Posted on by shirindawna · 2 Comments

back it up: a love story.

the street we live on is narrow, with parking allowed only on one side. when cars are parked, there isn’t enough room for two vehicles to pass each other. it’s an unspoken rule: whoever is closer to the entrance of the street backs up to let the other car through. it’s basic neighborly etiquette, but apparently, not everyone gets the memo.

today, i pulled onto our street just as another car started coming down toward me. normally, he’d be the one to back up since reversing for me would mean backing out onto a busy road with constant traffic. but instead of following this understood rule of decency, this guy barreled down the street, demanding i back up onto the main road.

here’s where things got interesting.

my husband, who was in the backseat with our kid, jumped out of the car so fast i barely had time to blink. he saw what was happening, this guy choosing to make his convenience my problem, and immediately stepped in.

“she’s not backing into a busy street. you need to back up your damn car.”

now, i don’t think the guy even knew my husband was in the car because his energy shifted as soon as he saw him standing there. but instead of doing the right thing, he doubled down. he refused to move, staring me down like he was daring me to budge.

i put my car in park. he put his car in park. the audacity of this man, i swear.

and then my husband yelled.

not just yelled. YELLED. the kind of yell that makes you sit up straighter, whether you want to or not.
“back up! i have a kid in this car, and she is not backing into a busy road!”

the guy stared at him for a second, weighing his options, before he finally finally threw his car in reverse and backed up the damn street like he should’ve done in the first place.

here’s the thing. my husband is one of the calmest men i know. he’s not a yeller. he doesn’t lose his temper. it takes a lot to get him worked up. which is why this whole scene was exponentially hotter. he wasn’t acting out of anger, he was acting out of principle. he saw what was happening, and he made it his mission to shut it down immediately.

there’s something about that calm, steady demeanor snapping into action at the perfect moment. when a man who doesn’t yell decides to raise his voice, you know it’s serious. and in this case, it was serious in all the best ways.

i’ve been driving this street for years. i know exactly how these interactions go, and i’ve dealt with my fair share of entitled drivers. i’m not one to back down or shrink myself to avoid conflict. i will stand my ground when someone decides to be unreasonable. but this time, before i even had a chance to handle it, my husband was already out of the car, making it clear that this guy’s behavior wasn’t going to slide.

he saw the imbalance, the entitlement, and the audacity, and he called it out. loudly.

i’ll admit, there’s something almost primal about watching your husband step in and yell at another man on your behalf. it wasn’t just the act of yelling. it was the acknowledgment, the validation, and the unapologetic protection that hit me straight in the chest.

it wasn’t just about the yelling. it was about the message behind it.

he didn’t step in because he thought i couldn’t handle it, he stepped in because he wanted to. because he saw someone treating me unfairly and refused to let it slide. because he didn’t want me backing into a busy road with our kid in the car just to appease someone else’s ego.

he didn’t just yell for me, he yelled for what was right.

that moment wasn’t just about protecting me physically. it was about recognizing the subtle ways women are often expected to make accommodations, to avoid conflict, to bend so someone else doesn’t have to.

he didn’t let me bend. he stepped in, backed me up, literally and figuratively, and told this guy, in no uncertain terms, that this wasn’t happening on his watch.

it’s one thing to feel loved. it’s another thing entirely to feel backed up. to know your partner sees what’s happening, understands the dynamics at play, and steps in without hesitation to make sure you’re not navigating it alone.

instead of letting me shoulder the weight of this guy’s behavior, he stepped forward, voice raised, and made it abundantly clear.
“i’m here with her. you don’t talk to her that way.”

he just wanted to make sure this man understood that i wasn’t alone in this moment. and then he followed it up with something that made me want to marry him all over again.
“i know men treat women differently, and i’m not going to let that happen here.”

that was it. that was the line that took me out.

it wasn’t just the acknowledgment of the imbalance. it was the fact that he called it out, boldly and without hesitation. he saw it, named it, and made it clear that it wasn’t going to fly in his presence.

and let me tell you, that kind of awareness and action is sexy.

it’s sexy because it’s rare.

it’s sexy because it’s not performative.

it’s sexy because it says, “i see you. i hear you. i’m here for you.”

i don’t need someone to fight my battles for me. i’ve been handling myself just fine for years. but there’s something about having a partner who steps in, not because you need them to, but because they want to. because they know the world doesn’t always give you the respect you deserve, and they’ll be damned if they stand by and let it happen on their watch.

it wasn’t just attractive. it was loyalty in action. it was a reminder that i have someone in my corner who gets it, who doesn’t diminish what i go through, and who will back me up without hesitation.

that moment wasn’t about yelling. it was about what the yelling represented. love, respect, and an acknowledgment of what it means to be a woman in a world that too often dismisses you.

and yeah, i’ll say it again. it was a little hot. if looks could conceive, we’d already be picking out baby names.

Posted on by shirindawna

you’re so lame, you probably think this blog is about you.

this one goes out to the women who treat their relationships like maximum-security prisons—complete with lockdowns, surveillance, and absolutely no visitors from the opposite sex. these are the ones who seem to think that letting their partner have a female friend will somehow send the entire relationship into a tailspin. it’s like they believe their man is one conversation away from running off into the sunset with someone else. spoiler alert: if your relationship is that fragile, it’s not the friend that’s the problem—it’s you.

these women act like the mere existence of another woman is a threat, like they’ve never heard of trust. instead of building a relationship based on mutual respect and confidence, they cling tighter than a toddler holding onto a security blanket, side-eyeing any female who dares to exist in their man’s orbit. unpopular opinion: it’s not the friend they don’t trust—it’s themselves. deep down, they know their insecurity is the only thing standing between them and a healthy relationship, but instead of working on that, they’d rather play relationship cop.

they’ll stalk their partner’s texts, throw passive-aggressive comments at any woman within a 5-mile radius, and claim it’s about “boundaries.” girl, no—it’s about insecurity. if you’re more focused on who your partner is texting than on how to actually communicate, that’s a you problem. and don’t get me started on the whole “women can’t be friends with men” nonsense. if you genuinely believe that, then maybe the issue isn’t the friendship—it’s your fragile sense of self-worth.

at the end of the day, if you can’t trust your partner to have friends of the opposite sex, what you’ve got isn’t love—it’s a hostage situation. newsflash: no amount of policing is going to stop someone from leaving if they want to. so, maybe instead of treating every woman like the enemy, take a good look in the mirror and figure out why you’re so terrified of letting your partner have a life outside of you. because the real issue isn’t her—it’s the insecurity you’re not willing to face.

allegedly, of course.

this is all purely hypothetical.

Posted on by shirindawna · 1 Comment

i don’t cater to all these vipers.

this blog is something i’ve been sitting with for months, trying to articulate: it’s about taylor swift, our favorite pop sensation who can turn a breakup into a billboard hit, but also about so much more…

it baffles me that some women take issue with taylor writing about her relationships, her exes, the breakups, and choose to judge her negatively for speaking out. you’d think they’d be cheering her on for making millions off her heartache, but instead, there’s judgment, eye-rolling, and whispers that maybe she should just keep quiet about it.

that judgment? it’s not just about taylor. it’s about something bigger, something lurking in the shadows of our collective consciousness: internalized misogyny.

it’s part of a long history of silencing women, of telling them to keep quiet about their experiences, especially when it comes to relationships.

never be so polite you forget your power.

men have been writing about their exes since, well, forever. and when they do, they’re hailed as poetic geniuses, chroniclers of the human condition. but when taylor swift does it, suddenly it’s “oh, she’s so petty,” or “why can’t she just move on?” the double standard is glaring, but somehow, it keeps slipping under the radar.

it’s like this: women have been trained – by society, by culture, by history – to keep their emotions in check, to not make a fuss, especially over a man. when swift refuses to follow those unspoken rules, it ruffles feathers. and not just any feathers: women’s feathers. because deep down, many of us have internalized the idea that a “good” woman doesn’t make her private life public.

the best people in life are free.

here’s the thing: internalized misogyny is sneaky. it’s that voice inside that tells women to play nice, to not air their dirty laundry, to keep their emotions under wraps. so when taylor swift takes a bad breakup and turns it into a number-one hit, some women cringe. not because there’s anything wrong with what she’s doing, but because they’ve been taught women aren’t supposed to do that. they’re not supposed to make a scene.

and let’s be real, taylor is making a scene – a glorious, chart-topping, grammy-winning scene. but for some women, that scene breaks all the rules they’ve been taught to follow, and instead of questioning the rules (or their beliefs), they question her.

women love hunting witches, too.

this isn’t anything new. women have a long history of persecuting other women for doing things they aren’t bold or brave enough to do. taylor swift doesn’t just get flak for writing about her exes – she gets flak for having exes in the first place. the narrative goes something like this: if a woman has too many relationships, she’s somehow less. less respectable, less desirable, less everything. it’s a twisted, outdated idea that a woman’s worth is tied to her romantic history.

and who’s dishing out this judgment? often, it’s other women. it’s a textbook case of internalized misogyny – women absorbing the same toxic messages that have been used to control them for generations and then turning those messages on each other.

people throw rocks at things that shine.

here’s the kicker: in all the criticism taylor faces, how often do we talk about the guys she’s writing about? not much. instead, the spotlight stays on her, as if her reaction to their behavior is the real problem. the guy could have been a jerk, a cheater, or just plain absent, but somehow, it’s taylor’s response that gets all the attention.

this is classic internalized misogyny at work – shifting the focus from a man’s bad behavior to a woman’s emotional response. it’s a tale as old as time: blame the woman, excuse the man. and when other women buy into this narrative, they’re reinforcing a system that’s been holding them down for centuries.

i could build a castle out of all the bricks they threw at me.

so, what’s taylor swift really doing when she writes about her exes? she’s owning her narrative. she’s refusing to be silenced, to be shamed, or to play by anyone else’s rules. she’s turning her personal experiences into art that resonates with millions, and in doing so, she’s challenging the very norms that some women have internalized.

i don’t regret it one bit cuz he had it coming.

next time you hear someone say taylor swift should stop writing about her exes, take a second to think about where that’s coming from. is it really about her music? or is it about something deeper, something that’s been ingrained in us without us even realizing it?

internalized misogyny is a powerful thing. but the more we talk about it, the less power it has. and maybe, just maybe, we can start giving women the space to tell their stories – no matter how messy, emotional, or public they might be. because if there’s one thing taylor swift has taught us, it’s that there’s nothing more powerful than owning your story, no matter what anyone else thinks.

now, to the women rolling their eyes at taylor’s lyrics and turning up their noses at her success: it’s laughable, really. imagine getting mad at a woman for making millions off emotional labor while half the world suffers in silence. ladies, where is your business acumen? taylor’s out here signing record deals with her tear-stained stationery, while you’re busy clutching pearls over things you wish you had the guts to say yourself.

Posted on by shirindawna

it’s the worst men that i write best.

for a long time i carried a silence around my ex like a heavy cloak, a shield against judgment and pity. i believed that talking about him would somehow reflect poorly on me, as if his actions were a measure of my worth. the memory of his betrayal felt like a stain on my heart, something best hidden away, locked in the depths of my thoughts.

it took time to realize that there was no shame in trusting someone i loved. love is a leap of faith, a journey into vulnerability where trust blossoms like a delicate flower. when i opened my heart to him, i wasn’t naïve or foolish; i was brave. i chose to believe in the goodness of his intentions, in the sincerity of his words.

but when that trust was shattered, it felt like the ground beneath me crumbled. questions swirled in my mind like a storm: was i not enough? did i miss the signs? was it my fault?

in the midst of this turmoil, it became clear my friends didn’t understand. i withdrew into myself and i don’t think they even noticed. leaving me utterly alone during the worst time in my life. i was still reeling from my dad’s passing and i was not ready nor capable to process another loss. without support, i felt stranded, unable to share my pain. i didn’t want their pity or judgment. so, i buried it deep within, pretending it didn’t exist, painting on a smile when all i wanted to do was scream. lonely wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how i felt in that time. the loneliness was suffocating, a constant reminder of my isolation.

it took time, months turning into years, before i found the courage to confront my silence. i realized that my ex’s actions were a reflection of him, not of me. i was not defined by his choices. i had loved fiercely and completely, and that was something to cherish, not hide away.

slowly, i began to speak about him, about us, about the lessons learned through tears and heartache. i discovered that vulnerability is not weakness but strength. it is in sharing our stories, our struggles, and our triumphs that we find connection and healing.

today, i no longer carry that silence like a burden. instead, i wear my story with pride, a testament to resilience and the unwavering belief in love. trusting someone, even if it ends in betrayal, is not a flaw but a testament to the depth of our hearts and the courage to keep loving despite the risks.

and i’ve realized something else: it’s often the worst men that i write the best. the ones who hurt me, who left scars on my heart, they inspire the most profound reflections. their actions, while painful, push me to explore the depths of my emotions and transform that pain into art. there’s power in taking the hurt they caused and molding it into something beautiful and meaningful.

there is no shame in trusting the person you love. it is in the giving of ourselves that we truly live, learning and growing from every experience, even the ones that leave us broken for a while.

the worst men, they leave the best stories, and maybe that’s their only redeeming quality.

Posted on by shirindawna

the magnetic pull of a love story.

isn’t it intriguing how love can ignite unexpected sparks and forge connections that defy explanation? i’ve always been the kind of person who stays friends with my exes. some people find it strange, but to me, it’s a testament to the connection we shared. after all, love doesn’t just disappear because a relationship ends; it transforms, it lingers, it finds new ways to exist.

there’s this pattern i’ve noticed, something almost magical. it seems that every man i’ve loved and left, or who has left me (i know…it’s hard to believe, but it’s happened), describes their experience of falling in love with me in strikingly similar terms. they speak of the chemistry as unmatched, a spark that set their world ablaze. they call me magnetic, say i have a pull that’s impossible to resist.

they tell me stories of how their hearts raced the first time we met, how every touch felt electric, and how conversations with me were like nothing they’d ever known. it’s like reading different chapters of the same book, each one recounting the same wonder, the same awe.

“you have this way about you,” one of them once said, a smile playing on his lips. “it’s like you see right into my soul and pull out the best parts of me.”

another ex, years after our breakup, confided, “being with you felt like being alive in a way i didn’t know was possible. the chemistry we had…i’ve never felt that with anyone else.”

these words, this recurring narrative, got me thinking. how is it that different men, at different times in my life, describe their love for me in almost identical ways? is it them, or is it me? is there something in the way i love, the way i connect, that creates this extraordinary bond? (spoiler: it’s not me, but let’s pretend)

the more i pondered, the more i realized that it’s not just about romantic relationships. this magnetic pull, this unmatched chemistry, it’s something deeper. it’s about the energy we bring into the world, the authenticity with which we live our lives. it’s about being fully present, about seeing people for who they truly are and letting them see you in return.

love, in all its forms, is transformative. it’s not about possession or permanence; it’s about the impact we have on each other’s lives. these men, these loves, they were mirrors reflecting back to me my own capacity for passion, for deep connection, for vulnerability.

staying friends with exes has taught me that love evolves. it’s not confined to the traditional boundaries of a relationship. we can carry the essence of those connections forward, allowing them to shape us, to teach us, to remind us of our own magnetic pull.

in a way, this recurring experience of love speaks to something bigger, something more meaningful. it’s about the human desire to connect, to be seen, to be understood. it’s about the magic that happens when two souls meet and recognize something familiar in each other.

and maybe, just maybe, it’s a reminder that we are all capable of being that spark, that magnetic force, for someone else. it’s about being open, being real, and letting the chemistry of connection work its magic, time and time again.

as i continue on this journey, i am grateful for these echoes of love, these reflections of my own heart. they remind me that love, in all its forms, is the most powerful force of all. and that, in itself, is something truly extraordinary. and maybe that’s why i’ve spent a lifetime chasing the right words to capture these feelings…