If I Get a Lobotomy Will You Love Me?
*Update 5/16/2011: This post was kind of experimental in nature. It was meant to be raw and cathartic. Not sure how successful I was. It is also a companion piece, meant to be read along with my next post If You Were Brilliant Could I Love You? So often, when we write--especially me, we check for spelling, grammar, and content. And we censor ourselves. It was risky putting my thoughts out there regarding relationships. I feel naked. But I also feel relieved. End of update.*
I have something important to say. But I fear it has been said all too many times before. How can I express what I am feeling without sounding cliché?
I’ll be slightly original by starting off with a joke written by comedienne Joan Rivers. I first heard this joke when watching the 2010 documentary Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work.
In an archival footage scene from the early 80s, Joan is a guest on The Tonight Show. Host Johnny Carson says to Joan, “Men really do like smart women.” With an exaggerated Are you fucking kidding me? look on her face, she replies, “No man has ever put his hand up a woman's dress looking for a library card.”
Though she first uttered theses words back in the 80s. I am convinced her statement still rings true today. And it is most likely a universal fact. The west thinks it is so liberated from gender stereotypes. It is a façade.
Oh, you will hear men declare that they love—even prefer—to have an intelligent woman for a partner. Don’t be fooled. They say this because it is not safe in today’s climate to claim otherwise. It is not politically correct to state that one wants a dim, subservient, weak-minded woman who will treat one like he is the greatest gift to humankind.
Let’s be real here. Men don’t want to be challenged by anyone—let alone a woman. Their egos demand compliance not confrontation. They want to win. There are no ties. It’s winner takes all. And so as a woman you must play the role of loser if you hope to get along with a man. If you appear threatening, he will grow to despise you and soon will be plotting your demise. But this will all take place under the radar. When he deals the final blow, you won’t know what hit you. Why won’t you be prepared? Because you can’t believe that men hate intelligent women. You don’t want to believe it. It is too unfair, too painful.
By now, you may be thinking that I am a man hater. Not true. I love men. They just don’t love me.
As soon as any man comes to the conclusion that I am of superior intelligence, wit, and creativity, he will no longer have my best interests in mind. He’ll quit being protective. He will become my destroyer. By the time I’m kicked to the curb, I will be a broken woman—physically, emotionally, and spiritually bankrupt. It will take a long time before I place blame where it belongs and realize there was nothing I could have done to keep him loving me—short of having a frontal lobotomy.
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