Rapprochement

Solomon II dropped an epic post recently, Women Can Age Beautifully. Nestled amongst the predictable comment-dung was this confession from “Sid”, which is so significant an event I quote it in full:

I’ve read this post three times now.

The first time, I was fuming. “How dare you talk about women like that? Especially when you’re doing the same fucking thing?!?”

The second time I reminisced. “I used to be like that. That was me in my early twenties, minus the texts and digital pictures of course (damn, am I that old??)”

The third time, I became thoughtful.

I’m thinking about my marriage. About my children. And about myself.

I’m thinking about how I’m contemplating a divorce because I feel like we’re no longer communicating. We’re no longer working together. Because I feel like he no longer appreciates the wrinkles on my hands that nurture his children. Then I realize, is it him? Is it all him? No, of course not.

Then I think “Do I want to go back to this time in my life where I saw men as disposable? Back to MY harem of boys?” It sounds dreamy at first, but like you describe above, it’s cheap, it’s ugly, it’s so meaningless.

Just like men use women and see them as worthless trash, worth nothing more than a fuck, us women often see men just the same. I used men, I had a few on speed dial. I knew they were not in any way, shape or form marriage material. Which was fine, I didn’t want them for marriage. Did they see me the same way? I’m not delusional.

According to your definition above, I was a whore. But so were the men I fucked. I was ugly and so were they.

What you describe above is not about women. It’s about people.

Then I grew up. Just because I was an ugly whore then, doesn’t mean I’m one now. I also know boys who have since turned into men, beautiful men. For me, much of what you describe above is about where we are in life, and just because one is there at one point in their lives, doesn’t mean that person will always be there.

What you wrote above reminds me of who I really am in my husband’s eyes, and who I want to be. Even though I feel forgotten at times, I know he loves me. I know he loves these saggy tits that feed his children. I know he loves me for me and who I once was. He’s beautiful and so am I.

Now I think about my children and how we can help them see the value of meaningful long lasting relationships. How do we teach both our son and daughter that people, love and sex should not be cheap, quick nor easy. I hope we can teach my daughter to never see a man the way I once viewed men. And I hope we can teach my son to never see women they way you view women. But first and foremost, I hope we can teach them to never see THEMSELVES as cheap, meaningless and disposable in the first place. That they are worth the effort, time and energy.

So thank you. Thank you for making me think. Thank you for your perspective. And thank you for reminding me that what I have is worth saving.

Brava, Sid. Terribile dictu, I must call you out on one point:

“Just because I was an ugly whore then, doesn’t mean I’m one now.”

That you realize you were–and that you wish not to be–an ugly whore does you credit. Paul certainly wished that he had not held the garments of the murderers of Stephen. But he did what he did, and you did what you did. Accept what you are, so that you may warn others not to be so.