I am an old soul trapped in a 20 year old body who is growing up in a generation where rap music and swag are the top priorities to my male peers, alongside Call of Duty and of course, the legalization of marijuana.

I’m growing up in a time when Mayfair filtered Instagram pictures decide if someone is good-looking, and how many followers you have reflects how many friends you have in your social life. A time when the 140 characters allowed in an opinionated Twitter post on the latest Hunger Games determines somebody’s knowledge. A time when a woman’s vocabulary being bigger than her ass sets her apart from what men want, at least right now.

I have watched my generation become completely desensitized by television and music. I know I sound like an 80-year-old woman, but I promise you I am not. I’m just a frustrated 20-year-old who refuses to wear “J’s on her feet” and copy the behavior of Bad Girl’s Club to attract a man. Nowadays, if you’re not a “bad” bitch you’re a single bitch. (Oh yes, bad now means good and ‘bitch’ now means woman.) I can’t wait for the presidential election of 2036 when we vote for the “baddest” candidate!

I started to really think about all of this when I was dumped on my 20th birthday by the guy I had been dating for two years. He told me I was “intimidating” and “he wasn’t happy that my career was taking off in such a positive direction.” This really threw me off. I let his words sink in and I thought about them everyday for months. I started to question myself and my priorities. Should I have been less ambitious? Should I have invested more time into learning Drake’s new album than developing my own career?

I started to go on some dates a few months after the breakup—guys between the ages of 21-25—none of which were mentally stimulating in the slightest. Then, it hit me. It wasn’t just my ex-boyfriend who felt this way. It’s men in general! Men my age want to be the bread winners, yet their main aspiration in their life is to unlock the new maps in their latest XBox game. I didn’t know whether to be grateful to learn this at such a young age or to indulge in a lifetime supply of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia, sulking in the heartbreaking idea that there is no hope for the men of my era.

It doesn’t help that women my age are constantly told by their mothers, grandmothers, and older sisters: men never change. In fact, I’ve been told this countless times. I can’t help but think that if this is true, I am going to be 65 years old with my Bunco ladies, bitching about how our husbands are more interested in Lil’ Wayne’s 40th arrest than in taking us out for a nice dinner.

I started to think back to my ex-boyfriend, who said my career intimidated him. Of course it did, I realized. I enjoy music and the occasional Real Housewives fist fight on TV, but I refuse to let that define me as a person. I realize my ex, bless his heart, wrapped his life around media and what is considered cool to his “homies”. He was living vicariously through Wiz Khalifa’s millions of dollars instead of striving for his own. I paved the way for my future; how could that not be intimidating?

I read somewhere:

“People who lack faith, love to call you naive when you believe you deserve things they’re too weak to have hope for.” — Rob Hill Sr.

I believe any woman reading this out there, whether my age, older, or even in high school with her first real boyfriend, shouldn’t deprive herself of her hopes and dreams if a man cannot handle what she has to give. He is too weak to have hope for it himself. You should probably just walk away before he does. I promise, there is no trying to convince him that you are a greater option in the long run than the girl who can twerk better than you at the school dance. He will need to learn that on his own.

So, while he is watching YouTube tutorials on how to roll the best joint and updating himself on the latest World Star news, go make your money.