My most fabulous bestest friend in the whole world just gave me a book featured from the insanely popular television programme, Sex and the City (perhaps, you’ve heard of it?). Now, that I have stayed up reading the entire night, whilst the sun rose and the birds chirped their birdy songs, I can only say that I knew all along how relationships should work. Greg, one of the authors of this fine book, echoes this same sentiment. Well, he does not actually echo, it’s more of blare – like a huge PA announcement at a county fair. He asserts that women know deep down inside that we ought to be treated better, but for some unknown reason carry on with substandard relationships. We, women know how we are supposed to be treated. It is an innate trait. We know when we are being given the short end of the stick. It’s just like in grade school during gym class, when you’re always picked last for the soccer team. Okay, that’s a really obvious example. But, it’s the same feeling.
I was mortified the entire time while I was reading. Not only did I feel like an idiot for falling for so many of these pathetic excuses numerous times, I realized that everyone else seems to fall for the same crap numerous times, too. And to make matters worse, many of the examples from the book were very black and white. The women were OBVIOUSLY being mistreated. In the past, discussing these types of things with my girlfriends seemed so much more complicated. That feeling of superiority resulting from disdain towards these women for allowing this behaviour quickly vapourized after I realized that my own thinking about the situation made it “complicated.” I had managed to muddy the clear lines of black and white into gray.
Greg’s writing was succinct and to the point which probably helped clear out the voices of my girlfriends trying to speak over each to get their two cents in. Don’t get me wrong. I love my girlfriends. They have always given me solid advice. But, sometimes your girlfriends are in the dark as much as you are. Well, after completing each chapter, my brain’s knowledge box regarding men had been dismantled; the authors then swooped in at the ending with an affirmation, rescuing my wounded spirit. I thought those compliments were really important, not only because they kept me from putting the book down, but because I arrived at the end of each chapter feeling pretty terrible. I felt so terribly stupid, that I should have responded by doing something equally as stupid, like leaning out of a moving car in order to drag my face along the asphalt. Why did I feel terrible? I felt terrible because I thought I knew what was going on with men, when in reality I hadn’t the faintest clue. I had managed to deceive myself. And millons of other women were doing the same thing.
In closing, the book was a Godsend via my bestest friend in the whole world.