Sex, Love & Dying With Dignity

I never write unless I’m motivated. It’s been a long time since I last came out with a real think piece on anything and though I’ve had some thoughts brewing, this past week really gave me that last push I needed to articulate my feelings into something worth writing about.

I parted ways with the strip club a while ago, but yet my feelings toward men and overall feelings of being jaded toward them and society has only gotten worse. I know not all men are deserving of my pent up bitterness and overall disdain, but I can’t help but feel some resentment anytime someone with a penis between their legs breathes in my direction. It doesn’t help that I’m a recently scorned woman. Used and abused by a man I thought I so deeply loved and cared for. He was the last man I held every bit of hope in and it’s my fault for putting that much optimism in to one person and the unrealistic burden of carrying the weight of every man on his shoulders.


The feeling that word evokes out of me is the most uncomfortable thing ever. It strips me of my confidence and my self-worth, two things I vowed to myself that I’d never hand over to a man.

At times I wish I never worked at the club. Since I find myself there a few times a week to see my girls, my beautiful, strong, bad ass women, I am able to catch up with old friends whom I now consider family. I caught up with one of my girls who runs VIP now and bonded over the fact that this world is ugly, disgusting and quite frankly, rips your fucking heart out. It’s disgusting. But it isn’t just this world. It’s our culture and society in general that shoves sex and money down our throats.

It’s worth pointing out that my tactics and feelings towards men, love and relationships in general now are not what they would be say, 10 years ago. I call the shots. I determine what I want, what I invest in and what I look for. I can handle and control most situations and interactions with the opposite sex. Just when I was starting to think maybe I was being a little harsh about my feminist anti-man rhetoric, I met my worst nightmare. He is a caricature of men, a grotesque exaggeration of everything I loathe.

I wanted to be more open-minded about people I meet, that all men aren’t bad, maybe if I meet people outside of certain demographics I wouldn’t normally associate with, I’d meet people that can somehow redeem my negative views.

I met a man who was a lot older recently. He told me I was “breathtakingly beautiful”, and though he isn’t my type at all, I let him humor me and who knows, we’re all humans, maybe he was actually super great and a lot of people couldn’t appreciate it. I can relate; But I couldn’t be more wrong. After a very brief convo that went pretty well, he told me he liked that I was intelligent and enjoyed talking to me but had to meet someone and asked to exchange numbers.

He called me hours later, asking to meet up for another. drink. I agreed. This time, his true colors started coming out. He started telling me who he is (something men love doing, cue *eyeroll emoji*). Tells me he’s a very successful man, c-level exec with millions of dollars and multiple businesses, lives in the most expensive tower in the city and owns the “fastest Tesla” in 10 states. I’m turned off by this. I’ve heard it all before, in San Francisco, guys like him are a dime a dozen. It’s disgusting to me that a lot of people find their value in possessions or status. After all this bragging,

he bluntly says, “So I obviously wanna fuck ya. You want to come see my view?”


He immediately gets upset and obviously offended that I am not into this. That I would deny him of something he felt he was already entitled to. He tells me he can get laid by whoever he wants, whenever he wants, and then pulls out his phone and shows me his FICO score…YES. THIS DEGENERATE FLASHES HIS CREDIT SCORE FOR VALIDATION.

Anyway, he tries to psychoanalyze me for why I wouldn’t fuck him. Told me his credit score is a good reflection of who he is because “people with high credit scores are trustworthy, dependable, and responsible”. Oh, Okay (I’m rolling my eyes again). Even goes as far as telling me that I remind him of his mother: a brilliant brain but going to waste and that humans are creatures of habit and it all comes down to science…blase blah. Whatever. No, we don’t need to dive into any deep complexities over the situation, man, it’s as simple as me just not being attracted to you on any level.

I feel gross just talking to this poor excuse of a human and was about to leave when he says, “I don’t need to sell myself to you, I already know what I bring to the table. What do you bring to the table?”

I walked out.

Good question though, I thought. What do I bring to the table? Even though I was in an Uber and well on my way home, those 7 words resonated with me to the core. I almost felt defeated because, I couldn’t come up with anything. I was truly battling with myself:

I live in a shit-hole, but I pay my own rent. I am emotionally intelligent at a genius level, but it takes me 20 minutes to do something simple like long hand-division or breaking down fractions. I am an outgoing, social and bubbly person with a lot of friends and acquaintances, but I’m also reclusive, depressed and lonely. I am not hideous, in fact I’m actually really pretty, but I am not a size 2, perfect bodied drop dead gorgeous woman. I’ve read more books than most of my peers for fun, write very well and can captivate people with my stories, but I don’t have a degree and I haven’t monetized these talents in any way.

That’s when I stopped putting myself down. The instance I brought up my looks and monetizing things, I felt sick. Even though I hold myself at high regard, I was searching for ways to make my value be equally as great by society’s standards and failing miserably. The things about me that make me so great, aren’t visible to the plain eye. On paper and in person, I am what most people would find to be average or basic. But the few that truly know me, know that my energy and emotional abilities are almost incomparable to my peers. I am an old soul with many miles on my years. I absolutely wouldn’t be who I am today if it weren’t for my flaws or having lived the fucked up but also amazing life that I have. It’s amazing only because I’ve created it all myself. Something I have forever prided myself on. All I could think about was the club again. That no matter what you have to offer, thanks to society, it doesn’t matter unless you look good, whether that pertain to your looks or your bank account. The world is one big strip club. People want to impress others by showing what they have as opposed to what they can offer, and unless it’s sex or money, do people actually give a shit? I know many women who are nice to look at but very dense, yet men will drop to their feet and worship them or confess their undying love for them. It gives these women a sense of greatness and doesn’t really help their cause because that validation doesn’t motivate them to better themselves in other areas. A good example: a girl I know who constantly talks about men falling in love with her, yet couldn’t understand a knock-knock joke on a popsicle stick thinks that what men think of her is the most important thing in her life. I’m amazed at times that she’s even made it through life this far, but that’s another thing, she’s been babied by men who simply just want a hot piece on their arm that they can control. It’s all power moves and having control, and sadly, so many women succumb to that because they don’t have the ability to take care of themselves. Not only do these women make us look bad, but they’ve created this norm of mediocrity.

We’ve all in a way been socially engineered to think that our status defines us. I mean, look at our country for example: would do literally anything no matter how deplorable, just so we can say we’re the “greatest, most powerful country in the world”…Fucking why? Power, status, control, and ego are all things the government and media want us to pine for so that we won’t do so much as blink when they find it necessary to wipe out some little third world country. They expect us to “get it” because, on a much much smaller scale, a lot of people are willing to do the same in their little real world lives (metaphorically, of course) to get ahead or have that title of superiority. I’m obviously digressing but the comparison I think is essential for understanding where I’m coming from.

Do I have answers? No. Will I ever solve my internal existentialism? Probably not. But what I have found to be key in not letting the woes of reality depress me even more, is to not let society’s small-mindedness minimize my worth just because I ran into some old man with fucking mommy issues. That old saying, “You can’t take your money with you when you die” is something I wish more people would let sink in. At the end of my life, I know I’ll die with dignity. As cliche as all this is, it’s true but not enough people have the brain power or abilities to grasp the really rich things in life. You can’t put a monetary value on wisdom, intelligence, common sense, humor, independence and the feelings they can evoke. I am wealthy, but in a way most people won’t understand. I refuse to live by society’s standards. I refuse to let someone who doesn’t know me try to sum me up because, sure, maybe that guy’s made millions and has been successful in life, but he is in no way better than I at it. In fact, he sucks at it. I’d rather be who I am than anyone else no matter the stipulations. I feel like the only remedy to this sickness is finding more like-minded people who can cut through the bullshit like I have. Those are the really rich people that I want to associate with. Those people are the definition of wealth.