Let’s Stop It! Just Stop! Get Real!

This entry is part 3 of 10 in the series My Adventures So Far

I’ve read Not Your Mother’s RULES, the sequel to All the Rules, that won the author’s spots on Oprah and the Today Show, a $400 per hour consulting business and raised the hackles of feminists everywhere. The “Rules” of dating authors preached how to be not only feminine, but how to be bait and hook a man into marriage. I was inundated with how to slink an off-shoulder sweater, wear short skirts, high heels, a chunky-gold watch because it works, or flash a little cleavage to attract a man. Next came the ‘play hard to get’ to keep him in the chase until you walk down the aisle as husband and wife.

Then…the real fun begins. They wrote a follow up called The Rules for Marriage in which they reward us. Tell us we can relax now. Gain ten pounds, but not twenty or thirty. They also warn us to do whatever our ‘catch’ now husband says. Watch whatever he wants on television or at the movies. Pretend to enjoy freezing to death in a football stadium or watching hard core porn if that’s his gig. Be whatever he wants you to be. The Rules for Marriage even tell you to stop in the middle of an argument and ask him if he wants to take a break and have sex. To me, it’s a “How to Become a Dysfunctional Codependent” playbook. The Stepford wife’s daily diary on how they make their men happy.

Are you serious? I’m single now, and before I fall into a fake-it-till-I-puke-at-my-reflection-in-the–mirror relationship, I’ll stay that way. What in the world is wrong with being a genuine, loving, sensuous woman and being loved back for that instead of being a kiss ass he won’t respect…will disrespect, and you won’t want to look in the eye in any mirror.

No bitches allowed…got that. Makes sense. Be a partner. Practice patience and consideration for one another. Don’t expect perfection, but don’t be a fraud. No one who sucks it up in the middle of an argument and plays the ‘let’s have sex’ card wouldn’t feel like a total wimp, a manipulative bitch, or a hooker. At least the hooker is being true to herself.

Maybe it’s the perspective of age that doesn’t see equality as combat, maybe it’s having played games in my old relationship, or maybe it’s just that I’ve finally come to like and respect myself too much, but whatever it is, the games are over for me – at least those kinds of games. And any man on whom I place any value in my life will have to be past them, too.

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