The Madonna/Whore Complex
I have to say I had a blast at the holiday party I attended Thursday night. It was the
perfect amount of people so that I felt like part of an exclusive circle, but
certain introductions were necessary.
I had a massive wardrobe change at the last minute. I decided to go with less décolletage and more casual, with a holiday scarf being my most festive piece against a black sweater and “skinny jeans”. I felt more comfortable and less desperate among a crowd of people I generally knew.
I spent the beginning of the evening in a seat warming up to the crowd. I chatted with two guys I’ve known through the host for a while, one a little young and rosy cheeked for my taste and one a little tech-centric and not quite socially smooth in group settings. Both are totally nice guys, but not romantic prospects.
I got an interesting comment from one of the more risqué members of the crowd. I know him and his girlfriend as “experimental”, but for some reason when he told me he saw me as more virtuous as the rest of the crowd, I took it as almost insulting. I immediately felt the need to argue.
I’ve been viewed as two extremes for most of my upbringing. Most people in high school either thought I was a goody-two-shoes nerd or a party-girl-whore. I like to think I fell somewhere in-between. It’s funny that we feel the need to categorize our experiences to relate to all of the reunion stories, or just for a sense of normalcy, but I don’t feel necessarily understood.
I spent the evening trying to come up with an anecdote for the guy who called me virtuous, and I couldn’t come up with anything shocking enough to change his mind. I didn’t really want to contradict him, but wanted to show that there was more than meets the eye. As it were, the first time I met him was at a “Back to School” party in a miniskirt and thigh highs, showing off my first tattoo, so I don’t know where his assumptions arose.
It’s funny, I’ve never been comfortable with being labeled a slut/whore, but the opposite extreme provokes equal offense in my mind. I like to believe I can live somewhere in the gray area in between, and not be judged for it. I’d like to create a language for women who live in the gray world, and embrace it. No idea what it would be called, but I respect them for it and would love any ideas left in comments below.