if I could buy her a drink. I’d call her, instead of text while on the second date. If I were a man, I’d ask her about her day and then play hard-to-get the rest of the night. If I passed a beautiful woman on the street, I would stop her. I would make a fool of myself because she wouldn’t care and because she’d be flattered, even if uninterested.
If I were a man, I'd recognize her struggle to find a good one.
I’d ask her out to dinner because it’s probably been a long time since a man has bought her a meal. If I liked her, I’d ask her out again -- maybe not tomorrow, but definitely the next night. I’d pick places I know she’d love and I'd invite her back to my place. I’d take an interest in her past and her future, and I'd admire her ambitions. I wouldn't get drunk and booty call her, or lead her on with empty words.
If I were a man, I'd never hold back.
If I liked her, I’d tell her. If I knew I wanted to see her, I’d see her. If I wanted to call her, I’d call her. I’d beseech her until she said yes, even though it wouldn’t take much coaxing. If I liked talking to her, I’d talk to her all day. I’d ask her everything I ever wanted to know about her and tell her about my life.
If I were a man, I’d know what I want before I pursued it.
I would know what kind of woman I was looking for. I would know when I found her. She would have admirable qualities, like ambition, drive, intelligence, humor and a genuine soul. I would be able to discern between the masses and the fake smiles. I would be able to look past the superficial qualities and the unsuitable. I would search for qualities that I knew weren't readily found and respect when I found them. And when I found her, I wouldn’t let her go.
If I were a man, I'd be thoughtful.
I would be attentive and understanding. I would remember the small details and acknowledge her quirks. I'd remember her favorite candy and buy it for her. I'd remember the name of her brother and not ask who she was talking about the next time she brought him up. I would send her songs I know she'd like or foods she should try because I know she likes mustard and leeks.
If I were a man, I'd give her the truth.
I'd tell her when things were working for me and when they weren't. I'd tell her when I wasn't into it anymore rather than just not calling. I'd tell her that I didn't like when she made fun of other women. I'd tell her when I thought we should take a break.
If I were a man, I wouldn't try to be like every other guy.
I would do more than buy her a drink and tell her she's hot. I would do more than ask her back to my place and try to get her into bed. I'd surprise her with attentiveness and chivalry. I wouldn't try and get her to sleep with me the first night or only meet up with her a few drinks deep.
If I didn’t find her, I’d still play the field.
I’d enjoy women for everything they have to offer. I’d get to know them, treat each one as an individual with her own life and dreams. I’d make them believe they can trust men, and make them feel safe. I’d get to know them as people and still consider them friends when it ended.
I’d show them new dimensions, new aspects of myself; I'd teach them that just because it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t mean they shouldn’t cherish every experience with a new person.
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