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Beauty is a curse. That statement may make a few people mad. I’m not trying to be vain, or brag, or anything like that. Some people seriously don’t know the struggle. I’m not saying I’m any Angelina Jolie or Kate Upton. But I have always drawn a man’s attention. I turn heads. I haven’t figured out yet if it’s looks or vibes. 

I can remember for a period of about 10 years, whenever I went to a function in town, if one certain man was there, I could feel him looking at me. I honestly don’t know how his wife never saw it, or anyone else for that matter. Well, one night we were at a party and I had quite a bit to drink, so I asked him why he was always staring at me. He said I stood out in a crowd. Now mind you, I took that as a high compliment. And for my low self-esteem issues, I’m not going to lie, it felt wonderful!

I remember one particular day I had attended a football game and was at the post-party. There were probably hundreds of people there, mingling and drinking and having a good time. I was standing in the drink line and a gentleman struck up a conversation with me. We talked for several minutes and he told me I could have any guy I wanted here. A place filled with older and young, fit, attractive men. Well, another stroke for my limp ego. 

I have had so many men over the course of my life (and women too, to be quite honest) tell me how beautiful I was.

Men 20 years older, men 20 years younger. But along with that has come this huge insecurity. I was married to a man for many years, who didn’t appreciate me. Honestly, I was just someone to fill the role of cook, maid, and sex partner. When we were first married, he would get very angry if I didn’t have sex with him. He would even use scripture against me to get what he wanted. I got to the point where I didn’t want to face his anger, so I just gave in. I let him use me. Sometimes I would even pretend I was asleep, but he didn’t care. Afterward, I would get up, go to the bathroom, and cry on the floor. I look back now and know that was abuse. I’m no longer in that marriage, but things still are challenging.

I’ve given myself some time to heal and decided to try out some dating websites. I’m sure there are some decent men on them. But the only ones I seem to attract are looking for hookups. NSA, POA, ONS. Oh yes, even the “Christian” ones. And that’s just not me. I lived like that for over 20 years, being used. With the man who was supposed to love and cherish me forever. 

Funny thing is, I’ve noticed a pattern lately; that all of these men attack at the same time! I mean, is it the moon or what? I have likened it to wolves, and I am the female in heat. I will get several text messages within a two- or three-day period from several different men. And I’m not even going out or anything, just sitting at home minding my own business. 

And I know what you might be thinking, oh, boohoo. Cry me a river. Well, here lies the problem.

When a man does show interest, I don’t trust him. I don’t know if I ever will.

What am I going to do when or if the right one comes along? And I swear they have gotten craftier. The time and effort some put into it would blow your mind. They tell you what the “good guys” used to tell you. Do I attract a certain type of man? Is there something tattooed on my forehead? I’ve joked about that for years. And I don’t dress in a way that is inappropriate. I think I dress attractive but stylish. 

I’m generally a pretty nice person. I say hi to everyone I meet. Has kindness become so rare that people confuse it for flirting? Honestly, I am thankful God made me the way I am. I like the way I look. I’ve probably put on weight thinking maybe it would discourage unwanted advances, both from my ex-husband and other men. But they honestly don’t care. I’m starting to feel like I need to change who I am, which I don’t want to do. 

My hope is I can teach my son that women are not sex objects. They have feelings. They are beautiful human beings who are to be respected and appreciated and never used. I may not be able to control other men, but I certainly have some control over the one I’m raising. 

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

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