The irony’s not lost on me that since I’ve started my blog (a week ago, mind you) that I’ve gotten a large following of men. (237 yesterday, actually.) 237 men who liked my picture, who didn’t read a damn word I wrote, who sent me “hey beautiful” messages, and photos of flowers and their bare chests.
Oh my god– it’s online dating hell all over again.
Interestingly, I am not impacted by this fact as negatively as I might have been in the past. It doesn’t hurt my feelings, because at this point I understand, accept even, that men care 99.9% for the package, and it’s a given that they won’t take the time to figure out what I’m about before cat-calling.
(And, really, I thank God for that. If there’d been a decent man in sight any time in the last twenty years, there’d be no Sassy Spinster, and I rather like her.)
But I do notice my new “friends,” “fans,” “admirers,” whatever I am to call them. It makes me smile. Maybe because of the comic irony. Here I am writing about how ridiculous it is to live in a world where men don’t bother to get to know me, and only look at my body. And here I have this pack of wolves following me, proving my point exactly by drooling and panting over a photograph, without even bothering to see what I have to say, if we have anything in common before sending virtual flowers.
It’s justifying in a way, too. 237 likes in one day is a pretty strong statistic to prove my point. On that same day, my blog got six hits. Six! Do the math.
That percentage margin is the likelihood that any woman can meet a man who will take the time to see her as a person rather than a joy ride. That percentage gives me, my blog, my existence as Sassy Spinster 100% legitimacy. It says “Look, world, this is real. This is the world we live in.” And that feels great. To be justified. To know that I am not making it up. This isn’t a matter of perspective or the weird anomaly of a place I may live. This situation is.
Well, I am starting to feel downright smug. So, I leave you with this number: 2.5%
Yeah, I did the math. A mere 3%. (I’m being generous and rounding up– and by not counting the fact that at least one of those blog hits was my mom or my best friend.) A mere 3% of people I– every woman maybe– meet on a daily basis see me, her, us, as more than an object. That’s a pretty stark figure.
Think about it.