Suddenly, I feel like Carrie Bradshaw with a double take on the good sex part. Probably due to the new found affiliation to “Sex and the City” I begin looking at relationships and my girlfriends in a new light – ladies, you needn’t be petrified now.
Most girls I know, since my school years to date, have that one guy who has left that one scar – usually bad – that has impacted them greatly despite having broken up years ago. Most of my guy friends however, do not suffer from this. Maybe I don’t know enough guys well enough to pass this judgement, nonetheless of the ones that I do know, I don’t see it in their faces. The girls on the other hand – no we are not looking for a sympathy vote here – have a scar, in their heart or wherever they say that hurts the most that undoubtedly shows in their face and the times they space out not to the future and how things would be like five years from now but to those moments with what’s-his-name.
In attempting not to be feminist – which I am not by now, at least not an extremist – I can’t help but think to myself, why women? Why is it that our kind end up with all this suffering? Is it because biologically we are emotionally stronger and therefore have the capacity to uphold such trauma or is it because we are supposedly stronger otherwise too as a result of the XX combination.
Maybe it does come down to biology. We have the XX factor. Boys have the XY. Bastards have one less (e)X to worry about.
Freud said that anatomy is destiny. Guess he at least got that theory correct.