Independent woman, throw your hand up in frustration!

I just got myself a new phone and, right now, I do not know whether to rejoice or be sad at how I accomplished this feat- through my own sweat.

In my mature life, I can count on one one hand how many gifts I have received from paramours. This should be a good thing, right? Because it speaks these of me: I am not demanding, greedy or materialistic. However, this is not to say that girls who receive gifts from their boyfriends are all of these. I think the mere fact that someone gifts you with something speaks of how much you are appreciated and respected- depending on the circumstances  surrounding the gifting.

Be that as it may, the fact that I have rarely received gifts from my boyfriends also shows (most importantly) my independent spirit.

The problem with this last one is that in some cultures- mine, for example- this is a huge sin. An independent woman is an anathema. It is almost as worse as stating that you are homosexual. These two and others like them go against the natural order of things which support procreation and “the family”.

So, rather than rejoice in my independence and sound out the virtues in not being materialistic and being considerate, I am forced by the tenets of my society to hang my head in shame as I bear in my mind statements that condemn my status.

“I am too strong-willed to keep a man or get his respect.”
“No man likes me enough to get me gifts, even give me his attention or tolerate my independence.”
“I push them away with my independence.” And God forbid I remain unmarried for the rest of my natural life. Oh what a shame!”
“I do not behave like a woman.”

The last statement should get its own special award. In fact, it should be framed and hoisted onto my wall like the scarlet letter so that all chauvinistic (brutal) male-males can point at it in derision and the wilting feminine-females can smile smugly in disgust.

Frankly speaking, there are some days that all these get to me especially when I allow myself be overcome by loneliness. Other days, I am like a lioness defending my territory. I’ll rather my freedom than submit to a bunch of silliness. And if being smarter than most men makes me an untouchable, so be it!

But, alas, today is one of the former.

As I flaunt my “expensive” phone I get the inevitable question, “Where did you get it from?” And with silent apology to the rest of my fiercily independent females, I reply without batting an eyelid, “My imaginary boyfriend bought it for me.”

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