"Girl" Talk

This week in class, we discussed gender roles and how they play a part in our own lives. As I left class I began to reflect on my role as a woman and became consciously aware of the roles people play around me. To follow is a real life example of how women interact and come together to talk about men.

As soon as we walked into her apartment she spilled. She confided in me more than she had in the past. I know not to push it. Eventually she’d share whatever it was that was bothering her. It turned out to be the same story, just on a different day. Only this time, the story grew in detail.

  

“So of course on Saturday he was there in Kyle’s room when Jordan and I went to pick up. I mean, c’mon it’s Saturday and clearly there was a party in the backyard, why are you just chillin on Kyle’s bed?”

“Yea, that is weird especially since every time you have seen him it has been on a Friday or Saturday. Isn’t that when couples spend time together?”

“Yea, I don’t know, what it is. I hate him. Let’s stop talking about him.”

“Okay, so…” She interrupts me and continues letting out what she has been trying to bury since January.

“You should have seen him. He was talking about me, not in a bad way or anything, but talking about me as if I wasn’t in the room. I couldn’t wait to get out of there, but of course as I am leaving he pushes his way through the door to make sure I give him a hug bye.”

“Did he hug Jordan?”

“No! He made it a point to make sure I gave him a hug goodbye. I hate him. No I don’t hate him…I just…”

Her big dark brown eyes began to swell up as tears slowly glided down her cheeks. I sat there and tried to pretend she wasn’t crying. I should’ve given her a hug, like I normally would, but I wanted her to talk through it. I wanted her to feel that it was okay to cry. I was there to listen and offer advice when necessary.

“I don’t know why I am crying. Ugh…” She slowing wiped away her tears as she shook her head back and forth.

“Stac, it’s okay to cry. It’s natural. Trust me, I always cry just to let it all out. Stop letting it build up inside of you.”

“I know. I know. It’s just he made me feel like a whore. I don’t know what impression he got of me that he could just treat me this way. I just don’t know. We both acted like we were together and now this. I mean, fuck, look at Jordan going over to Andrew’s house every night and I have to stay here and sleep alone in this place. I absolutely hate sleeping alone.”

“I mean nothing against Jordan, but Stac look at her life and look at yours. There is no comparison. She can go out and fuck whoever she wants and she still wouldn’t have been fortunate enough to feel the things you felt for Nick and be treated the way he treated you when you were dating. Jeez, Stac…Jordan has to fucking walk to some guys house to go put out because his lazy loser ass won’t drive a couple blocks to pick her up! Are you seriously jealous of that?”

She giggles, “no.”

“Okay then. I couldn’t be prouder of the way you have conducted yourself and have controlled your emotions. I would be torn apart and showing it. I don’t know how you have gone this long without an explanation to that text he sent you. The only way you are going to get closure and be able to move on is by coming out and asking him what went wrong.”

A month before this conversation with Stacey she received a text from Nick in response to her, “Hey what are you doing tonight?” text. Nick, four hours later, replied with “Hey, I can’t. I am kinda seeing someone right now, but I’ll hit you up when I am single again.”

As I reflect upon my own relationships, past and present, I can’t help but ask why the man, in this case, gets to end the relationship. Why does he get out of it so easy? Did he not have the balls or enough respect for her to tell her this to her face? Why is the woman the one left with the draining task of playing their relationship over and over again in her head to figure out what went wrong?

Regardless of who ended the relationship, the manner in which it was executed is unfair and hurtful for any sex. A text leaves just enough room for a wandering mind, a hundred questions, and an uneasiness of how to reply. 

-Andrea