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My Not-So Secret Weapon
My Not-So Secret Weapon
I have a weapon that I've never fully realized how to use. I've used it on a regular basis since I was 14 years old, but I've never mastered the fucking thing. I've never figured out how to wield it's awesome power, to know which degree to use it and when. I thought at different points in my life that I had it down, but then dynamics would change, and I'd have to start collecting data all over again.
My weapon, all women's weapon, is the vagina.
Men will do crazy things for the vagina. When you're younger, they'll do your homework, defend you when you're being attacked, take you places and buy you things. All at the prospect of getting at the vagina. When you're older it's essentially the same scenerio, except that homework transforms into the menial tasks in the workplace, defending you is followed by comforting you after break-ups with assholes, and well, taking you places and buying you things. But instead of prospect, it becomes intention.
The penis has long been thought of as the genital symbol of power. But it's far too vulnerable to have earned that title. When flacid, it is practically defenseless, rendered into a comical figure that looks old, despite however young its bearer might be. When erect, it holds a varying degree of power. It can come in all shapes and sizes. It can be judged too short or too thin (it can also be seen conversely, but those instances are few and far between). It can be too veiny or too wrinkly; It can look too curved, have too bulbous a head. The penis is wildly unpredictable. How can something so inconsistant be considered a symbol of power?
The vagina, on the other hand, remains essentially the same. Sure, the vulva (outer lips for those of you who didn't attend health class) can vary, but the treasure remains the same. Warm, moist, comforting. It envelopes, it draws in, it seduces. The vagina is a syren in the form of a body part. Except that no amount of closing your eyes or plugging your ears will shield you to its song. The vagina is a fun toy for both boys and girls. The vagina is universal in its power and appeal. The importance of the vagina is undeniable.
So why do I not understand how to harness the power of mine? Why do so many women fall into the same pitfall that I do? What are we not doing right?
The main issue is the question of accessability. When is the right time to unleash the power of the vagina? If revealed too early, does that diminish its power? And I refuse to believe that there are a large number of women out there that do not cave to the vagina themselves. I can swallow that there are a small percentage out there that are deaf, dumb and blind to the intense draw of lust, but I firmly believe that the average woman wants to use her vagina as often as a man wants a crack at it. So then, how does a women go about denying her own urges, if only to harness the power? How do we figure out when it's the right time?
I have spent my life in a state of what I thought was a one-two whammy. My mind was its own powerful weapon. My sense of humour my armor. My lust for life my shield. And my sword, my vagina, I always had at the ready. I had non-tangible power in addition to the power of my genitalia. That should have been enough to make them all crazy. But I always seem to slice with my sword too soon. Call it bloodlust or just plaid lust. I was always eager to swing it around. And I liked to. Fuck, I loved to. And I still do.
Ah, but therein lies the problem. The resulting wounds of these swings varied wildly. Some lay dead before me, their spirits left to haunt me and drive me mad. Some were severely wounded, and while they enjoyed the battle, they forever blamed me for their pain. (And whining is so fucking annoying.) Some came away with mere scratches. I always liked these best. The bounce-backers. But after awhile, one tires of battle, and it no longer feels fulfilling. Finally, there were the ones who were able to deflect my blows and wind up unscathed. I chased these for far too long. I've had a couple of Moby Dick's in my life, and they drove me mad in a way that the spirits never could. They owned my soul.
So, what is the key? How can I wield my power and not be consumed by it? I suppose the better question is: What do I want my power to yield? Do I simply want recognition for the intense force that it is? Do I crave control? (That one is easy... I always crave control.) What is it? Because it really sucks to possess the greatest WMD of all time, and not have a fucking instruction manual.
Yet, it is fun pushing all the buttons to figure out what they do.....