Monday, March 11, 2013

Frumped Up Jax

A recent delay in imparting information that is yet to be imparted has for want of a better term 'blown up in my face.'  The conversation I had with my best friend this afternoon highlighted a few things about myself that I staunchly refuse exist because when I do so I feel as though I am putting myself up on a pedestal I don't deserve to be on.  It comes down to a few things that add up to the magical mojo I have going on at the moment.  A magic I don't want to believe I possess but now have to acknowledge that I do and maybe do something about it.

I'll go back to the start.  About a week ago a guy hit on me, quite forcibly actually and it was unwelcome.  Unwelcome because I am not attracted to him in any way whatsoever, I find him quite dull and I enjoy drinking at the pub he manages, so basically I don't want to shit where I eat.  It came as quite a shock, here I was thinking we are mates out for a drink and he's declared his intentions.  Actually, I dragged them out of him with my shock at his moves, "Whoa nelly, where did that come from?  How long has that been on your mind?"  His intentions were not honourable, like all good bastards, he just wants a good time and for me to forget the fact one of my favourite friends had a long crush on him.  

Bloody prick.  Did he ask me out?  No.  He attempted to get me drunk enough to fall into bed with him.  Can anyone say 'Date rape?'

Here's another prick...

I might have taken the above metaphor too far.  He's a nice guy who just read me wrong.  Really wrong.

At first I wasn't sure whether to tell my friend about this or not, because nothing happened and it just would upset her.  I was also afraid she would see me in a different light, as a threat to her future partners.  My best friend turned this into a torturous situation for me, she thought it was best to tell my friend about it face to face, not via phone or email.  Problem with that: my friend was flying interstate early in the week and there was no time to see her.  Things dragged out.  It became torturous when the curious nature of my bestie meant retelling my story to various strangers in order to get their opinion on the subject.  My local pub was evenly divided on the matter but one wise old man said, "To discuss the situation when you were the subject of his actions is to merely reduce it to gossip."It sounds true but I decided I should let her know at the next opportunity.  That opportunity didn't come and my best friend received inquiry as to my relationship with this publican.  She answered truthfully and that's when shit hit the fan.

I'm regularly told by my best friend that all men ignore her when I'm around, because 'they see my magical mojo and just want to stick their cock in me.'  My initial reaction, "Ewwww."  My subsequent reaction, "I don't see myself that way."  I deny this because I don't want to admit that I have some kind of power over others, over men.  Yet I'm told repeatedly that I need to set boundaries and stifle my natural personality.  I'm a naturally friendly person who likes all to feel welcome. I like to bring a positive energy into the fray.  Apparently my ways are interpreted as flirting by all around me, friends or strangers.  Can I just say one thing about all of this?  I AM BEING MYSELF DAMMIT!!!

This is me, being me.  Tuck shop lady arms, big arse, round belly, greasy hair, no make up, cider in hand for breakfast, nursing a hangover.


At first I conceded that perhaps I should alter my behaviour, try to be rude when I think I'm just being nice.  Be harsher with the people I meet.  Become repellant, dress like a frump.  I found a blog for inspiration.  http://www.manrepeller.com/ It's about looking as ugly as possible, being the ulitmate hipster, ironic frump, but this chick has a lot more money and a lot of expensive clothes, so she repels me successfully.

I started to think about this idea that I alter my behaviour cognitively and the more I thought about it, the more I rebelled it.  I came to the conclusion that altering my behaviour is essentially anti-feminist and that's not what I'm about.  I was reminded of an article by Clementine Ford I read only this afternoon.  I admire her work but agree to disagree with her on some points.  The following is a point I agree with; "Your vagina is not a car."  She's right, we shouldn't change who we are and what makes us feel comfortable in order to diminish the predatory senses of male ego.  The article takes my point a bit further, my bestie wants me to be more like her to appease the jealousy of female friends and acquaintances.  

Perhaps I should never leave the house and go out into a group situation.  Perhaps I should join a convent.  But that's not me.  I'm only going to live this life once and I want it to be as fun as it can be.  So I'm not changing who I am and I'm not going to become 'Frumped Up Jax.'

She might look something like this...