“Well what do you want”

“I want to fuck ur pretty little mouth”

“Is what I want so badly”


Commonality is a dangerous thing. Too many people confessing their wrong doings, their bad behaviors, their immorality and downright faulty self. Too many self-loathers and hungry seekers that can’t argue with themselves. What do we all want?

I never quite drew the line that the three messages above sent to me by an ex coworker were something I should be offended about. It’s been about a month of similar interaction. The fact that I wouldn’t brag about this to my sister should have been a clear sign, that hey Sarah, maybe this isn’t so right. Isn’t quite the way a man should treat a woman. Of course there’s perspective on this area. It happens too often for people to not have opinions. Happens way too often to too many people to decipher between what they want and what they adopt wanting others.

Like I said, commonality is the thief that takes away our sense of judgment. No doubt I would have told a girlfriend to manhandle him. We would have all been so steadfast to stand somebody else’s ground. Shoulder the hero weight. Just like so many fellow bloggers stand up for one another during our individual struggles. I am definitely not bashing on anyone, but be honest, do we give the same credit back? Not to yourself. Not for us.

Since I read recently a very introspective post from a fellow blogger regarding compassion, commenting on the complex empathy upon reception of the emotion, I’ll put it this way: the position of third party heroes should only be heroes in the light of uncovering another. So much easier for us to give (unintended) empty kind words and gestures – to help a disabled stranger, to give up a seat – and so very hard to take the most simple compliments. So silly of a child to hate being a child, but so very hard for an adult to withdraw the pinching fingers and be in a pinch ourselves.

These sort of communication has always gone on in my life. It’s sad and it’s empty. When I have the sliver of courage to say that aloud, it’s like:

What?”

Empty. Sad. A sheer waste. Not sex, but as a person. 

“Like what?”

Like having boobs as your only virtue. Like as if my most defining moment in life were sexual photos according to your libido and your brain.

Ok…”

Well anyways, an optimum 10 days later –

“Babe I can’t stop dreaming about you.”

Then most of the time, as it has been, I would recompose myself and ask: Am I really upset? Do I believe in fairytales? Like, fairytales? Yeah I do ! You mean for me? Oh. 

I don’t know.

Actually, if I were to be perfectly honest now, before I ask that, the first emotional reaction would be : Oh, he still thought about me.

Isn’t that sad? To be at all flattered, happy, relieved that somebody thought of you. Even in this way had thought you were attractive. Never mind your any attributes or emotional brilliance as an individual; at least they still thought of you.

Strange. I should be okay with this, I say. It’s just casual. We’re all liberated here in North America. There’s pornography on the internet for crying out loud. Yes, we should take pride.

Except, I’m not. I’m not attracted to an immature 25 year old male who can’t (or just really chooses not to) respond when I don’t reciprocate sexual messages. Or only reaches out when he has 13-year-old-boys wet dreams. And neither should you. Whomever you may be. You shouldn’t be yelled at. Or hit. Or blamed. Or asked ridiculously psychologically twisted questions that are as simple as : What’s wrong with what I want?

Your body is your own and you should honor it. You should have intelligent conversations face-to-face (if you hadn’t already guessed, no guy dares to say this aloud) that serves as much towards engaging foreplay as they think a picture of their junk would do. You should come to and walk away from a present date and not worry about deep throating him that night – why? just because he prepped himself with his favorite porn (with you as the lead) tonight?  And told you about it, as if that changes anything? Because he asked you to watch him on Skype and then expected you to moan for him?

All of this sounds so wrong. So degrading and so sad. It’s truthfully embarrassing to share, because I still can’t say whether it’s right or wrong according to me. Where are my standards, my rules, my boundaries? What of my playfulness, my open-mindness – that very silver lining that might just make me different. Is that what I think? If so, then how does that differ me from the very same presumptuous assumptions these very same offenders makes of me.

And the wheels keep turning…

To say that I have allowed it to happened, and happened it did while I was in the midst of telling myself I was enjoying this. Games and fun. Smoke and mirrors. I don’t deserve a relationship. No, that’s too self-depreciating – I’m not ready for one – ah, that way I’m allowed to be stupid. I should have fun. We’re entitled. It’s common. Would that in fact make me a bad person?  Was it misleading as they say or “not as nice of a person as they had thought me as” before.

It’s a confusing period during the phase of this time line. I look around me and see couples all around. And not to be condescending, but hardly one that comes up to par with a coexistence I would admire. The fundamental argument being the glaring mutual settlement I see when you really look at people. The awkward silences, the discretion when they roll their eyes at the partner for the billionth time they talked about this or that subject. Or worse, when they just stand next to each other texting. When dating is just a hang out with a friend with a title slapped on to it.

To be fair, most of them are just young. My age really. I shouldn’t even be allowed to comment. It’s more than just age though, for sure. The greatest emotional connections I’ve ever made were with men 9 and 14 years my senior during their respective stay in my life. It’s not so much about superiority or status. It’s just…sexy being grounded. A grip on their masculinity, a solid stance on their ground. Something about being vulnerable. Carrying an attitude of honesty and grace. Them being entrancingly quaint and delightful. Sometimes serious. Ambitious. Driven; With care. Something about learning to be wholesome and the want to be above, in no demeaning way, but to not just swim in precarious waters together. To arrive in a matter of senses.

Somebody else feel free to chip in.

I can’t even tell you what it is, having never been close myself. The point of the matter though, in what I do have experience in, is just to read that one paragraph reminding yourself what you should and are allowed to uphold to. I know it’s common, but it’s still much easier to take in when compassion is confusingly misdirected back to someone else. ‘You’ is just ‘me’ after all, for so many people out there. For the young females growing into womanhood. Adulthood does not start at 18.

And you know what, all those great guys and gals out there, they can be well-balanced, respectful and sane individuals with a healthy sexual appetite up for discussion. It’s totally possible. For one, you should be an example.