Grey is a Dangerous Color
Sometimes I prefer having things black and white, like what time the babysitter will show up or how much the sheet cake from the local bakery will actually cost. Sometimes I prefer shades of grey, like am I actually a size ten (I know one designer who says so) or am I an awesome writer (I know at least my mom thinks so.) But grey can be a dangerous color.
Grey allows for disparity, relativism, and deception. We think we like grey because it enables us to have control and believe what we choose, but more often than not it is a guise that leaves us confused and discontent.
The growing trend among women has been lost on few. My gender has found pleasure in a genre of literature and media that has resulted in the investment of much time and money. The modern woman has sent her message to Hollywood and the pop culture powers that be. She will not be disappointed in the days ahead. Or will she?
I’ll be honest. I have not seen or read any of the media that I am referring to. And if you are unaware, back out of this blog and stay there. I have heard plenty, though. My twitter and Facebook newsfeeds abound with posts of how awesome this new experience is.
I have a secret. I know why we want it. I know why spending ten bucks on a Friday night to watch a scripted romance sounds like the best GNO…ever! Because the man in the movie doesn’t make me bear my soul. I don’t have to be vulnerable. I don’t even have to be available. I can experience the emotion, the love, the longing without even having to participate. We want intimacy, but we don’t want to have to risk to get it. We feel safe.
I’m tired of battling our culture. I made a vow to my man sixteen years ago that I intend to keep. It has been hard. When he used to travel, I would rent chick flicks to watch after the kids were in bed. I was lonely and missed my husband. A nice romance would make me feel better. But, it didn’t. By the end of the movie I would be making a list of all the things my husband didn’t do right. So, I stopped watching…at least by myself when my mind would breed discontent.
And now I’m faced with the choice in current pop culture to utilize BDSM media for pure enjoyment, and even hang with my girlfriends while partaking. I choose not. Anything worth having is worth working for. Forget that artificial, fleeting other man. He’s made of plastic. I will continue to build a relationship with my husband. I will continue to trust him as he continues to trust me, even if that means that I might be hurt or inflict hurt. I am not OK with the notion of my husband using porn of any sort. I don’t want to be compared and end up in bed with a discontent man. Why would I do the same to him? We all have choices. I choose intimacy.