Be good? The Man
A Non-Fiction Self Reflective short story by Mia Elias
Last night I was lying in bed sexting one of my favorite men. While doing this, I got a phone call from a man I never wanted a phone call from ever again. In the phone call, he asked me if I was good. I immediately became enraged with thoughts of what does that mean? Why would he care? And why does it matter to him? He is not in my life anymore nor does he matter so why does he want me to be “good” and what does that even mean. When I think of being good, I think of Am I getting good grades? Am I kind? Am I healthy, either mentally or physically? Am I just simply being a good person? And why do men have the audacity to ask women if they are good like he is my dad? Like he is asking me, “Are you good for me?” In some sick, perverted way.
I often tried to be saved by men and their notion of “Be a good girl princess” because I never was good. Either men try and sexualize you or save you and I do not want to be either (unless I ask to be sexualized or intend that to happen.) When he asked me if I was good I knew he meant if I was having sex with other people while we were not together. Was I selling my body for money? Was I selling Marijuana? Was I going out? He isn’t my husband or boyfriend though so none of things should matter and even if he was why would they? I never thought selling my body for money was wrong because I was doing it legally. I never thought that I was a bad person for doing so, even after countless times MEN telling me it was. I was comfortable with getting paid to do things on the camera. It is a job. A legal one at that. Making excuses only benefits them. Men.
Why would I sit here and write and make excuses for something that I am doing that is not under any circumstances illegal or wrong? Why am I sitting here explaining myself? But I am done defending the man….. Maybe I have a fear of getting judged. Perhaps I have a fear of not being looked at seriously because of my occupation at the moment. But I am more than a job and a body. Why do men think that life is limited for women and do jobs like that because of that? My life is not limited.. My life is complete, and I can make my own decisions. I am a grown adult with a brain. I do not need to be looked at like some case that requires analysis. I do not need saving; if anything, the man does. The words “be good” haunt me.
Whenever we would break up, he would say, be good mi Mundo (my world). Which once such a sweet word would now ring me out. Your world? I hope I am not in anyone’s world because I am not a food, water, or shelter. I am me. When he asked the question of “Are you still camming” I immediately lied to save myself the annoyance of stroking his ego because to him it makes him feel fucked up. I ignored my lying but there is something to be said about it. Why would I lie? I lied to save trouble. I never saw it as wrong but why do I feel I have to tell everyone all the time why it is right like I am convincing them to respect a human being’s choice. A constant convincing of respect like I am proving myself. But who am I proving myself to? The man?
Works of Mia 