The Durability of Invulnerability

The Durability of Invulnerability

Since birth I've been cultured to be strong, independent, smart, witty, and most importantly impenetrable. Early in my youth my mother warned against the "evils" of men, and how one knick, one crack, one scratch in my personal armor could lead to my own tragic downfall. "Never allow yourself to be vulnerable." She would warn me. "Be knowledgeable of the one your with, be a fortress don't give your heart away, its not a trinket." So I built walls, high, impermeable, sky scraping walls that shelter me from the anxiety of being vulnerable. But when would it be okay to let the walls down? Would there ever come a time that I could find comfort and security in being vulnerable?
     Naturally, in simply being female, our sex is the textbook definition of vulnerability. Our bodies were sculpted to be penetrable, our clothing fashioned to market our goods, our lifestyles cultured to include a marriage and a husband to provide security. Our grand design revolves around who will take care of us next. Our father will "give us" away to our husbands. Our husbands will love us, provide us with a home, and take care of his family. Yet with the slow decay of our society, it is more likely to find the alpha man. The man who preys on your natural vulnerability and leaves you broken, apprehensive, and scared. So what do I do? Date . . . a lot!?!?!?!?
     Dating was always hard, attractions can be so misleading. Gorgeous man, great job, but he can't stop looking at my b***s. Gorgeous man, no job, and he won't stop asking me for money. Decent man, good job, but he can't seem to communicate well with me. Unattractive man, great job, but he won't stop talking about himself. Then I found the one, or at least, I think he's the one. The decent man, who has a decent job, and talks with me and not to me. I'm content with my choice, and feel a spark, but of course for my own safety, I don't fan a flame. I try to draw him in and learn all I can about him. Its like a research project, because the more you know about a person, the more sense you can make of that person. There are a lot of questions, I've never been afraid to ask questions; the problematic past relationship questions; the painstaking family history questions; and the breakdown of personal character questions. I asked plenty of them and repeatedly, I'd blamed it on poor memory; but its mostly to see if there was consistency in his answers. As crazy as it might seem, looking back, that constant barrage of questions was like the communicative building blocks to our relationship. Also, in knowing silly tid-bits of past facts, I would already be holding the answer to future problems.
     So time passed and our relationship continued; while I dispense out as much emotion as I could without losing control of myself or my feelings. But soon it began to appear obvious that I was holding back and not free falling into love like I should have been. One of the first life lessons I've learned about men is: men are not jerks without reason; and the mostly likely of these reasons is that their feeling have been hurt. Being a jerk is the most masculine means of recovery. If a girl hurt a man's feelings, then he'd call her a trashy name. If a girl doesn't reciprocate a man's affection, then he'll make fun of her appearance. My boyfriend was becoming a jerk, which I would blame on himself; because accepting blame would open me up to a slew of self-analyzation that I was just not ready for. He'd say "I think I'm falling in love with you," and I'd smile sweetly and say, "okay." Then he'd make a few faces, which would be proceeded by forgotten phone calls and purposely missed outings. Which lead me to my second life lesson I've learned about men: Women speak their emotions; a woman might say "I like you" or "you've made me angry." Men exemplify their emotions; to say they like you, you might get candy or flowers; to say their angry at you, you might get ignored, or made to feel jealous.
     The dilemma was he wanted to fall blindly in love; and I wanted to charter the course, making sure there was enough supplies for the ride, a life boat, or an available port where I could get off. So the big question came, could I let go? Could I be the women he wanted me to be? Could I let go of the woman I had molded so meticulously with a masses of thick, reinforced layers of invincible tenacity?
 
When that one life defining crossroad of a moment comes in your life you never forget it. What do you do when you are asked to make a decision that will impact the rest of your life and your so north and south that you don’t know which way to go? What do you say when someone asks you to love them to the equivalency of which you love yourself? Under comprehensive law, I enacted the universal precautionary answer to all questions asked by persons of direct authority in relative merit of various method of idealistic debate. I don’t know.
I don’t know, is the answer I gave to the man, who offered me his love; I don’t know, is the answer I gave to man who offered me his life; I don’t know, is the answer I gave to the man who offered me his heart and soul; And I don’t know is the answer that the man who offered everything, gave to me when I asked him to keep waiting. 
I wish that I could tell you that our relationship had a fairytale ending. That we are happily married, I now the coveted owner of his last name, and he the blissful father of our baby. But fairytale endings are few and far between; and another woman who could love faster, harder, and better than I could ever, has taken my place. Yet, I can tell you that I have learned the most valuable lesson, anyone could ever be taught. Fall into love, fall blindly, fall hopelessly, fall miserably and except your consequences. Be they merry and eventful, or bleak and deceptive. These walls, these 8^th world wonder walls that have kept me so well protected from the evil that is love; these walls, that have left me a enigmatic queen on her impenetrable thrown, should have crumbled long ago. And I, with my prison issue spoon begin the overdue task of attempting to break free of my own imprisonment.