When my whole world is going to hell in a handbasket and I don’t know what my next move should be, I call JC. Oddly enough, this generally relates to my love life. If I don’t know if I’m making a good choice, and when I find myself hesitating, he’s the guy I call. He’s also the guy I call when I want to choose new weaponry, but that’s neither here nor there. When I introduced him to Dozer, he said… this is a good one, Shan, but you are not an old lady. Don’t fall into that…. And he’s right. Dozer is a good man, and I am not an old lady. I’m also nobody’s bitch.
You can call me a bitch… I’ll own it. I spent the last twenty years coating myself with a light veneer of classy behavior, but I know where I come from. Miss Shannon can make a quilt, frost pretty cupcakes and clean your house like nobody’s business. I will cook you dinner and even plate your food. I enjoy the kitchen and you’re probably going to make a mess anyway. While this is traditionally ‘women’s work’ it doesn’t lessen me, because it’s work I enjoy. When Dozer called me his bitch, (in public, no less)…well, fact is, I was fairly ready to fuck up his day… I ended up just beating him with his own hat.
When you call a woman your bitch, you’re saying she’s less than you. You place yourself in a position of ownership and her in one of servitude. If I liked being treated that way, I’d still be married. In defense of Dozer, he erroneously thinks he’s funny and that he’s somehow paying me a compliment. He forgets that I walked through the bowels of hell to get where I am, he has no idea what an insult it is to imply ownership of my person. Miss Shannon has a college degree, runs a successful business, and has thus far raised two tiny humans to adulthood without breeding a serial killer. It’s also looking pretty good for the boy children, although the little one is still in his violent urchin stage, so I’ll get back to you in a few years. So yes, darlin’, I ride bitch. Gladly and with pleasure… but I am not now, nor will I ever be your bitch.
My friend Amy, and I are planning to take a motorcycle safety course in May. I’m pretty stoked about it and I look forward to being licensed. Like every other part of my life, I’ve got two hands and I can do it myself. Amy is the perfect person to do this with, because she’s my friend most likely to tell me to woman up. You’ve got this, sister. Sometimes, it’s what I need to hear. I also need the impetus to put my money where my mouth is… Though I freely admit that it’s tiresome to always have to prove yourself. I am woman, hear me roar…. Just once, I wish I wasn’t still roaring over the same stupid bullshit I was bitching about in high school.
Couple little details about Amy… she’s an amazing woman. All by herself, she has more grit, more heart and more plain sense than any three women need. She’s gorgeous and funny and always, always has your back. Amy is someone I am glad to have in my life. Thank you for being my friend.
In the immortal words of Virginia Slims, we’ve come a long way, baby. And we have. Yet, here I am, forty years old, and I have to have a conversation with the man I love about why he can’t publicly denigrate me and why what he is saying is, in fact, denigrating. And Dozer is one of the good ones. I’ve had enough bad ones to know for certain… I always say…once a beater, always a beater. Once a cheater, always a cheater…. I’m not wrong and I know this from bitter experience. People don’t change who they fundamentally are, I really can’t speak to whether it’s even possible. As ever, Miss Shannon can only really tell you what NOT to do. In this instance, the thing to not do is to accept and tolerate. This is a hill worth dying on. I fought hard for my me… It was the fight of my life, and while I’ll censor myself and sometimes shrink myself to fit into this particular borg…. The Whore of Babylon finds she cannot give this part of herself away. Miss Shannon has never really liked a precipice.