Objects of Desire

So here’s the deal. I’m a firm believer that the problem with society is not the over-objectification of women, but the under-objectification of men. I hadn’t thought much about this until I read a blog by a woman named Kate. Kate and I have become friends and I find her writing thought provoking, valid and most importantly, fun to read (because no matter how valid and thought provoking if ain’t fun to read, I ain’t reading it.  That’s right, I used ain’t in a sentence.  Twice.)  Anyway, Kate and I have never met, but we have a real live mutual friend, who by the way, did not introduce us, (which I find fascinating.)  But as you will see is a common theme in my writing, I digress…

The objectification of women is oft seen as negative. Maybe because of the way it sounds, so what if we change it?  What if we call it being “seen as an object of desire” instead?  Would that change the way you felt about it?   Or maybe it’s because, as women, we let too much of the outside world affect our self confidence.   We let ourselves believe that it’s bad to be “objectified” because we’re not being appreciated for our inner selves.  You know what?  I’m just fine with it.  Why?  Because I know who I am on the inside.  I’m smart, I’m funny, I work hard and I’m a good person.  If someone would rather stare at my ass then have the balls to attempt a conversation… well, I work pretty hard on getting my ass to look the way it does.  If I didn’t want someone to be looking at it, I sure as hell wouldn’t be running so much.  I want my physical beauty to be appreciated.  Of course I want my inner workings to be appreciated too.  But that doesn’t eliminate the desire to be wanted physically.  And I don’t feel that some one looking at me with desire minimizes my other amazing traits.

Object of desire, in charcoal

Besides, I admit, I often do the same thing to men.  I size them up based on their physical attributes and talk to my girlfriends about the best way to get them naked.  Uh huh.  Girls talk like that.  I have a goal in life to find out how long it takes to lick the tattoos off one particular rock star’s body.  I think it would be a good use of my time.  It doesn’t mean that I don’t want to get to know these guys.  And it doesn’t mean that I do.  It just means that they’re sexy and I’m appreciating that.  I desire them physically.  They are an object of my desire in that moment.  Nothing more, nothing less.

So I say, learn to appreciate being an object of desire, like the work of art that you are.  Accept the compliments being made about you, even the ones you weren’t supposed to hear, instead of allowing them to feel degrading.  It’s powerful.   And return the favor.  Objectify the hot waiter as he’s walking away.  Just leave him a good tip.  Hit on the cutie at the sports bar, even if he doesn’t seem all that bright, just cause it’s fun to flirt.   Because as Kate’s friend and my own personal experiences have taught us, most men really don’t mind being objectified.  And neither should we.