If anything, I’m anything but that.
But when a man tells me I shouldn’t pursue writing because he wanted to be a journalist once and ended up in lumber sales, I purse my lips.
Maybe, at first, that meant something to me.
Maybe, just maybe, I questioned myself a bit.
It is too bad though… that I remembered I’m a woman.
A hot one at that; not only could I care less for his journalistic nature, but am probably a far better writer than he is.
I mean, why read what this man could say on politics
when there’s a whole crowd of women out there just dying to hear about my terrible taste in love?
Or of another one of my existential spirals?
You know, maybe I shouldn’t pursue writing.
I mean, Carrie Bradshaw, for one, was not the best—but the best for her time (we could only think).
And definitely an icon for the eras.
Plus, I’ve read some terrible writing. Terrible published writing.
I’m sorry the internet didn’t exist back then the way it does now.
I’m sorry someone probably told you the same thing when you expressed your interest in writing, leading you to think you were far better off in sales.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d do amazing in sales.
I’d have men waiting in my line to buy wood over yours—even if it means waiting the few extra minutes.
Of course, I’d love to parade around, have the world handed to me on a platter just because my curves dip further than their wives (or lack thereof).
Big checks from staring at screens all day and asking how many 2x4s they need to complete their deck or whatever.
It all sounds veryyy interesting.
Well, I’ll have you know I really could care less for what you think I should do with my life.
Honestly, your secret sob story isn’t that impressive either.
And even though you’re the highest earning salesman in the company and I “should really take your advice“, I have no interest in following the footsteps of a quitter.
I’ll give up in the many small ways that I do but you will never see me signing a life contract of financial stability if it means selling my soul.
I don’t want to be like you, at all;
I’m way hotter than you’ll ever be and probably a far better writer anyway.