A Letter to Women

I know what you’re doing.

You’re gently playing me like silly-putty, turning me into the shape that you want. Fine tuning me to be a source of dependence for you. And ur like an open book to me.

You’re creating an emotional need in me, deliberately making me unable to live or breathe without you, using all your wiles and feminine charms. You give me just enough to taste, but not enough to be satisfied, so I keep coming back for more. And when I start getting emotionally attached to a greater and greater degree to you, you sit back and watch my heart and mind squirm as it tries to find peace, in my seemingly futile attempts to be assured that I have you. But I’m not ready for you yet, am I? I’m not quite desperate enough. So you smile at me with your ever-so-understanding eyes, sympathize with my discomfort, and pretending to be on the same boat, all the while continuing with your charms, keeping me wanting more and more, never leaving me a bored moment so I don’t wonder away, your smell always in my thoughts, and your approval always on my mind. Making me do things that I would normally never do without a second thought. Turning me into your play-thing. Into your guarantee that your life will be okay, that it will be stable. Slowly and deliberately turning me into someone that you can be sure will look after you all your life.

And whether I’m Albert Einstein or Adolf Hitler, or the forgotten and unimportant Citizen X, I will always be a man, and I won’t even know what hit me.

My heart sits backs and watches me with some fascination as you do this, almost laughing at me.

This is physical reality, this is nature, its emotional homeostasis, and millions of years of genetic and physical and social evolution. I cannot fight it. Maybe one day, I’ll learn to control it and laugh at it the way my heart does.

So this is not a declaration of war, or anger to you for consciously or unconsciously manipulating m heart.
Its one of love and fascination for life, its one of anger with myself for being just another piece of putty in nature’s hand, for all my self-importance and delusions of control.

It is me saying; because I’m aware of a truth, it doesn’t mean I can fully overcome it yet.

So, I’m not backing away from you. I’m not turning myself off like a machine and dropping you like a sack of potatoes. Because I can. But I wouldn’t be living life, then. I’d be running away from it. I continue down this path because I’m not scared, and because I want to learn, and because I know I will have to lose and be humbled before I truly know what it means to win. I’ll stay with you for as long as it takes. But I just want you to know:

I know what you’re doing.

Yours Sincerely,
Saman