A damsel in distress…

…is not always in distress.

It’s difficult to not detest women who use a façade of fragility to get their way as these women tend to manipulate situations to the disadvantage of others. I used to fume pointlessly with the question of ‘how could they live with themselves’, but now I’m a little wiser and I realise that these women were merely being tactical. If you had a weapon at your disposal, it would seem ridiculous not to utilise it to its fullest potential.

And fact of the matter is, in majority of situations, they manipulated very willing participants. I used to feel sorry for these so-called victims. But these days, I just feel slightly annoyed by their lack of awareness.

I know at this point you would be asking – is she getting to her point at some point? (how many times can you use the word ‘point’ in one sentence? haha!) My point is: I am neither a damsel in distress nor do I aspire to be manipulative but every once in a while, it would be nice to uhh…be ‘looked after’ (without requesting it of course). The romanticism associated with being rescued and treated like a princess is hard to resist. Not every day, because really, it can get a tad annoying to be revered after awhile but you know, once a blue moon, I don’t mind a bit of Disney magic in my life.

Problem is, after years and years of being the opposite of fragile – you know, independent, opinionated, purposeful (also others have used ‘intimidating’ and ‘aggressive’ as less attractive terms to describe me, boo-bloody-hoo), people assume that I am fine all the time.

This couldn’t be further from the truth.

Sometimes I just want to curl up in a ball and cry. Sometimes I wish someone would tell me even if I fall apart, it’ll be ok. Sometimes I just want someone else to do the worrying, the thinking, the doing, the driving. I think I speak for all strong women out there…it would be nice to be treated like we have a semblance of female vulnerability occasionally. What a contradiction, you might say. How bloody confusing. How freaking inconvenient. I wish I was simpler. But that’s like wishing for the sun to stop shining (although why would you? hmm).

Don’t misunderstand me though, I don’t want to be Cinderella and I don’t want a Prince Charming. I would like Elizabeth Bennet’s self confidence and Mr’s Darcy respect for her intelligence and wit…Scarlett O’Hara’s candor and Rhett Butler’s admiration for her will to survive….Hermione Granger’s steadfast reliability and Harry Potter’s protectiveness of her (I know she doesn’t end up with Harry but hey, it could have been a plot mismatch).

Sure, sure, these are all fictional characters but fiction imitates reality, yes? Or maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic (keyword: hopeless) and these unrealistic expectations will be the cause of catastrophic disappointment when I’m 80. Who knows?

I certainly don’t.






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