Main Character Energy Only
What a Woman Wants?
What women truly desire is an enigma waiting to be unraveled.
What do I want, you ask?
Yesterday, my girlfriend came over to meet me. We sat on the couch as we eagerly tore open the last packet of chips. She asked me what my zodiac sign was.
She complains that the mangoes she picked up from our neighborhood grocery store were anything but sweet. She says her dad gets on her nerves at times and is fast losing his memory. She mentions why her mother never got her custody after the divorce.
She tells me about the days she wanted to be an astronaut, but her teachers were very unsupportive. She tells me how it slowly changed into opening a parlor of her own. She thought of starting a YouTube channel. She wants to be a star.
She says she doesn’t believe in throwing away foods that have fallen on the ground. She believes in picking them up within 5 seconds. She doesn’t believe in germs. She mentions how she has been unconsciously picking up on her ingrown hair.
In the middle of the conversation, I began to cry because well, life is sad in unexpected ways and I remembered how I might not fall in love with someone else the way I did with my ex and that I will always crave for him.
She was polite enough not to mention it or ask what made me cry but gave me a slight nudge with her elbow handing me over the last piece of chips from the packet.
We look at each other and exchange tender smiles that are enough to light up an unusually dark room.
A friend from my college used to mention how she loved if men were gentle with her, not the type of bad boys.
One mentioned how she liked being kissed in ways that took an eternity to forget.
One wanted to peel oranges so perfectly that had no white mesh around them.
Others wanted to sleep the weekends away without any worry.
One loved how fresh the new bed covers smelled, even better if they were of pastel hues.
Another wanted the deleted messages from her ex and wanted to re-read them and cry in the dark bedroom while she slept in his memories.
Some wanted a kiss on the forehead the way their partner used to while some wished that their partner never body-shamed her with saggy boobs.
She is pretty. In fact, the prettiest in the room. It’s me. I am all the girls.
But I assure you, no one woman is any different from the others. Neither do we want anything different.
They say men want freedom while women just want love.
And yet I have seen women break open the shackles of shame, loneliness, leave lovers, families, countries, and kingdoms only to look out for comfort, to sleep unbothered, to bask and bathe unwatched, to waltz around the corridor in their favourite dress or sometimes even naked with lipstick; the colour of their desire.
That’s all I want.
That’s all women want.
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