Today, for the first time in weeks, I opened my Twitter and the biggest trending topic didn’t make me want to cry.
All in Life Notes
I Speak for Myself: Why Men Need to Respect Women's "No"
Summer is here, and short skirts, tank tops, and sundresses are back in fashion. For most heterosexual men, this is a thing to celebrate. Most women are a bit more undecided about their sentiments toward ‘sundress weather’. You see, as the temperatures and hemlines rise, so do cat calls, lewd looks and the occurrences of “let me talk to you for a minute.” As a woman, I’ve come to expect this, and have made a sort of peace with it. What I’ve struggled to do is perfect my method of polite rejection. I’ve written about this before, and I must say, my method has not much improved. Being approached by men can be flattering, but more often than not, it’s frustrating because women are left to figure out how to say “no”, and have that “no” be heard and respected.
The standard response is “I have a boyfriend.” It feels safe and foolproof, or at least it used to, until dudes got wise and started asking why they couldn’t befriend you. But aside from its effectiveness, or lack thereof, I stumbled across another reason why women should stop using their boyfriends, real or imaginary, as a means of rejecting men who approach them
Got Peter Pan Syndrome: Here's How to Get Over it and Accept Growing Up
I distinctly remember being little and always wanting to be older. As a kid, I wanted to be a teen; as a teen I wanted to be an adult. Adulthood seemed like a magical land where you got to make your own decisions and live by your own rules. You could have Frosted Flakes for dinner, go to bed at 3am, wake up at noon and wear pyjamas all day. Adulthood was that fantastic place where no one could tell you what to do, send you to your room, or force you to make polite conversation with people you didn’t like. Adulthood was the goal. I don’t know many kids who didn’t think, “I can’t wait to be a grown up.” I certainly did. I longed for independence and the freedom to do as I pleased.
And then one day, it happened to me. I was a grown up. I lived on my own, I ate what I wanted, slept for too many hours or none at all, and came and went as I pleased. And it was glorious, for a time. And then along came bills and rent and taxes and grocery lists and laundry piles and a job I disliked and forced polite conversation with the people who signed my pay cheque and essay due dates and all-nighters and student debt. Along came reality.