Have you ever wished you were a boy?

Of course, the question is mainly addressed to the ladies reading this blog 🙂

Why would I ask something like this? Because I, as many other fellow women, have some preconceived ideas about men (boys, men, same thing… most of them never grow up anyway), ideas born out of life and observation (don’t I sound so wise) and exacerbated by emotion.

I keep reading the book I mentioned in yesterday’s post, and some things strike me. I am only halfway through the first of ten psychoanalytical stories, and it is the one giving the title of the book: “Love’s Executioner.” It is about a woman in her seventies, having a love obsession. The woman says “I am living my life eight years ago” (when she had had the love story that ended inexplicably – at his decision) and her therapist (the author) ponders that she will never get over her love obsession until she strips her former lover of his power over her – until she stops caring about what he would think, and about him in general. I thought a lot about this, because it’s something I struggle with a lot – of course, there is a long way to go from just suffering to developing a love obsession, but there are common characteristics worth exploring. The therapist said something that kept my attention for a long time. He thought that she was not even living in the present any more, choosing instead to relive her past love affair and miss everything that was happening in the here and now. I realize that I sometimes do the same: no matter how much fun there is around me, I can’t pull myself out of my own head enough to enjoy it.

The therapist also said that every psychologist is interested in problems that he or she experiences personally (of course, aren’t we all just a bit more interested in ourselves than others?) and that one’s own experience of problems can help shed light on the patient’s problems in therapy (for example, this therapist had had a love obsession himself). So maybe I’ll become a relationship counselor. (I don’t want to know what my closest friends think about that. Really, I don’t)

So I get to the reasoning behind the title of my entry. I believe that women and men feel differently. They most certainly act and react differently, and I think that reflects exactly what goes on behind their eyes. I wish I could experience that ease, that lightness, that carelessness that I see in them, just for a little while. To be able to wash away everything but my innermost feelings, my deepest desires.

The poor woman (in the story) tried to commit suicide because she was so desperate. Do you think a man would EVER do that for a woman? Let me answer that for you: NO. I am not saying I agree with what she did, and in fact I am completely against suicide. All I am saying is that women feel more than men do (in general). And I wish there was a way to control that.