Are You Listening?

Are you listening?

I want to make this very clear. I am sick of you not understanding me. I know now what you’re really like, and I think you should know who I am, so you stop texting me.

You have a problem with women voting?
You don’t know what you’re dealing with.  Opinions like yours drive me to desire running for presidency, just so I can kick chauvinistic assholes like you out of this country.

Feminism was created because of men like you. You’re the reason you have to deal with us. Did you ever think about that? I bet you didn’t. You’re too preoccupied believing that all women are good for is child-rearing and home-making. I know how you think. I grew up in the same place. Women are subservient to men. God says so, right?
God also made women so that men could survive.  Think about that.

You wouldn’t survive in this world if it weren’t for all the women in your life.  And it’s not because your mother birthed you and changed your diapers, or because your sister is nice enough to feed you. It’s because you couldn’t do those things by yourself.

Men weren’t good enough to be by themselves in this world. God made us as a gift to you. We’re the special ones. Men are just dumb and incapable and lucky.

How’s that for knowing me?
I’m not going to cook for you every night of the week. There will be days when I would expect nothing less than for you to clean the house for once. I will not be expected to stay at home every day. I am not willing to give up my life for you.  Are you listening? Because I’m sick of you not knowing who I am.

I don’t pray over every meal. In fact, I often forget to pray for meals period. Does that make me a bad person? I really don’t think so. Do I need you in my life? No. I don’t. You are not God’s greatest gift to me, so stop acting like it.

I don’t know what you expect from me, but you shouldn’t expect anything from me at all. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t even owe you this explanation. I’m just fed up with your expectations, because they don’t match who I am at all. And if you really want to consider me, you need to take yourself down about 3,000 notches.

Do you really care about what I love? Do you really care about what I’m passionate about? Does me being excited about things make you excited too?
you never once asked for the web address to my blog. Do you even care that I write?

Do you realize that I demand to be respected?
Do you realize I demand to be worshipped, appreciated, cherished, accepted, acknowledged, validated, loved?

I’m not going to wait on you, hand and foot! I’m not going to drop everything just for the chance to hold your hand. I am perfectly willing to be single for the rest of my life, if it means avoiding men like you.

I know you think I’m sexy, and I know you think my food tastes good, and I know you think I’m funny.
but what about how I feel? What about who I am? Does it matter what opinions I have? What books I love to read, what I write, what makes me happy?

Please stop lying to me. Please just own up to who you are. I think sometimes you’re too worried about what people will think of you, so you try to please them. Stop trying to please me and just be honest with me.  Tell me that you’re proud of the fact that you can beat people up. Acknowledge that you’re too violent, and aggression is undesirable.

Own up to the fact that you swear too much, and that you don’t believe women and men are equal. Tell me the truth: tell me you’re racist. Tell me you don’t like my independence. Admit that you stop talking to people when they give you sound advice, because it’s not what you want to hear.

I’m not going to let this go. I’m not going to let you or anyone else walk all over me. I don’t deserve the way you’ve treated me. I don’t want you to ever treat my friends the way you have.

Do you know what the worst part out of all of this is?
I really fell for you.

I really thought this could be it for me, I thought you could be it for me.
I was impressed by the first time you texted me. It was in Irish.
I was impressed by the fact that you read Shakespeare, and I liked the fact I was the only one you ever told about that. I was excited about how you said sometimes you write your own rap lyrics. I thought your creativity was enough. It wasn't.
I loved your smile. (I still do.)
I got carried away with how wonderful you thought I smelled, and how nervous you got whenever I was around.

I was impressed with how many hours you worked in a week, and how you were balancing school, sport and work so well.
I thought you were incredibly good-natured and kind.
I thought you understood me.

The only questions you ever asked me were things like "Do you like Twilight?" and "what's your favorite movie?"

.... I liked the way my hands fit into yours that day when you taught me how to skateboard.
I loved how you would send me pictures all throughout the day of what you were doing, what you were wearing.. They made me feel so special.

You really are a sweetheart, but you're also dangerous.
I can't fall for you anymore. I don't ever want to love the way you lie, or the way it feels when you say hurtful things.
I know you probably didn't mean for me to find out about any of the things you said the other night,  but my friends are looking out for me. You shouldn't say such strong things to strangers. It can really backfire on you.
I'm going to stop replying to your texts.

You brought this on yourself.
Your sins will always find you out, and you have to learn to pay the consequences for your actions.

Are you listening?
You just lost something I like to think was pretty important to you.
And there's no-one to blame but yourself.
I thought that you really cared... but you didn't know me enough to care.