I am not a thing.

I struggle with being objectified. I use my sexuality, I have a lot of it, too much even. I mean I’m no Miley, I think a slow burn, mystery and the tease are key ingredients for the recipe of sexy. Calm and confidence are also a big part. For me anyways. I whine, I complain, but not so secretly delight in the power of my sexuality. I adore dresses, ridiculous shoes, stilettos, wedges, platforms in candy colors and animal prints. I sometimes wear too much eye make up, and my underwear drawer is stuffed full of stringy lacy ball up and put in your change pocket panties. That being said I will purposely do things like pull out an adult onesie, or baggy old sweat pants with a tenacious D shirt to see what kind of reaction I’ll get. Think I’m sexy in fleece leisure suit with the built in socks? I have infected your psyche. I have a sexy voice, a throaty laugh and a mischievous smirk. But to be a sexual object is exhausting. Constant up keep is needed on finger and toe nails, leg and body shaving. Sexy underthings aren’t the most comfortable, and mile high shoes are hard on the legs and back. You also put a lot of pressure on your exterior appearance. Get a monster zit on your nose? Disaster. Allergic reaction and a rash? self isolation. Chip a tooth, or get wrinkles? Life ending. It’s all so surface. Sexuality and charisma actually come from a place deep within. But the focus is easier shone on the candy coating, instead of the sweet chocolate inside.
My Naturopath hooked me up to the REBA machine, and determined that I am hooked on a jag, I am pessimistic, suspicious, I have a “show or prove it to me” attitude. And this jag has been effecting me for 40-50% of my life. It started between age 17-22 (approximately). She says I have no need of it any more, and have already started to release it. But that I may be able to shed it more quickly if I can find the root. I have a few theories, I was estranged from my paternal grandparents around that time, I had some toxic friendships, and let people treat me poorly. I became more aware of my sexuality. I placed a great deal of my self worth and interactions with others on my physical appearance. I developed an unhealthy relationship with food. I became manic about my social life. I haven’t yet decided what caused this jag, maybe its a little of everything. Maybe I’ll never really know, but I am ready to shed it.
I was at work thursday, I had a girl go home sick so I was alone. Pacing the store trying to put away product and serve customers, I like being busy at work. I got a late afternoon text message from the 22 year old. He wanted to know how I was doing. Odd really because I saw him out last weekend and he was awkward and avoided me. (he is young, I need to remember that). What were my plans for the weekend? And maybe we should hang out…? Did he forget I am 12 years his senior? We live 3 hours travel time apart? He does not care. He wants to have me. I am nothing more than a fuck doll to him. An object, something he wants to have. He doesn’t give a damn about my feelings, or if I’m smart, or sweet or funny.
I get to this because as we were texting I explain I will be in Vernon, and his immediate response is he should get a hotel room so we can meet. Just the thought makes my skin crawl. Not for the fact he is 22, but it probably doesn’t help, but because it is a dirty and shameful hide-away. No romance, no friendship. Is he ashamed of me? Afraid of being seen in public? Wants to hide me away for his personal pleasure? I am not going down that rabbit hole again.
We text back and forth for a bit, and he starts sexting-I tell him I’m not interested in soul-less banging, as a general rule, and especially not with someone so young. I have more self respect than to let someone use me. It is clear he is interested only in using me. My suggestion is that he find someone young and dumb, or old and jaded, that he can use just for sex, if that’s all he is looking for I’m sure it’s out there. He is attractive enough it shouldn’t be a hard find.
We end our text conversation with me telling him he doesn’t have to be strange if he sees me out, and maybe we will run into each other, but if he’s not interested in being friends there certainly won’t be any benefits with this girl. All the while thinking that I deserve better, I deserve someone who is not only physically attracted but mentally and emotionally invested as well.
He texted me this morning, “thinking of you”. Well isn’t that sweet, unfortunately I am smart enough to know the truth of it was he forgot the “naked” at the end of that sentence. He’s not fooling anyone.

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