The "Social Constructs" of Society

Like it or not, society holds women to a higher standard when it comes to dating, partying, hanging out with friends, or just about anything that falls within the basic "social constructs" that we dictate.  Call it sexist, unfair, or just flat out wrong, more is expected out of a woman than a man in a social setting.  The thing is though, both sexes are guilty of these heightened expectations.  Who are the first people to point out the babe wearing the too short dress, or low cut shirt?  Women.  Who generally gossips about the seemingly shameless girl who is sleeping around?  Once again, the answer is almost always women.  Not to say that men are blameless.  We expect girls to be subtly seductive and yet not slutty.  We demand that a woman give us our space to be "men" and yet we assume that whenever we are in need she will respond with resourcefulness and ingenuity.  

I never said it was fair.  Quite simply, I can't imagine the pressure.  Despite this, I have to admit, I expect a woman to at least try to live up to these expectations.  I realize none of us are perfect.  I make mistakes, and so will any girl that I date.  However, society has taught me to look for certain attributes in anyone I consider dating.  When we go out, I assume that she will drink, but not so much that she losses control.  When we enter a room, I expect everyone's head to turn in awe of the beauty I've managed to make mine, but I don't want anyone to mutter the word "slut" upon our entrance.  When the night is through, I want her to show me how badly she wants me, but not so much that I don't take time to cherish every moment for fear that it could be the last.  

To be honest, I am unsure if this is too much to ask.  However, for better or worse, I believe it can be accomplished.  Furthermore, I suspect that society has dictated that women be held to a higher standard.  In return, I try to give something back.  I do my best to be intellectual, charming, and charismatic.  It may not be a fair, but I don't make the rules.  I just live by them.

The Reality of Love

This summer I have dipped into the seedy underbelly of community college.  Having lost credits upon transferring schools, sucking it up and taking a summer class became a necessity.  I choose public speaking not only because it was guaranteed to transfer, but also because I figured it would be exceptionally easy.  Thus far, my prediction has been accurate and I have breezed through the first few weeks without so much as cracking a book.  

Three days a week I go to class and am given fairly obvious advice on rhythm, poise, and diction that most of my fellow classmates can't quite seem to grasp.  For most, the seemingly repetitive nature of the class would be rather dull, but every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday I awake with a certain curious excitement.  I have been through countless hours of high school, attended classes at two reputable colleges, and studied with friends from all over the world, and yet there is nothing quite like community college.  The class is full of college dropouts who fancy themselves as "hipsters" questioning the social construct of education while at the same time puttering through the very system that they carry such disdain for, and middle aged women going through a mid-life crisis, hoping that education will be the key in redefining themselves.  We often do b.s. group work and I mutter comments about the class being a complete joke while others look at me startled, because to them giving a five minute lecture or writing an analysis on some famous speech is pretty damn arduous.  

What interests me though is not what the professor forces down our throats during lecture, but rather what I learn from those around me.  I always seem to end up in the same group working with the mother of two who met her husband in the 7th grade, the divorced Russian who has teenagers and seems fascinated by my experiences with the opposite sex, and the woman in her 50s with a seemingly endless supply of tales about men.  I find it unusual how comfortable they all seem with me.  Surprisingly however, their stories of love, men, and sex don't revolve around romantic dinners and passionate encounters, but rather about disappointment and heartbreak.  Through all the failure a certain animosity has grown.  Gone from their minds is the possibility that a man can not only be your lover, but your best friend as well.  Instead are the stories of men standing them up on dates, and as they like to say "constantly thinking with their dicks."  To them, men are selfish, and incapable of any real emotion.  Its as if their heart has been broken one too many times, and the romantic notion of love that they must have once had is gone and irreplaceable.  

I find it sad that they think of men this way.  They are so convinced that they are even comfortable sharing their beliefs with me.  Now it is obvious that I haven't always been the best dater.  I've cheated on high school girlfriends, and hooked up with girls in college and then never called, but I like to think that a piece of all of us is capable of raw and boundless love.  When expressing this opinion, my classmates label me a "romantic" and "too young and innocent" to really know what love is all about.  If this is true, I hope for my sake I never discover the truth.  I'd much rather live in illusion, than deal with the reality that they face.