It’s no secret to anyone that we’re stuck in a world of pride and prejudice with people who know nothing of important writers. We judge those around us without feeling sorry for ourselves that we don’t know authors like Emily Bronte. The older I grow, the more I begin to realize it has nothing to do with man’s inclination to criticize but with his fear of misunderstanding and forgiving the misunderstood and the unforgivable.
I’m no sexist, but it’s undeniable that women are more prone to verbally assault others than men are, whether it’s directly or hypocritically done. This, for reasons I can only ponder without coming to any solid conclusion as to why.
A woman who drinks, smokes and fucks instead of ”making love”, whatever that means, is more likely to be considered promiscuous, promiscuity being defined as having more than one sexual partner in a six month period of time, according to dictionaries written 15 years ago, whilst modern dictionaries just define it as having casual sex with more than one partner, without any time specification.
Sadly, this is a fact. Everything is relative to the era in which we are developing, and as we grow older, we realize that acceptance increases but so does our vocabulary and the intensity of insults. Twenty years ago if you called a woman promiscuous, you’d get slapped. Today, women call each other bitches if their friendship is strong enough, and being a slut is no longer shameful, but no man wants to marry one, and women won’t admit that it’s easier admitting to being one than to being lonely.
We no longer judge things as harshly as we did not so long ago, but deep down inside, we all do so, because it is easier attacking someone’s mistakes and being part of the oppressing society than to sit down and understand that sometimes the things we do aren’t really for the fun in them or the kick of the moment, but because they are a way of cutting ourselves without leaving visible scars.
We drink, smoke and fuck sometimes for the pleasure. Some of us always do it for this reason, but not all. Comprehending this and doing things that kill our souls, regardless of our gender, is just a way of killing the emotions that go with intimacy, emotions we are too afraid to face, too human to accept or too stupid to understand.
Not every smiling girl with a drink, red lipstick and a short skirt on a Saturday night is the same. Some should be loved and respected for doing what makes them happy. Some should be pitied and helped for trying to shadow some deep pain, but none should be judged.
Only those that mask their actions with unreal motives deserve to be given the same nothing that their truths hold, while those with the make-upped marks underneath their eyes, being those the only sign of the exhaustion that comes with grinning to hide a frown in front of a civilization that has no time for weakness and hugging a pillow that doesn’t hug back, deserve to be given some company and this quote:
“smart people enjoy being alone, others fill their lives with just any person.”
I wear pants, a shirt and a blazer, and as a man, I would have loved to hear a woman telling me that thousands of Saturday nights, regardless of the length of her skirt. I’m unsexist enough and yet man enough to admit that Ive needed that like most of the women we judge or more because in the end, those drinks we take to forget might as well be bottled messages washed up on the shore. Have you ever heard that song from Sting?
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