I can already sense the backlash from passionate feminists (and yes, I include myself in that group). I can hear the frustrated gasps and the murmurs about being conditioned by a patriarchal society. It’s important to clarify that I’m not advocating for catcalling or endorsing its insensitivity. I’m merely expressing a personal sense of nostalgia for those moments.
When you’re younger, catcalls seem to come from every direction, often leaving you feeling exposed and, at times, irked. I remember wishing to blend into the background, particularly after years of being subjected to endless hollers and whistles. By the time I turned 27, I felt like I had already spent over a decade navigating that overwhelming attention. So yes, I understand the frustration.
However, as time passes, those catcalls shift from a relentless barrage to a mere trickle. You barely notice the transition until one day, you realize they are gone. You might tell yourself you’ve grown numb to them, or even commend yourself for rising above it. But here’s the truth, and it may come off as blunt: you’re not tuning them out; they’ve simply stopped. And let me tell you, that realization can be painful.
I still consider myself attractive. I make an effort in how I present myself, shunning frumpy clothes in favor of stylish outfits. Occasionally, a compliment will come my way—perhaps from an elderly gentleman hurrying to his doctor’s appointment—but it feels delightful nonetheless. I can’t help but admit that such remarks can brighten my day, sometimes giving me a lift for several days.
As we age, the decline in compliments from men can mark a significant shift for us women. Some opt for a path that may seem desperate for attention, characterized by revealing outfits and wild antics in bars. It’s easy to scoff at those women when you’re younger; their choices often seem sad.
The alternative path, while less disheartening, still has its downsides. It’s the route of the devoted wife and mother, where you find yourself dressing up for a casual dinner at a chain restaurant, only to return home early to prepare for the next day. While this path embodies maturity and provides a sense of responsibility, it also lacks the thrill of being desired.
I reluctantly admit that those catcalls once served as a form of validation for me, reaffirming my attractiveness. Isn’t that what many of us seek? To feel appealing while searching for a partner and establishing a family? Now that I’ve achieved that, one might assume I’d feel completely satisfied.
And for the most part, I am. I cherish my life, my partner, and our children. I’ve enjoyed a long stretch of feeling acknowledged and valued. Yet, there are moments when I find myself missing the excitement of those catcalls.
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Summary
The author reflects on the nostalgia for catcalling, recognizing its impact on self-esteem while navigating the complexities of aging and societal expectations. As she transitions into a more mature role, she grapples with the loss of external validation. Despite embracing her current life as a wife and mother, she acknowledges a longing for the compliments of her youth.