Thursday, October 6, 2011

I'd Rather Be a B*tch Than Be Disrespected

I hate being blatantly disrespected and when I am disrespected I get a little vicious. Fact o' life.

It doesn't happen often, but occasionally I get stepped to like a dollar fifty street walker. Usually I breeze by and let it roll off my shoulders as I know I'm not like that, and I get joy in knowing that those people treating me like that will never get the opportunity to know if I'm like that or not; I'm just a really cute, feisty girl who burst their balls turned them down and kept it moving. But I recently found myself straight schooling a brotha.

At first the young lad was mearly an annoyance, somebody giving me the up down and trying to get in with me for reasons I don't understand. Honestly, I'm not the girl for the pretty boys. Do I find myself fancying pretty boys? Sure, but they usually have something beyond their sinewy biceps and glowing eyes. Intelligence. Self-awareness. Mystery. Something to keep me interested beyond the simple cat-and-mouse (or lion-caribou) game I tend to play with guys I'm interested in.

Not. This. One. The cat-and-mouse didn't even get that far, as I was a tiger and he was so not worth the headache it would've taken to muster up interest to bring out the chase, let alone more than one claw. Don't get me wrong, he's cute, almost as cute as he thinks he is, but that underlying, nauseating arrogance and vapidness just made me turn up my nose.

The thing about it is, when men boys come at me sexually without knowing who I am, I'm immediately put off, not only because I'm still a virgin, but because I feel that's disrespect in the highest to consider me not even worth getting to know; it feels like they're trying to take something from me without giving anything. How do you ask for the most private, intimate part of me, without going through any of the real stuff that shelters that part?

You don't. But he did. And boy did I tell him about himself. I don't think I hurt his feelings much, as he said he'd been told what I was saying before and I padded it in after-thought with the sweet morsel that he just wasn't my type and I wasn't his and we could go on like none of this ever happened. Including ever meeting each other. Now I've probably set myself up to be known as "that b*tch" between him and his friends or the challenge that's not fawning and feinding after him.

I'm the kind of girl who thinks every moment is a teachable one. I don't want him to think that mess was cute or cool, because it wasn't; it never works for women about their business and who know who they are (it often works for girls, which is a whole 'nother entry all together). I don't like being a mean girl usually and tend to try to diffuse the situation but for once, I don't mind being the b*tch.

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