When I was a little girl, my 2 neighbors knocked me off of my big wheel and put in their porch. Everytime, I tried to go up the stairs and get it, they threw rocks at me. The logical thing would’ve been to go tell my mom to go over to Mrs. Crowley’s house and get it. I was about 6 or 7 and that was asking too much. I went in my yard, grabbed our collie mix by the collar and walked her to the porch. I knew Tippie was mean (much like the Yorkie that was later named after her) to strangers. I turned her loose, she ran up on the porch and then chased them. Needless to say, I got in a WORLD of trouble. When I asked how could boys who I thought were my friends do such a thing, my mom told me, “they just like you.” Problematic.

For years, I thought being mistreated was a part of being a relationship. I rationalized getting all dressed up and then stood up with the same reason of getting my hair pulled by friend’s cousin. I spent a huge bulk of my 20s in love with someone who was nice to everybody but me. Simply because of the wack ass conditioning. The book and movie, “He’s not that into you” went hard on the excuses we make for getting treated like shit. I read it and so many of the scenarios were all off up in my business…still didn’t have a lightbulb moment. It took having a single moment of feeling so hurt, I could barely breathe. I know it wasn’t supposed to be like that. It wasn’t right. So many ideals and traditions that were passed down from patriarchal to patriarchal ass generation were dead wrong. Love won’t always be rainbows and glittery unicorn farts but you should never be purposely hurt.

Stop telling daughters “oh he likes you” when someone’s bonehead son mistreats her. Tell her that he’s a doucher in training who is being mean to her because he lacks home training. Just don’t have another generation of women who think being a doormat is acceptable.