the one where I discuss (complain about?) dating and sex and objectification and everything personal

Woohoo! It seems that I'm wholly OUT of break up/rebound territory. Not bothered much by the ole BC any more these days. Except yesterday, when I drove past a black Jeep Cherokee and I think the driver and I made eye contact. And the driver had a square shaped head, nice lips, and black nerdy glasses. I almost threw up, but thank goodness I had to shift into 3rd and didn't have time to get all dramatic.


Anyways.
Helen and I recently noticed that single-ness becomes me. I am happy and healthy. I seem to think that I like relationships better, but when I'm actually WITH someone, I turn into a wreck; self denial, weeping when I fear it's OVER, manic happy episodes when things are good. With someone, I tend to drink too much, miss too much work, and ignore my other friends. It's awful, really.


But dating is a miserable pain in the ass. Let me tell you. I've not really jumped back into that pool yet, just texting with a few people, wetting my feet, so to speak. And you know, I wouldn't even bother, except that I really do want to believe in the whole "falling in love" thing. And if you want a dating relationship to go well, I've learned you must take it a little slower than you'd like and postpone sex until you've defined the relationship. Both of those things are NOT things I'd prefer to do (I'm terribly impulsive), that's just what I've discovered through all my, uh, research.

And I declared late last Dec, after B and I broke it off for good, that I was done done DONE with casual sex (because of the health risk, not because of the psychological implications). And then I was in a monogamous relationship again (which made me miserable) for a while, and now single and wishing I'd not said I was done with casual sex, because if I'm also not getting into a relationship, that's pretty much the same thing as saying I'm done with sex altogether. See? This is a moebius strip conundrum all the way! Argh.

Now, I want to add that my anthropologist friend (who I "have some history with") is in town, petitioning for a bit of my time, and casual is the agenda. It's not very well hidden. Actually, it's completely blatant. There never was much pretense with him. And the kinds of things he says in text are so crazy and outrageous, part of me wants to slap him. But he can back it up, let me tell you. And my brain likes the banter, anyways.

But wait, didn't I say I was DONE with all of that?

So my questions are:

are men who pursue women for sex instead of relationships OBJECTIFYING them?

is objectification actually wrong if it's consensual?

is it any more forgivable if the man is wonderful, brilliant, and considerate?

is it any better considering that I've always happily enough walked away from the affairs in the past?

what if it turns out I can't fall in love without it being a disaster, anyways?




If I can't have what you have... a hand to hold, a compadre, a partner in crime, a yang to my yin... can't I at least have the hot (knocking over lamps and chairs and tall piles of books) sex?

I wanted there to be tiny rat guillotines in this title

But there was no better way to work that in, since I'm feeling pretty happy right now.

In the car, when it was 95 degrees and awful, I thought I'd title this one 'who knew tiny rat guillotines would be registering on the sexy-meter??' but I decided to let. it. go.

It's kind of a long tail, are you ready?


So, yesterday was completely devoted to getting that paper off the ground. I did as much as I could stand and then left for the beach. Stopped by the bf's house (his ACTUAL HOUSE folks: I think we are getting somewhere on this comes-with-the-wind kind of flakiness)to pick him up and then I pulled a bait an switch... He assumed we were just going to hang out on the beach near his house, but off we went to go meet up with some people I know (mostly friends of Cousin Sean and Kandice). It was awkward because of some odd drama Billy was privy to regarding CrazyBob (Billy's totally whack 60 yo roommate) and his estranged brother who, it turns out, is the father of one of my acquaintances, and was in attendance at this little gathering.

Was weird and really awkward. And too cold for sunning or swimming anyways, although we tried. So we left after a short while. Later that night, after I submitted my paper, Billy came over and we eased out of the awkwardness and into the night.

He played songs on the guitar and wanted me to sing, which I happily did (and loudly). We played Osho Zen. We went outside and gawked at my crazy neighbors.

And then, in the afterglow of our union (ahem), there we were- laying on the livingroom floor bed that we've grown accustomed to making on those nights when my kids are sleeping upstairs, we talked about all sorts of things (mostly about SATs and college and science). He told me a story about a girl he 'knew' once. I assumed he meant that in the biblical sense of the word, but I was certain when he brought up the lab rats.

A whole year and a half ago, I felt self conscious about the idea of dating him because I happened to know that his ex was a neuroscientist (genius??). I felt like there is just something so hot about that much intelligence, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

Well, I agreed with him that any job that includes goggles and a lab coat is pretty much the greatest thing eva. And he told me a story about his ex giving little rats pap smears and then using the tiny guillotine.

I pondered aloud what it must DO to a person, to make a living like that.

He pondered aloud, back at me, that I should be asking what it DOESN'T do to you.

for once, I'm advocating playing by the rules in science AND dating ;-)

I've had two epiphanies about doing things the "right way". I know I usually mock rigid-rule-followers as bleating sheep, but today, I feel... different.



So, today, in lab, I was irritated to no end by the BAD FORM I saw all around me.

I mean, really. WHO wears flip flips to lab? Rule no. 1, right?

Also, when you have toxic stuff in slippery little glass containers and you are manuvering in a crowded space, you have to behave a certain way. In restaurant work, to prevent burns and wasted food/time, you call out "I'm behind you" or "coming through" or something like that. Common sense.

Don't be mean and leave a huge mess for the lab tech assistants. Come on. Wash your own stuff. Even in high school we washed all our own glassware.

And lastly, while this one is just ettiquette, I still think it's important; don't go to a station where there's stuff everyone needs to use, and cozy up to it like it's your personal science experiment. Get you stuff and go back to your work station (please!).

And, while we've all had fun tracking my various missteps and faux pas in dating, I have to break it to you; an era may have ended. But before I elaborate, a trip down memory lane perhaps?

Lessons I've learned:

1) If your best friend/roommate says "sure, I'll introduce you, but he's a little clingy/crazy/difficult/maniacal" don't even bother with a few first dates, because he'll be calling you vicious names as soon as you tell him that moving to South America together is not actually on the agenda.


2) Don't hook up with anyone you work with, or for that matter, the son of the owner of your workplace.

3) Same goes for next door neighbors, it gets tricky.

4) Substance abusers = complicated times at best, severely twisted reality at worst.

5) If you have that feeling that you genuinely like someone, don't (for goodness sakes) rush into, well, everything. Draw it out.

6) Physical relations (no matter how hot, steamy, and spontaneous) with no emotional quotient don't make for skipping-down-the-sidewalk mornings. Sharing thoughts and holding hands is sorely underrated.


Anyways, I'm proud of myself for taking things slow right now. I'm enjoying the scenery and whatnot. :-)

and come gather 'round the stripper pole?

On Sunday, since I was sans enfants, I rode my bike up to Borders (in the bitter cold) and hunkered down with a few books and a cup of coffee. I actually zipped right through two of them, cover to cover.

The first one was Candy Girl, by Diablo Cody (that chick who wrote the screenplay for Juno). It's the true story [blah blah blah] of how she worked as a stripper, etc. Interestingly, when she first began working in strip clubs she had a decent day job and a happy home life with her boyfriend & his little girl.

Ok, granted- that's a pretty juicy story, but what I liked best about the book is her use of language. She gets the texture of words. She employs literary technique, skillful narrative, and subtle humor even though she would have still sold plenty of copies 'taking the easy way out'.

Since I've been writing a lot, when I read and my mind goes to the behind-the-scenes stuff... How was the piece constructed, and in what order? Which parts gave her the most satisfaction, or the most trouble? How much of a real life person do you write into your book, and where do you draw the line?

Flight of the Conchords? Oui, ca va?

We were rolling around laughing tonight, watching these New Zealander's performances and music videos on youtube.

I like their song Foux Du Fafa because it really does take me back to my first-year-French-class, but this other one had me in stitches.



Oh, and I decided that Bret (the hotter one) should totally be my boyfriend ;-) especially now that we know, well, what he's into...


Everything except the roommate bit, anyways, lol.

Remember when I asked

"How long will it take to get over the break up?"

Apparently just about 2 months. Not that I don't still think about Tom, about what went wrong, "why?", etc... I do think about that stuff sometimes, but it's not first in the morning, and last at night, anymore.

The stuff he gave me is still here. I still think the japanese fishing hat is the coolest thing on our hat-stand. The jewelry he gave me is still some of my favorite stuff; the texts, the most romantic ever.

I'm just no longer feeling like he was the right person for me. It's sort of a relaxed kind of dissapointment now.

Just thought I should share, since SO many of my friends helped to hold me together when I was falling apart. And now, it's probably time to get MY life back on track (school, work, etc); Tom seriously derailed me for a while, with all that love nonsense.

And, remember when my marriage split up and, even though I did the dumping, I felt so terribly betrayed, broken, and alone? Ah, memories. But, several months later, that pain also passed.

I think that's the story of that single koi fish shoulder tattoo (who currently seems to be trapped in some sort of middle ground between swimming upstream and blowing in the wind). Resisting lonliness is resisting one's most natural and most effortless state of being, the Osho masters might say.

Then, why is it that I feel like I am at my ABSOLUTE best when I can complement someone's uniqueness? When my skills and qualities can be appreciated and someone else's qualities can be appreciated by me? That's where strong friendships come into play, and help to fill that void, somewhat...

Except sex w/ friends is just WIERD sometimes.

Being married spoiled me!