dodging buses

One of my Facebook friends, who happens to be a brilliant famous author, wrote last night about how unfair people are to women–how all the stories of women being mean girls are untrue…that, for every mean woman she’s encountered, she’s had a million lift her up.

I was happy for her.  I’m glad she’s found female support.  But I couldn’t agree less with her comments.  Mostly because I’ve had the opposite experience.  By and large, the only woman I’ve ever been able to count on was my mother.

I don’t connect with other women–at least not easily.  Most of my female friends are acquaintances.  I don’t invite them into my inner circle.  When I need advice or help, I call my guy friends.  They understand me better and are less likely to passive aggressively throw daggers when I need love.  They tell me the truth.

Which is all really crappy because I love women.  I’m a feminist.  I think women have been shit on a lot in this world.  I always wanted a sister.  I always wanted girlfriends like Carrie Bradshaw.  And I’ve tried–I really have–to build those bonds–only to be betrayed and disappointed by people I loved.

I don’t know if it’s a function of who I am or not…if there’s something wrong with me–something that makes women abuse me.  But all I really know is that it doesn’t feel nice.  That the daggers are subtle and expertly placed.

I had an experience on Monday that reinforced this feeling.  I realized I was coming from a different perspective.  I was dealing with situational friends who I mistook for close friends.  One of them was a mother figure to me.

It’s been a bad situation for a while now…one that I wanted to end, but I didn’t out of loyalty.  I got into this situation out of loyalty.  I am learning not to do things I don’t want to do–for any reason–ever.  From the get-go, I felt disrespected.  It affected my ability to believe in what I was doing.  I know I didn’t give it my all, but I did what I was asked to do.

I was thrown under the bus yesterday.  I really didn’t care about what happened.  It was the how that mattered.  It was how it was delivered.  It was who knew.  It was the disrespect.  Relationships are damaged.  I can’t fix them.  No amends have been made.  That’s women in this industry.

They used me. And we were only friends as long as I was providing them with something valuable.  And that concern they seemed to have for me as a human being was not genuine.  It was a concern for themselves.

That’s women.

The whole thing makes me sad.


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