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.