Not so Fat Girl’s Diary
Philosophical essays on life, love and exercise.
August 19, 2015
About men, women and their tears.
I’m not the most organised person in the world. But when it comes to travel — I am. I like to write lists, to take care of complicated connections. I enjoy when things go as planned. Today they didn’t. I eventually ended up in the unfamiliar city (not the safest one) at midnight without the hotel. What do you think I did? I wept. Quietly, to myself, but I wept. As if it was the only normal thing to do. Later everything turned out well. I was gratefully accepting hot streams of shower and wondering: would a man in this situation want to cry? We know that he wouldn’t (most likely) but would he want to? Are we really that different?
I had a boyfriend once who claimed that he never stressed out about things that weren’t vital. For instance, he would assess each problematic situation and if it didn’t qualify as vital, he would order himself not to worry. He told me I should do the same, that it would make my life much easier. In order to indulge him I did try to obtain this surreal behavioural pattern. I became an excellent simulator of calmness! But I would still go to weep in the corner while he doesn’t see. We weep, we reflect, we calm down, we find the solution. Is that how it works with us, women?
When I was 3 years old, I broke my older brother’s model ship that he had been assembling for a long time. I remember I did it intentionally. I saw him cry then. Almost invisibly. He didn’t want anybody to see. I can still remember my own shame and the depth of injustice that I caused. Male tears are rare and therefore more sincere. They mostly cry about vital things while we, women, don’t really need a reason. Give us a midnight and a double booked hotel.
Yesterday I did a 60 minutes stretching class. May be splits one day.
See you tomorrow!