Duck & Cover

zara's picture

Having a conversation right now about people who were a part of your (the empirical sense of the term) life when you were younger, who you spent hours talking to, nights exposing your inner soul and perhaps even some evenings getting naked with and touching delicate pink parts, who now avoid you like the plague, as if acknowledging the fact that they have a past with you make them feel as if they're dirty/soiled/wrong.

I don't really feel so bad about the things that I've done, even those things that society has bred me to believe I should harbor shame or guilt about because that's not what a "proper" or "well-behaved" woman/girl should do.

But here's the harsh, cold reality.

I have had threesomes. I have had a couple where I was one of the girls in a girl-girl-guy scenario. I've also had a few where I was the female accompanying two males to the genital party. I don't feel dirty or bad about these things. I don't feel that it makes me a lesser human being. In fact, I rarely think at great depth about those times at all.

But a few of those people that were a part of those couplings (triplings?) refuse to acknowledge me as a living, breathing organism when I've bumped into them in trivial life moments.

Why feel guilty? Hell, are you afraid that if you admit that you know me when we've bumped into each other in line at the grocery store that I'm going to loudly pronounce that I remember how low your balls hung or how big your clitoris was, to the best of my recollection? Damn. I know my social skills can suck at times, but give a girl a little credit.

I've done all sorts of things that I suppose if I was a righteous (aka: completely self-absorbed and incapable of admitting weakness/fault or any other sociological detriment) person, I would possess a modicum of shame.

I don't. I know what I've done. I know that what I've done has lead me to being the person that I am and the person that I am capable of being.

I think those who refuse to acknowledge the crap that they've done, whether it's been hurtful to others or simply to themselves, are the bigger jackasses. The woman who decided to openly pursue my ex when she knew that we were living together and that he was hiding their romantic titterings, that woman who refuses to admit that she was wrong with even the simplest and tidiest, "Hey, I'm sorry," to me? Man... what a fucking waste of oxygen. What a lousy, disposable piece of trash.

Me, though? I'm the piece of dirt who's done naughty things. I'm the one who supposedly needs to feel sorry according the the religion that they pay lip service to but do not act from out of their hearts or souls.


Just... interesting.

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