Heather
I regard my most satisfying accomplishment or achievement to be my complete lack of concern for how men regard, approve of or desire me.
Once upon a time (and I gag at this oh so familiar beginning to fairy tales about women cleaning up for dwarves, falling into comas until kissed by princes who bring them home to keep their castles tidy and homespun, and finding true love in the shadow of their men)...again, Once upon a time I cared about being "the babe or hottie" for men to sanction and endorse.
Once I cared if men didn't look my body and face up and down as though checking for my merits like some racehorse.
Once I cared if men flirted with me and bought me a cocktail in exchange for the banter preceding sexual innuendos never really witty or wanted.
Once I felt bad about myself if I wasn't the "twinkie d'jour" and was passed over by men scrutinizing me like day old bread or warm muffins to inhale then pick seeds out of their teeth afterward as if my value wasn't more than dental floss.
NOW?
Now, I love my own company and a man has to be really interesting and capable of keeping me intrigued and at least equal to my conversational skills and wit and verve. I refuse to pander to men.
Now, I won't lower my IQ points to be non threatening enough to warrant a coffee date. PUHLEESE. I'm liberated from such demeaning, diminshing and completely BORING traps. Marriage ain't all that. Relationships can be prisons for women who "need" conventionality.
I'm bright, talented, witty, unwilling to compromise, and restless for adventures worthy of my time and energy. Who needs the approval circle of men who can't pass the Reader's Digest vocabulary test? Who wants to waste time making men feel "all that and more" when you find them to be tedious bores and hate to giggle anyway? I love myself. I love my own company. I love it that I'm intelligent, gifted and full of dreams and the energy to make them come true without "love's first kiss" after falling into a coma from some stupid curse or poison apple?
I'm a grateful, practicing Heartless Bitch who will only share my body, soul, spirit and mind with a man who can say "Bring It" and step up to the line in the sand I also stand waiting at because he's exciting, stimulates my intellect and imagination and gives a shit if I have an orgasm instead of expecting me to build a shrine to his "swollen member" (which always comes with a swollen head...that is, on top of his neck not just the other - yawn - head he's so damn obsessed with).
Country: United States
Yes! I want to read more from Real Life Heartless Bitches
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