To All of My Australian Female Friends,
I haven’t been on Facebook for a good 4 months, and I won’t be active for quite a while longer. I’m only writing this post now after becoming aware of a terrifying trend that my close friends have made me aware of recently…a trend that I’ve observed after coming back on Facebook and seeing it for myself. The trend I’m talking about is going under the knife and paying a plastic surgeon to alter your face so that you look closer to whatever it is that you’ve been conditioned to believe is more beautiful than you already are.
First, I’d like to apologize for the part I’ve played in the insecurity that you feel. I’ve never consciously reinforced society’s unrealistic standard of beauty, or measured you against it, but I know that I’ve done so without knowing it. I’ve been told by many of my female friends that I only date “model types”. I’ve never dated a woman based on her looks alone, but perhaps they’re right. Perhaps I’m acting on the same conditioning that’s inspiring you to believe that you need a nip and tuck in order to be perceived as beautiful. But I swear to you it’s not true. It’s the quality and strength of her heart that has always inspired me to devote myself to a woman. It was NEVER her looks alone.
I’m going to share something with you that very few people know. I didn’t have to leave Australia when I did. I could still be there right now, enjoying the luxurious lifestyle that I had while I lived there. I gave that lifestyle up with no hesitation. And I gave that lifestyle up for you…for every single woman that had come to trust me after the way I looked after you whenever you visited Marquee. You see…I left Marquee after I was sponsored by a certain organization. Little did I know at the time, I was recruited and sponsored specifically because they had observed how comfortable women were with me when they visited Marquee. They saw how much you trusted me to take care of you and look out for you whenever you spent time there. Though my official title was as a Marketing Manager for their organization, that was only a front. After I was sponsored, I learned that their true bread and butter came from upscale prostitution.
Within days of being sponsored by them, I was briefed on what was expected of me. They wanted me to compile a list of all of the women whose contact info I had, which totaled thousands in all, and contact each one of you, exploit the trust that I had built with you, and convince you to become a prostitute under their authority. The reward for each successful recruitment would be 10% of everything you earned throughout your new “career”, and access to your “services” any time I liked. With all my body and soul, I refused. I would drink bleach before I would exploit women in such a way. Especially women who trusted me purely because I had proven to them that I was worthy of their trust.
My new employer was not pleased, but he was patient. So he endeavored to starve me out. He paid me a fraction of the salary I was contracted to be paid, and only paid it whenever he was feeling generous. And he continued to dangle those rewards in my face. “Well, if you would just recruit a couple of girls, you’d be set for good. Just call some of your friends and invite them over for an interview. We’ll take care of the rest.” I still refused, and eventually I walked away from that organization entirely.
At that point I had no income at all, as I couldn’t legally work for any other organization under Australia’s immigration laws. I fell behind on my rent. I had to borrow money from one friend after the next to cover my living expenses, and eventually I was evicted from my apartment altogether. I ended up having to live in my friend’s mother’s attic in Rose Bay by the time I left Australia. I lost everything I had built there because I refused to exploit your trust and your insecurities for my own personal gain.
Even after I left Australia to take advantage of an opportunity to work in Dubai, the person who wanted me to exploit you contacted my new employer and sabotaged the role I had earned, resulting in me being stranded in Bali for over a year. At any point in time I could have caved in and went on a massive recruitment drive for them to bring my suffering to an end. But I didn’t. I didn’t do that because I would not consciously participate in exploiting and profiting from your insecurities. Not a single one of you was “expendable” or worth little enough to exchange for my life in Australia.
That is why, at this time, after looking through my Facebook network and seeing how many of you have allowed the ridiculous standards of beauty in your society to convince you that you are not beautiful enough or worthy enough to be loved as you are, it breaks my fucking heart. Because you are. It was the beauty of your character that gave ME the fortitude and willpower to stand strong when faced with the opportunity to profit from the very same insecurities that has either inspired you to go under the knife, or has you thinking about it right now. Even if I only interacted with you for five minutes, or five seconds, you were still a woman that I felt so much respect and appreciation for that I would rather lose everything I had than to take advantage of you and exploit the very same insecurities that you’re giving in to right now.
If you think you’re not “hot” enough or beautiful enough to be loved or appreciated by a guy, allow me to be the evidence that proves that to be a lie. Because every single one of you contributed to my love for the country that you live in. You are beautiful in every way that matters to me. And letting a surgeon chop your face up so that you more closely fit a ridiculous standard of beauty won’t improve that perception one bit. It’ll only advertise to the world how insecure you are, and break my heart a little bit more. I know it’s hard to live in a society that seems to reward those who are “most beautiful”. I get it. But I promise you that going under the knife doesn’t resolve the insecurities that inspire that decision in the first place, regardless of what the girls who have done it tell you. They have to tell you they’re happy about it. The alternative is acknowledging how foolish a decision it truly was to do it, and how unfulfilled and insecure they still feel afterward.
So please.. if you haven’t done it, DON’T. If you’ve already done it, STOP. To the men reading this, HELP. Don’t judge these women. Openly acknowledge and appreciate the qualities of their character that deserve appreciation. Maybe…just maybe, when they hear how much the men in their life appreciate WHO they are, they won’t feel the need to alter their face to inspire your respect, appreciation, or desire. Because everything about it is fucked up. If a significant number of women in your society are resorting to such drastic measures to experience approval and affection, then the men in their society are failing them. We need to do better, for them. And to stop rewarding the women who go to such extreme measures, because all that does is convince other women that that’s what’s necessary in order to be loved and appreciated.
Whatever this is worth to you, take it for what it is…a message to all of the women in Australia that I’ve come to respect, admire, and appreciate. That includes all of you, and excludes none of you. That’s all I’ve got.