I have been thinking about men. The way they move. The way they speak. The way they think. They way they are shaped.
I’ve been thinking how more often than not, they avert their eyes. They learn to utilize eye contact to express dominance, but whenever something really matters, they look everywhere but here.
I’ve been thinking how the words that come out of their mouth spill directly from a black hole, completely unprocessed, raw in their makeup. Immature. Untested. And how their reactions and responses to words more carefully chosen do not reciprocate this cautiousness, this consideration. They are blunt objects being thrown at a wall, sharp ends sticking in the wood, splintering, unheeded.
I’ve been thinking about how their bodies smell, even when they aren’t being active. The underlying darkness of it, a chemical concoction of hormones and hidden fragility. How sometimes that smell is intoxicating. And sometimes it freezes you where you stand, a marbleized statue of forewarning.
I’ve been thinking about how I have spent 38 and a half years of my life prioritizing the approval and recognition from men. How I have lived and breathed the highs and lows of my own emotions based on how they treat me. On how they want me. On how they reject me. Even after finding this tragic flaw, I have gone light-headed on their acceptance. Gone weak.
I’ve been thinking how I can’t quite recall when I was last physically attracted to a man. The thought of letting them enter me churns my stomach. Their hardness is a weapon rather than an invitation. Their desires are so often based in violence. And though I spent years reciprocating this kind of physicality, the craving for it has all but disappeared. How now I want solely for softness and comfort.
I’ve been thinking about how my emotional landscape will never be one that a man can hold. It is too fast, the seasons change too quickly, and the lightning too often strikes the ground. How I will never be truly seen or comforted by them. I will never share the deep knowledge of existence with them.
I’ve been thinking how I’ve been saying a long goodbye to men for nearly 20 years. I have recognized all the signs along the way and let things happen at their own pace. I have made excuses for my shortcomings in straight relationships, blamed them on a number of things, but never brave or sure enough to say I don’t want to be with men any longer.