Many years ago I was troubled by the end of a relationship riddled with disloyal and uncouth behavior. I guess I must mention, again, that I was the cause of all the pain I experienced. When leaving home for the first time, your mind and behavior is liberated of parental judgement. There is no one to tell you that your behaviors are shyt, and you forget that your shyt stank like everyone else.
Revenge was bitter sweet, but the joke was on me!
Although I was the one doing dirt, I reacted to the end of this relationship as if he screwed me over, demonstrating such anger and rage that I eventually accepted a date with his best friend. If I hadn’t accepted responsibility for those decisions years ago, I would have blamed his friend, who basically attacked me in the school’s elevator (attempted kiss). However, as a woman I should have cut it off right then and there, but when you are young, dumb, and full of cum, you do some crazy shyt.
What crazy shyt?
After I dismissed this relationship as a failure and decided his friend was a little too skinny and not that attractive, I moved on to the next stage of rage by dismissing men as serious objects all together. Yes, I went through a stage where I thought all men were full of shyt, when in actuality it was my narcissism causing strife in my life. Avoiding responsibility, I became a feminist driven by rage. I went to the internet to find other women who classified themselves as feminist men-haters hell bent on dominating and inflicting pain upon them. I didn’t know that some of these men-haters had dismissed men and accepted relationships with women instead. I hated men, but I didn’t hate them to a point where I would give up on the benefits of having one.
Oh, I forgot to mention that while I so-called hated men, I was in a relationship with this kind and respectable guy who did absolutely nothing wrong to me, but I treated him like the gum underneath my damn shoe.
To be continued…