"I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king." Elizabeth I

Thank you for your input, but I am not a damsel in distress and I am aware of how amazing I am. I don’t need you to point it out to me. As a reflective, reasonable, analytical person I discovered this some time ago. Your statements about my “natural beauty” and desire for me to “understand what I’m truly worth” mean literally nothing to me because they are insincere. They are attempts to manipulate me and convince me that you are deep and sensitive. That you could be my hero. Unfortunately, this can never be because I don’t need a hero. I am not Bonnie Tyler.

You think that my reasons for not dating you, or fucking you, or dating/fucking you then dumping you are because I am deeply insecure, and if only I could learn to love myself, then maybe I would see I am worthy of someone as “wonderful” as you. The problem with that theory is that I’m actually perfectly fine. The only thing keeping me from dating you is you, and the fact that I do not want.

When I express my security or display that I am a capable, autonomous, confident woman it distresses you because suddenly I am holding up a mirror to the cracks of your crumbling theory and it frightens you. It frightens you because you have to confront the illusion you created in which I am the sad, needy girl who just has to learn how to love and face the fact that maybe it’s you. Your fear then turns into disgust which you then throw right back at me.

You try to shame me for my confidence and my sexuality. You try to make me feel bad for loving my body because I was doing it before you gave me your permission, and without your consent my lack of self hatred displeases you. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. There was supposed to be an epiphany when you deigned to expose my true self and inner beauty. Who the hell do I think I am to have discovered it alone?

Without you first telling me who I really am and making it okay for me to love myself, I become a stuck up, narcissistic, bitch. By expressing my sexuality with anyone but you I become a slut. Mr Nice Guy, why do you hate me for being who I always was? Why do you hate me for the things you purport to be in favour of? Is it because without your permission I’m not longer the Madonna; merely the whore?

Oh that’s right, it’s because in reality you aren’t a nice guy. You are just a different style that’s been cut from the same misogynistic cloth. 

I am me. I know I’m not perfect but I love and accept myself regardless and that’s just dandy. I live how I want to live and I am not ashamed, nor will be shamed. Zero fucks are given in relation to your opinion of me and your feelings. I will continue to grow and love the people I choose to love, myself included and you will become a distant memory. At best you will become an anecdote I tell at parties about the biggest douche bag I ever met.

Take a good long look in the mirror Mr Nice Guy because you are a predator of the weak and vulnerable and you’re pissed off because you misread me. Go jerk off to your vision of the poor little princess you’ll rescue, and stop patronizing the actual women who exist outside your imagination. You’ll say I’m cold and callous, call me awful names, say terrible, hateful things and all the while somewhere deep inside you’ll know the truth is that it’s all you. That I owe you nothing, that you do not deserve me and that you are the one who is truly sick. 

And until you change it will eat away at you. 

2 years ago
  1. fightingpeonies reblogged this from gutrebellyon and added:
    Reblogging from my health blog.
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