Marcus Angel – Women Really Do Run the World
Getting shot’s probably not the best way to begin a story, but here goes. Streetlights. The glint from her golden earrings. The flash from her muzzle and then I died. Even as I type this, I still can’t believe it. But in the end, what I saw with my own eyes confirmed what I’ve suspected all along. Women really do run the world. Perhaps they always have. I’m willing to bet they always will.
Ever since I first laid eyes on her twelve years ago, Anna Marie’s held the title as the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. This includes actresses, pop singers, and fashion models. None of them could hold a candle to my Anna Marie.
At first glance it didn’t even make sense why she was working for a start-up company to begin with. She looked like she belonged on one of those housewife shows, lounging on a beach, or shopping along some strip of sun-blasted boutiques. The way she carried herself. Her height, her posture, her figure, it was ridiculous. As if she trained her whole life to win every pageant she could. Anna Marie was a stone cold stunner and she didn’t even know it. Or maybe she did know and just didn’t care.
Back then, Anna was always so bubbly and free-spirited, the type of woman who’d get out of my car in the middle of an intersection if she spotted a frozen yogurt cart on the corner. I’m not saying I like unpredictable women, but I confess there’s something about her that I found superior to myself in so many ways. How she never seemed to care about the future. That freedom, that spontaneity, I thought it was because she was fearless. I respected it. She was amazing.
Her association with me was a bit of a mystery in the beginning. Just to be clear, Anna was never officially my girlfriend, but someone who preferred hanging out with me as opposed to everyone else…in the beginning. Sure I made her laugh with my observations and blundering blithe. But back then, I was grossly overweight. I turned my back on religion and I barely had a social life because I didn’t drink or smoke weed. And more importantly, I had no direction in my life, no clear or concrete goal. No purpose.
Women like Anna have a way of changing all that. You can’t be with someone like her and have absolutely nothing going for you. I realized this the first time I pushed her away. My dumbass had “caught feelings” for her and I had the brass to come out and tell her that I loved her. I told her that face to face. She smirked and shook her head and told me that it wasn’t love but lust. I was completely embarrassed and promptly walked away in the middle of that conversation. In hindsight, I do think I should have stayed and played it out.
Next came that fog of awkwardness and uneasy tension, the emotional roller coaster cliché to CW shows. I’m talking about the dramas where the entire season could be ended with one conversation. For the following few years, Anna and I would toy with each other, each trying to make the other jealous. We’d go the extra mile to outdo each other in our work performance, each trying to rise above the other in terms of station and pay grade.
During this time, this dance, this arm’s race of love and hate, I lost over a hundred pounds. I joined a gym, worked on my cardio, and indulged in a period of enlightenment, soaking up philosophy on matters that were otherwise foreign to me such as astronomy, romanticism, identity politics, and cultural diversity.
Anna also progressed. She went and joined a military boot camp for women. I should have expected no less. Every weekend it was something new with her. Skydiving, swimming with sharks, shooting at the gun range. I even heard she started taking MMA classes, which really burned in my chest, the thought of her grappling with other men. Could never look at UFC the same way again.
And of course, during this time Anna was rarely without a man. One after another, they came and went. Buying her flowers. Picking her up for lunch. I’d sit there in my cubicle and just take it. She knew how I felt about her but still, she’d parade them about and act like nothing was wrong. It hurt so bad. Not just that she was going out with other men, but the kind of men they were.
All of them looked like they played for the NFL. All of them looked like a million bucks, sharp and suited, impressive cars, edgy cuts, thick beards or tatted up with that bold “it’s all good” charisma. They all had the same low bass-heavy voice and barely showed any facial expressions. They were cool, hip, and exuded an air of confidence. The complete opposite of who I was. No matter how much I bettered myself I could never be them.
For years I had to listen to Anna brag about her penthouse parties. She started appearing in music videos and even modeled designer dresses at the Met Gala. The MET FREAKING GALA! She was living life in the fast lane, so far head of me that I couldn’t keep up. I want to say I stopped trying but that wouldn’t be true.
The thing is, I honestly believed Anna was putting on an act, a bold front for her club bunnies and the socialites she cavorted with. We were in our twenties. She was a sexy Colombiana who could get any man she wanted. Of course she’s going to run the town. But deep down I felt I knew “the real Anna”. I was there for her before she donned the skin-tight skirts and heavy eyeliner. I saw her cry. I heard her regrets. I listened to her speak so passionately about why she wanted to live each day to the fullest. I knew about her family, her sister, her upbringing. I knew the real Anna Marie.
Then…after three years…Anna up and left. I didn’t have all the details, but from what I gathered, she found another job on the west coast somewhere in Silicon Valley. And even though she was never officially my girlfriend, we never kissed or hugged or anything like that, we weren’t even on speaking terms when she left, but still, it felt like one of my best friends had just died. I went into work the next day and was like, “now what?”
I know that might sound strange, but the mere presence of her was like a drug that stimulated me. Once she was gone, there was a deep void in my heart. I had withdrawal symptoms that left me somewhat depressed. In the three years that we worked together, I’ve been attracted to no one else. This woman really was the center of my universe, the source of all my ambitions. Truly, she was.
But one day a couple months after, I woke up and had that Parker moment. I looked in the mirror and realized…I really am one impressive looking dude. In the midst of progress, it’s difficult to see how far I’ve come. But I really had transformed over the years.
My columns now averaged over 30,000 readers. Three of which were circulated nationally and were up for awards. I used to weigh 378 pounds and now I was a solid 215. I could run. I could fight. My confidence was through the roof and more importantly, I reconnected with our heavenly father, reading the Bible cover to cover. It shifted my priorities and taught me to put my faith in God, not people.
In the two years following her departure, things had certainly become turbulent when it came to culture in the U.S. As a Millennial with some amount of intelligence, I felt responsible for what was happening to my generation. They called us Snowflakes. They said we were lazy and entitled. They said most of us were still living in our parent’s basements, that the institution of marriage was on the decline.
But there was a silver lining, a beaming ray of light penetrating the dark clouds. That ray of light was “equality.” The disgruntled had voices. The special interest groups had assembled. Protests and marches galore. Everyone took to the streets demanding to be heard. And what was more surprising was that not only were people listening, they believed. I believed.
But here’s the problem, here’s where it gets a bit dicey, here’s where I’m more or less bleeding myself as I step out into shark infested waters. What social and mainstream media had been feeding us, what they told us about what was happening in the world, it was all just an illusion. It wasn’t real. It was a projected fantasy that they were hoping they could turn into a reality by tricking the masses, by lying to us.
The reason why it worked so well was because people had effectively found a way to silence those with an opposing point of view. Anyone who disagreed, anyone voicing a view that went against the popular opinion was labeled a racist, a bigot, sexist, or a supremacist. Their careers and reputations were ruined. When corporations started firing their top employees based off of mere allegations, people knew they won the battle. Because corporations are empires. Their heads are world leaders. Other companies had no choice but to follow suit or else they’d more or less be browbeaten and boycotted until they submitted to and appeased the court of public opinion.
As I said…this had gone on for some time. As a minority, and worse still, a minority within a minority, I initially felt that I didn’t have a leg to stand on when it came to such squabbles. I decided to make it my goal to expose these tactics and introduce a new theory of soft-core oppression that attacked free speech and essentially, free thought. I felt it would be difficult to do that with a label strapped to my back. So in the beginning, I kept silent and observed.
However, it didn’t take long before I realized that by keeping silent I had only contributed to the symptoms. I noticed the mainstream media had become heavily reliant on statistics, polls, and trends. As a contemporary pointed out, this is a gross misrepresentation of the country as a whole.
A majority of Americans didn’t use social media. Who the freak were taking these surveys? And why the hell were decisions being made on our behalf based off of the subjective opinions of a study group. If 20,000 people were surveyed, that’s less than one percent of the population. It didn’t make sense. And I refused to believe that I was the smartest dude on the planet. I couldn’t be the only one seeing this. So what the hell was going on?
Then, last year I saw a string of sexual misconduct allegations topple some of the world’s foremost figures in the entertainment and political arenas. Good, right? Anyone who abuses others, regardless of race, gender, or orientation deserved to be punished. I had no love for the rich and famous, so screw ‘em. That was my first impression. That was, until I was approached by a man in an parking garage.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Right away, you think, “oh, that’s cliché. And let me guess, he brings you some secret file that proves your theories and sparks controversy?”
Maybe he was going to do all that. But before he could, a soft spray misted into my face and the man collapsed before my feet. I couldn’t believe it. I must have stood there for the better part of a song just staring, doubting my own eyes, paralyzed, thinking this couldn’t be real. He was breathing one moment, and the next…