in 100 years we'll all be dead
by Cheryl Sonstein
"What is it like to be a woman?" my precocious nine-year-old niece once asked me.
"Well," I sighed, "it's like this: if you put out too soon, you're a slut. If you hold out too
long, you're a prude. And once a month for nearly forty years - cramps! You'll love it.
You'll earn 78 cents for every dollar a man earns and speaking of men -
You'll be constantly mystified by the straight male with their bro codes and rampant homophobia;
yet they all seem to really like football - a game where grown men wear tights and tackle each other.
It's all very confusing really."
She's as close to a daughter as I might ever have; I don't want to sugar coat it for her.
So the other day I'm talking to my boyfriend. Well boyfriend might be too strong a word. Lover,
friend with benefits - I don't really know what to call him. All you need to know for the purpose of this story
is that we've been sleeping together for the past two years. I ask him, "Do you love me?" my brown eyes
pleading with vulnerability.
"Well... um... I love certain aspects of you," he answers.
"Right," I scoff, "vaginal aspects." And although I do think vaginal aspects would make a killer
band name, I'm obviously disappointed by his response. Men have no trouble fucking you but if you want to watch
them run away, try saying words like love. Boyfriend. Commitment.
What is it like to be a woman? It's being a second class citizen. It's having so much to give and
no one who wants it. It's giving in and accepting "I love certain aspects of you" is the best you're gonna get.
And oh yes, don't forget the cramps.
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