The Danger in Objectifying Women
As far as the sex, it wasn’t that much better than the sandwiches.
When romantic relationships die, as they are apt to do, the reasons are as cliché as the idea that the next time will be different. Excuse my cynical stereotyping, but it usually goes “I don’t feel emotionally connected to him anymore and because of that, I can’t have sex with him..” on one side, and “we never have sex anymore, so, of course, I’m being distant,” on the other. It’s a chicken and egg, Catch 22, steaming heap of dumpster flotsam and everyone has gone through it.
Then, later, two people begin as the best of friends and soulmates and the prevailing feeling from both sides is generally “where have you been all my life?”
But that relationship will go belly up eventually. This is not my opinion. There are 75 million people who are presently active on Tinder and you can bet your ass, ain’t one of them shopping for their first love. Or even their 5th or 6th.
I know in the relationship with my kid’s mom, when she finally broke up with the guy she was with before me, she looked back upon those years with amazement. She described her willingness to stay in such a maelstrom of bullshit as being “under a spell” and I’d have to be somewhat of an idiot if I didn’t think the same narrative was taking place with her new boyfriend.
People usually have built in blind spots where they can’t see where they might’ve been a party to their own conflicts. This is something I’ve tried to not fall victim to. Even if I was under the misguided assumption that I was an absolutely perfect partner, I’ve, at the very least, made myself look at what the other person thought I did wrong.
But it was never because I was so charitable and kind. I was always coming from a more Machiavellian position. There is nothing less sexy than a man who is myopic and clueless. Same goes for women.
And, of course, if you can begin with telling yourself that this is what your ex thought you were doing wrong, it’s not too far a bridge to cross to accept that there’s some truth in there. Call it the “spoonful of sugar” method of self actualization.
So by degrees, we can start with “She thought I was making unfair demands of her, but as far as I’m concerned, I was only asking her to be a partner in a partnership,” and end up, “Maybe I wasn’t being sympathetic to her issues. Maybe I was asking too much.”
I’m sure it’s obvious that I am just inventing a fictional case. Six years down the road, in my own personal situation, I still believe my ex was not really being a team player. There were many nights I slept in my tractor, in the parking lot of the Burlington Coat Factory because she didn’t want to come and pick me up after 8pm. Mind you, it was fifteen miles from where we lived. There was over a year where I would drive for six days straight, come home, spend my 24 hours off taking care of my own needs (food, orgasms, emotional comfort) and then grab a taxi back to the truck the next day.
I have never been one of those Archie Bunker “dinner on the table” types, but it just didn’t feel like an equitable partnership. In her view, her contribution was taking care of our child. Unfortunately, that left me feeling like an estranged roommate with a rent bill comparable to the average guy living in New Canaan, Connecticut. We, however, were living in Accord, New York.
To be fair, though, my only live-in relationship after the one with my children’s mother involved a lady who saw to all of my practical needs. There were always hot meals and sex almost whenever I wanted. But that experience came with its own set of challenges. Having someone get up with you at 5 am and make you a sandwich while heaving long, overly dramatic sighs in your direction, also leaves a lot to be desired. Seriously, stay in bed. I’ll make my own damn sandwich. As far as the sex, it wasn’t that much better than the sandwiches.
As usual, me and my therapist were able to come to some very important distinctions this week. I was afraid that I had a tendency to objectify women, but with her help, I was able to determine that this is not always the case. My honest admiration for Cheryl Strayed, Jen Sincero, Sylvia Plath, my agent, my therapist, my ex and, truly, many other women, was enough to convince me that, while I am guilty of that at times, it’s not all the time.
The second, and more important distinction, was that my romantic relationships only stand a chance with women I don’t objectify. So when I find myself trying to convince myself that dating a certain person is a mature and responsible decision, that can only be seen as the beginning of a tragedy.
If there is no excitement involved in it, it won’t get past the first three months. It’s a lot like those stupid memes that say, “It’s either fuck yes or no..” Anything that falls into the space in the middle will wind up being disastrous for me and the other person.
Perhaps that’s why, for now, I don’t mind being by myself. And after over a year of therapy, if that’s all I got, it was worth every minute and every penny. As my friends know, I set out on this journey to discover where the weak links in my chain were.
That could be one of the weakest.
Totally get where you're coming from, Billy, as I'm guilty of objectifying men in the same fashion sometimes. Tiptoeing into any relationship, platonic or intimate, always brings that "let me start counting all the red flags" that are bound to show up scenario. Call it self sabotage or maybe even a glimpse into my younger self loathing behavior patterns of not feeling worthy or capable of sustaining a healthy partnership? Whatever it is, I'm certainly aware and mindful of what I bring to the table now, as are you. Again, kudos for sharing, for showing up here, for therapy, for your kids and ultimately for yourself. #amazingsex>sandwiches :)
Love this one, Billy. The year of therapy, coupled with no dating, is paying off.