Put a ring on it
This time around, I’m doing things differently. I’ve learned from past mistakes and know how to travel in Africa now. I’m more worldly and knowledgeable! Is this what it means to grow up?
This time, I’m wearing a wedding ring.
If anyone asks, I’m married to a prince. The Prince of Canada. And I’m a princess!
Yep, so much more mature.
Part of me despises this. I should be able to tell men that I’m not interested and they should back off. My refusal should be enough. Why does another man have to have a claim on me for them to take “No” seriously? It’s bullshit.
But I also don’t like the hassle. I’m picking my battles and I don’t want to waste time on this one over the next few months. I’m not here to focus on gender work and I don’t want to get side-tracked with useless conversations.
Plus I like the sound of Princess B.