Of Chicks & Conical Flasks.

I’ve always kind of known that being a woman has its powerful pros in getting what you want. Not that I ever knew how to implement it, but needless to say those who do have never failed to instil a sense of awe in me. I’ve always wanted to be able to do that, manipulate what i want out of people…but it never quite worked. I’ve had my phases of blaming it on age, stupidity and last but not least, that i’m probably a dude at heart after all. What’s the point to being a chick if i’m not actively using it? And I don’t mean the bitchy sense. I actually mean emotionally extorting people in a way that makes them feel it is their duty to provide with what you wish and be happy about it. It’s almost a superpower, something you might expect of a science fiction movie where the hero radiates an aura towards creatures and they momentarily start tending to your wishes as if under the imperius curse, and then they feel like they’ve contributed to humanity by making it happen. Like when jean-baptiste made a perfume out of beautiful virgins in ‘Perfume’, and he had two choices:

‘He still had enough perfume left to enslave the whole world if he so chose. He could walk to Versailles and have the king kiss his feet. He could write the pope a perfumed letter and reveal himself as the new Messiah. He could do all this, and more, if he wanted to. He possessed a power stronger than the power of money, or terror, or death - the invincible power to command the love of man kind. There was only one thing the perfume could not do. It could not turn him into a person who could love and be loved like everyone else. So, to hell with it he thought. To hell with the world. With the perfume. With himself. Within no time, Jean-Baptiste Grenouille had disappeared from the face of the earth. When they had finished, they felt a virginal glow of happiness. For the first time in their lives, they believed they had done something purely out of love.’

There are so many rules, to being a chick i mean. Unwritten rules that you’re supposed to inherently know. So many rules that make me feel glitched in every way possible. And not in the way that an update can fix.

It scares me sometimes.

It scares me to know that I’m gonna have to be able to do that at one point of my life, when i know for a fact that I’m enough of an idiot not to know where to start and everything is gonna settle, as always, on blowing up in my face like an acid that you rushed into a conical flask. What i mean is that, if you’re a chick, then you’re intrinsically set to know the rate at which to add that acid. You’re supposed to know that kind of shit to survive. But I don’t. I really don’t. Where does that leave me?