Thanksgiving--looking back

MaxEarnest and I broke up about a year ago and I started dating Tony seriously.  (It was actually last week, but since it was right after Thanksgiving, it feels like this week, since Thanksgiving is so late this year.)

It has been a hard year.  A year also where I feel like I made a lot of mistakes, but didn't learn lessons from them.  I miss MaxEarnest all the fucking time, and I know we couldn't have found a way for us each to get what we needed from the other--our lives were just too incompatible.  Tony was a disaster, but it took months before I started to see that.  He had on good behaviour for a bit.  Philip was likewise a disaster, and it also took time before I saw that. I seem to be having a dating slump, in part, perhaps, because I'm stretched so thin, I don't really have time for much.  (I'm working much too hard right now, and I also took on a volunteer gig that I thought would be a few hours a week and is, in fact, more like 15 hours.  I'm really exhausted, all the time right now.)

I feel more isolated than I have in 8 years.  I miss Dotty terribly.  I had a big fight with one of my oldest friends in March and we have never repaired that.  I started playing a stupid on-line video game and realize it has become my primary social outlet, other than work.  

I have been able to break a bad pattern this year.  Typically, when things happen to me that I don't think are right, I feel like no one ever stands up for me.  In two difficult situations this year, people stood up for me!

Also, my dad did something hurtful this year and for the first time, he really, really, really understood why I was upset.  He got it, and I feel like he respects my feelings in a way I haven't felt before.

I'm also learning to stand up for myself a little more.  There's a kinky guy from CM who keeps wanting me to agree I'll come over to his place and we'll have kinky sex, and I've been very clear about my limits.  I haven't gone along with what he wants, that wouldn't be good for me.  

But that's about it for learning or growing from things.  I'm tired and lonely and sad.  Not exactly a great thing to blog about. I wish I could have some revelation to make things interesting.  I'm beginning to think I'm hitting middle age...

Self-pity

I'm having a really rough time of it right now.

This has been a shitty year.  And it is almost my birthday and it just feels like it is a year of mistakes and sadness.

I survived.  But that's about all I can say for it.

I didn't realize how pathetic my life had gotten until Dotty came to visit.  We went to "our" bakery, which we go to whenever she is in town.  I also go there on my birthday and at the end of a real crunch season at work (provided I've stuck to my rules for eating sweets at work).  

My favorite bakery has stopped making my favorite treat.  And on one level, that is kind of not a big deal, right.  It's a fucking cupcake, chocolate with mint frosting.  What's the big deal?  And yet, my world has been a little shattered by the realization that I can't have this cupcake on my birthday.  And what is far worse is realizing how important this stupid cupcake has become in my life, because there just isn't a lot of good stuff in my life right now.  

On one level, I live a life or privilege and ease that so many people would envy.  I have enough money to buy anything I really want (but not everything I really want, but who needs that?)  I have autonomy, security and safety.  I own a beautiful home overlooking the water. I'm relatively healthy. What do I have to complain about?

But when did the highlight of my life become a god damn cupcake that I look forward to for months at a time?  What am I going to do on my birthday?  Last year, I took myself shopping at Macys and bought my fucking cupcake.  And that cupcake was lovely.  But I also had a lovely conversation with MaxEarnest.  But he stopped being interested in cyber-sex and he was in Europe and I was alone and I was so tired of being alone.  But now I'm even more alone. No MaxEarnest to look forward to; I don't even have a stupid cupcake.  I seem to have exactly what Obama conceded to the Republicans.

I walk along the water and I see so many people who have so little and I am in awe of how much I take for granted.  I know how silly it is that I feel sorry for myself. But the hole in my life keeps getting bigger.  It is a John-Dotty-MaxEarnest-cupcake-optimism shaped chasm.  And the tears come more easily.  

I think all I have left to look forward to for my birthday is taking a xanax that day.  That's probably how I'll celebrate. And that is maybe the saddest thing I've ever said.

Thin Skin

Life is sort of unerotic right now.  Philip disappeared and I let him go.  I'm pretty sure I could have easily gotten him to string me along for a few more months.  I think he liked me, but that isn't enough.  But the truth is, on our third date, back in May, he and I had a very kinky night in a bar (with our clothes on, but it was a lovely domination as he asked questions to find out more about me) and it reoriented my sense of eroticism and it is always hard to get that back.  Once I click on a guy, even orgasms on my own are much more boring and it takes time to unclick.  I'm totally emotionally open to meeting someone else now, but I haven't found my sense of sex for a bit.

But the rest of my life is kicking my butt; one of my jobs--a little one (should be 10 hours a month but has turned into 10 hours a week) is getting really abusive.  A woman on the project yells and bullies me in ways that I just cannot handle and I'm having such flashbacks to being bullied growing up.  It seems to be a xanax night most nights I have to deal with her.  I cannot believe how she is behaving.  She is insane (wants to fire a contractor because he is killing the trees--and her only proof is that we're losing a lot of leaves.  In October. In fact, he's such a bad contractors that trees all over the northern hemisphere are losing leaves and some people call this time of year "fall").  So I am standing up for people that she would like to fire so she yells at me.  And I fake it while she's yelling and then have obsessive crying fits until the xanax works.  Not the way I want to live.

I know that "normal" people would get so hysterical from someone yelling at them, but I have such thin skin. I don't know if I can ever get over the bullying I faced as a child.  The team leader on this project made it clear that if we're being productive he doesn't mind if I'm getting yelled at--what is the big deal (crazy lady yells at me and not at him).  So I don't know what to do.

It seems unfair that the only parts of me that are thin are my skin and hair.  But there it is!

In vino veritas

I'm very blue today.

I got drunk with a couple of colleagues from work last night, and I was the perfect uptight girl getting drunk. I wrote this last night:

I'm still tipsy  Been waiting to get sober enough to fall asleep and sleep through the night. Even after a litre of water, my system is still acidic.  If I fall asleep now, I'll wake up in a couple of hours.(But I'm sober enough to know that I should hit "save" and not "publish...")

I drank enough to let down my guard.  I really did!  I talked openly about sex and vulnerabilities, as I was expected to, but I made sure that the drunker I got, the more politically radically I sounded.  As if my political moderation was just a mask and I couldn't wait to let out the inner Marx.  

But I'm afraid, my real inner-Marx is Harpo: somewhat inappropriate and not very funny.  I'll put my knee in your chest, interrupt randomly and occasionally, I hope, do something that is lovely, but I'm not actually as clever as people think.  But that's OK.  I hid Harpo and let Karl take the stage.

Three times this month, people have said to me "you're one of the kindest people I know."  And all three times, they've gone home to fuck the person they lust after.  Kindness isn't all it is cracked up to be.  

This morning, I'm hung over, but also blue.  Last night made me feel really lonely because they went home together.  I was out walking along the water this morning and there were all these families.  And Philip, well what do I saw about Philip?  He seems to want me in his life, but not enough to make me a priority.  I'm tired of having to push him to go out. I want him to want to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him. I feel like we've been treading water.

I hate the amount of control I cede to a man that interests me.  Quickly.  Intellectually, I resist.  But he ends up controlling my moods and I find myself bluer and bluer when he is distant and then when he saunters back, I immediately perk up.  The ironic think is that Philip has told me that he disappears when he is blue because he doesn't want to make me blue.  I've never told him how blue I get when he disappears.  I shouldn't allow my moods to be so dependent on his attention.  I know I shouldn't.  I try to stay busy.  More than try--I'm very busy.  But I would always make time to see him when he wants to see me.  But I just don't think I'm a priority.  

And I want to be someone's priority.  SOON! I was washing my face and I looked so old in the mirror when I smile. It was a shock to see!  But, I suppose I smile a lot.  And I want to keep smiling.  But truth is, I think I'd be a lot happier if I were a hot bitch than a  kind woman.

Dark Flashes of the Soul

I seem to be in a weird sort of transitional moment.  I continue to see Philip, and we continue to be primarily platonic.  Part of me thinks he is interested; he certainly spends time with me like he's interested.  But I'm less and less confidant that anything will come of it.  Of course, I seem to like him enough that when I spend time with other guys, I mostly just miss him.  But I don't seem to be a priority for him and I don't see him shifting things to make me a priority, so there it is.

I don't think it is just the issue with Philip, but I have these flashes of crippling sadness.  My life feels so pointless.  I feel like such a failure.  I cannot actually believe that no one wants to spend his life with me.  So many people think I'm a good person.  But no one wants to compromise enough to be with me.  And I'm willing to compromise.  I was willing to quit my job and move to Berlin with MaxEarnest.  I would have married John, if he'd wanted me.

I was shopping in a typical United-States discount home-wares store today.  I haven't been in a store like that for a long time.  But they had such lovely things!  The quality of our 'stuff' is so very high.  And I bought lots of stuff I didn't need.  Like a dish brush that is a decorated like a flower with a flower face. A purple spatula.  Did I mention that it is purple!  So much purple is available right now.  I am sure it is a trend and won't be available next year and purple makes me happy.  Some amazingly beautiful glass serving bowls.  They are truly stunning--from Turkey, but a different style than anything I saw when I was there.  And I bought a pedestal cake plate.  And I started to cry.  Because I have no one I could make a cake for.

A lot of people appreciate me.  But, aside from my mom and Dotty (and my cats) no one who loves me.

It's odd.  John and I were both scared we were unlovable.  I think the fact that we shaded that secret with each other is what bound us together. But I loved him so much; I know he was wrong.  And I know he didn't love me that much. No one has proved me wrong.

I know my parents love me.  And now they like me.  But they sure didn't like me growing up.  My parents did the best they could, given the cultural currents of the time.  The "Me generation" wasn't really focused on being parents.  They never stopped lovely me.  But it would have been nice if they'd liked me; empathized with me; listened to me; respected me.  I know I'm too old to blame my parents.  So I guess it is just me at this point.  And there are a few people  who "love" me.  But no one would make a compromise to be with me.  A lot of people tell me I'm one of the kindest people they know.  A lot of people rely on me for help with day-to-day life.  And I think I make some of my clients' lives substantively better.  But if I died, my mom and Dotty are the only ones who would care, or even remember in a year.

So that's the self-pitying, crippling flash of depression.  But it is very short.  I was shopping at that store, and walked past the little-girl row, awash in pink, and it was all I could do not to cry. I want to create a home to share! But then I was past that aisle, and there was a purple blanket that was so soft.  And so I did what so many Americans do; I bought a new blanket. I went to work. I accomplished a couple of things. Sure my old blanket was perfectly fine. But it wasn't purple.  And this one is soft enough to cuddle next to and forget that I am alone.

Ice Cream

The sound of the ice-cream truck wafts through my windows.  I wasn't even thinking about food, but it calls.  I resist, but it takes a lot of energy to resist.

I'm working out with a personal trainer and he wants me to quit eating any ice-cream at all.  None. For two weeks.

On one level, that seems reasonable, but I can't do it.  I limit myself to 200 calories of ice-cream a day (on good days).  On days when I think about not having any for 2 weeks, I eat much too much of something else.

What is is about ice-cream?

I was talking with a very thin friend of mine (let's call her Twiggy) and she has a friend who is less in control of her eating than I was 40 pounds heavier. According to Twiggy, the other woman is eating an entire pint of Ben and Jerry's just about every day.  That is around 1200 calories a day of ice-cream, give or take.  And there are days I've done that.  Now I get out my scale and have 120 grams of Edy's slow-churned, with lots of fruit, most days.

What is it about ice-cream?

For me, ice-cream, more than any other food, is love.  My favorite memory ever with "the ex" was a night when a blog I wrote (on a different site) really took off.  I had about 700 comments and he was so pleased, went out, bought me ice-cream and fed me little bites while I blogged.  It was so sweet.  It was so loving.

I have many lovely memories of MaxEarnest, but ice-cream probably what I miss most about Europe (although not MaxEarnest).  We would go to this cafe and he'd order coffee and buy me an ice-cream sundae.  It was such a sign of love.  Such a sign that he knew he I was and accepted me as I was and wanted me to be happy.

I haven't figured out food since MaxEarnest.  I'm kinder with my food.  Much more gentle.  Before MaxEarnest, I didn't really allow myself to enjoy food.  Too dangerous.  Now I have ice-cream in the house (but only Edy's slow-churned vanilla--anything else I will eat much too quickly).  And I only have it with fruit.  I even let myself have Trader Joe's triple-ginger ginger snaps.  But only crumbled over ice-cream (and I think I've had about 4 tubs of them in the last year.  Shockingly, the current ones are actually stale--I used to not allow myself to buy them because I could eat a tub in a couple of days.  Honestly, I probably ate a tub in a day one time.  I don't remember, but I wouldn't be surprised.)

So I'm much more in control of my eating.  I let myself buy a 6-cup container of Edy's every week (1 cup has 200 calories, and is 120 grams).  And I'm enjoying food more.  And I'm 10 pounds heavier than I was.  I don't know how to balance that.

But the thought of giving up ice-cream makes me want to eat. Cupcakes. Tarts. Cookies. Much higher in calories and not actually as lovely as ice-cream.

Standards

You are the promised kiss of springtime

That makes the lonely winter seem long...

(oops--wrong standard...)

I spent the weekend with Dotty--she had a friend's wedding to attend on my coast, but only really had about 8 hours of time requirements spread out over 3 days.  I flew down to meet her and we spent the weekend together.  In addition to Dotty, I hung out with her friend that got married and also met Dotty's cousin, that cousin's husband and their friends.   I really liked Dotty's cousin and their friends.  They seemed lovely, grounded, joyful, engaged, smart, funny, plain people.  So much of the world I travel in feels very image conscious.  I'm far more image conscious than I ever thought I would be.  These people were the people I always wanted to be.  But I feel like men, for the most part, judge me on my looks first and foremost, and I've just sort of resigned myself to that being the way it is.  I still don't do anything extreme, like wear daily makeup, but I do an awful lot to try and fit into the rather small box that is conventional feminine beauty.

 Dotty's friend tried to set Dotty up with two different men and Dotty had no interest in either.  One was boring and the other was a little blah.  It made me realize that Dotty and I approach dating very differently.  Dotty needs a reason to be interested in someone.  I need a reason not to be.  Or maybe, I should put that a different way--being kinky is enough of a reason for me to be initially interested in a guy, barring something else. I think I treat vanilla men the way Dotty treats all men.  And  if I've been out with a kinky guy 3 times, and I'm still not interested, I let it go, but for a date? I totally don't expect to have a "this-is-what-I-like-about-this-man."  

Although, that isn't actually true.  There are men on CM who have 1-line profiles and they write me one-line responses.  One, recently, had a Boston Redsocks hat in his profile photo, so I asked if he was from Boston, since I grew up in the area. I also asked what else we might have in common and he said "No--I just like the Red Socks. What we have in common? I'm a single Dom."  I ignored all his other e-mails after that, because to me, the lack of an ability to start a conversation (and my profile is super-long, specifically so someone can identify where we have common interests!) was a reason not to go out with him.  (I think I actually do that with lots of men--I really do expect someone who can carry his half of the conversation, and when his profile is non-existent, I expect him to carry a lot more than half.)  But I don't think of that as high standards.  I just think of that as necessary.  Dotty meanwhile has what I consider crazy-high standards.  Dotty is absolutely convinced that we will both fall in love with men worth marrying; I'm not at all convinced for myself, and even less convinced for Dotty (as she doesn't do on-line dating, only considers men with graduate degrees and is very, very picky even with those requirements).  I think she is the most amazing person.  I love her SO much.  But I guess i don't have a lot of faith in the universe for either of us.

Values

Philip is a member of the NRA.  (Not the National Recovery Administration. Not the Negotianion Recreational Abilities.  Not Nebraskan Recreating Afternoons.  The N.R.A.

We have a lot of other values in common.  He believes in helping people who are poor.  He believes in public educations.  He isn't racist (although I don't think he has close associations with people who aren't white).

How important is this?

Interesting conversation with an OKCupid guy (let's call him Rand Paul Ryan), whom I wasn't really interested in, but he kept pestering me.  His profile was totally blank, but I finally called him and he asked if someone had to agree with me on every political point.  I said no, but I wanted someone who cared about making the world a little better for people with the least and he said "wow--that sounds like a college student. I never think about making the world better, and I have no interest in doing that."  He did me the favor of saying "This isn't going to work. Bye."  If he hadn't said that, I might have felt obligated to see if there was a way to try--I can't imagine saying something like that to someone.  But I was relieved he did.

What kind of values are essential?  At what point as I being silly about this all.  I was frankly shocked that OKCupid guy would be so totally dismissive of the very idea of trying to make the world a little better.  That seems so foundational to me.  But do I need someone who believes that?  Or only someone who would support me in doing that.  Obviously Rand Paul Ryan is not someone I could be with. But what is essential?  Could I live with someone that had a gun?  Sure--we had one growing up.  (Of course, it was a Civil War musket from our family, but it was a gun.)  Could I marry someone that had a family membership to the NRA?  Could I have a gun and ammunition in a house if I had a child?  Philip said he didn't know if George Zimmerman was guilty beyond a reasonable doubt, and that deeply bothered me.  I clung to the beyond a reasonable doubt and didn't push it any further.  He did say the Republicans are crazy and he has no choice but to vote Democrat.  But what if he said Zimmerman did the right thing?  Philip is an amazing kisser.  I can talk on the phone with him for 4 hours.  We think at similar speeds with similarly coterminous tangents.  We have complementary curiosities.   

According to St. Sondheim 7:1:10 (the 7th show (that he wrote music and lyrics for), the 1st act, the 10th song), the key to life is "letting go your illusions and don't confuse it with dreams."  But hell the hell do you figure out what is an illusion and what's a dream?  What's essential here and what's not?  Dotty thinks I should give up on Philip (and I am talking with other people, which he knows) because he has been distant for the last 6 weeks or so. For her, talking to the people you love when you're blue is essential. It is for me too, but Philip and I don't love each other. At least not yet.  I think we could.  I get the sense that if Philip and I do get to the point that he opens up, trust me, and loves me, he would be very, very loyal and he would talk to me when things were hard.  

It's all so confusing!  I really wish a burning bush would just tell me what to do!

Male privilege

In March I had a series of conversations with a guy who lives about 500 miles south of me.  I tried to make it clear that I wouldn't casually quit my job to be with him and he got persistent, so I wrote about a page about why quitting my job is just not an option for me.  He wrote "TMI but thanks and OK," which really annoyed me.  He had been pressuring me and when I explained he said "TMI."  Today he wrote me:

Him  Still admiring greatly 

Me: Too much information aside! If only we could get teleporting down.... 

Him I am extremely attracted to you

Me: Thank you. But, as we both know, I'm not geographically mobile. Alas 

Him Seems like some reparation ought to be made with this strong a feeling. 

I was deeply offended, and frankly shocked.  On what planet does a man demand "reparation" because, after blowing a gal off with a "TMI" when she talks openly about her concerns and then  months later, is still attracted to her?  Where on earth does a man's attraction entitle him to  "reparations?"

But here is the sad interesting thing.  Intellectually, I was pissed.  But emotionally, I felt bad (although less so after that comment). I do feel guilty if I blow a guy off who is interested in me.  I don't think it is a lack of self-esteem, although maybe that is part of it.  But it isn't kind.  I want to be kind to people.  I try and find the kindest way to tell someone I'm not interested.  I do not feel like I have the right to hurt people.  I've been blown off.  I know it hurts.  (I also intellectually know it is inevitable.  But I've gone on second dates with guys only because I feel bad saying no. I've kissed guys I wasn't attracted to for the same reason.  Never more than kissing.  But it has happened.)

It is funny, because I do think pre-MaxEarnest, I would have convinced myself this was flattering.  

Hottie Entitlement

The truth is that I would really like one more friend.  I miss Dotty so much and while she claims to be moving back in 2015, I also know that when she pushed the year back another year, she also lost some of her clarity that she would be moving back.

With that as a backdrop, I went whitewater rafting today.  It was actually a fluke--when Tony and I were still dating, I bought groupons for 2 (and he was supposed to buy 2 so we could take two trips together, as it was his idea, and never bothered).  I knew there wouldn't be many men on the trip (and I was right), but I was hoping to make a female friend, but it was frustrating.

First of all, I have a fact fetish.  There was woman I sort of likes, and could have seen getting to know.  But, she said that Portland was in Massachusetts, and I said "No, it is is Maine." And she said "No, I read this book and it all takes place in Massachusetts and the couple went there."  And I have family from there; I grew up 2 hours from there.  It is in Maine."  And she sort of huffed and we didn't talk much after that.

So there are two things to be learned from that.  A) she was wrong and b) I alienated someone who could possibly have been a friend.  Probably not--I have enough a fact fetish and she clearly doesn't care as much, so I expect something else would have arisen if I just said "oh, I thought it was in Maine."  But I'm also incapable of letting a wrong-fact stand.  I don't know why I care.

The other incident was more interesting. I got in the boat with the guide (male, but not my type and doesn't live in my state) and a nice guy from my area and 2 women, both of whom could maybe be called "hot."  Not super-hot, but still hot.  The guide had said he wanted people with experience canoeing or kayaking in the front, and I was the only one with experience, so I was going to get in the front, but the two hot girls wanted in the front and sort of just stepped in front of me and the guide didn't say anything.  Then one of the girls got scared of a tree coming towards us (because she's scared of spiders, and she thought the trees had spiders in them), leaned back and whacked me in the face with her oar.  It hurt like hell, but no lasting damage.  But the guys were actually more concerned for her than for me.  It really made me sad and alienated. It also made me realize the way that women compete for attention.  By that point in the day, I sort of knew I wasn't interested in either guy.  But, frankly, after being hit in the face with an oar, I would actually have liked the guide to tell her to be more careful.  

There is a beauty entitlement in our society that is, in some ways, akin to male privilege and it is really ugly.  I did play into that ditzy "Oh my god, can you kill the bug for me? You can?! You must be a God!" for a decade because I thought that men wanted it.  And the sad fact is, the majority of them do want it.  Not all.  But a majority.  I alternate between sadness, anger and cynicism.  None of which are particularly attractive or good for the energy I want in my life.

A whole new set of cells

They say your body replaces all its cells every seven years...

Really interesting lunch with this guy today--let's call him Paul.

I had dinner with Paul in 2005 or 2006, not sure which.  And he was one of the first men I ever met on CollarMe.  I still remember what I was wearing that night.  I had lost enough weight that my cutest skirt was no long so cute, and I'd put a safety pin in the side to keep it from falling to my hips.  We went to a neighborhood restaurant, half a block from where I lived back then.  He had just moved back to Seattle, after spending 10 years in Boston, and the connection with my home town made him feel far more in my world.  I love Seattle, but in many ways, I still have Boston edges that never rubbed off.  He and I had a lot of similar cultural reference points.  And then he never asked me out again.  According to my e-mail, we corresponded in 2010, 2011, and then he e-mailed me about a month ago, and I said "seeing someone" but this morning (before Philip called me), I e-mailed him and said "back on the West Coast and unattached" and he called me half an hour later and we met for lunch.

It was fun.  I can't read him, which probably means he isn't that interested. But he did grab my hair 3 times (and my CM profile makes it very clear that that is one of my favorite things in the world, and then he confirmed with me, probably more to watch me blush than anything else). 

I have to say, I'm a far better date now than I was 7 years ago.  My new cells don't carry all the shame that my old ones did.  I have a confidence that isn't faked.  He actually asked what I remembered about our last date and I told him about what I was wearing.  He was surprised, and then I told him he was one of the very first people I met from CM, and I had been SO nervous.  It was really nice to just be honest and open, rather than all the game playing I used to do.  I guess that's where the confidence comes from.  It was kind of like seeing my ex boyfriend last month, to see how much more comfortable I am in their presence and how much more fun it is to date from confidence.

So, who knows?  If he calls, I'll go out with him again.  And if Philip can communicate more openly about what is going on with him, I really do like Philip.  And if someone else appears, well I have to say, this week has been productive.  And I need to date.  I'm much happier when I'm dating!  Much, much, much happier!

Ok...

Philip called while I was getting dressed to have coffee with another man, who I had dinner with in 2005 (one of my first kinky dates ever) and who has e-mailed me every couple of years, but always when I was with someone else.

We had a nice talk. He apologized a lot; he's been blue.  I told him I'd call him this evening.  Life is weird!

Roller Coaster

It has been a roller-coaster of a week, and I question the health of my underlying emotional place.

I turned my OKCupid profile back on on Wednesday, figuring I only ever meet vanilla guy son OKCupid, so it wouldn't really mean anything.  But I was just feeling so sad and lonely!

Philip is basically gone.  Friday I figured it was enough.  A couple of texts a week doth not a relationship make.  I finally texted him. In retrospect, I should have said it better.  But I said something like "It feels passive aggressive to just unhide my profile, but I think you wouldn't care if I did."  I guess, in retrospect, I should have phrased it better.  But I was just at a point where I couldn't handle what felt like being strung along.  He didn't text back.  So that is that. He's just not that into me.

Meanwhile, a decidedly non-vanilla guy on OKCupid came after me pretty hard. We talked for about 12 hours on the phone between Wedensday and Saturday. He didn't have a picture. We had brunch on Saturday and I hate to say it, but I just don't feel any chemistry there.  He is really into me, which is sweet but awkward. I feel bad, sort of like I don't have the right to turn someone down.  He smokes and he just has that puffy I-don't-exercise look.  And he is very loud.  People in the restaurant stopped to look at us several times because he'd yell to the waiter across the room and a fellow patron with her umbrella fell on his foot.  I felt awkward. And, frankly, I don't like how he kisses.  I like how Philip kisses.  This guy french kissed too quickly and too, I don't know.  His whole tongue felt like it was pushing its way in.  He didn't leave space for me to join him. I'm probably not a very submissive kisser. I like a kiss to be more like a dance than a jousting match. It didn't feel erotic; it felt aerobic. 

I miss Dotty.  I even thought about going back to church because I'm just so damn lonely.  And I don't believe in God, but I SO miss the people I used to go to church with, back when I was trying to believe in God.  I don't have a single good friend left in the area. I've been productive this month, but I have no one to celebrate any victories with. I've even thought about moving, but I can't afford to quit my job. I'd never get another job halfway near as good as what I have. When a teacher at the gym remembered me this week and gave me a hug, I almost cried--someone remembered me!  I feel so invisible most of the time.

I don't know how to find another Dotty any more than I know how to find a man like MaxEarnest whole lives in this country.  I'm deeply sad. I'm too strong to give up in the long run. But in the short run, I just want to listen to Beethoven or Sondheim and cry.

He's just not that into me. I think.

So I'm 98% sure that Philip has moved on, but not 100% sure.  I was out of town for a month, but I got back 2 weeks ago, and he keeps talking on the phone, but he hasn't asked me out  (And I did ask him out--for his birthday, but he had plans.) He also seems to be initiating calls less often--I have to text him first.

I feel in this really awkward situation.

a) I told him I wasn't seeing other people just because I didn't have the energy for it about 2 months ago.  (Interestingly, he took his ad off collarme about a month ago and it isn't back on.  It is possible he he is seeing someone else, or just busy with something else, or blue.)

b) I also told him that if he did something that would really "fuck things us" I would talk to him about it before I broke up.

c) But, I feel like talking to him about it is high maintenance and silly.  I feel like he is telling me "go away" and so I'm inclined to just go away, but it feels passive aggressive to start seeing other people sort of behind his back.  What to do, what to do what to do....

Last week, I figured I'd give him till the weekend, but then he said "I'm super busy this week--we'll get together next week."  So now I'm sort of giving him till this weekend.

I've also started to lose interest.  3 weeks ago, he didn't call me for 3 or 4 days after I texted him.  (I was travelling a lot in an area that I didn't have cell phone coverage or time, so while I was away, I'd just text him "I've got coverage and time today" and he'd always call that evening and we'd talk for a couple of hours.  I really didn't mind doing that while I was super-busy and travelling, but it didn't occur to me that would become the foundation of our communication.  Anyway, 3 weeks ago, I was SO sad and blue, and then he called, apologized for being out of touch and said he'd been blue and didn't want it to rub off on me.

I don't know if I'm naive for thinking this is mixed signals, or if I should just accept that he's not that into me and move on.  There's a lot I liked about him.  But I'm starting to forget what all that was...

Cat fight

Off Topic: Every few years, I try to spend a few days with my aunt.  I know that she gets hurt by my cavalier attitude towards her.  So this week was the attempt for 2010-2015.  I suppose I'll try again in 5 years.

There are three issues with my aunt, only one of which is interesting.  The first is that she isn't very kind or empathetic.  She can be generous, but she doesn't really think about how her behaviour will hit others.  She wants to be smarter than me about everything and has a tendency to put down my experiences and knowledge.  (She also gets angry and then dismissive when I talk about things she doesn't know and don't predict the limits of her knowledge.  She was pissed that I talked about a friend getting in trouble at work for threatening to go to "H.R."  She didn't know what HR was, thought it was rude that I would use an abbreviation that is obviously some West Coast slang that I should just know that no one else would know and then  when I tried to explain it cut me off by saying "I really don't care."  The second issue is that she gets into all sorts of conspiracy theories, so I just don't listen to her political ideas and that hurts her feelings terribly (even as she acknowledges that she never fact checks her own ideas).

The third issue though, I think, is interesting and that has to do with the role of women in families.  I don't know if this is just my family, but I think it is possibly in many families.  My aunt, like me, is a plump, single woman with a J.D.  Once her younger brother (my father) was married, she was marginalized, and I felt the same thing happening in my own family.  She has been very competitive with me, in ways that she will never win.  (For example, she has never passed the bar and thus has never been able to work as a lawyer. I passed on the first try and got relatively stable work, although there have been hiccups.  She is often trying to make her work as important as my work, and I'm sure on one level it is, but no one gets a JD to basically do paralegal work, and she's often putting me down as a way of lifting herself up).  My family (my parents and siblings) is really the only family she has and there are times it feels like there's room for only one spinster in the family and so she is trying to dislodge me to claim that small space.

More importantly though, is that my dad, until recently, did not respect her.  As a result, when he saw me doing things that reminded him of her, he drilled it out of me.  I probably share a quarter of her DNA, but we definitely have things in common.  However, while she revels in it, I do all I can to avoid those traits.  For example, we both collect things and like stuff.  I have an entire cabinet of the same pattern of china my Grandma had, and I use it all the time. I LOVE it.  My aunt has 5 different kids of china, of her great grandmother's patterns and various others she has picked up along the way.  They are stacked in the table in the guest room, all over the kitchen and in various places in the dining room.  I have this incredibly strong reaction to this eccentricities, far more than a normal person would.  In fact, my aunt drives me more crazy than just about anyone I know because so many of my similarities with her were drilled out of me with so much criticism.  I put a lot of energy into policing my own behavior.  I was honestly raised with her as an example of what not to be.  I would probably be more like her if my dad hadn't been so critical of me.  And here she is, blithely living her own life, as she should, not self-conscious about behavior I'd never allow in myself because it makes her happy.  And it drives me crazy!

Such a bizarre day.  I'm in Boston--I have work things next week, but I flew out early to see people.

My aunt still has a lot of anger towards her dad, and stars talking to me about dominance and submission.  She believes that love can only develop where there is no submission and dominance and that love is the willingness to relinquish dominance or can grow when submission isn't expected.  She talked about how a guy was being dominant with her and her body recognized that as love. I tried to enter the conversation, talking about ballroom dancing, but it really didn't work.

Then I had lunch with Nate.  I dated Nate in the mid-90s when we were both in our early 20s.  He was the first man that ever tied me up and has gone on to have sex, I would estimate, with hundreds of women.  We flirted.  We talked openly about sex.  He asked if he should flirt with me, and I said something like "flirting is fun, but I'm sort of involved with someone."  He asked if I was submissive or dominant and I looked at him, rather shocked, since he tied me up and not vice-versa.  He spoke about having to keep himself from grabbing my hair.  He made it clear that he would love to have a fling, since knows what he is doing know. (Interestingly, he is friends with the guy from college (even though he and I went to different colleges) who put the eyeliner on my eye, which probably remains the single most erotically charged moment of my fully clothed life--the two met at Burning Man!).  If Nate and I lived in the same town, or even the same coast (and if Philip weren't in the picture) it could be really fun to have a fling there.  It was nice to talk openly about sex in that way.  He had me order ice-creams for both of us and then said "good girl" and asked if good girl was good. And when I was leaving he did grab my hair.  But he didn't kiss me, although it came pretty close. I do have to admit that many of my cells were dancing when I was with Nate.  I totally got why we dated!

My aunt no longer dates.  She is absolutely opposed to anything that might be 'submission.'  I don't think she realizes, though, that avoiding 'submission' to anyone is actually dominating the conversation.  It isn't a give and take with her.  It is all her way, all the time!  Meanwhile, a couple of hours with Nate and it was hard to think long-term; I have no intention of spending a night with him because my little emotions get involved.  But he knew exactly how to lead, how to dominate.  (If he had known then what he knows now, I might never have left Boston.)

Madeleines

Watching the crumbs fall' I'm  deeply sad

I put on a sundress today that I haven't worn since I was in Europe with MaxEarnest last summer.  I didn't think anything of it, until I was doing laundry and had this rush of memories.  I miss MaxEarnest SO much today!

Intellectually, I know we can't give each other what the other wants.  But I just miss him in my bones.  I have a box of his clothes and took out a shirt and smelled it.  I couldn't smell anything.  I don't remember what he smells like.  But I remember what he feels like. I miss him so much!

I know I will always love MaxEarnest.  He is part of my life.  And I'm sure eventually I will meet a man that touches me as deeply as MaxEarnest and it will be less painful.  But I know if I could want different things in long run, I would be packing my bags to go see MaxEarnest right now and that is so very painful to bear.  Right now, I wish I could be a different enough person that he and I could be each other's partners.  I know we can't.  But the crumbs fall and I tumble after them.

Philip and I have now been going out for almost 2 months and we haven't slept together (and both of us are traveling over the next month, so we're not sleeping together this month either).

My head says this is just fine, but my heart wonders if this is OK.  Today Philip and I had a date very much like John and I use to.  We met in the same spot, wandered through the same stretch of park along the water, got a drink at a place John and I had been a dozen times and then got dinner. 

That said, there were some major differences.  

We did kiss quite a bit.  John and I never french kissed and Philip and I do.

John had said that something was missing, it wasn't yet soup. This made me more and more insecure, as we'd spend maybe 12 hours a week together, we'd talk about spending our lives together, and yet I felt like there was something so wrong with me (and I assumed it was my looks).  Philip has said "I'm so to open up."  And, of course, he's said, multiple times "I don't want to fuck this up."  When I'm with Philip, and not thinking about it, I have a confidence that I never had with John.

John said he didn't want to hurt me.  That was incredibly important to him.  As if that were possible.  He somehow thought if we didn't have sex until we were engaged, I would get hurt.  Philip has said "I'm going to fuck up."  He knows that humans hurt each other in relationships.  I've warned him that dad is a shrink and if I get my feelings hurt, I will want to talk about it.

Philip and I were talking about how much I like my house and I mentioned how amazing my neighbors are.  I started talking about people, especially directly across the street and also down the block, but that, overall, there are the kindest people and there is a real sense of community. Philip interrupts me to say "I think you are a huge part of that--you really take care of other people and..." I interrupted him to say that I'd never had this community before. (I wish I hadn't interrupted him--I'd love to have heard the rest of the comment.)  But it was one of many little things that really make me think he is beginning to really care deeply for me.

That said, I hope we have sex before Labor day!

Sub Space

Philip wanted to know if I had sub space, what it was and how I got there.  (Sure.  Easy!)

But we were talking about it, and I think I figured it out.

For me, I want to not think for "sub space" but if I stop feeling too, then it ends up moving from "sub space" (good) to 'victim space' (bad).  It is the difference of me experiencing kink to me feeling abused.  The Ex made me not feel.  It was too much.  It hurt, so I numbed out and sex because something I had to endure

So for me, sub space:

• I want to feel protected.
• I want to not have responsibilities (other than obeying.  I'm fine with obeying)
• Restraints and blindfolds are very simple ways for me to get there.
• Liminality does the same thing.  When I can't easily label a sensation, then I tend to stop trying.  BUT if I can easily label it as pain, I withdraw.  (Interestingly, I've never enjoyed receiving oral sex, and I think it is the flip side of the same thing. I'm supposed to enjoy this. I don't enjoy it all that much and I feel like I'm doing something wrong.  Receiving Oral sex is like drinking vanilla extract.  I love cooking with vanilla. It is my favorite spice, but it is a spice, not the only ingredient!)
• I think role playing would be too, but I've never been with someone who likes role playing.  But I like playing a character and I think that would give my active brain something to do, so I could surrender pretty easily that way.

It is interesting that Philip, who comes across as a bit of a smart-aleck, has been as introspective about kink as he has.  

Dualities and Identity

So I'm actually in NYC this week on business and I went to hear Molly Weatherfield read from Carrie's Story and it was bizarre.  Worlds collide!  I'm used to, at kinky things, being the hippie girl that doesn't fit in (although I don't think I dress like a hippie) and there, I was the kinky one!  It was a feminist/socialist bookstore and nearly everyone there looked like the people I grew up with.  Birkenstocks, not stilettos.

Molly's real name is Pam, and she's totally cool with that.  (Of course, it says so on her web page, so it isn't exactly a shock that she is open about it.)  And it is clearly fantasy for her, which was a bit of a shock for me.

And the bookstore was great--the sort of place where I could find information about the systemic destruction of the communities of my clients.  Next time I'm in NYC, I'm totally getting coffee and spending an afternoon browsing.  (It is a socialist collective run by volunteers!)

I felt so awkward.  More awkward than I have at any kink thing for ages.  Am I Connie or my other name?  I actually gave her my real name, and I realize, she's the first woman that has been at all aware of the dualities.

Joss Whedon gave a great graduation speech, where he said:

You have, which is a rare thing, the ability and the responsibility to listen to the dissent in yourself. To at least give it the floor. Because it is the key, not only to consciousness, but to real growth. To accept duality is to earn identity, and identity is something that you are constantly earning. It is not just “who you are,” it is a process that you must be active in.

So I guess my worlds colliding is really just earning identity.  But it is highly disconcerting! 

Palimpsest

Lately, Palimpsest has become my favorite word. (I think I'm not using it literally--it isn't so much the idea of paper that has 2 levels of writing, but the way that the echoes of the past become aware on the paper.)

I still love liminal, but somehow, being with Philip as much as I have (but not as much as I hopeI will be) has me in this oddly liminal moment that I don't recognize. Part of me really wants an orgasm. (Please?) But my brain thinks it is good we're taking it slowly (although I wish I had some sense of erotic imagery I can expect with Philip--most of the other stuff has lost its tug for me, as weird as that is.) I almost feel like I'm trying to become more innocent for him.  Removing the most recent text of eros from my body.  Not Tony--he left no traces. But, I suppose MaxEarnest. But not just MaxEarnest. Anne Rice.  Molly Weatherfield.  Their writings have left deep traces on my eros.  And little things too.  There was a man I was smitten with here (I don't remember the nom-de-blog I gave him), but it would have been November, 2010 for a few months), who taught me to wait for permission to orgasm, then he would count down from 10.  I started doing that always when I played with myself, and then MaxEarnest did that too.  I imagine that is a groove that is cut too deeply for me to not teach Philip.  Years ago, I tried to remove the Story of O from the fabric of my eros, but, occasionally, it will pop up as an image in the moments before I have an orgasm. Wash it away and it comes back.

Philip knows my history. It isn't like I'm trying to erase the past.  But I think my body thinks he is worth washing away the surface ink, the most recent acts to make it easier to make something new. 

For some reason, I re-read Safe Word (the Molly Weatherfield book).  The last 5 pages are beautiful, but not hot.  When I reread hot parts (multiple times over the years), I always appreciated knowing that Carrie would do well, would find a way to integrate both sides of herself. But rereading those final pages, I realize how incredibly deeply that book touched not so much my eros as my willingness to accept my eros.  In some ways, it even touched how I view some parts of my work.  I've published things (not kinky things) that are a result of the conversation that Carrie and Daniel have.

I wonder how medieval monks felt, washing the ink off a piece of parchment.  They found a 'better' way to do it in the middle ages that allowed them to remove completely obliterate that piece of parchment's history.  I suppose there were times I wanted to do that. To be truly innocent.  That will never happen and I wouldn't want it to anymore.  MaxEarnest taught me so much about how to make something like this work (and also a lot of wisdom about what wouldn't work) that I'm glad to be a palimpsest.  But maybe this time (which is exciting and also a little disconcerting) is needed for washing away the surface ink, while leaving traces that appear when least expected.

The Games we Play

Intellectually, I think everything with Philip is going really well.  I think the fact we haven't ripped each other's clothes off yet is a good sign.  I approve.

But when I got home from our last date, I ached to be touched.  And I couldn't fantasize about anything because I don't know enough yet what he likes to fantasize what we'd do.

I'm aware that there is a language of eros that is rewritten by each man I'm with.  So at the moment I'm in this liminal place that isn't a good liminal.  Bad liminal!

He called yesterday and we talked for over an hour.  But he didn't call today.  I sent an e-mail, but I know he doesn't check that e-mail often and I don't think I should call.  I really think women have to let men set the pace that the man wants.  It sucks!  I hate saying that!  But when I want more in a relationship that isn't yet defined, it usually scares the guy off.

I have been very hard to get, not because I was playing games, but because first I went on a cruise and then I went to visit my dad, and he clearly retained interest through all that.  I have a long trip planned next month too, and the brain part of me thinks we should hold off on actual intercourse until I get home because I don't want him to lose interest while I'm gone.  I will end up playing it by ear, and probably just follow whatever pace he sets.  Truthfully, I ache to surrender.  He's got my mind.  I hope he take my body soon!

Update: 2 hours later I phoned.  Left a voice mail saying "I didn't realize tomorrow as a holiday, so I'm not working. In case you don't have plans, give me a call."
Intellectually, I don't think I should have done it.  But I'm also pretty secure in it.
There are times I want attention, like a little girl wanting attention. And when it is that, I think I'm really right to resist.  But I think I also have to figure out how to just be me and have that be OK too.  I'm not sure the right balance.

Dating

I've been out 4 times over the last month-and-a-half with a sweet man, whom I feel really hopeful about.  Let's call him Philip. (We would have been out more, but I've been travelling.)

I'm reluctant to put many details up.  I feel like he isn't the kind of man I'd share this blog with, for a very long time, if ever.  I might, in a few months, mention I used to have a blog and tell him why I don't think it makes sense to give him the URL (as in, does he really want to read all my naval gazing?  And if he has my blog URL, I would totally expect him to read the naval gazing, and does that make sense?).

That said, Philip is courting me in a most decidedly vanilla way.  We've been out 4 times (usually for at least 6 hours a time) and talked on the phone, probably another 20 hours or so.  We have kissed passionately, but nothing more.  Yesterday, after the movies, we went to a bar and I had a couple of drinks and he made it clear he wanted to know more about why I would be on collarme rather than eharmony.  I was on a bench, in the corner of the restaurant, and he was next to me.  And he said 'I don't want you to feel trapped--you can leave any time you wish, or we can trade places.'  And I told him I sort of liked him having me against a wall.  I thought it was sweet.  It was a very sweet way for him to start dominating me, and also sexy.  It made me feel secure.  (We even exchanged last names!)

I get the sense that Philip struggled as much to accept kink as I did (or maybe not quite as much, but an awful lot).  I said on the 1st or 2nd date that I wanted a good man with a wicked streak, not vice-versa, and he said that yes, he was a good man and his wicked streak was kink.  (He also passed the baked goods test with flying colors.)

Of course, we're in the very early phases, where everything seems perfect.  But right now, he is thoughtful and dominate, while being sensitive.  He didn't understand what I meant about tone at first, but he really seemed to get what I meant by the time we got done talking.  We've also managed to have a level of openness about the early aspects of our interest in the other (and our both testing the other--he had tests for me too, which I found very amusing and he was shocked about my baked goods test because it seemed so obvious to him.  He said showing up for the date was a test for me and I laughed.  Also the fact that I looked like the person in my photos.  Although he encouraged me to be me even more careful with personal information.  He said I shouldn't send a photo that has been in any other place on the internet because google can track that down!  Ouch! And he thought I should use a fake name, rather than a homonym of my name.)

I'm also aware that I'm a really different woman with him than I used to be.  MaxEarnest has given me a confidence that isn't like the confidence I used to try and fake.  Even thought I've gained about 10 pounds (oy) since I first started dating MaxEarnest (how do I enjoy food and not gain weight?  That is a whole other issue), I feel really comfortable in my own skin.  Despite a few wrinkles around my eyes (only when I smile!) I don't think I've ever looked more attractive.  I'm even comfortable with how drastic the switch is when I'm submissive and when I'm not.  Philip certainly noticed it when he grabbed my hair, and then he experimented with putting one of my arms behind my back.  It has been fun and I don't feel the need to apologize for it. I've always felt a little embarrassed about being submissive, but I don't anymore.

Philip commented that is was hard for him to accept being dominate because he couldn't imagine why any woman would want to submit, which is interesting because it was hard for me to accept being submissive because I didn't intellectually think I should accept what the fabric of my eros craved.  Sort of weird mirrors of the same thing.

I'm sure I'll be back with all my angst on the blog.  Or maybe not.  Maybe it isn't fair to Philip if I blog with my angst in a place where MaxEarnest can read it and he doesn't know it exists.  I'm not sure.  I suppose I'll feel it out as I go along.  But at the moment, I'm feeling pretty optimistic and well-adjusted.  Which is a really boring place to blog from! So for the time being, I'm doing pretty darn well!

Giving Men, Taking Men and Mad Men

Can’t say that was an episode of Mad Men I wanted to watch with my dad....

So, spoiler alert. Don gets very Dom-y with his mistress.  He overhears her yelling at her husband (whom Don clearly adores) and gets very dominating. Or was that domineering. Anyway, he orders her to find his shoes on her hands and knees, and she doesn't (although she does find his shoes and put them on for him).  Then he orders her naked in bed and leaves for hours.  Calls her, then orders her not to answer the phone, or get out of bed, but there's a box waiting for her by the door, orders her to just exist only to please him.

It was so weird to watch it, because on one level, it would be the kind of thing that I find very hot.  And it really wasn't.  And it wasn't just that I was watching it with my dad.  It is that is was Don Draper, being Don Draper.  Using the women in his life for his pleasure and not giving a damn about them.  When he ordered her to wait (while he flew upstate to a business meeting), he took her book, so she had nothing to do.  When she was hungry, he ignored it.

And here's the thing, I think there are probably as many Don-Doms as there are MaxEarnest Doms.  Some men get off on control, but they are very giving.  I guess they are controlling-givers, perhaps protectors is a good label. MaxEarnest was a protector.  Other men either get off on taking, or they're just selfish and kink is a cover for the fact that they are self-centered.  They don't worry about other people's needs first.  They just take and take and take.  They don't care what turns their sub on, or weigh the benefits to one versus the costs to the other.  If it turns them on for 2 moments to think of their mistress in a hotel room, waiting for him, they'll take her book, because they don't actually care about her, only what she can do for him.  And when they finally meet up, he doesn't even acknowledge or appreciate the fact that she was just waiting there all day.  It is like her time doesn't matter. He'd never offer to wait for her. It is only what he wants! The ex was a taking-dom. As are the majority of men I've attracted.

The funny thing is, I love giving.  But I must have what I give noticed and appreciated and I need some attempt at reciprocity. Chivalry is lovely.  I want a man who will notice a puddle and turn me away.  A man who will, on the ballroom dance floor, literally have my back and allow me to trust him to lead because he will protect me. I think ballroom dancing needs to be a metaphor for kink for me.  I will obey him and he will protect me and give me a chance to shine. Chances are, I may give more; I seem to in many relationships.  But it should be somewhat balanced.

I've also noticed that when I'm with a taking man, I'm not secure in the relationship.  My energy feels more hyper.  I'm scared I'll do something wrong and he won't love me because he doesn't love me, only what I can do for him.  I have to scan things constantly to avoid mistakes and as I become more perfectionistic  he can become more critical. And when I was with MaxEarnest, I relaxed into the relationship.  My energy was more grounded.  I think I became more secure and beautiful, because he loved me.  ME!  I wasn't interchangeable.  And that was deeply beautiful.

Mad Men is so brilliant for many reasons, but I think watching Don Draper over time and being initially very attracted to him and then slowly repelled more and more has been so important for me!  It's funny--I told Mr. A-Cup (did I blog about him?  Guy on a date tells me he prefers women who are an A-cup, then sees a woman who is an A-cup (actually, I think she was more of a B) who was in the bar with her husband, and tells me how attractive she is!  Anyway I told Mr. A-Cup that he reminded me of Don Draper, and he said "thank you."  And it made me realize that a few years ago that would have been a compliment. Part of that is definitely the way the series has changed, but I think part of that has been me maturing a little bit too.

I have a new test for any guy I go out with.  On the 3rd date (give or take one) I bake something and bring him something.  Not huge, maybe half a loaf of homemade bread, or something like that.  (I usually check the morning of saying "hey--I made bread--want some?")  The test is that he needs to thank me for it.  It can be a text message or an e-mail.  He doesn't have to call.  But if he doesn't, then he really isn't a good fit for me.  I need someone that will appreciate my bread enough to tell me.  Of the four men I've made it to a third date with, only one has passed my test. 

Men behaving badly

A random senior citizen wrote me that I was an imbecile for using the world "liminal" and referring to stockings in my picture as fishnets.  "It's not a word, moron ... and if it is, tell me what it means. And obviously you don't know what fishnets are. Bottom line: Ignorance is always subject to mockery."

Now, in both cases, this random senior is factually wrong.  (Unless there is some size-rule about the size of the diamonds in fishnets? Mine are around half an inch each. If I'm wrong, tell me nicely!) Whatever.  Most men who insult me usually go with more generic comments and I find this amusing. But I also spent some time with it....

He said if it was a word, I should define it, so I did (relying on Victor Turner for the foundation and sent him a link to wikipedia's page on liminality).  I ended by asking him why he felt the need to insult women who'd never spoken to him and he did reply.

Don't try to hide your ignorance with big words. My eyes are fine ... those aren't fishnets, they're women's stockings circa 1930-1960. As for nether space? Please. Apparently that's the void between your ears.
As for why I'm "rude" to "random people," I'm quite courteous to 90 percent of most people h [sic] whom I communicate with on-line. But I do get a kick out of puncturing the balloons of the pompous.

Why do some men kinky guys find it appropriate to insult random women?  Presumably this random thinks he might, someday, meet someone in real life?  (And he has inspired the bitch in me, so I might add that he probably needs me to pay his social security, so he should be nice.) Wouldn't ignoring me be more conducive to getting one more chick off the market? Not that I'm dating someone who liked Ike. I have not seen this on any vanilla dating site, but it is relatively common in kink land.  At least once a week, some man e-mails me something nasty out of the blue. I don't get it.  Is it just because misogynists are drawn here and this is a good way of screening them out? Bullet dodged! Is it some version of power-play I don't get? Am I insulting someone in my profile without realizing it?

And, here's the other issue: why do I care?  Why don't I just block him?  What would happen if some 65 year old thought I made up the word liminal?  I love the word liminal.  I wish I made it up! Instead, I actually wrote him with care:

Meriam Webster has the basic definition: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/liminal 

Victor Turner in his study of carnival popularized the study of liminality, which is that nether-space that is neither-and-both the places in=between.  It is the both-and place.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Liminality 

To me, having a word that embraces the moments that are undefinable because they don't fit in is profoundly beautiful.

And that's when he told me the nether-space was between my ears.  What would happen if some 65 year old got his social security late and didn't get his eye glasses prescription updated and couldn't see that my seemed stockings are also fishnets?  Why is it so easy for me to become defensive?  Why can't I just laugh it off?

My mother used to say "be a duck."  I'm a shitty duck!  I cannot seem to let anything roll off my back.  I totally let work stuff roll off, but it is a force of will, and that is more exhausting than replying!  With everything else, it takes more energy to pretend to be a duck than to be my hedgehog self. 

What is very funny, though, is that I wrote him: "But I must say, you seem such a chivalrous and kind gentleman, I'm sorry that I have disappointed you. Clearly you would be a catch."  He wrote me back and started trying to flirt with me!!  He didn't get the sarcasm, and at that point, I just laughed.  And then I could be a duck.

Self-explanatory.

20-something guy on a vanilla website when I said I was too old for him.

 u r not too old for me why u say that

I guess I really am old.  In my day (said in a crickety voice, while squinting through glasses and holding a cane) we used all the letters in words!  In my day, we capitalized the first letter of each sentence and used punctuation at the end!

Amazing loneliness

I had this really amazing thing happen today.  I wrote a long analysis of an issue about a decade ago, and when it was done I gave it to several funders of another project.  I thought it was good, but nothing happened with it.

This funder, who I had been in touch with every 4 years or so, contacted me last month and wanted to meet, so we met today.  He finally read my analysis.  He LOVES it.  He thinks I should publish it as a book for a popular audience.  He has an editor/friend I'm too get in touch with.  He wants to give me money for time for rewriting it for a popular audience.  He is loaning me his lawyer to look over the book contract, as soon as I get one.

Amazing, amazing, amazing day.

So why am I so feeling like crying?  I know the answer.  It is because I want someone to share this kind of news with.  To celebrate with me.  Tony would have understood what this meant.  Dotty is the only one I've told, and she will want to hear all the details, but had to work late tonight.  My other friend should be celebrating with me like you wouldn't believe, but we had a fight a few months ago and are no longer speaking. My cats don't really care.

Armouring for amour

I have noticed that I've changed a great deal in my dating.  I have a lot more confidence now than I ever did. I am quick to just say "yeah, this isn't working for me."  It is also interesting to see how the social scripts play out.  A lot of men just have no clue as to how to flirt.  Or maybe my idea of how to do on-line dating is just too diffcult: 

1. Figure out common ground from reading each other's profiles
2. E-mail about mutual shared interests
3. Talk on the phone and see if you like each other
4. Have coffee

There was a guy I e-mailed with a bit.  I was wary of him, in part because he was, imo, too young for me, and he also lived in the same housing projects where I run a program; I figured there was a good chance he'd know one of my clients and I didn't like that, and I didn't see many mutual interests.  But I wanted to sort of give him a chance.  He said on his profile that he was an expert on musicals (ooh! common ground!), so I asked him what his favorite ones were.  He said "Cats" and "The Sound of Music."  I replied "interesting--what speaks to you about those?  I'm more of a Sondheim gal, although Passing Strange renewed my faith in the form for at least another decade."  He said: "Nice.  Love your legs." (I never gave him a picture of me, but there is a pic of my legs on my profile.)  I said "I think we're looking for different things.  Good luck to you!"  He said "Yea Your (sic) fat."

Obviously, this is a depressing stereotype, but I also found it really amusing given what it said about dating.

He claimed "expert" status in something he really didn't know much about. (He was a self-proclaimed expert in multiple areas. I don't claim expert status on anything except liberal politics.)   When I tried to open a dialog on something he claimed expertise in, he was unable to have any conversation whatsoever.  It is true--I'm a snob.  But when Cats is your favorite musical, I worry! 

The other thing that was interesting was how blunt it made the male privilege to define a woman's worth in the dating realm.  (Or at least, how clearly he thought he had that right.) He was clearly into me, until I made it clear that I wasn't into him and responded by calling me fat.  Another guy, clearly a sweet guy, wrote me on a vanilla site (where there are pictures):

I am not sure if I am someone you would even consider going out with, however, I will say what I honestly felt after reading your well written profile. In addition, I think you are an incredibly intelligent woman, adorable and your pictures seem to tell a story. I know women like confident intelligent men, but I have to grudgingly say reading your profile make me feel inferior. Best of luck in your quest to find love, my question is how can someone so beautiful and intelligent single..... Life isn't fair

This is clearly a sweet man.  And I wouldn't go out with him.  He didn't graduate from high school and while he has excellent language skills for a person with only a GED, we chatted a little bit and I just didn't feel like there was any common ground.  Furthermore, and I feel bad for saying this, but he works at a minimum wage job, and I just don't see building a life with someone who has such great disparities.  I could see supporting someone for a couple of years while they finished the great American novel, or a Masters program, but not a life of supporting someone working minimum wage.  

But here's what I wonder...  would a man who was less kind have the same response to reading my profile, think it makes him feel inferior and call me fat to get rid of the fact that I made him feel inferior?  Does that make it alright that I wouldn't go out with him?  This gentleman took a lot of courage to write me the way he did.  It was touching (if not sexy).

I have worked very hard on my profile, trying to give enough of a background that it might be clear where we have common ground.  But there is also an aspect of winnowing the field.  It isn't that I'm trying to flaunt my over-edumacation, it is more that I want to be clear of who I am in my profile because it makes my personality much softer when I actually meet someone.  I used to try and be less intimidating in my profile, but sooner or later, I'd feel like I have something to prove.  Now I use big words in my profile, but I don't have those rough edges of trying to prove myself.  I think it is a good balance, but I do think, perhaps, it makes some insecure men attack me. 

It is hard to balance taking care of myself with being open to possibilities.   

Vulnerabilities and Hidden Kinks

I was e-mailing a sweet Dom on CM a few times, but we sort of lost touch and then he e-mailed me from his 'other' profile.  It never occurred to me that someone on CM would have a 2nd, more anonymous profile for what they're really ashamed of.  He had a cow-lady fetish.  And he had such touching vulnerability.  "I'm still this other man--they are both part of me."  I didn't know what to do--I don't think my eroticism goes there (and I've never had kids, so it isn't like I'm going to have milk).  But I was so moved by his earnest, honest disclosure.

There's another issue, which I'm not sure how to handle.  I like being firmly coaxed into things that I'm reluctant to do.  I probably would, if everything else were right with this guy, learn to be firmly coaxed into it.  If the tone were right.  And yet, I am really not comfortable sharing this with anyone because it seems far too easy to lead into catastrophe.  For a bad man, it will be an excuse.  For a good man, it could lead to really bad problems.  I've sort of decided that is a kink that won't happen much, except it does mean I end up being reluctant to do things that I'm not necessarily actually reluctant to do; and it isn't like I'm pretending.  It changes how my brain views things when I'm in it.  I really loved sex with MaxEarnest.  I hope he knows how much.  I'm sure I was reluctant on some things because it was so sexy when he talked me through it.

I thought about telling this man that, but I didn't.  I would have to know and trust and love someone really well before that feels like safe information.

Beauty and Power

A very odd man, lets call him Rick, although I doubt I'll mention him again, contact me.  My CM profile doesn't really list any kinky interests, but it does mention liberal politics, and I claim expert status there.  He said "You're interested in liberal politics?  Me too! We should talk!"

His profile, however, made it very clear that I do not meet his requirements in weight or cupsize, so I said "thanks for the nice note, but I'm not your type."  But we started talking and he and I have friends in common.  We've been to some of the same events at the same time.  I probably worked with him on at least one occasion.  He is a professional union organizer and I am a rabble rouser in my free time.

So we have been talking on and off.  Several years ago, I tried to get a law changed, and he is helping me take it up again, actually assigning the union to work on the issue.  He has offered to look at a couple of things I'm writing.  So I'm like, this is all good.

And then he'll say something really flirty with me.  

But under it all, all I can hear is 'you're not hot enough for me.'  I thought we were just going to talk politics and activism.  But each time he tries to pull me into the kinky thing I get a little emotionally entangled. And he'll call me cute, and I wonder if he's being condescending or serious.  I know I should assume it is serious, but I'm so confused by the whole thing, because I just keep hearing "you're not hot enough for me," which he never said--I just inferred it.

I know chemistry is what it is, and one can't will oneself into changing it.  But I wish the solid leftie, the union organizer and environmental activist didn't specify a cup-size on his on-line profile.

So many of the men I know with J.D.s or Ph.D.s are married to women 10 years younger than them that majored in an MRS degree and then worked at Victoria's Secret or hosted at a restaurant, but they're really, really hot.  I didn't think lefty men were supposed to work that way.  But they do.

I get that looks is really important for men.  While I'm actually beautiful, I'm not conventionally attractive.  I suppose I'm an acquired taste. I truly believe that, for the right man, he would be so lucky to have me.  But the average man doesn't want me.  And I'm tried of average men telling me that!

The fact is, we're animals.  I hide it pretty well, but we're animals.  There is a weird, jumpy bug in my room, like the size of a cockroach, but jumping everywhere  Intellectually, I assume it isn't poisonous because I think I would have read about that in the guidebooks, but I scream like a little girl when it jumps across the floor!  "Oh my god!"  And a neighbor comes running, thinking that the roof has caved in.

Sexual attraction isn't politically correct.  A cousin has an Asian thing.  And I have to say, it worked out really well for him.  I was wary for a while because he'd only date incredibly hot, Asian women, then be frustrated when they were shallow, without acknowledging that his criteria was just as shallow as any of the women he got bored with.  But he found an incredibly hot, really beautiful, soulful, wise, smart woman that I love having as part of our family.  But she's incredibly hot (like modeling in fashion magazines hot, but quit doing it by the time she was 21 because it bored her).

Intellectually, I know I should cut off all contact with Rick.  And then part of me will say 'well, maybe he only put what he hopes for' on his profile; he is spending an awful lot of time flirting with me.  And he is helping me get this law changed.  But then I hear "but you're not hot enough for me."  And I just want to cry.

Beautiful = Lovable

I’m in Puerto Rico—going on the cruise I’d originally intended to do with MaxEarnest with Dotty next week.  My roommate here is this fabulous woman from Australia, whom I adore.  She and I are about the same size, but she’s 6 feet tall and men think she is gorgeous, which pisses her off.  “Don’t tell me I’m gorgeous—I have no control over that! Tell me I dress well! I’m thoughtful! Hardworking!  Compliment me on what I can control.”

I’m the opposite.  Tell me I’m beautiful.  Anything I can control, I’ve done my best to control.  I know I am smart. I know I work hard.  I think I’m pretty thoughtful.  Tell me I’m beautiful.  Tell me you could love me.

Criticism lives in my bones.  My whole life, I’ve been criticized for things I might have controlled, but didn’t and things over which I felt like I’ve had no control.

The biggest of these, of course, was my weight.  But it was far from the only issue.

I believe that, as a child, I was more masculine in my communication style than most girls.  I was competitive, wanting attention and wanting to be recognized for that.  I was quite generous, but I wanted acknowledgment for that too.

My mother got migraine headaches quite easily and while she never said ‘you gave me a headache’ I always saw that I had quarreled with her and then she got one.  They were debilitating; she was hospitalized several times for them.

My mother is also hyper-sensitive.  One time I was in the bathroom and I was constipated and she asked me something.  Later she was hurt by my tone of voice and really wanted to ‘process’ what happened, and I, of course, was mortified to explain what I was doing.

My father was often critical.  I remember one time when I was probably 10 or 11 and they had me babysit my brother.  We made popcorn and I burnt the popcorn.  I must have spent an hour scrubbing the pan, but I had forgotten that I left the lid on the balcony and my father was furious that the house smelled bad and that I’d forgotten the lid.  It wasn’t enough that I tried.  I wasn’t perfect.

And, of course, my weight was an undercurrent that I think exacerbated the sense that I was always doing something wrong that was just beyond my control.  Our society is cruel to fat girls in a way that undercuts everything else they could possibly do.  I’m not saying that I’m not a smart, kind, beautiful woman, because I am.  But there is this cruelty in our society that played into my perfectionism that I had to be perfect in everything I do.

MaxEarnest loved me.  Mostly he loved me just as I was, except he always wanted more of me when we were together.  Whereas I wanted to be together more often, but less hours in each day. He thought I was beautiful, but did he think that because he loved me? Who knows?  He loved me, ergo I am lovable.

He is very, very handsome.  Do I think that because I love him?  Still.  I think I will always love him.  It makes me sad to think about what I lost because I wanted more.  And it is hard not to think of it on the trip I had planned with him. 

I am trying to imbue the attitude of my Australian friend.  Because, fundamentally, I think it is her confidence and comfort with who she is that is so attractive to me.  And every guy she meets.

Major or Minor

It is weird.  Deep down, I'm blue.  But only when I stop the hustle and bustle and pay attention.  When I don't stop, I'm actually doing just fine.  And on this weird level, I don't think the surface is any less important than the deep down.My bones are sad.  My muscles and skin and fat all all the stuff on top are doing pretty OK.  It is like an old record player (now you can tell I'm really old!).  Right now, I seem to be doing great at 78 and OK at 45, but 33 is a sad, minor piece.

It's like this song.  Deep down, there's angst. You know it's there.  But when you listen to it, nothing really seems bad.  

Maybe I'm holding onto angst out of habit.  I learned how to see the world in a minor key, but more and more, I'm living in major.  But when I slow down, minor is what I think about, even if I'm not living in minor anymore.  

Or maybe I really am sad, and that sadness doesn't have time to be expressed because I'm numbing myself out with the bustle of technology that is hiding the lack of connection.

Or maybe both of those are true.