As I grow older, I have a very different view of what is important. When I was a child, getting older was important. When I was a young woman, the attention of men was important. Now that I am middle aged, not only is the attention of men hard to come by, it is much less important. I find that the attention of men generally adds little to my general well-being; it is nice for a moment, gives a little flush of pleasure which is fleeting at best. The attention of women is more often real attention. It means real listening, real comfort, real help. We are taught to exercise our intellects in the company of men and our emotions in the company of women, but that does us a disservice. Men don’t appreciate my intellect, often, and my emotions need little more exercise; they get plenty. Women, like it or not will tell you the truth generally. Men will often tell you what you want to hear. I used to prefer the sugar-coated version, today I prefer the truth.
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