I Am A Self-Conscious Feminist

I try to be strong. Lately I’ve realized that (partially due to the social media I consume) I’ve become a fairly strong willed feminist. I hate seeing portrayals of women as these weak-willed, emotional messes. I want to be strong and in control. I go on dates thinking: fuck him if he doesn’t like me for me. I’m pretty great, and if he doesn’t see that, then it’s his loss. But then I go on that first date. He’s cute and funny and I think I could be into this. We go on that second date. He’s still cute, even funnier, and we have so much to talk about. This is rare. We go on a third date. A movie. It’s hard to determine how things are. We make cute, funny comments during the trailers. I’m into it. We make out in the car. It’s nothing exceptional. But then we keep texting, and he’s so charming I can’t resist. I keep thinking about him more and more. Why isn’t he texting me? I hear from him two seconds later. The next day, why isn’t he texting me? I’d heard from him every day before. No word. I start worrying — is it because he felt my body when we made out? People say I have a pretty face, but my body curves this way and that. Rolls. Has he not texted (I almost wrote called, but lets face it, men rarely do that nowadays) because he’s rejecting my body? I try to be strong. I drink three glasses of wine. I try to be strong. I text him a funny/witty [hopefully] nonchalant message, digging for some sort of response. I try to be strong.

I wither. Hating myself for being that girl whose emotions are tied to the validation of a man. I am strong. I am smart. I am only human. Only a human who wants to be loved.