A beautiful woman sits alone, watching wax drip from the dying candle at the center of her table. Outside, rain starts to pour, but the tears that threaten to cascade from her eyes could rival any storm. She spends all morning carefully preparing the elaborate meal now growing cold and stale in the oven, and all afternoon delicately curling her hair into an elaborate up-do that she’s long since pulled down. Her head rests wearily in the crook of her arm while her eyes gaze longingly at the silent telephone resting on the counter. There are no missed calls. There are no messages. Perhaps she’ll wake up early the next morning to a text-messaged excuse—if she’s lucky. However, tonight there’ll be no rose to place in a vase at the center of the table, no gazing into her lover’s eyes, and no security in imagining he cares.
One woman’s suffering is heartbreaking. However, when one considers that any woman can relate to this experience on a personal level, the situation goes from depressing to downright tragic. Why must women have to devote themselves so hopelessly to men that just don’t care? Are we incapable of shielding ourselves from the sting of unrequited love? If men can easily walk out of our lives without looking back then, certainly, we must be capable of doing the same.
When I was very young I learned that there are a number of ways to take these otherwise unfavorable instances and twist them to my advantage. I realized that men had too much power in determining the course of their relationships with women, and became deeply disturbed by the idea of women’s hearts resting in their clumsy hands. In my mind, I compiled a list of every failed relationship and considered how it molded me into who I am today. I closely examined how I got over each one, and discovered that—as I matured—I not only handled the disappointments with an increasing poise, but I also began to understand the male relationship mentality.
When I finally I uncovered the idea that men...