The Princess and the fucking whore!!!

The princess and the fucking whore!!

A man I knew many years ago, once said something to me that has stayed with me all my life.  But it is only recently, have I taken his words as a lesson.

I will tell you from now, that whatever I write today is going to be very frank and bluntly honest, because I don’t know any other way of expressing what I feel.

 An unusual friendship

At the time I think I was about 25, so about 25 years ago, and I did not take offence at what he said, because it wasn’t said to be offensive or to hurt me.  I believe that he really saw into me, and saw something that I still had to discover for myself.  He was a few years older than me, and we had struck up this unusual friendship, that we both knew would never be more than it was.  He was a Sikh, and I obviously wasn’t, but that didn’t get in the way of our friendship.  There was never any question of anything else happening between us we just took it, for what it was.

I remember this occasion so clearly, because we were sat in a local pub, both drinking soft drinks, and I guess he must have been observing me and given it some thought, because he turned to me and said, I quote:

“You could have either been a Princess or a fucking whore!”

A dichotomy

I never asked him why he said it, or by what he meant, I just kind of took it on board and accepted it.  But so many times over these years, his words have come back, resonating loudly through me.  And each time, it has made me stop and think.  The statement itself, is a dichotomy, and as such there is no absolute answer to its’ meaning.  However, time and again, I am given reason to revisit that particular day, and each time I have reached new conclusions, and gain a better understanding of where he might have been coming from.  I don’t actually recall if I saw him again after that, but it is true that words can leave a remarkable footprint. I don’t know whether he knew, that his words would have a lasting impact or not, but I do see the absolute truth in them; which goes to the very root of me.

The Ugly Duckling

I have never looked at myself as being some great beauty, in fact I only really became aware of my looks when I reached the age of 26.  I never really appreciated what made me attractive to the opposite sex, or noticed that I had blossomed, until I began to hear what the men around me said.  Throughout school and college, no one had expressed any particular interest of that kind in me, so I never thought I was anything special.  I didn’t look in the mirror and see something stunning reflecting back at me, as far as I was concerned, I was just ordinary.  I associated myself with the story of “The ugly duckling”, that later became a swan. But it would seem that I had changed and blossomed, even though I couldn’t see it myself, and still don’t even today!

General response

I have repeated what this man said, to few people both male and female, only to gauge what they might understand.  The general response from the women has always been to take immediate offence, and the guys are always reluctant to share their thoughts; which has only served to confirm that my own thoughts are right.  And this saddens me, because I have been a victim, caught up in something, that I have only just realised I have unwittingly played a part in.

His statement would suggest that somehow there is a choice to be made.  A choice between being either a Princess or a fucking whore, but that choice or decision does not exist, nor it is one for me to make.  It is made by what attitude the men I have encountered in my life, have of me.  They decide what it is they want from me, they decide, if I am the princess or the whore, and they treat me accordingly.

The simple truth

But the simple truth as I believe it to be, is that I am both.  In truth, I am a princess, but on a romantic level; virtually every man that I have come across has only ever treated me like a whore.  No wonder I have become so disillusioned.

And knowing and understanding this fact, is horrible.  It is not something I am willing to accept.

All my life, I have been in search of love.  True, genuine, sincere and real love.  And yet I have seldom felt it.  I give out enough of it, and get pretty much fuck all back… apart from men wanting to literally fuck me or fuck me over.  Like I said at the start, some of you may think I am being foolish, that maybe I should be grateful for this kind of attention, that it’s a boost to the ego.  But what it has achieved is that all I see are men looking at me, like I’m a piece of meat or plaything, and nothing more.

Dating sites

The first time I signed up for a dating site, it didn’t take long before I realised that finding sincerity let alone true love, was going to be difficult.  Within a matter of weeks, I said to my friends, that I had a “fuckable face”, not a nice term, but a factual one nonetheless.  I came up with this, after so many men made it perfectly clear what they would like to do, either to me or with me.  They saw me, and just wanted to fuck me, and nothing else.

None of them read my profile or asked anything about me.  But they had assumed that it was okay to speak to me like this, with such disrespect; as though my own feelings didn’t even come in to it.  They were attracted to me, and that was enough.  As though that was all I was also looking for, meaningless sex and ‘no strings attached’ relationships.  Needless to say, I soon put them straight and then some, but after a while it began to hurt.  And if it wasn’t sex they wanted, they put in a lot of effort to woo me, in order to extort money from me, with their sad, sorry tales of sudden misfortune, with which only I could help.  I have come across them all.

Spreading my legs…

On 2 recent holidays, I was constantly harassed by men of all ages, shapes and sizes, all thinking they would have a go.  As if, just a few nice words were enough for me to fall down, spread my legs, and invite them all in.  I never asked for or solicited any of this attention, but I got it anyway.  I had begun to think that I had some sign on my forehead only visible to men, it made me feel quite paranoid.  It made me feel angry and sad.

I am sure I am not alone in this, but as a woman it is not a compliment to be made to feel like this. To be thought of in this way, certainly doesn’t boost my ego or make me feel good in the slightest.  Maybe if I were still young (& wild), I might have appreciated this or even made the most of it.  But in truth I was never that girl, and I will never be that woman.  I guess I am angry, because I never believed that men could be that shallow, and it saddens me, because they have no idea about everything else that they are missing out on.  Everything else that makes me, me, everything else that is hidden just beneath the skin of what they perceive, because that is where my true beauty exists.

My conclusion

And so those words that were spoken to me all those years ago, are still in my head and remain so utterly true.  My conclusion to all this, is that I am both a Princess and a whore, and what men have to learn about me is that,

‘If they treat me like a Princess, maybe I will also be their whore, but if they treat me like a whore, they get nothing at all’.

And as for ‘that’ man, I believe he saw that in me, and if circumstances had been different, who knows where we might be.

But I thank him, because I have never felt such honesty since.

Sharon Carter-Wray

(26^thJune 2016)

Update:

I would be very interested in hearing your thoughts… Sx ❤️

If you are interested in any of my work, or have any queries please feel free to contact me using the form below.  🙂

If you are interested in any of my work, or have any queries please feel free to contact me using the form below.  🙂

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