My first boyfriend and I broke up five years ago today. Our relationship lasted about four years, but I let him control my heart for six and a half years total. Of those five years since he dumped me, I have spent only three not considering a future with him to be a serious option. I think an appropriate way to celebrate this anniversary is to explore the positive ways that I have changed since then.
The biggest way I have changed is I do not have many absolutes that I believe in anymore. I can see all the different ways that people show their love for one another that I could not see before. Then, I could only see how I loved and did not understand other people could not and did not always express their love in the way that I did. I believed in things without thinking about them. For example, I did not like listening to a lot of rap or hip-hop because I believed it disrespected women. They had too many references to bitches and whores. Now, I can understand those references are just a small part of the picture. Rap and hip-hop are much more than what I thought they were.
When we broke up, I had almost no sexual experiences with other men. I saw myself as too fat to be attractive. Overtime, I have come to terms with my body and I know there are men who would even call me hot. On bad days, I still think of myself as fat but usually I can recognize having some extra weight is not the same as fat. My ex-boyfriend’s perception of beauty was strange, to say the least, and I constantly interpreted his lack of opinion to mean I was not attractive. I have heard enough appreciative outbursts from drunk strangers (and occasionally sober ones) to know that this is not true. To some degree, I have even begun to believe it myself and look forward to the day that I no longer need to hear from someone else to know that it is true.
Now, I am okay living by myself. I still have a long ways to go to become the person that I want to be, but I know I can do it and I know I can survive the small tragedies in life. I was a mess when I first found myself sleeping in bed alone. However, I have no regrets and I’m glad that our relationship is over.

Why does it seem like men have so much less to worry about when it comes to sex than women? For me, as a woman, sex can be dangerous and demoralizing. But I don’t see men experiencing the same problems that women experience. Diseases such as HPV, gonorrhea and chlamydia all cause more problems for women than for men. Additionally, it is more likely that a woman will catch something from a man than vice versa. And then there’s pregnancy, a condition which brings so many health risks along with whatever blessings an individual may choose to see in it.
All of these are concrete, measurable dangers to women that aren’t as threatening to men. Of course, sex poses certain measurable dangers to men, but my point is they seem to be greater for women. The mental and emotional dangers also seem to be greater. Maybe this has to do with the roles society has established for males and females. Maybe it has to do with the already-mentioned physical dangers. But sex seems to be more thoroughly intertwined with a woman’s emotions.
I’m not talking about the belief that most women think sex cannot exist without love. Sure, there are probably women that believe that and some men, too. No, what I’m talking about goes deeper than that.
In my experience, men can be pushy. I’m a passive person and when I’m drunk and/or exhausted, it is just easier to give in then to keep saying no or run away. Believe me, I understand the implications of what I’m saying and what it reveals about me, but I want to make a point. Most of the time, when I reflect on a particular encounter I find myself thinking it was fun at the moment but not something I particularly want to do again. However, other times, I find myself viewing an encounter as a reflection of my self-image. But, oddly, it doesn’t seem to bother the man (or men) who was involved.
How is it that immediately after and even during sex I am infuriated at both him and myself? Him for having pushed me and pushed me and refusing to hear me say, “no, I don’t feel like it” or “no, I really don’t like doing it that way” and myself for not having stood my ground and eventually just giving into him. Yet, he is completely fine, asking me if I had fun, even calling me a couple hours later and asking for more. Unbelievable! Not only was I clearly not into it the first time, I also clearly said it would not ever happen again.
Inevitably, some people are going to think, “well, if you gave in once, he thinks you’ll do it again.” So, that excuses someone who calls himself my friend from continuously disregarding what I am saying?
I am thinking the differences between men and women when it comes to sex have less to do with biology and more to do with society. I do not get upset about the actual sex itself. I get upset about how it occurred. Our society and a lot of other societies are sexist. It is more overt in some than in others, but it is there.
Personally, I don’t believe that men truly respect women. This even more emphasized when it comes to sex. Men aren’t usually called home-wreckers. A man is a player while a woman is a slut. When the majority of people view gender roles this way, it is exceedingly difficult to find a sexual relationship with a man who doesn’t in some way find it easier to justify his own promiscuity than that of whomever he is fucking.
In such an environment, it would be impossible not to be emotional. It is infuriating so many people do the same thing you do with less consequences simply because they are men. It is infuriating that such a pleasurable activity can become so dangerous just because you are a woman. And it is even more infuriating that some people actually believe this is the way it should be, a natural division between the genders.