Wednesday, April 29, 2009

The Commodity of Romance

When it comes to dating, I find I often miss the beat by one quarter note.  On those rare days on which I long for someone to share my meal with, I find my list of contacts useless, yet when I decide to "focus on myself" I find my inbox flooded with prospects. 

It is a unique and special day when I discover exactly what I want, so I suppose today deserves some recognition. As I reflected back on my recent flings with all their perks, peaks, and pitfalls, I defined my ideal relationship:

A strong friendship with he whom I can sleep with whenever I want.

And through that definition, I realized why I have a sudden anxiety towards dating:
Dating Is Romance.
Romance Is A Commodity. 

I hate the idea that in order for someone to show their interest they have to spend money on me. If I had a boyfriend, I would truly appreciate him spending money on me and I would be more than happy to spend mine on him. But this courtship thing rubs me the wrong way. Aside from the hipster fuck-consumerism aspect, I just find it uncomfortable. Forced. Like laughing at your boss's joke.

And then there's that whole, "I'm not your average girl" element. We sickos are so damn quick to inform these dinner-seeking men that a romantic evening is really not our style. We don't look for relationships, we go with the flow, and we'd much rather chill on a park bench with our shoes off. We freak out because if they already want a traditional date, than they probably want a traditional relationship, and we're not a traditional girl, so maybe we should just quit while they still categorize us as normal. 

And we wonder why we fall for the head-cases.

But what if there's some validity in this twisted emotional guard? I really would rather sit on a park bench with my shoes off and exchange Michael Scott impressions than have a candlelit dinner in Tribecca. I really am just seeking a friend I am sexually attracted to who is ready to go at any given time. And if it develops into something exclusive than that's great.
In my head, that's not settling. That's just what I want. That, to me, is a relationship. A friendship with mutual care and support and exclusive physical activity. 

It sounds so simple, yet it's shockingly hard to come by. Perhaps because in wanting the simplest things, I've made myself unattractive. Apparently in order to get what you want you have to want the world. 

I would be more than happy for a platonic relationship to turn into a hookup and then have that hookup turn into something more. But by starting as friends, I can't be seen in terms of a relationship. Because I lacked the dinner, the movie, the upstate vacation, I lacked being seen in a romantic light. 

Last night I ran into a smart, cute, funny guy I'd ran into a few times before. When he asked me if I was available tomorrow I tried suggesting a couple of casual day-lit activities in which we could just hang out and chat. 

Needless to say, tonight at 7:00pm you can find me a beautiful expensive dim-lit dinner in Tribecca, knowing that all I really want is bare feet perched on a park bench and a long talk on the phone.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

I Wish Freud Were Female

Let me preface this by saying I should be sleeping right now. I should definitely be sleeping right now because I'm so tired, I'm watching lost (which i've never seen before and am more interested in why all the women have blue eyes than the plot) so I'm a little distracted, and i have a show tomorrow afternoon. 

But I'm not just physically tired.

I feel like every interaction I've ever had with a male, in any shape or form, involved accommodating his ego. That fucking male ego, that precious jewel that needs shining, that delicate pup that needs stroking.
He needs to know he's a good person. Fine. You're a good person.
He needs to know he's doing well in bed.  Fine. You're doing well in bed. 
He needs to know his jokes are funny. Fine. Hahahahaha.
He needs to know you can be civil after a break up. Fine. Hi, how are you?

But my God what about our egos? Would it be so much to ask for a little validation here and there, you know, maybe one encouraging comment for every 4 we give you? and here's what I don't get: when we call them upset seeking comfort, we are viewed as emotional, needy, or fragile. But what could be more emotional, needy or fragile than a CONSTANT need for validation like that of the male ego? 
I have calluses on my fingers from petting it. 
The hypocrisy of the whole thing has boggled my brains and I'm wiped. 

I'm going to bed.
I'd like to think that tomorrow some guy will massage my ego, and after all, tomorrow's only a day away...
But I'm pretty sure Ginger over here had to chill on the streets for more than 24 hours till before the baldy took her in.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

4x7=28 and here's how to end a hookup

Hello, men. I think we need to have a chat. 

Your last hookup may have been a serious girlfriend, someone you were casually dating, a friend-with-benefits, or someone you found on Craigslist. Whatever it was, it ended. You know that much.
Here's what you don't know:

If it was faltering, we were aware. If it ended, it's because it needed to. Something obviously wasn't right, or it would still be occurring. 

Now. here's something else you don't know. 

When a woman gets upset with you after it's over it is NOT because she still wants to be with you. It is NOT because she can't handle the fact that the flame has petered out. She is upset with you because you are denying her the most basic, most simplistic, one and only thing she wants:


That's right. R-E-S-P-E-C-T find out what it means to me respect. An acknowledgment that it happened and just a LITTLE BIT of validation that it existed- that there was ANY positivity in it at all. Which there was! There must have been! Or it wouldn't have happened more then once! (ok, twice if you were really fucked up. both times).

Y'all have this little habit of thinking the only way to handle the situation is to ignore the girl until she...what, takes a hint? Is that it? If you were friends, tell her what's up. Doesn't your friend deserve to know? And try this: if she meant something to you, at any point be it physical or even platonic. Let her know. Maybe it was the best sex you've ever had. Maybe it wasn't, but you like the way she listened when you spoke. Maybe you just like her tits. But if you just liked her tits, would you really have taken her out for breakfast in the morning? Would you really have called her on the phone just to talk? 

Maybe you would have. But you can STILL acknowledge the fact that it happened because you wanted it to. Most of us don't practice voodoo. Most of us are not dangling grapes before your lips, and the great majority of us are not slipping you roofies. Your penis did not fall into anyone's vagina. YOU PUT IT THERE. So you're not really foolin' anyone. 

It has been said before that there is a correct way to break up with someone. But a) that statement was apparently not very widespread and b) I'd like to make an addition:

There is a correct way to stop hooking up with someone. No matter how casual it was, it happened. Acknowledge that. Validate the experience. Honor it for what it was. You will come out the good guy. And isn't that what you're all so damn worried about to begin with?

This has happened to all of us way too many times for me to just accept it. I don't know how to reach them. I don't know how to make them understand. I don't know how to drill this into their brains.

All I can think of is flash-cards.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

SEX. Yeah, I said it.

Here is a letter I sent to CosmoGirl back in my teenage years (ok, that was like not even a year ago, but the ONLY perk of being 20 is pretending you're above being a teenager so I'm gonna milk it)

Dear Editor,

I have a new and fresh idea that I believe would make an excellent contribution to your magazine.

Like countless others, I have spent the majority of my teen years comparing my love life to those of the adored characters on Sex and the City. However, when I tried to apply Carrie’s advice, I often came up short. I recently realized why: they are in their thirties!

            And then it hit me: there is absolutely nothing in the media for teens and young women who are sexually active, but not sexually experienced. I can find plenty of articles for virgins about how to avoid being pressured into sex. And my latest Cosmo gives a “how to” of tricks like “having sex against a wall.” But where do I look if I’m having sex, but I’m still learning the ropes? Who can I relate to if I have a problem like, “How do I get over the guy I lost my virginity to?” Carrie Bradshaw has been having sex for longer than I’ve been alive; so I don’t think her advice is truly geared towards my problems.

            Here, then, is my proposition: A column or a web blog about relationships and sex for those who are new to it- written by someone who is also new to it- that someone preferably being me. Now, I am no sexpert- but that is exactly the point. I could write about my experiences as I live them, and finally give the millions of girls in my shoes someone in the media to relate to.

            I know sex is a tricky subject, but my columns would be tasteful, truthful, and relevant. I am not trying to promote promiscuity or advocate sex amongst teens. I am merely trying to acknowledge that sex is out there, and provide helpful information for those who are already doing it or thinking about it. It may spark some controversy, but hey, Gossip Girl would not be such a hit if those explicit billboards were not hovering over Time Square.

            Speaking of Gossip Girl, teens having sex is already portrayed in the media- just not accurately. When Blaire loses her virginity the scenario is hot, steamy, and utterly romanticized. For the non-fictional teen, a first attempt at sex is not about champagne and rose petals. It’s actually more like a science project. Isn’t it about time we stop expecting teens to go from the innocent virgins of Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants to the sex kittens of American Pie overnight? I’d like to guide them through the in between phase as I experience it myself.

            I would be more than happy to send you a sample of my writing if this idea interests you at all, and am fully available to meet in person in the NYC area. Please let me know what you think.

Thank you for your time!

Needless to say, said editor did not respond. And as I continue to grow older and more experienced, I can see my brilliant plan of being a teenaged sex columnist slipping away. But even if I can't write it then, my God, someone needs to. Sex plays too big a role in the lives of humans for it to go unexplained for so long. I am twenty and I STILL feel too young to relate to anything truthful pertaining sex in the media. So how must that high schooler feel who just lost her virginity?

Ok, here's my plan. Like I said I am no expert, and this blog probably reaches like 2 people, BUT if you have any questions/comments/stories deemed to awkward to discuss, I'd be happy to listen without judgement and respond with a personal story that would probably make your awkward encounter seem like a candlelit dinner. And if it's something technical, I can totally research it and get back to you. I don't know if that would do anyone any good, but I figured its worth a shot. So here's my email:

When it comes to the topic of young people having sex everyone just freezes up. I think it's about time we break the ice.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

The Metrolover's Lament

Let me start by saying that the electricity has been cut off in my apartment and I am literally writing to you by the light of my computer. How incredibly Medieval. 

Today I'd like to address a highly controversial topic (now there's a shocker). But I feel it must be discussed  because my lady friends and I have experienced it far too many times in our environment.

We are theater majors, in New York City. 
I think you may know where I'm going with this.
But if you don't, I will be discussing the The Closet Case vs. The Metrosexual.

Now this,  my friends, is a tricky one.
With the continual blur of the gender roles, men have taken on more and more "feminine" characteristics. They get their eyebrows threaded at the same salon as I do. They highlight their hair with a frequency I can only admire. They wax the majority of their bodies and put together well thought out ensembles for a night on the town. 
And often times... they're hot. 

From my observation its nearly impossible to be in theater in New York and not be sexually attracted to metrosexuals. Now I'm sure there are exceptions, and a lot of the guys I think are hot are not metrosexuals. But these metroloving girls are prevalent enough that I feel they need a name. I am totally open to suggestions, but for now, I'm gonna go with Metrolover
Metrolover: n' A woman is sexually attracted to the commercial metro sexual. 

With being a Metrolover comes an inevitable struggle that lies in the underlying fear of every hookup and relationship: What if he's gay. Oh my God, What. If. He's. Gay. 
Because, not all of the time, but sometimes... he is. Sometimes he comes out of the closet. Other times he doesn't. But when it happens, we know. We always know. 

Which brings me to our next vocab word:
The Pro-Mo-Sexual: n' A female who is sexually attracted to gay men, or, Pro hoMo Sexuals. 
(not bad for being put on the spot, eh?)
These women have it rough. They see a guy on the street and think "wow, he's so hot," and 9 times out of 10, the hot guy's on his way to meet another hot guy for a good romp in the sack. But it's so not their fault. After all, they can't help it if the streets of New York are flooded with handsome men who are uninterested in our anatomy.

There's one more kind and then I'm done. The woman who is a magnet for the closeted gay men. They just flock to her like them 5th Avenue pigeons to a bagel. 
The Bearded Lady. Harsh, I know, but since I've had plenty of practice being her, I feel somewhat entitled. A wise professor told me recently that Bearded Ladies are often strong women who straight guys may be afraid to approach. Great. Another benefit of being outspoken. Fantastic. 

So who has it worse? The Metrolover, the ProMoSexual or the Bearded Lady? They've all got it pretty rough. And trust me. It is possible to be all of them. I would know. 

Now to all my men (yeah, because so many of them are reading the women's files but whatever, it's worth a shot):
Metrosexual or not, if you are straight- and I mean really and truly no doubt in your mind straight, PLEASE let us know. Wave it like a proud banner. Get a little sticker that says "Hello, my name is: I'M STRAIGHT" 
And if you're still figuring things out that's TOTALLY cool. Take all the time you need. Just don't involve me. A Bearded Lady's got feelings too.
I think both parties will benefit.