Dear Future Lover

Written By: Camila Victoire

 

Dear Future Lover,

For my entire life, I have been forced to play two roles. In order to be taken seriously, I have worn the mask of the “good girl.” In order to be the fantasy, I have embodied the “bad girl.” I’m sure you’ve heard the saying: “Guys want to fuck the bad girl, but marry the good” – so far, so true.

Dear Future Lover,

As “open” as our society claims to be now; as accepting of female sexuality and liberation as we have become; I still feel like I have to be two different women. If I sleep with you on the first date – I’m easy and not worth seeing again. If I don’t – I’m denying myself what I want, something that you would never think twice about. For my entire life, this double-standard has followed me around, constantly whispering in my ear what I should be doing or how I should be acting.

Dear Future Lover,

I love the fact that you consider yourself a feminist. That you are a true advocate for women’s rights and equality. I wish every man could be like you, think like you. I love the way you could never hurt a fly, yet you would beat someone to a pulp if they couldn’t take my no for a no. I love that even though I want the world to see me as a strong, independent woman… I am terrified of the dark, and that you would never hesitate to investigate strange noises in the night. I love that you make me feel safe, and so little in your arms.

Dear Future Lover,

I will be the best girlfriend you’ve ever had. When you take me home to meet your parents, I’ll make conversation with your Dad about his fishing trip and laugh at his bad jokes. I’ll help your mom prepare dessert and gossip about how she first seduced your Dad all those years ago in medical school but made him think he was the one who first caught sight of her on his radar. I’ll tell them about my travels and they will ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ at my stories and call me brave. They’ll glance at you across the table and give a wink that says, “You’ve found her. She’s the one.”

Dear Future Lover,

I will be your best friend, and your lover. We’ll watch porn together and go to strip clubs. We’ll play strip poker, just the two of us, and you’ll be so excited to watch me lose with my pair of nines, as though you haven’t seen my breasts a million times before. We’ll go to seedy sex shops where we’ll navigate the aisles with childish grins and laugh over questionably large dildos and vibrating anal beads. ‘Never in a million years,’ you’ll say. But we’ll try things… kinky things. Nothing too extreme. Some will be hot, while others will be outright disasters that will have us crying of laughter on the floor. We’ll criticize the plot of 50 Shades of Grey, because we both know that having sex ten times a day is unrealistic, and just plain exhausting.  We’ll have sex in your car, steaming up the windows as I ride you to the rhythm of Wicked Games. We’ll make love with the lights off, slowly and gently, because sometimes vanilla is sweeter than chocolate.

I’ll ask you about your fantasies, and I won’t laugh when you tell me what they are. I’ll dress up in Victoria’s Secret lingerie just to see the desire in your eyes… then fall asleep snoring to the season finale of Stranger Things. I’ll want to venture out and see the world with you – show you places I’ve been and discover new things, too. And when the sun sets on our crazy adventures, we’ll settle back down into our perfect routine, just the two of us against the world and everything.

Dear Future Lover,

I am tired of being two women. I have spent years trying to come to terms with who I am; learning that my sexual desires are not shameful or perverse. That I am not a ‘slut’ for craving, for wanting, for needing. I am sick, so sick, of balancing on a tightrope between two worlds – the woman I am, and the one I have to be if I want you to keep my candidacy for “the woman of your dreams.”

Dear Future Lover,

Just because I have had sex with a few more people than you, doesn’t mean I won’t be any less faithful or that my love for you will suffer as a result. My sexuality isn’t some wild, untamed beast that will unleash itself on all your friends.

Dear Future Lover,

We will never be together and that is a real shame. I really thought you could be the one.

The truth is, I was out one night with some of my friends. You tried to come on to me but I turned you down. You called me a ‘whore’ and other harsh words — words that probably faded from your memory as your hangover began to set in. We were just strangers then, but I still deserved respect, or at the very least, I didn’t deserve your disrespect.

What you didn’t realize is that words can be as damaging as bullets. Your words destroyed me. They threatened to demolish the positive self-image I have for years been trying to build. Maybe I am a ‘whore’ because I am a woman, and I like sex. But I am also a million other things that you ignorantly overlooked in your hasty quest to put a label on my soul.

Dear Future Lover,

I wish you luck on your quest to find that “good girl.” The girl who is cool and smart and studious and loves getting drunk with your friends. Who’s a librarian and a virgin but a porn star in bed; who does your laundry and cooks your meals and knows just where to scratch your ego so it purrs. A girl who will rock a turtleneck at family dinners and then run naked through sprinklers on a hot Summer night. A girl who will want children, but not too badly, and only when you’re ready of course. Who will take your spray of bullets with a smile, and pretend to find your misogyny amusing. The girl who will make your parents laugh and bring out your light when all you see is darkness. Yeah, that girl.

Dear Future Lover,

I hope that one day you will learn to stop using these harmful words against women. I hope that when you have a daughter, you will keep her away from men like you, teaching her that we all have the right to be sexual beings, like the animals we were and still very much are. I hope that you will become a true advocate for women’s rights, and not just claim to be one. That you will stop using words like “slut” and “whore,” or at the very least, find a male equivalent that is as shaming as its female counterpart.

Dear Future Lover,

Thank you for making me see that I no longer want to be two different women. That I am allowed to marry all the colours of my soul into one beautiful whole. That I am sexual, and sensual, and wild, and tamed, and loving, and horny, and giving, and selfish and immensely adventurous. That lust runs through my veins, alongside loyalty and fidelity. That sexuality makes me alive… it makes me sane… it makes me the woman that I am.

Dear Future Lover,

Thank you for teaching me to be proud of who that is. It is a lesson I will never unlearn.

 


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Photo credit: Xeixo M, Creative Commons. https://www.flickr.com/photos/20036188@N00/22128870/in/photolist-2Xq9f-dJwSM8-9mfJKD-85KLu5-fjWBMo-6ohWBr-kW9Yf-a6izVT-5p4th8-85d3Gr-598AXM-7Wr7MU-4L6pRv-dYSH3Y-95G6gP-85d5cB-7tpchX-4XGYNu-61TzXz-6rLtwB-4Uv7M5-85GmFU-pqn61o-bzL2jd-4XCHEi-odn4h9-4mzGZf-71AoED-71Eph7-6H7q6d-Dq9Qna-4uLx4-H1D5o-DJPV2K-gUAJM-q4scAB-DBpJ5F-opu5F2-4U2fmg-4QUe7A-ATrx8-73WcLq-7Wr7Nu-5QDC9C-qLFAfW-fjs6Qv-fjGh1U-7Hqk24-pbNADt-fdqBUe
(Photo credit: Xeixo M, Creative Commons).