I vowed that the next man I have sex with would be my boyfriend. And this vow was long before the release of Jumping the Broom. I really mean it this time. I was reminded that I’ve been a kitten one too many times this past weekend at a Memorial Day BBQ.
We never took it to that point but had I given him the green light, we would have definitely been sex buddies. I randomly met him out at a local spot in Harlem. My girls and I were celebrating over a few drinks and that’s when I spotted him, Collins. My days of fishing led me to the quiet guy in the corner, whom the bar staff was very familiar with. I assumed that he owned the place or an establishment nearby. They had his bottles already chilled and 1 wine glass set up – ready for serving. I made immediate eye contact.
I took a seat next to him and hit him with a smile and a soft “hello.” He asked what my girls and I were sipping on and proceeded to order a bottle for each of us.
We chatted, exchanged basic information, and flirted…the usual. Later that evening he was joined by several friends…all which had a little pocket change. My girl ended up meeting a nice gentleman, who happens to still be her man today. There’s hope ladies!
Collins was impatient and uncompromising…just like any other older man. He was direct, spoiled, stubborn, but sexy as hell. He had a great sense of humor and he was extremely intelligent. He owned a couple of lucrative franchises and used to be a big deal in the entertainment industry. He studied at NYU and hailed from Nigeria. I figured that I’d stick it out, as I needed him for his network.
He was slickster.
I’ve been on the fence about dating older men for years, but I liked him. He didn’t remind me of my father like most men his age. Our first and last date was a complete nightmare. He was completely uninterested in knowing anything about my background, my character or me. He only wanted my body. We went to a nice restaurant/lounge that offered private dining…and boy was that a big mistake. I joked with my girls about how I felt sexually assaulted every time he’d even talk to me. He didn’t give a fuck where we were at – he wanted it any and everywhere. I should have come to dinner equipped with a branch from a tree to beat his ass off of me. After turning him down for sex more than once, he decided to drop me. I was beyond relieved – that was well over a year ago.
My girl has been hounding me about how I should get in contact with him, he can’t stop asking about me, he wants another chance…blah, blah, blah. Just when I was about to give in, he reminds me once again of his intentions with me. He shows up to this gathering with his girlfriend. Hand in hand – smiling and shit.
The entire ordeal really struck a nerve with me. I’m so sick of being viewed as anything less than girlfriend material. I’m tired of being a kitten. Collins is definitely not the first, nor the last, to place me in the ‘sex object’ category. I’d like to think that I’m a quality woman. I have a good sense of direction, great sense of humor, well educated, great job, great personality and attractive. Any man I’ve dated in the past year can probably recite my measurements faster than they can name the type of degrees I’ve obtained – Bachelor’s and Master’s. I had a discussion with one of my homeboys about my dating woes and he said something that really hurt my feelings,
You’re too curvy…you’re beyond lustful. It’s really hard for any man to really focus on anything other than your body despite all that you have going on.
I’m well aware of my body, build and overall look. I’ve tried everything imaginable to tone down my look but these curves you just can’t avoid. Curvy women have it hard. Seriously. I can’t get two words out of my mouth before a man (even a woman) begins to shift their attention to my backside. Between workplace discrimination, clothing disparities, and dating – we manage to stay losing. I have to use extreme caution getting prepared for work – making sure that my lips aren’t too bright and my pantsuit isn’t too fitted. I cannot recall one instance where a stranger, or friend, hasn’t made some sort of indirect reference to a body part or hips-to-waist ratio. Our curves almost always categorize us as lustful, freaky, and/or sexy. It’s been proven that curvy women are just as addictive as drugs.
According to the researcher, Steven Platek,
Having a high hip-to-waist size ratio really gets men going. Those wider hips are generally indicative of better overall physical health, and the ability to carry healthy babies. Curvy women really do affect men’s brains, Platek said. The amount of body fat may not even matter.
There was also a study that suggested that curvy women live longer and give birth to smarter children. WTF?! I’m starting to take this indirect rejection to heart. I’d like an opportunity to meet someone that isn’t immediately enamored by my curves. I’m also sick and tired of women justifying their curves in magazines. Good looks and dangerous curves are wonderful but substance in a woman is important.
This may be just a rant, but do you ever feel immediately categorized based on your looks? Do you think that curvy women have a harder time seriously dating than slimmer women?