Jealous and Engaged

Something interesting is happening, which is that I seem to be developing a backbone and a sense of self-worth.

Yesterday, I shared a bottle of wine with a guy that I think I'll see again.  (I mean, he has already asked me out again, we just haven't set a date.)  And I talked with 3 men for over an hour each.  A fourth guy, who's name really is John (but not "John"), who had my phone number, finally texted me "Guess who."  Now several obnoxious things:  I hate it when guys expect me to know who they are from their text messages, but this guy hadn't even given me his cell before.  I'd been wanting to talk on the phone for a while and he kept not calling, so why he should expect me to know his name from his phone number is beyond me.

I didn't feel like playing the guessing game, so I didn't.  I said "I'm going out with a friend--let's text later."  He then said that he was the jealous type and I shouldn't be seeing other men.  "I don't want to share. I'm the jealous type."  I said "we haven't even met.  You can't be jealous until we have the conversation about not seeing other people."  He seemed annoyed with me.

Early this morning (EARLY!) I got a text message, and was annoyed, but went back to sleep.  Another text message a minute later.  I ignored it and tried to go back to sleep.  5 minutes later a phone call, which I took, annoyed.  It was from John's fiancee.  She had gone through his cell phone and seen my text message.  I gave her his profile information and told her the rather short history of our contact.  I really hope he doesn't get mad at me.  I don't like it when people are mad at me, even when I think they're wrong.  He has my phone number. He could yell at me.  I hate it when people yell at me.

I feel sorry for her.  I'm glad he doesn't have anything other than my phone number.  And I'm glad I never met him.  And, frankly, I'm glad I was already annoyed with him and planning on not meeting him.

I guess there isn't any way to avoid this.  But when men won't talk on the phone, I should assume they are hiding something.  I was thinking it was flakiness or not that much of an interest in me.

So now I try to get back to sleep...

Straight Pride

I've come to believe that Halloween is really just "Straight Pride Weekend."  All the straight people get dressed up in slutty outfits and parade their sexuality, just like the gay people do during "Gay Pride" day/week/month.

So I went to a 'play party' at a club as a sexy barmaid. An S&M club!

The women were all variations on a theme.  Most of us had a full skirt, mid-thigh length.  Most of us had crinolines, no doubt purchased separately. Most of us had stockings with bows or fishnets.  My heels were higher than most at 4", but variations.  Most of us had low-cut neckline.  Most of us had accessories defining what we 'were.'  Most of us bought our costumes at stores like Party City for somewhere above $30 and below $70.  My variation was the corset lacing below my breasts and the white dirndl look.  Theme and variation.

For much of the evening I sat in the corner, watching.  Observing.  Several guys started a conversation with me, and it felt so silly.  I wanted so much more than they were offering.  (Interestingly, "The Republican" that I blogged about AGES ago came back.  For those of you (probably all) who don't remember, he was someone that got under my skin quite a bit, then wanted things to progress much more quickly than I wanted to to a sexual level.  But he and I had clicked on an intellectual level that stuck with me.  Well, he had reappeared a couple of times, and had pushed towards us getting sexual immediately, and I just say "you have to seduce me first."  Well, he seems to have taken that to heart.  I have no idea if we'll make it work, but I find it very affirming that he would finally decide that I'm worth seducing.)

I wanted more on a relationship level, but also on an intellectual level and wisdom and some sort of grounding.

I did, however, look adorable and when the rather nice lady told me I should enter the costume contest, I said something about not winning and she said "you need more self esteem" and I said "those two over there"(two gay men with AMAZING costumes) "are going to win."  She said "It's not about winning.  It's about twirling around on-stage so all the men can see how cute you are."  So I entered!

I still felt self conscious being in the contest because I used to make amazing costumes.  My best costume was the year I went at a peacock with about 50 (literally) peacock feathers I sewed to my outfit.  But the lady who told me to enter emceed and commented on how cute I was and told them to give me an extra round of applause for being so pretty and people did!  (And it was rather enthusiastic applause.)

I think it was actually really good for me.  I think right now I know I look cute intellectually, but I'm working on getting it at a cellular level.  And this was clearly really good on that level.  Just the fact that the women who seemed like a co-owner wanted me on the stage because she saw me as an asset to attract guys said a lot.  (I want to explore more what it means to be a feminist and also allow myself to be objectified in certain situations, but not at 3:30 in the morning.)

I must say that I mostly stuck to the bar and avoided the 'scenes' going on.  It was a little more hard core than I am.  Part of me wished I had someone I loved to do things like that, but I can't just give my body without my heart.  They are so attached.

However, I met a guy (who is married, and we weren't flirting--his wife was there, and she seems nice) with whom I had some pretty darn amazing conversation.  We were in overlapping fields a couple of towns over from each other, so we talked about work.  We talked about kink.  We talked about politics and Republicans and what kink means.  We talked for about 2 hours.  And it was a really fun, expansive conversation.  I think he could pick up that I don't 'play' and when I apologized for taking so much of his time when he was probably looking for someone to play with, he said it was the best night he'd had at a play party in years.  Spanking was fun, but this was great.  That felt really nice.  (He also was pretty surprised when my age come up in passing--he was like "you don't look 40.  And you don't act 40.  I mean you're smart enough to be 40, but you're so active and young!"  I wonder if he has any friends!

Fucking Adorable

When I was in the 4th grade, I went to family church camp and sang in the choir, which was mostly composed of adults.  My beautiful mother sang soprano, and when the choir director told me I had to sing alto, I burst into uncontrollable tears.  The choir director, clearly shocked at this unbelievable display of emotion, relented and said "oh, you were just nervous.  You can be a soprano."

It was kind. But...  I'm an alto.  (Which you probably wouldn't guess if you spoke to me, as I have a rather high-pitched voice.)  And even in the 4th grade, I knew that Altos were comic side-kicks.  Not romantic leads.  It is the only reason that could possibly make sense why I reacted as I did.  I wanted to be pretty.

This year, for the first time ever, I bought a sexy, slutty, adorable Halloween costume.  And I have to say, I look fucking adorable.  Absolutely adorable.  I wouldn't mind if my tummy were a bit flatter, but I have great legs, going up to the adorable, crinolines under the skirt, great cleavage, a nice hourglass.  I really feel adorable in this, and that is really cool.  I spent over $100 when you count the adorable, come-fuck-me shoes that have leather criss-crossed on suede, like a corset, but subtle enough I'm not embarrassed to wear them (and while they are 4" heels, it is really only 3.5" because the toe has plenty of padding).

I look cuter than I ever thought I would look.  At 40.  Maybe I am making peace with who I am, rather than who I want to be.  I do think that feeling that way about myself is totally worth the $100.  Even if I never get the courage to wear it out of the apartment!

Perfectionism

So I had a big set-back at work today.  The proposal I was working on for over a year got shot down very quickly, and it was an idea that was very dear to me.  I'll find another way to have the idea heard, I think.  But it was very sad making.

In a complete and totally mind-fuck, I went out with men this week who's real life names are Bob and Robert.  I won't see either of them again, so I can give their real names.  But Bob was critical of me.  He gave me a task, which was fine because it was a task I wanted to do for myself, but then was critical when I didn't do it the way he wanted (and he wasn't at all clear about what his expectations were).  I think he was mostly critical because I was critical of what I had done.  I think if I'd said "It is perfect" he'd have been way more pleased.  But his task was to finish something I'd been working on for 4 months.  I did everything he had said, but I still didn't think it was finished, and I really didn't like the dynamic he set up.

Which brings me to something interesting.  The thing that made me decide I didn't want to see Bob again is that he was as critical of me as I am!   And there's just no way I could do a D/s/ thing with someone who is that critical of me.  But it might be interesting to explore how I might start to be less critical of me.  Maybe just a little....

Trivial Trust update

I had e-mailed the guy that ran the last event and he was SUPER nice.  He actually offered not only that I could come to my next event for free, but I could have a free year-long membership to the kink group that sponsored it.  That felt like too much and I think I might go to their Halloween party, but not take the year-subscription.  That just seems out of whack.  But he was super nice.

Now, if I go to a Halloween party, I think I might get a slutty costume like everyone else.  Somehow, I don't think of myself as dressing like a slut.  (I'm thinking this one, but probably with fishnets that go all the way up, as I think that will be more flattering.)  What, really, would I have to lose?  I'm actually thinking of going to a party where some people (NOT ME!) will be playing in public and I'm questioning whether or not I should dress like most people will.

Trivial Trust

I went to a 'scene' event.

So I get there and the nice lady says "$10."  And I say "I thought it was $8."  And she said "Oh, he changed it."  And I said "but it says eight dollars on the website"  And then I show her the current website on my phone.  And she said "He changed it.  We don't negotiate price."

It really pissed me off.  On one level, this is totally trivial.  What is $2?  I can't believe I left and went back to my hotel room over $2.  I wasted and evening in NYC over $2.

But here's the thing:  people in my vanilla life would never dream of doing something like that.  They'd be like "oh, we advertised it at $8.  Our mistake."  I just can't imagine another circumstance where people would advertise something to get people to the door at one price and then switch the price when they show up.

And, it feels to me that that basic level of trust is just missing from the kink world.  There's all this talk about SSC or RACK but I feel like some (not all, but some) people are saying "we reject societal conventions on sexuality, therefore all societal conventions are bad."  And I really need things like men being the age they say they are and sending pictures of themselves taking during the Obama administration and not the Clinton administration. I swear 2 men I've gone out with had pictures from the Bush administration.  George H.W. Bush! I want men to have a basic level of manners.  I want men who know the difference between "an" and "and" or "there" and "their."

On one level, this is all incredibly trivial.  What is $2?  Why not just pay the $2?  I'm spending more than that on the movie in my hotel room.  But on another level, believing that I can trust people to be who they say they are and do what they say they'll do is absolutely essential to me and there are too many people in the kink world that just don't.  It makes me wonder if they reject dental floss as too bourgeois

Deranged performance art

The 'gentleman' was in his late 40s to mid 50s and sported a thinning, comb-over mullet and a paunch.  He entered the subway (I was there last weekend) with a large crucifix attached to a broom handle and a shiny red pee-chee with a cross constructed out of mirror pieces, like a 5th grade art project from Our Lady of Perpetual Guilt.

He talks about his ministry to the 'angels' of the earth.  Angels are only women.  Everyone else should jump off the subway, he informed us.  The demons and the guerrillas are abominations and they should cleanse themselves by jumping off the subway now.  I'm mildly amused--enough to turn down the volume on my iPhone, but not enough to look at him.  He continues in his glory-hallelujah style.  Demons are, of course, men (aside from himself, of course).  Angels become Guerrillas the second they turn 22 years old.  He realized there were a lot of teenage boys on the car I was on, but no teenage girls and started praying to Jesus for the train to get to the next station and save him from the abomination of the guerrillas.  He said this while looking at me, then covered his face with his pee-chee, which had mirrors when he opened it.

I honestly don't know if he was trying to pick up young chicks, or was mentally imbalanced.  Or if he was an avant-guarde performance artists deconstructing male privilege.  I think he was probably just crazy.  But it still made me feel shitty.

Yes.  A crazy man with a home-made crucifix taped to a broom handle talking about angels, guerrillas and demons made me feel like I wasn't good enough.

And that is the male prerogative to define beauty.  It is conferred on every gentleman to define every woman.

And then I felt shitty for letting him make me feel shitty.  "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent!  What is wrong with you? Buck up!"

And that is a combination of my perfectionism and all the trips that I felt feminism laid on me.  Am I the only one who felt that "Be the change you wish to see in the world" was impossible to live up to?  I can't be the change.  I keep fucking it up!  Even trying to accept myself with joy and vitality is a tall order many days.  My mother still feels guilty for not single-handedly stopping W.'s 'election.' And I feel guilty for letting the patriarchy get me down.  And for not being a good feminist.  And for believing that there is such a thing as a 'good' feminist, instead of a woman living openly and honestly as best she can.

Let down your hair...

I love breath play.  Love it.  If I filled out my kink stuff on CollarMe honestly (I don't fill it out at all), it would have to be a 'lives for.'  Breath play is essential to orgasms for me.  It makes them exponentially stronger.

And I will rarely tell anyone that.  It seems dangerous.  I don't know how to trust someone enough to trust him to choke me.  I just don't.  I think Bobby was the only man I've ever told that too.  I mostly do it on my own--cutting off my air with the back of my throat, as if I were to swallow half-way or something, for probably about 15 seconds or so before I allow myself to cum.  And I wonder why my orgasms are SO much more intense on my own.

Breath play seems symbolic of the whole bdsm thing for me.  I crave kink and D/s (Dominance/Submission) and B (bondage), but I fear the S&M.  I suppose it is the Romantic view of the sublime:  fear and awe.  It seems dangerous for people to know what I want, which, of course, keeps me from getting what I want.  I, perhaps, throw up roadblocks.  Each individual one seems to make so much sense, but together, they do, perchance, keep me to tightly armoured.

Of course, there is real danger.  Dan Savage says there's no safe way to do breath play, and he's hardly a reactionary puritan.  I think he is over-reacting. From what I've read, there's no danger in holding your own breath (as long as you aren't using any props to do it).  If I do ever pass out (which I've never done), I'll stop my half-swallow and start breathing.  But it isn't like I'm saying that I'm scared of getting herpes, so I'll never kiss anyone.  There is a real danger here.

And I have, in my head, a sense of how it would be safe.  We would have a conversation about it, and I would tell him what turns me on.  And he would then start playing with ordering me to hold my breath and only orgasm and breath when he says it is OK.  Or he'd kiss me and plug my nose so I could only breath between kisses.  Most people hear breath play and want to get out a belt, which I really don't think is safe.  But somehow or other, the intimacy and trust is never great enough, and there is this whole side of me that I hide.  To keep it safe.  Like Rapunzel in her tower, dying of isolation.  And then, of course, she flees her tower and becomes blind from not judging the risks of the world correctly.  How to let down my hair and not be too badly hurt by the world?  If only I could find a prince....

Sexism

It has been pointed out that I am being a little sexist and stereotyping men.  I think that is a fair criticism, at least of my writing.  So let me say that I dearly loved John, and I felt a deep click with Bobby that made me believe I could really love him, if he had wanted that.  Of course, when I write, there is a huge "in my experience" around everything I write, and I do not mean to imply that all 3 billion men are the same.

That said, I have worked to get rid of the "in my opinions" from my writing.  I sort of assume that everything anyone writes is that author's opinion, but I do think that women apologize and hedge in their writing by saying 'in my opinion,' 'I think,' and words like that.  I sort of assume that anyone reading this knows it is my opinion.

I should also say that if I didn't believe there were men different from the ones I've already met, I couldn't keep dating.  It my hope of meeting a man that has the intellectual and simpatico click that I had with both John and Bobby, who wants and is ready for a relationship and attracted to me that keeps me doing this.  And "this" is really hard sometimes.  And I am scared that the men that I would most want to spend real time with are already taken.  I'm aware that a lot of men see me as damaged goods because I'm single and over 40.  And I fear that men my age who are single may be single by choice.  But I stay present and work to stay open out of optimism (that is sometime more a choice than the result of rational analysis.)

It would be far easier to allow myself to become cynical and, well, get more cats (or whatever that is a metaphor for).

"I never led you on"

John and Bobby both said "I never led you on."

John talked about whether this was 'for keeps.'  He borrowed my ring after saying he wanted to wait at least until we were engaged.  He said I was the only woman he could ever have considered spending the rest of his life with.  And he said "I never led you on."

Bobby was far less so.  But he presented himself as if he were single.  He presented himself as if he were open to a relationship.  He kissed me.  And kissed me. And kissed me.  Played with my breasts.  Played with my clit.  (And no, I'm not proud of myself for doing that the first day I met him.  But it was a magical day, that had followed a lot of intense conversations.)  Told me to think about him every time I played with myself.  We talked a bit yesterday and he said he never 'led me on."

How the heck do men define "leading a woman on?"  It is like the words mean something completely different to me as they do to men.

I'm trying to find the place between 'whatever' and 'love harder.'  And I just don't know where that spot is.  The amount of work I spend on trying to feel the pain so it doesn't become a mask that numbs me out is huge.  I believe I have to do that to be ready to meet someone when I find the right person.  But darn it, I want to find him.  And I want him to say "yes--I am seducing you.  How else can I lead you to me?"

Whatever

With the emphasis on the 'what' and a slight roll of the eyes.  

I said it often when I was a teenager.  I still think it.  Feel it.  It is a way of distancing.  Of numbing.  Of pretending I didn't want more.  Want the world to be a little closer to how I'd imagined it.  

I think of Van Jones. 

 

His earnest idealism inspires me.  His calling people on their "This may not work out very well--you're not fooling nobody."  (it's about 19 minutes, 30 seconds in.)  "Your heart was broken not just this year.  Your heart was broken a long time ago.  ... Love harder."

How did he keep that as the people he thought he could believe in let him down so badly?  He says he threw himself a big pity party, but then he clearly got over it and got back in touch with that part of him that could be hurt.

'Whatever'  keeps idealism at bay.  I use it with politicians.  I said often "I'm sure Obama will break my heart. He's a politician" or "This may not work out very well."  I didn't expect it quite as badly as it came, but I prepared for it with that psychic 'whatever.'  (Except when he gave his Cairo speech or his Philly speech on race, when I really thought me was something amazing.)  But he broke my heart.  It is hard to see how I can hope for someone more than Obama, and also hard to see how I could ever have thought he could make the country better and stay true to his rhetoric.

Do I weep?  Or do I say "whatever."  I don't have Van Jones' strength when it comes to politics.  Or his privilege.  

I go back and forth when I think of Bobby. Sometimes I'm aware of how much I liked him.  How much we connected.  And then I'm aware of where I wish he had behaved differently. Maybe if we hadn't made out for hours in the rain, if he hadn't played with my clit and told me to think of him when I played with myself and tell him when I did.... But I don't want to be mad at him and then a giant, psychic "whatever" comes through.  I should have thought "this may not work out very well" from the beginning.  But I wouldn't be fooling anyone.

Van Jones says to "love harder" and I don't have Van Jones' strength when it comes to love either.  I feel like if I love any harder, my heart will break harder, and I don't know how to pick up the pieces any more. And yet, I keep throwing myself pity parties, hoping to come though with the strength and finally meet someone who has the strength to have done his own work and be ready to meet me.

Daddy's Girl. Part 2

My dad and I had a couple of fairly intense conversations recently.  It can be frustrating because he forgets things that are important to me.  Just like John did.  (Like John, my dad has also had a stroke, but at least we know it and when he forgets something, we know what happened.)  But my dad had forgotten that I had my arm broken by bullies in the 3rd grade.  I asked him why he never did anything to try and protect me, and he didn’t remember it at all.  My mom does remember, but it is frustrating that he doesn't.

He said, and I find this a little creepy, and I’m a little wigged out to even blog about it.  

In the fifth grade, we stayed at a beach cottage for a week, and the room I had had a box of Penthouse magazines.  I read the letters that week.  Even then, pictures were boring but the letters were really interesting.  I don't think I would have said "hot" but I started to get a sense of how adults saw sex.  (Yes, I know this isn't how adults saw sex, it was how Penthouse framed sex for men, but I didn't know that in the 5th grade.)  By the end of the week, I knew what I was interested in, and it was the kinkier letters.  I still recall one of those letters.

The following year, I started being grounded instead of spanked.  My dad just told me that he stopped spanking me because it felt like there was S&M undertones developing.  Creepy!!!!   I'm glad he stopped, but part of me thinks I'd rather not know I was behaving that way in the 6th grade with my father.  That is just weird.  And it makes me wonder if therapy isn't a better answer than kink.  Ah, well...

Second Thoughts

I have had a really rough week.  For a day I thought I could get fired.  It looks like it going to blow over, but no one at work has my back.  I’ve been chewed out for following regulation.  Part of my job is to play “bad cop” and then if anyone complains that I’ve been too strict, well, my boss will say I shouldn’t follow code.  But, as corny as it sounds, I actually believe the rules are useful and should be followed (oh, isn’t that cute).  I know it would be easier and more fun for me to blow off the rules and I’m more likely to keep my job, but I can’t do it and live with myself.  I believe our clients are capable of meeting our expectations (which are quite low) and that as they do, they'll be more capable of doing more down the road.

But all I really wanted to do was call Bobby.  I didn’t because it wouldn’t be fair to him to call on him when I need him and then not be a friend.  Part of me wishes so much I could be his friend. 

The problem is I just can’t see how I would ever be satisfied with that.  I can see myself judging me for not being what he wanted.  I can see myself judging him for what I would consider self-destructive behavior (that would also keep us from being together romantically).  I can see myself putting my life on hold, hoping he'd change. But I can’t see myself not wanting more from him.  Maybe if he hadn’t kissed me.  Maybe if he’d been a lousy kisser.  Maybe if he wasn’t sexy.  Maybe if he didn't seem to think I was sexy.  Maybe if he didn't imply that part of him thinks what he is doing is self-destructive.  There is no way I could be a supportive, loving friend when I want to be a supporting, friendly love.

 I am a little annoyed that he seduced me.  I’m grateful we didn’t sleep together, because I totally would have slept with him and he put the brakes on that.  But still...  Life would have been easier if he hadn't kissed me.  And touched me.  And opened me.  And caressed me.

I look at what made me like Bobby so very much, and wonder if that is really all it takes to get under my skin.  He listened when I talked and talked about things of substance so I wanted to listen.  He seemed genuinely interested in me.  He understood my trepidations about S&M and made it clear that he would care more about me than about any particularly activity, and that made me want to do everything with him.  There was a time I loved S&M, but too often it became about what I could endure, not what I might like.  And I added layers to my armor.  Layers that make sense, but they seemed to melt with Bobby.  

Well, I'm traveling for the next couple of weeks, so no dating and I already have three dates the week I get back.  (As a general rule, I won't go out with more than 3 new people a week.  It just gets too tiring and I lose track of who is who.)  So I guess I'll keep being smitten with Bobby for another 2 weeks, and then, hopefully soon, someone else will kiss me.  Hopefully on a second date.  My birthday is next month, and it would be lovely to be with someone I'd want to spank me.  But I think that is probably not likely.  Maybe next year.

Revolving Doors

I go out with a lot of men and most men I forget about a week after I've seen if either they don't call or I don't return their call.  (We can look at the whole issue of why I assume men should call, but it just seems to me it works better when guys call me than when I call guys.)

So after I moved back to the area in 2005 I had coffee with a guy--let's call him Tom.  I assume he didn't call me back because at that point I pretty much went out with anyone who wanted to go out with me.  We went to a cute little coffee shop with a cute little garden in the back which closed in 2007.

I started e-mailing this guy on CM about a year ago and we e-mail a couple of times a week.  Earlier this week he told me he was the guy that I had coffee with in 2005 or 2006.  I have no memory of him, only the coffee shop.  Even after he sent me photos, I have no memory of him.

I find it a little odd that we have been corresponding for a year and he never alluded to this. He initiates all e-mails.  He is kind and respectful and seems interested in small talk, but I came to the conclusion about 6 months ago that he didn't want so meet, so I stopped having longer e-mails.

There was another guy I went out with this year who didn't allow me to get a word in edgewise and when I said I didn't think we should get together again, he dropped that we had gone out before and I had no memory of it either.''

So, it seems that men aren't the only one that see the other side in interchangeable.   But it is a little disturbing that I have absolutely no memory of our getting together.  (I even had to look on a map to see where the coffee shop was, and then when I found photos on yelp I was like "oh, I remember that place.")

So perhaps my view that women are more interchangeable in a patriarchy isn't a fair statement.  Maybe I wasn't into either of these men, so I forgot them and Bobby just wasn't that into me.  That's OK.  I'm (slowly) moving on.  (Alas, the vanilla guy was totally flaky.  We were supposed to get together Tuesday and I had a meeting that got cancelled, so I said at 10 am I could do any time after 3, what time?  And he didn't reply.  So at 2 I said "I'm going to yoga, I can meet any time after 6" and he was like "sounds like you're busy, let's get together after your trip" and I was like "I have free time tonight--but I usually schedule my time tightly" and he said "can I call you" and I said "Sure" and he didn't.  I could understand him not wanting to call after he met me, but I find the 'you have to keep your entire day free for an hour of coffee' attitude off-putting.)

Feminism, Ideals, Beauty and Self-Kindness

Lately, I've been thinking about how we date as feminist, kinky submissives in a patriarchal, sexist world.

For years, that Gandhi quote: "Be the change you wish to see in the world" felt like a reproach if I couldn't live by my ideals every waking moment of every day.  Heaven forbid that I would get thirsty and not have a full, refillable water bottle around, because buying a disposal water bottle felt like I was failing as a human being.

This led me to a lot of criticism of myself for not living up to my feminist ideals.

And I realized, my internalized feminism had become another way to criticize myself.  If I wasn't happy with how I looked, or with an element of my life that mirrored the sexism of our society, not only would I criticize myself for that, I'd also criticize myself for thinking non-feminist-sanctioned-thoughts.  Oy ee vay!

Needless to say, I didn't usually live up to my own ideals.  And in a way, it was both humble (oh, I'm bad) and arrogant (oh, if only I could resist that problems in the world, I could be the change and change the world).

Recently, I've started to see that yes, I failed at single-handed changing the world.  But the moral arc bends slowly, and I have helped bend it a teensy, weensy, weensy, teensy bit towards greater justice.

Now, I want to have more kindness for myself and for people caught in a bad system.

My mother had plastic surgery a few years ago because she was having trouble seeing (her eyelids drooped) and I supported her, completely.  I wonder, however, if I would have been so supportive if I hadn't already known her and loved her.

But I have to acknowledge the difficulties of being a female in this society.  Wanting a partner isn't a capitulation to the patriarchy.  I think it is just human.  And that happening within a context where the men have way more power (although I have more power than most women ever in history, and even though I crave to surrender a part of that, I would still control way more of my life than most women ever have) and that does confine choices for women.  A lot of men judge women by their looks.  Wanting to look good in that context isn't a stupid choice--it is the logical choice.  Even as we may want to change the system, we can't just sacrifice our lives to 'be the change.'

This has been a difficult one for me.  In the last few years, I've gotten into the cuter part of single women my age.  But I also know that based on how society defines beauty, it won't last that long.  I'm not planning on running off to have plastic surgery.  But I'm spending more money than I'd care to admit on moisturizer.

I'm also considering lying about my age.  I've had so many people lately tell me I should lie about my age.  Everyone says "say you're 32."  I actually have been carded in the last 2 bars that weren't a regular hangout for me, so clearly I don't look like I'm in my 40s.  I don't want to start a relationship on a lie, but I also wonder if, with internet dating, it makes sense to lie.  I just don't know.

Lately, either a lot of men are lying (a lot) about their age, or a lot of men my age are aging really badly.  Gollum claimed to be 47, but I'd be surprised if he was only 57.  He walked like a senior citizen and smelled old.  They used to say that women get old and men get distinguished.  But lately, it seems to me that the opposite is happened among the people I know who claim to be in their 40s.  (And I just had a 29 year old surgeon tell me he has a crush on me from my pictures.  That's nice.)

The Precipice

That moment when Wile E Coyote runs off the edge of the cliff, and there is a split second before he starts to fall.  I feel like I'm in that moment.

My best friend just got a job offer for rural Alaska.  I am devastated.  She doesn't know if she should take it or not. I'm urging her to take it because I think it would be really good for her (and it is 'only' 2 years).  But on the inside, I'm staring into an abyss.  When we're done with breakfast I get in my car, wait till she's gone, and I start to cry.  Hysterically.  I feel like my life is falling apart. This is how I behaved in high school.  So I find a bathroom, wash my face and try to fake it for the rest of the day.

I can't imagine how to have the level of joy and focus and playfulness and grounding if she leaves.  We'll have Sykpe.  She isn't taking the job if she can't have internet.  But I can't imagine.  I knew how important she was to my life, but I don't know that I felt it.  She is such a ballast.  Already, I can feel my life shrinking.

Company

Interestingly, the twit from yesterday asked to take me out to one of the fancier restaurants in town.  I told him no, but it is nice to realize that I can set limits with men in general and not have them immediately say "oh, she's too high maintenance."  But I felt like the twit from yesterday would have been really toxic to my private girl.  She doesn't handle criticism well, and when I'm in that submissive space, any criticism just makes me recoil (and praise just makes me blossom.)

Meanwhile I had a date with a guy today (also from alt.com--I think that may be enough of that experiment) who strongly reminded me of movie star.  Unfortunately, it was Gollum.  Not his hair, but his facial features, his teeth.  His pictures had to have been at least 15 years old, maybe older.  He walked with a cane and looked older than my father.  And he smelled badly.  And he bragged about cheating on his taxes.  

I do have a date with a vanilla guy on Tuesday, whom, I have to say, has managed to intrigue me.  I don't think he's all that vanilla (even though we met on OK Cupid--they let you see answers to questions and he clearly has a dom/kink interest in there), and he wants to teach me to tango and wants me to teach him West Coast Swing, but I don't think I can teach WCS.  I'm not that good at it, and the guy's part is so different.  I could teach him hustle or East Coast Swing.

But, we have a lot of political things in common and he is currently reading one of my favorite authors.  My friends joke that I act like a Mormon when it comes to Robin Hobbs, giving everyone Ship of Magic and pushing all of her books.  It is fun to find a guy who is reading the same thing.  He's a lawyer, and I've tended to click well with lawyers.  I don't know that he wants more kids--he has a 3 year old daughter (and has been divorced for a year).  It could be fun to date a 'vanilla' guy who doesn't know my kink cards.  He was more open about his than I am about mine, but I'm pretty darn sure we're complementary kinked. 

Other news:  Tae Kwon Do is way to S&M-y for me.  A guy told me I had to move because I was a lower ranked belt and I don't really like being punched or kicked.  I think Tai Chi is much more of my thing.  Give me the modern dance version of a martial art!

And I do have to say, I think I've been looking pretty cute lately!

But truth be told, I still miss and think of Bobby.  I have this present I was going to give him for his birthday and don't know what the heck to do with it (it is not returnable) and I just really thought I recognized in him a kindred spirit.  I haven't met that many.  I thought he was something special.  Which he was.  And I thought he thought I was something special.  Which I think he did on one level, but not enough to try and be open to romantic possibilities.  Sometimes, I guess, we just meet kindred spirits when we aren't ready for them.  I hate trying to do the right, mature thing.  When I see a star every night, I wish on it.  I've been carefully editing my wishes.

Bullet Dodged

So I had a date with a guy named "Robert." (His name is a deviation on "Bobby's" name.)

And he didn't show up!!

An hour before we were supposed to meet he e-mailed me to confirm (in a kind of annoying, put-upon voice), that he hadn't heard from me in a week (it was actually 3 days and I had sent the last e-mail).  I was already in the car, because he picked a place right by his house and far from mine, and I didn't check my e-mail in the car.  Then 10 minutes before we were supposed to meet (when I was still in the car) he e-mailed me again saying he assumed I wasn't coming so he wouldn't come until he heard from me.  I e-mailed him back, about 10 minutes after I got there, when I thought to check my e-mail, saying "I'm here" and 20 minutes later and 30 minutes later and finally, 45 minutes later I said "I'm leaving."

He sent a really self-righteous e-mailing, complaining that I hadn't texted or called him. (He hadn't asked me to, and I didn't feel like going on alt.com to find his phone number somewhere.)

It was interesting because I realize that if I had gotten involved with this man, he would be forever annoyed with me, and I would blame myself.  I would totally assume that I should read his mind and apologize for not having read his mind and think there was something wrong with me.

I'm also thinking that I'm going to start refusing to meet men who won't travel half-way to see me.  I don't want them to know exactly where I live (which is in a hip, near, suburb of a major metropolitan area).  I don't mind travelling into town, but I think I'd like them to travel to the part of town that is easier for me, so I'm not both travelling into town and having to travel across town.  Furthermore, I'm thinking that I want gentlemen to volunteer to do that, and if they don't, I'm thinking it doesn't make sense to date them.  If someone can't be perceptive enough to my needs that he won't travel part the way to meet me, why should I bother?

It was really frustrating to waste three hours, but I suppose it is worth the insight.