Double Standards at Their Best

I am coming to you from within a fog - somewhere between depression and indifference...if there exists such a place. I therefore am taking this opportunity to warn you about the absolute anger of this post...

To my own detriment, I often have conversations with my male friends about the females that they're seeing ::ahem:: a.k.a. dismantling their self-esteem through small, deliberate action. After hearing them demean these women through objectification, a discernible paranoia washes over me. I realize that, just as they are speaking about these women, the men who I see/have seen probably refer to me in the same manner. "Yea, dude. She's not going anywhere, I don't even have to try." Wow. Really?

One classic example of this is the double standard that has been haunting the dating scene since the beginning of time - sex on the first date. While speaking to a male (who shall remain nameless for fear that his name will become an expletive) about his first date he said, "Yea, we had sex. It's no good, you know? When it's that easy...there's nothing to work toward. You get bored." To which, in true jaded fashion, I replied, "You realize how incredibly hypocritical that is, right?" You pushed for the sex, she was attracted enough to you to go for it (lucky you) and now she's a slut who gives it up too easily? This is absolutley (and excuse my language here) fucking ridiculous.

Because men are, at best, primitive, animal-like beings, they live for the chase. They want to hunt for their food and when the prey becomes too easy to obtain, they lose interest. It truly is a wonder men's knuckles don't continue to drag the ground as they blunder through New York City looking for their next meal.

I really do hate to be the first to break it to them (and I say this with full confidence knowing the absolutely ignorance and stupidity of the male race) but women oftentimes want sex just as much as you do. Therefore, if the mood strikes, whether it be on a first or a tenth date, we will probably go for it if we like you. Granted, it will most likely be a HUGE disappointment as you attempt to find the clitoris, but nonetheless, it'll satiate about 25% of the desire we do have for your minimal, disappointing efforts.

This double-standard is something that is most likely propagated by the 50s male mentality - you want a homemaker; a woman who is willing to raise your mediocre children - and a chick who gives it up on the first date is not the ideal candidate for such a lifestyle. If this is the case, and the theory holds true, then by god I think every woman should have sex on the first date to save herself from the depressing, unexciting life of being a housewife...

Or, we should make men wait until they're chafing so badly they want nothing more than for a girl to give it up on the first date...the choice is yours I suppose.

I warned you this one would be ugly...

What would you like in your relationship, mademoiselle?

"What are you looking for?" It seemed (on the surface) like a fairly innocuous question. As I opened my mouth to answer however, I became instantly stuck...what on earth was I looking for when it came to romantic relationships? Obviously, the cliched desires came to mind: "someone who shares my interest, someone who's easy to talk to; there can never be a break in the conversation, yadda yadda yadda."

However, is this really what I want? When I think of the person who can capture and hold my interest, I certainly don't want a carbon copy of myself (after all, I am with me all the time and trust me, I'm pretty damn boring). Also, when it comes to ease in conversation (while that may be important), is that really the be-all and end-all? I have easy conversations with a lot of my male friends, but I don't want to date any of them - so what gives?

Part of me wonders if the fuel to my fire is the whole notion of unattainability - do I pursue those men who, even if on the surface they seem uninteresting, ignore me on some level? Why on EARTH is that so incredibly appealing? Am I therefore looking for someone to ignore me but, at the same time, declare me to be their 'girlfriend'? If so, that's absolutely ridiculous and I probably need some form of mental help.

And then, a very simple, concise sentence came to mind: "I want a man I can trust." While I have met many men over the course of these 2 years in dating hell, I have not met one that was worthy of my trust or my faith. Granted, they have been nice and all-around decent people but in truth, they've been remarkably mediocre and certainly not worthy of my trust. So maybe the trust will serve as a foundation for bigger and better things when it comes to choosing a mate. However, in true jaded fashion, I'm not holding my breath. After all, when speaking to one of my male friends about this epiphany he said, and I quote: "A man you can trust? Ha. Good luck."

So there you go.

Crack Addict

This weekend, a friend of mine went on a mini-rant about the futility of texting and BBMing - "There's a lapse in between communication - you can edit what you say and think it over numerous times. There's no immediacy! It's so transparent - if you want to TALK to me, you will call me. End of story."

I know that I agree with her, especially in regards to the incessant editing/reevaluation that comes along with sending a text message to a romantic prospect - "Do I say 'I enjoy hanging out with you' or 'I like spending time with you'?" We try time and again for the text message that will (on the surface anyway) be indicative of some level of vulnerability while also managing to seem aloof/unaffected. This is a skillful game of syntax, diction, and semantics. It's almost like cell phone jenga - we fear that the wrong word could immediately cause the whole thing to come crashing down. This fear is then only exacerbated by the fact that, as my friend so wisely stated, "They can ignore a text message." That lapse in time (for me, it's scary if it exceeds 6 minutes) causes yet another wave of worry: "Oh God, was I too quick to respond? Does it seem like I have nothing else going on? Did I say something that turned them off?" However, "If you get them on the phone, you get to hear their reaction right away".

What my friend fails to realize however is that, in today's day and age, a phone call is rare and almost considered a relationship-type action. Now, while I realize this is completely and utterly ridiculous, even modern women want to be pursued. We don't want to dial the number because it then feels as though we're doing the pursuing, and that's just bonkers. Shooting a text message out into the void and seeing what comes back to us is much less risky. After all, we can always say (should they not respond): "Huh, maybe they just didn't get it..." Also, text messages allow us to avoid the ever exciting first voicemail: "Oh, hey, uh, it's Christine. Just wanted to say hey and see what you were up to...yea, so...give me a call when you get this UNLESS you're busy then no worries. But give me a call back when you can (but you don't have to). Shit. OK. Bye." Yea, sometimes, I prefer the option to edit.

I really am a dating communication "crack addict" - I've noticed that in between communication with a romantic prospect, I am on edge...almost jonesing for that next contact. When my phone rings or I hear the hopeful buzz of a text message and look to find their name there (New Txt Message: Individual who will inevitably disappoint you) I breathe a sigh of relief. They will disappear, just not today. Not now. The only worry that remains is - when will I get my next hit?

E=MC what hell?!

I think for today, I am going to give you, my wonderful readers, a lesson in physics. I propose the following:

An object is travelling on a track, and its velocity steadily increases. The object continues down the track (an object in motion tends to stay in motion) until a brick wall is placed in its path. the object, having reached an 80mph velocity, crashes.

Granted, my physics knowledge leaves a lot to be desired. However, one could take this same scenario and apply it to romantic relationships.

Object: Individual stupid enough to get involved.

Velocity: speed (at which relationship progresses - frequency of phone calls, extent of feelings involved, trust, etc.)

Brick wall: the inevitable end of it all.

The whole idea of a car on a track within an enclosed environment, where no one gets hurt, isn't all that frightening. When the experiment is over, you simply pick up the pieces and move on. No harm, no foul. This is not the way it happens with relationships, quasi or full-blown.

The person riding the car (unless they are incredibly astute at managing hormonal attachment to another human being) has no control over how quickly the car picks up speed. More often than not, the once level track becomes steeper and steeper as we fight to maintain our grip on a heavily greased steering wheel. We grit our teeth and brace ourselves because we know that the wall is right up ahead, and it's going to hurt like hell once we hit it...

Once we do, how we choose to pick up the pieces is a completely different story. Some of us opt to wallow in our own self-pity; some of us take up arts and crafts; while others (specifically, me), continue to toy with the idea of screwing the steering wheel back on, backing away from the wall, and trying to drive around it. Ahem...this never works. An object in motion does tend to stay in motion, but a car without wheels and with an emotionally unstable driver never gets very far.

The lesson to be learned - by the time a relationship ends, it has achieved its terminal velocity (the maximum speed at which it will travel) and it's just waiting to hit that wall. When this terminal velocity is reached varies - 3 dates in, 5 years in - it all depends on the couple driving.

Ironically, when put into these terms, a relationship is just like physics - it sucks.

I have maintained a certain air of cynicism throught my various posts; and it's a cynicism I am incredibly proud of. However, I've realized that those type of convictions can only be successfully maintained when one does not have outside factors seeking to fan the internal flame of romantic attachment.

Let me explain. As I've written these blog posts, I've maintained a happy distance between myself and 'love'. It was easy to fault individuals for feeling emotionally elated over having met a possible life partner because, truth be told, I never had to worry about experiencing that myself. When you spend your evenings watching "Parks and Recreation" drinking Sleepytime tea, it is easy to feel high and mighty and almost (I am very sorry to say) somewhat superior to the poor saps who sit at home nursing a broken heart.

Well, ladies and gentlmen, I have realized that, sadly, I am completely susceptible to the blind optimism that affects so many. In fact, I am just as entrenched in the mucky muck of love and devotion as the rest of you.

As of late, (and I will refrain from describing the exact situation for right now), I have had stars in my eyes. I have believed that emotional unavailability could switch if one fostered trust and simply waited for the other individual to get with the program and start wanting what they had initially said they didn't want.

News Flash! That never happens. Because I had so deeply cared for this person, I had waited for that magical switch to happen...I read into every. single. action - a caring effort to sweep the hair away from my eyes, a phone call to see how my day went, an impromptu visit to the grocery store. I became the most inept detective ever has I attempted to piece these meaningless pieces of evidence together and tried to create a relationship out of it. Needless to say, it never worked.

And then, even after confessing my feelings and receiving not even a closure-inducing 'fuck you' but instead, painful silence (which is worse), I had hoped that maybe things just needed to sink in for this person. Maybe...they just needed more time. Again, I was wrong.

So, what have I learned during this entire thing? Apparently, nothing; but also, everything. I have learned that my initial belief that love is bullshit certainly held true. It is oftentimes uneven, painful, and insanity inducing and always, never worth the goddamn trouble. I think I will stick to my Celestial Seasonings evenings with Leslie Knope and Tom Haverford before I ever allow this sick feeling to take over me again. That's actually the perfect way to describe it - SICK. Not only are the physical aftereffects unpleasant (sleeplessness, exhaustion, perpetual stomachache) but you also feel slightly insane as your ability to construct logical equations collapses before you. So, wait, (you say to yourself), A + B doesn't necessarily equal C? Intellectual and physical compatibility + mutual respect doesn't equal at least the possibility of a relationship? What...the...(insert expletive).

Yours,
Love sick.

It made me angry

Hello readers. This is your uncommitted blogger visiting you from the great beyond - also known as the land of self-pity. Do you know this land? I myself am on the corner of self-loathing and 'I can't believe I'm here again' but I just wanted to touch base with you guys and let you know of a movie that really pissed me off this weekend...well, two of them. The first movie: 'Someone Like You' starring Ashley Judd, the ever-studly Hugh Jackman and Greg Kinnear. The plot in a nutshell: Girl meets boy (Greg Kinnear). Girl falls in love with boy. Boy hacks her heart to pieces. Girl loses faith in men and goes on a personal crusade to show what liars and hacks men are. Girl gets fooled by same boy again. Girl gets Hugh Jackman (eventually). This is just like real life, right? Right - except the girl never gets a Hugh Jackman. Instead, she winds up settling for the slightly overweight, slightly balding version of the man she really wanted just so that she no longer has to be alone. Also, Girl has crazy, zany, single friend played by none other than Marisa Tomei. This friend is also constantly screwed over by guys and guess what? She doesn't find her happy ending. Nope. She is left in spinsterhood - left forever to do yoga and hold out hope for that one true love without actually ever finding it. Instead, her doe-eyed, unremarkable friend finds love...in the form of Hugh fucking Jackman! What the hell is going on here? The second movie to piss me off: 'Eat Pray Love'. The plot goes a little something like this (I've never read the book so I'm obviously simplifying) - Girl gets married to perfect man. Girl is tragically unhappy. Girl falls in love with young, sexy actor type. Loses herself...AGAIN. Breaks up with him and goes on soul-searching quest to Italy, India, and Bali where she finds love in the form of Javier Bardem - tall, dark, handsome, brilliant, and sweet (he loves his kids...awwww). Girl freaks out and won't get on boat with gorgeous man. Girl goes to her little toothless friend the medicine man who tells her to chase her true love. She does. She and sexy man wind up on a boat together, forever... Frankly, I find it insulting that we women are supposed to believe this shit. You get your heart broken and all of a sudden your womanizing, man-whore roommate wants to really try with you - yea, the girl he once loved destroyed him, but you're worth it. He will happily give up easy, unattached sex for your ability to cry at the drop of a hat. OR, you are a neurotic woman who is NEVER happy but all of a sudden you find this sweet, adventurous man who is willing to traverse the world with you because, well, your neuroses are just that much fun. Bullshit. Thanks. Sincerely yours, Angry

Mood Equilibrium

Is there really a middle ground during those initial stages of a relationship? What I mean is, when one is navigating a brand new romantic interaction how much is too much, and how much is too little?

Unless we are a wide-eyed, naive dater, we all know about 'the game' - the constant push and pull of keeping the person 'on the hook' while also keeping ourselves available for other opportunities as well as protecting ourselves from disappointment and hurt. We want to exhibit interest so that the person doesn't feel like their efforts are for naught, but we also want to show that we 'have our own lives'. Where does the balancing act find its end? When does the seesaw come to that perfect place of balance where equal weight rests on either side? Does that state of equilibrium even exist?

I find that, in my efforts to show cool indifference, I can often come off as bored...tired even. This is not my intention, obviously. But the same sort of worry overcomes me when I am 'too eager'. I don't want you to know that I was looking forward to hearing from you or that I have a story that I couldn't wait to tell you. That would be utterly ridiculous if I made you privy to such things. So, I try to find that unattainable balance...

However, what often occurs is often a schizophrenic Christine - one who is overly eager one day and indifferent and unenthused the next. There is no telling where she'll end up on any given day (hell, she surprises me 90% of the time). An internal struggle even accompanies each mood:

Enthusiastic Christine: "Yo, turn it down. He's on the phone, you can talk to him. Limit your conversation to 60 words a minute please..."

Indifferent Christine: "Hey, cadaver. Lighten up! Let him know you're excited to hear from him. Hell, at least laugh at a joke! Jesus."

There is no telling where I'll end up where that phone rings. I just have to hope that as I hit the answer button, Charlie Sheen inhabits my body and I find that balance - I am no longer on this end or that end of the spectrum but rather, I'm bi-winning. Here's hoping.