What do I want? Pt. 2

I realized, I didn't answer that the last time.

So, on a relationship level, I want a pretty egalitarian relationship. I am sure we'd split household tasks based on what each of us liked, to do and what we'd hire someone to help with. Hopefully, he'd make about as much more as me, give or take 10 or 20 thousand dollars. If he made a lot more, I'd deal, I'm sure. But it would be hard for me--I think I'd end up feeling like I had to prove myself. If he made a lot less, well I could handle it if he had a 'calling' that he was actively pursuing. But I'm also aware that I work a second job because I make an extra 15K a year, or so. It's only about 6 hours a week, or so, but it takes a lot more than 6 hours a week, because it is an hour here and an hour there, and I have to travel for each hour. Anyway, I feel like if I was married to someone that hadn't made sacrifices to make a solid living, I could feel like things were out of whack. I wouldn't not go out with someone because they made little, but I did go out with a guy that made about 22K a year, and when I found out he was getting palimony from his ex wife, I lost interest in him. I don't really want to support someone, unless he is doing something I really believe in (probably political or humanitarian--I have enough unrealized artistic dreams that it would be hard for me to support someone else in his art, unless it was temporary).

Anyway, moving on: I want someone who will be interested enough in me to support me in my dreams. Maybe he'd be willing to read what I'm writing every few months, to talk about it and ask questions. (And, of course, I'd do that for him!)

I want someone that is somewhat optimistic about the world, without being crazy, who will have respect for my spiritual meanderings and my underlying agnosticism.

I want someone with a strong sense of integrity and a purpose in the world beyond making money.

Erotically: I want someone who will lead, like a ballroom dancer leads. This means he is in charge, and tells me what to do. He would cherish me, and make sure I had fun.

But not until I trust him enough to lead.

He would know me well enough to read my facial expressions. If he wanted to push me into the liminal places, where both pain and pleasure are intertwined, and I can't label or define, so I stop thinking for that moment, wonderful. But he couldn't push me out of pleasure and into just pain. I need both.

And sometimes, he would hear my fear or reluctance and kiss me on the eyes and say "but I know you'll do this for me." And then he wouldn't push me to endurance--just to the edge. Never falling in. But having my concerns heard and then ignored (nicely) is incredibly sexy to me.

But most of all, it is tone.

There was one evening with the ex that was so magical. He always liked me to be naked and kneeling when he came home, but sometimes I wouldn't hear the door open, and I wouldn't be and then I'd feel bad (I do love to please), so he started calling me on his way home, so I'd be ready, and that worked beautifully for both of us. He got obedience, and I got a way to please. Anyway, one day he had gone to take the trash out--I think it was recycling day, or something, cause he was gone for a couple of minutes, so when he came back, I was naked and kneeling for him. And this day, he came up and rubbed my back for a bit, and told me how beautiful I was, and then took off his belt and proceeded to spank me. But it didn't hurt at all. I just luxuriated in it. He had never seen me like that. Somehow or other, the tone, the massage, the cherishing--it all just came together. I didn't want him to stop (the only time that had ever happened with my ex).

I don't know if I'm actually kinky enough to be on the kinky website, although I have put an ad back up on collarme--I like the open communication that starts there. Most of the people are not for me, but perchance....

Is it Better to be Right than Loved

This seems a big issue for me. When I was a kid, and I'd argue with my dad over something he'd always say: "Is it better to be right or be loved?" The problem is, we were arguing over facts. And usually I was right. When we moved to the street we lived on for most of my childhood, the street name was long with difficult spelling. My dad clearly had a hard time learning to spell it, and he wasn't willing to admit it to me, his 2nd grader. I finally went and learned it from the street sign because he kept changing the spelling (I'm sure inadvertently) and he was really upset that his second grader (whom, I might added, had been placed in the lowest of each tracks and threatened with being held back a year) was correcting him.

"Is it better to be right or loved?" But I was right. There was a fact that could be determined. To me, it isn't important that I'm right, but I have this obsession with getting facts correct. There are known facts, and if our conversation is using facts, we should both have the correct facts. When my facts are wrong, I try to tell everyone I've given the wrong fact to in order to not perpetuate wrong facts. I've been known to e-mail someone six months after a conversation to issue a correction to my facts.

I know that I go farther than most on this, and I wish I didn't care, but it really, really matters to me that facts are correct, and I know it is a turn-off for a lot of men, who don't necessarily want to check their facts when they are going out with someone.

Recently, I was out with a little twit of a man, and he claimed he was interested in global warming (wanting to start a business in order to invest in green technologies) so we started talking and I said something like "without limits in carbon dioxide" and he said "what are you talking about" and I said "well I just don't see the political will to pass meaningful climate change" and he said "but we've already signed on to it" and I said "but Kyoto didn't have any enforcement mechanisms" and he said "but we've agreed to limit carbon dioxide. That debate's over." And I was like "no, we haven't." And he said "Oh, sweetie. You don't know what you're talking about." I said "Well, I'd love to read what you're reading because everything I'm reading is telling me the opposite." But of course I never returned his call after that.

Now, I suppose, it is possible that I'm wrong and we have agreed to limit carbon dioxide and I missed it. But I seriously doubt it. It isn't because I want to be 'right;' it's just that, and I know this sounds arrogant, but I am right. When facts are involved, I tend to know what I know and know what I don't know and I am usually right.

But, when feelings and emotions are involved, I will immediately say I'm wrong; immediately apologize and take the blame. And that's a problem too. Reading through John and my correspondence, I noticed how often I would say "I was wrong, I'm sorry" hoping to make the situation better. And a lot of the time, I wasn't wrong, but I wasn't just saying it. Now, John was probably an extreme case because I really think his memory issues were more extreme than he realized. In the most extreme case, he was really upset that he had sent me an e-mail, reaching out to me about how he felt with his mother's death, and I never responded. When he confronted me about it, I apologized. It probably would have been better for both me and for our relationship if I had said: "John, I never got that e-mail. I've searched my e-mail (and we both use gmail so it is easy to search) and have no record of ever receiving it." At the moment, going through my e-mails felt like I would be confronting him; like I would be trying to be right at the expense of being wrong. So I just accepted blame, hoping to be wrong and be loved.

I think it is important that I stop assuming I'm the one that is always wrong. I don't want to insist on being right, but I think I need to be willing to say my side, instead of just saying: "I'm wrong--love me." And somehow, or other, I need to let go of my obsession for facts. They are useful, but they aren't the be all and end all. Perhaps the "I'd love to read where you read that; now let's talk about something sexy" would be a good thing to say.

What Do Women Want? What do I want?

So I posted a profile on CollarMe. We'll see how long I last. But here's the thing--I haven't met anyone worth dating on OKCupid. And I met John on CM. And, frankly, I met Steve, whom I glad I met, and the ex boyfriend as well. And a couple of other randoms I'm glad I met.

But I don't know if I could ever trust a man enough again to surrender. I really don't. And that makes me deeply, deeply sad.

I went out with a guy last week from there. Perchance if he'd asked a single follow-up question, after dominating the conversation all evening (I would say he probably about 90% of the time, which means it was probably 75% of the time--literally after talking about his 4 favorite towns in England, he asked the last time I went to Europe and I said January, and he didn't even ask me which countries!), maybe I would have responded differently. I did kiss him because it was easier, but wouldn't let him French kiss me. That seems to be my new limit.

The thing is, with John, the only way we had a chance was when he got to the point where he would rather be with me than do any S&M activity. He likened it to "standing up on roller-coasters." He was like with Jamie (that was the girl he dated after we met, who would do anything he wanted of an S&M scale, but couldn't be loyal or emotionally honest, or maybe she could and he was having brain problems--I don't know, although John's sister confirmed John's story): "We both liked standing up on roller-coasters. So we did a lot of standing up on roller-coasters. But it isn't pivotal to me."

I would say, I'm being pretty good about standing up for myself. Well, at least better than I was! The asshole who talked about my physical shortcomings, he really did hurt me. And how hard would it have been to say "I'm just not really in a place where I think I can date right now." Or "I tend to go for brunettes" or whatever. But the funny thing is, I met him on OKCupid.

But, when someone isn't treating me well, I hold my right ring-finger, with my ring that John had for a year and a half, and I take a deep breath and say "cute as a god-damned button" and then I take care of myself.

I was talking with a friend who believes in God, and doesn't believe that our experience of linear time is the only way to experience time, once we're no longer in this world. I'm jealous of his surety. I wish I felt John's presence, other than in my mind. I wish, well I wish for so much.

Dreams

I had this really intense dream about John last night.

He was in a hospital and I crawled into bed with him. He was hooked up to machines that were I guess like dialysis, or something, to take the strain off his heart and he was worried about me and wanted to hook my up to the machine so I could have a break from having to clean and oxygenate my own blood. And I started fighting with him that he needed it, and I could do it myself, but he kept insisting that this was something he could do for me, that he wanted to take care of me so I could have a break.

I don't usually put much stock in dreams, but this one stayed with me all day. I can't seem to shake it. I feel guilty for him giving me something in my dream that he couldn't afford to give me. I wish I knew what it means. It's been disorienting today, but intellectually, I don't think I should feel like I've done something wrong.

Men and Beauty

I'm trying really hard to let go of my insecurities around my looks. I'm quite beautiful in some ways, but not in the way our society currently likes women.

I'm also trying to be aware that just because some men behave in certain ways, not all men do.

Yesterday was hard. First I got a massage from a self-described 'aging hippie' who would not shut up during my massage, and he was going through a divorce. According to him, his ex was a materialistic woman and 'what did she want with an aging hippie like me?' He was clearly frustrated with her focus on material possession and the dominant narrative for how to define worth, and I asked him what he wanted from her: "Well, she was sexy and beautiful." Grrrr! All his frustrations were defined by her as a woman falling into fairly stereotypical ways of measuring value, but he as a man was doing the exact same thing!

Then I get home and check my e-mail. I went out with this man twice, about 6 months ago. He blew me off after the 2nd date. I would have blown him off if he hadn't blown me off. He HATED a job that probably paid $10 an hour and didn't really have any plan for how to change his job or find a better job or make a change. He hated the area where we live, and pretty much hated his life. He was living here to be a 'good son' but was only waiting for his mother to die, so he could go back to Alaska, where life was good. A month ago he asked if I wanted to borrow a book of his and I didn't reply. Then last week he asked if I'd like to go out again. I said: "What's your thinking? You kind of disappeared after the last time we got together, and I know you want to move back to Alaska."

He replied:

I've been wondering about myself lately. I'm guessing you are blissfully ignorant of Seinfeld? One episode, he made the proclamation that 90% of the population was un-dateable. (How do the rest of us make out? Alcohol.)

Yeah, I'm not really happy here. I miss Alaska terribly. But the life I left is no longer there. I'm fairly committed to staying in the area as long as my mom does. So I have learn to make the most out of my time here.

I'm kind of caught in a huge Catch 22. I have neither a job nor a mate and that makes me depressed (not that I really need much excuse). That makes it that much harder to be 'up' when on an interview or a date. Last date said she didn't feel any spark (nor did I). But I'm wondering if I have a spark to give off.

And its also not good that, as I get older and learn more about myself, I don't necessarily like what I learn. Fer instance, I would like to believe that I can be attracted to someone's intellect and have that make up for any short comings, say, physically.

But sadly, that's not the case. As I said, its not really something I'm proud of. Its not something that I really know how to deal with. So, I ignore instead of dealing.

But I do like you for your intellect. I've kind of adopted one of your mannerisms--your singsong acknowledgement 'I see'. But it seems highly unlikely a romantic match is possible.

So, I was wondering if you would like to see each other as friends. Go to museums maybe bike ride but w/o any romantic intentions. I'd really like to have a friend like you.

Not particularly surprising, but I assume that what he meant is: "You have physical short-comings but I like your intellect. But that isn't enough to make you dateable. But spend time with me because I need a friend."

It really pissed me off. I sent 2 replies. One said: "I wish you the best and appreciate your honesty, but I'm not doing platonic friends here." And the other said (and I'm glad I sent it, an hour later--I was still pissed): "Telling a girl she has physical short comings, it really isn't kind. I only allow people to be friends who are kind to me."

So in the past, I'd let this man affect my sense of self and I would go back into yet another cycle of feeling insecure. I could list all his short-comings; but why? He is clearly stuck in his rather negative cycle. (He got fired since we left, probably because he hated his job so much.) And I wouldn't have been happy with him anyway.

John was so far and away a superior man to this man. And the ring on my finger reminds me that he thought I was pretty fucking extraordinary, lacking only in confidence. I refuse to let this twit pull me into a cycle of self-doubt.

I was kayaking yesterday, and I fell in the lake. And this man started laughing at me. Derisively and mockingly, pointing at me from the shore. And I ignored him, pulled my kayak on shore, flipped it over, drained it out and went to get a different kayak as he laughed the entire time. I started to walk over to him and I realized he was retarded. I'm guessing downs syndrome; I'm not sure. And I know he has probably been laughed at, and people have probably teased him. And he probably hated it. And I know, by my view of the world, I'm lucky to be me and not him. And I tried to have kindness for him. But he just kept laughing and pointing at me. I didn't know how to talk to him, without being condescending or angry. So I stayed silent. I'm tired of staying silent while men treat me badly. But I also know that it isn't all men. John would have challenged me to a jousting duel on kayaks and then fallen in the water before he pulled me back in. I want to be honest in my emotions, but being mad at men in general is neither fair, nor will not bring me greater joy.

Beyond Words

I was listening to Radio Lab on "Words" (which, by the way, is a fabulous show--highly recommend!--yes, I am an NPR nerd...) and they were talking with this woman who had a stroke. While she was in the middle of the stroke, she lost language, and it was blissful.

That is was S&M used to do for me. I'm so defined by language. I use words to navigate not just the physical world, but also my emotional world. They tell me how I'm feeling. I love the word 'liminal' because it was a way of defining that space in-betwixt and between. Before I had that word, I didn't know how to embrace that space. I fell in love with John based on our words.

Somehow, when I first started playing with wiitwd, it was magical. I remember going out with this man who kept dropping hints about kinky friends, but saying "of course, I'm not into that." Over, and over and over. And on our third date, I looked at him and said "Are you really as vanilla as you keep trying to reassure me..." And then he took me home and spanked me. And ran ice-cubes on my hot ass. It was magical. And I stopped thinking in words and started thinking in pictures. Which is so odd, if you think about it. Why not feelings instead of words? Where did the pictures come from? But all of a sudden it was pictures.

I've thought about trying to find someone kinky again, but it scares me. Scares the hell out of me. And then I remember that I met John on collarme. And the vanilla men, well, they bore me. Bored or scared, bored or scared, bored or scared.

I ache for the sublime. Not in the modern sense, in sense of the Romantics. Terror and awe at God's presence. I think the closest I've found, outside of wiitwd, is that moment on the Maid of the Mist ride at Niagara Falls. Exhilaration and totally alive to the present without words to define and demarcate and limit.

Amateur

I seem to be in a good space with dating as of late.

I went to a 'speed-dating' event last week, and 14 men were interested in me! (Actually perchance a few more--14 of the men I was interested in were interested in me.) And I was at the oldest age range, so most of these men were younger, I think. I went with a size 6 friend, and she got only 3 men responding to her. So clearly, size is not everything!

Then, on OK Cupid, there was this fabulous man, who has a 'red' (responds rarely) status. I rarely write men, and have never written a 'responds rarely' guy, but I loved his profile and we had quite a bit in common. (He also had several references to kinky literature in his profile.) Anyway, he wrote me back, and not just a 'hi' but several pages each time. (I expect that he responds selectively because he writes a great deal.) And then he stopped writing me back and I was so very sad and did exactly what I always do, which is to analyze everything I might have done wrong. But then 2 days later, another fabulous long e-mail (which an apology and an explanation).

Meanwhile, I really do like one of the men from the speed-dating, despite my suspicion that he is a decade younger than me. I'm not sure how to suss out his age without giving mine away. (I don't usually go to the speed dating events where I'll be on the older side, but they had a last-minute free promotion for gals since they had too many guys.)

So first of all--half the guys that I liked at speed dating liked me. Half. Wow. Half!!! And a guy who responds rarely seems quite interested. I think of myself as not pretty enough for conventional standards. (I do think I'm quite beautiful, but not pretty. I'm, I think, beautiful in a Renoir-would-have-loved-to-have-painted-me sort of way, but not in a what-is-conventionally-attractive-in-an-age-where-photoshop-makes-models'-hips-smaller-than-their-heads sort of way. Intellectually, I know that men want a gal who is capable of walking upright and more of a mammal than an insect, but emotionally, I feel like I'm just too chubby. (I did lose nearly 10 pounds after John died, and I seem to have kept that off, though--yeah for the grief diet! For those who care, I seem to be a 14/16 at the moment, or, in "W" sizes more of a 12W/14W.)

So I'm really trying to just hold the fact that men are attracted to me. I actually sort of felt like that maybe John was up there tweaking men in my direction. My insecurity about men not being interested in me is partly linked to not really respecting men. When my dad told me (when I was in the 6th grade) that "You'll never get a boyfriend if you don't lose weight," I responded "Well then I don't want a boyfriend." While we were both wrong, I think I made a deal with the universe that I wouldn't try to want a boyfriend because I didn't know how to lose weight. But A) I'm not that big. (Statistically,in I'm 'average' size, although I do have trouble believing that.) And B) not all men judge women only on their size. Face, hair, tits, those things matter too, and in those areas, I do pretty well.

The man I'm enjoying corresponding with has several notable features. He and I have discussed literary kink. But nothing beyond that. (His profile makes reference to several kinky fiction pieces, so I recommended my favorite kinky book, Safe Word by Molly Weatherfield, and he bought it and is reading it!)

We are sharing ideas, but both of us have alluded to identifying with characters in fiction, and both of us have said we'll discuss it in person. I think this is good, because it is keeping the conversation from becoming too emotionally intense too early.

I read in a book on relationships that relationships built around sharing our wounded vulnerable pieces sometimes keep both people stuck in the wounded area--that we can't grow and heal if that's how we base intimacy. I asked my best friend and she totally agreed. I'm not sure if I believe this--I don't know what intimacy looks like if it doesn't involve a certain amount of sharing vulnerability. But I want to make sure I'm sharing good stuff in abundance.

I worry that I might be giving off an angst-free sense of kink, but I think as long as it stays in a literary discussion (and mostly of vampires, we haven't talked about Safe Word) then I think I'm fine. Interestingly, I get the sense that he might have had a bit of angst there as well, but I'm totally reading that into something he said. If we get more personal, then I think I have to mention that "while mostly of my baggage is neatly folded, I do think that rummaging in those waters could involve some laundry." That isn't the right way to say it, but something along those lines.

But I'm also aware of not wanting to develop the kind of intensity I had with John over e-mail. I'm very much enjoying correspondence. But I don't think that level of intensity is healthy in a virtual relationship. I think the 'let's save that for an in-person talk' is a really good way to go. Taking time to build trust before kink is introduced is just plain old sensible and intelligent!

But I do relish the thought of finding someone with whom I could be a kinky amateur.