Where Emotions Run Dry

Men are filthy! As the only daughter in a family of three children, I of course was always the princess. I never shared a bathroom once I hit puberty, and everything was in order. I then spent a semester in a coed dorm room. If I’m bored I flirt, so I loved my living situation, until the second month passed and I consistently woke to a rising pile of pubic hairs on the bathtub’s edge- just next to my bar of soap. The first couple minutes of my morning shower were spent paralyzed with disgust, picking the brown, curly hairs from my soap bar. Quickly I became enraged as I worked out the built up soap under my fingernails, thrashing the remains into the drain. I swore every morning I’d send in a roommate complaint to my residence hall director. As a woman, my empathetic emotions told me otherwise. I couldn’t possibly reveal such horrific details about John! Now why can’t men curve their actions to imply a bit of underlying emotion? Respect isn’t a gender-biased word, is it?

Is there a way I can influence men to respond differently? It doesn’t seem plausible. Now out of college, I’ve been with my boyfriend for two years. If I leave him notes revealing understanding, compassionate feelings, I find them in the trash and am never warranted a response, not a thank you, or even better sex. A grunt would be sufficient. I just want to know I am needed, loved, and cared for. Again, I must keep in mind the limited vocabulary men reveal. In my attempt to communicate on his level, with emotions aside and in an upfront, direct manner, he sees right through me. Even worse, he distances himself and treats me like I know nothing, speak nonsense gibberish, and need a bath. My business lady aura is seen as threatening, and I enjoy being close to him, so I’ve chosen to stick to my emotional talk. Not a day goes by I don’t hypothesize, implement, and take back procedures put forth in my interactions with men.

With sex as the ruler of my boyfriend’s thinking processes, I’ve learned to twist my emotional words into a blunt revealing of my sex drive. So far I’ve succeeded every time in reeling him to bed when engaging in this twisted activity. The only problem I face in bed is his speedy interaction with foreplay. If I’m going to dedicate a portion of my day to sex, I want it passionate and lively, as all other portions of my day. To him, it’s about getting off, and in my eyes, getting it out of the way like it’s just another activity to check off his daily routine. 

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