Column: Bimbos, ‘bottom girls’ and the ugly reality of misogyny in our justice system
When I first started dating my boyfriend, I had a lot of misconceptions about what kind of partner I was: that he would be one of those men who was going to be like, “Well, I don’t date girls. I don’t like to have a girlfriend.” (He did, so I’ll let that slide.) Or that he would only ever want me for a one-night stand. (Well, he did, so I’ll let that slide.)
But, in some ways, I also got some of those expectations wrong. I think I misread those stereotypes as to what kind of man I needed to be in order to be with my boyfriend.
And then there was my boyfriend’s girlfriend.
I knew of this girl as well as I knew, well, myself. We had met in school. We had talked at my brother’s funeral. I had been texting her for a few weeks before we went out on our first official date. We had slept together. We had not just gone to bed and talked the next morning for 30 minutes. I had never felt this way before with a girl before.
She was the kind of girl I thought I’d like: very pretty, very sweet, very funny, very sexy. If I had to pick a few things about this girl, it was that she was funny and sweet and sexy. And yet, the night that I went out on my first date with her, I found myself saying the opposite of what I had said to my friends and family about her: she was “not right for me.”
The way that I talked about her to my friends and family was, to be blunt, ignorant. And yet I could see in their eyes that they were trying to understand but didn’t have a clue. It wasn’t just that there was a lot to take in about her: she was