And all the girls dreamed that they’d be your partner

I’ve been thinking about attractiveness. Lately, I have been seeing many beautiful people. I must be paying more attention these days due to the influx of undergrads in Bloomington and meeting new people. But everywhere I turn – the bus, campus, bars – I see attractive people. It’s rather nice to appreciate the way that other people look and to think about what components make them appealing. Beauty-gazing is my new people watching. Someone told me over the summer that there is an abundance of beautiful people. It’s funny that I never knew that before. So, I’ve started looking.

A lot of the males that I see around campus are really adorable and attractive —if not just a bit too fresh faced for my taste. After all, I do basically treat 24 and 25 year old men as though they are younger than me. I probably would never date a 19 year old but I can look. And I have also become very accepting and appreciative of attractive girls. I used to look for flaws or compare myself to other girls, both of which were negative reactions. Now that I am more settled and comfortable with the way I look, I feel freer to recognize prettiness in others.

I have also become more comfortable with ugly people. I used to feel pity or a strange fascination but now I wonder who they are. I have this overpowering urge to be friends with everybody, especially strangers. I think that I have softened in the past year in a good way – I feel myself becoming gentler and more sympathetic to others. I still make biting and critical remarks too often but at least internally I am becoming less harsh and judgmental. Soon, it will be fully expressed and I’ll be a fucking saint.

Compassion for and acceptance of the physical appearance of strangers? Check!

Now, about the dating thing….

Yes, yes, of course, we all know that looks aren’t everything and that a nice person is better than a hot person and that looks fade and that it’s ok as long as he is attractive to you BUT if we are going to talk exclusively about looks, let’s just talk about looks. It’s not everything, but it’s something. Even though it is superficial and certainly not the most important thing, it is, perhaps, one of the easiest things about love and relationships to talk about.

I am honestly conflicted about this. I was recently talking to an attractive girl who said that she exclusively dates “not hot,” i.e. fat, hairy men because at least they are grateful. I actually feel similarly because I absolutely hate the arrogance and self-centeredness of “hot” guys. Even semi-hot guys think that they should be dating Gisele. Please, stop. Nobody cares about your over-inflated muscles, your perfectly controlled body hair, or your sexual conquests of anorexic girls who sorta looked like Gisele.

There is only so much pretty that one relationship can handle and I plan on monopolizing it.

So, here it is:

I have dated some really hot guys.

Because they were hot.

I have also dated guys who were decent looking although not necessarily hot, yet were extremely attractive to females so they basically had the options of a hot guy.

And I always say that I never want to do it again. Attractiveness spoils them. They become hotten (hot+rotten). They don’t have to be nice to you because they have so many other opportunities (usually sexual which is what they typically want anyway). I wonder about the sexual lives of beautiful people sometimes. If sexual attraction is based on physical attractiveness to a large degree, and everyone wants to sleep with the most attractive person they can access, then beautiful people can clearly take advantage of many sexual requests. Thus, beautiful people are able to obtain other beautiful people and anyone else, so they are more likely to get what they seek, plus they are actually sought after themselves so it comes twice as easy. The ease with which both beauty and sex come for them anesthetizes them to both which is why they are not very nice people. (P.S. I have no idea if what I just said makes sense)

The point is that in my youthful days, I was excited by the prospect of a hot guy. It is great to have other people recognize that he is hot. It is an ego-boost to know that you got the hot guy. I guess sometimes you just want to prove to yourself what you can actually get. And looking back, I have gotten, in some form or another, every hot guy that I wanted. And so what? It did not make me happy or fulfilled and obviously, I am still single. Been there, done that. It’s time to move on.

Ahh, yes, moving on. Sometimes the best way to move on, to jump start your love life, is to frolick with a…..hot guy. This is my dilemma: It is the start of a new school year, a fresh start, and I am going into this as though I have a tabula rasa for romantic relationships. And there is a pretty hot guy, let’s call him Mr. Uno (he is the first of the year), and I saw the Dead End signs nearly immediately but it seems that every time I think that we’ve reached the end of the road, it keeps going. Uno calls once a week, prior to the weekend, to essentially find out if he is going to see me during the weekend. He doesn’t ask me out specifically and he is self-proclaimed anti-commitment. But he calls and I find him delightful and hot. Before my dramatic change of heart yesterday, I was holding out…but now I am just holding off.

The tragic problem with Uno is that I don’t want to waste my time going nowhere when I could be meeting and pursuing something with Mr. Dos. Sure, Uno is hot but what if Dos turns out to be a terrific guy who will be more compatible. I don’t want to be hasty and jump into anything especially if Uno is half-hearted in his pursual. And you better believe that I am holding his hotness against him. What a turn on/off!

At worst I feel bad for awhile, but then I just Smile

Story time again:

One ordinary day, a fair maiden rolls out of bed at 7am.
Ok.

….rolls out of bed at 8am.

Fine.

…8:20 and only because a certain lioness was clawing for food.

The fair maiden goes about her day as though it were a typical day. She eats and exercises and showers and takes the marvelous Chariot #6 to her kingdom. The lovelorn maiden is reading a book entitled “Can Love Last?” and she reads that the idealized lover is merely primary narcissism redirected to an object-love according to Sir Freud.

You see, dear friends:

“Things are what they are; they have a certain objective value.” Overvaluation is when we idealize something and “attribute it an illusory value, beyond the value to which it is legitimately entitled. Idealization can cover a lot of ground, from a worshipful, self-abnegating deference, surely self destructive, to the experience of being “head over heals” about another person” (Mitchell 2002).

The fair maiden thought of her objective value. And the objective value of her object-love. Something resonated.

Illusion.

Overvaluation.

Self-destructive.

Hmmmm. What’s that? Complete denial? Habitual idealization? Fear of failure?

No, certainly not this fair maiden. She is genuine and passionate and worthy. And though handsome princes from faraway lands such as Central Indiana and Northern Indiana wanted to ravage her, she remained steadfast in her purity and faithfulness. No matter how many other maidens cried, “He’s extremely hot!” the fair maiden built her fortress and lay her head on a secondhand couch rather than succumbing to temptation. For not only was this fair maiden chaste, she was also morally superior.

And so this day seemed as though it would progress like every other day of the last eight calendar months with the fair maiden stubbornly holding on to hope and dismay and expectation and unfulfilled wishful thinking.

but NO! This was to be no ordinary day, after all!

For while our beautiful, brilliant, hilarious, good-hearted fair maiden was chomping on a breadstick at a local dining establishment, idealization was trumped by reality and primary narcissicism triumphed over object-love. And finally, finally, finally, the fair maiden realized the truth of her circumstance. Her long held dream of something with somebody was replaced with the knowledge that all along it had been totally nothing with a complete nobody.

And all this time that she had been toiling in her tower, a maelstrom of emotion, a rigamarole of regret, he had chosen to make his place with mere handmaidens of a lower order.

And our dear, fair, foolish maiden did not cry. She was not even nearly crying.

For sometimes, the happiest ending is simply the ending.

Celebrity Self-Indulgence

I had a bad day. I have never felt so battered after a first day of school. This semester is going to be dreadful.

So, I made myself feel better by indulging in this celebrity collage thing. Once again, Carole Lombard shows up. Yay!

50 More Years of Faking It

I have been catching up on the New York Times today and found an article from a couple days ago that reported findings from a sex study of older Americans:

The study, financed partly by the National Institutes of Health, found that 84 percent of men from 57 to 64 reported having had some sexual contact with another person in the last year, compared with 62 percent of women in the same age group. Those figures dwindled to 38 percent and 17 percent, respectively, in people 75 and older.
But among those adults who were sexually active, about two-thirds had sex at least twice a month into their 70s, and more than half continued at that pace into their 80s.

I am happy to hear that many older people still get some lovin’. It gives me hope that by the time I am a sassy, single 70 year old woman, I can be the seductress of the nursing home.

However, I am disappointed that such a significant portion of people who were born before World War II are having way more sex than me. Twice a month! I should be so lucky. I need to start rolling with the Medicare crowd.

Why I Still Hate Heterosexual Males

Ready or not, it appears that I am back in the dating scene. I have been single for about a year and I gave up dating back in December. I had no energy for it. I didn’t want to put myself out there for another long string of 3 week trial periods only to end up in exactly the same place but more disillusioned.

Basically, I was sick of expiration dating. Expiration dating is when you continue to date a guy who has an end date in sight. There are two types of expiration dates. The first type is the nice guy who I am not attracted to, but I keep seeing in case there will be an unexpected spark after I get to know him. This ends when I still can’t really kiss the guy after three weeks. Nice guys respect boundaries but they get suspicious if there isn’t any smoochin’. The second type is the super attractive guy who cannot commit. In this case, it ends because he finally tells me that he has a live in girlfriend or he says that he doesn’t want a serious relationship or I only see him twice in three weeks and realize that I am the last thing on his mind. Both types are frustrating examples of the cruel laws of attraction.

So I was fed up with the merry go round, tired of compromising and being tempted to settle, ready to just go it alone until something worthwhile came along. And that is how it has been for the past 6 months.

But now I am back. I am meeting new people. I’m out there. I’m a dating scenester. I have the energy to get to know new guys and I have the enthusiasm to present myself as a fun and interesting person (the performance part of the date audition).

Honestly, I hate it. It is like every cliche in every women’s magazine that I have been reading since I was 13 years old. I am THAT woman who wants to decode secret male behavior, who wants 10 tips to make any guy fall in love with you, who wonders if he is really busy or if he is just not that into me. This is what dating does to you.

After one week in the trenches, here are some behaviors which caused me to become a nun for 6 months:

(1) This is basic: Do not ask for a girl’s phone number unless you are actually going to call. No one will be offended or bewildered if you don’t ask for the number. But if you ask for it, use it. There is only one use for having a phone number and that is CALLING.

(2) Do not leave a bar without saying goodbye to the girl and then text her on your walk home to “come over.”

(3) Do not get a girl’s number, then when she says something about hanging out say “Maybe I want to ask out your friend” THEN later call and ask if she wants to “come over.”

The “come over” thing is why I hate meeting guys in bars – or rather, why it is actually difficult to date or form relationships with guys you meet there. They tend to be looking for immediate gratification. I am so over the come over. It just ain’t gonna happen, fellas.

I know it is lame to wonder if or when a guy will call me. I am, after all, a “He’s Just Not That Into You” disciple. If he is into me, he will call. Bottom line. He’s not too busy or tired or moving or family member dying or whatever excuse to call. If he thinks that I am an amazing girl with potential, he will be falling over himself to find out when he can see me again.

I guess what is confusing to me is the timing of the call. There were three guys last Saturday who seemed interested enough in me to get my phone number. So what made BarBoy #1 call me at 9am on Sunday and BarBoy #2 wait four entire, he’s never going to call me days until he finally called on Wednesday? Is it their personalities or is it their level of interest?

Maybe I need to go pick up some women’s magazines. Six months out and I am clueless.

I have to praise you like I should

Ahh, the vocal stylings of FatBoy Slim:

I have to celebrate you baby/

I have to praise you like I should

One of my ex-boyfriends told me that should be “my” song because I was always telling him to compliment and praise me more. I thought that it would improve our relationship. I would never date a sycophant, but I must admit that a little flattery can get you pretty far with me. Not because of my ego (definitely not my ego) but because in relationships, we want to feel as though we are appreciated. We want the other person to recognize our virtues and contributions. We want to feel special and noticed.

My family is not incredibly demonstrative or affectionate. We aren’t each others cheerleaders and compliments don’t roll off the tongue. Instead, we tease and self-deprecate or jokingly inflate our egos. So maybe I am drawn to people who are really open and complimentary because that was not the norm in my childhood. One thing I know for sure: I am a sucker for guys who are really self-deprecating about themselves but are outward in their appreciation of me. I hate cockiness and I love adoration. Simple as that.

So, a few weeks ago, I read with interest a piece in the NYT magazine about this couples therapy group. After the past year, I have become incredibly suspicious of monogamy and I am not sure how I feel about marriage and relationships. The article cited several books and I quickly wrote down the titles and ordered them on Amazon. I figured now would be as good a time as any to start thinking about the reality of long term relationships and determine if they are for me after all. For a long time, I was starry-eyed and idealist about love and finding the right person. But now I am not so sure.

The first book that I am reading is called “Monogamy” by Adam Philips. It is a series of short thoughts and meditations on relationships and monogamy. The part that was cited in the article and that really struck me as true is this:

“But what if our strongest wish was to be praised – and so to praise-not to be loved, or understood, or desired, or punished? What would our lives be like? Or rather, what would our relationships be like? How long would they last? What would people be doing together?

We might find ourselves saying things like: the cruelest thing one can do to one’s partner is to be good at fidelity but bad at celebration. Or, people have affairs because they’re not praised in the way they most like. Or it’s not difficult to sustain a relationship but it’s impossible to keep a celebration going. The long applause becomes baffling.”

I love that last sentence. The long applause becomes baffling. It is so true. I have been at shows before where the audience kept clapping and clapping. At first, I was clapping heartily, then at pace with the rest of them, then limply, and then I felt self-conscious about stopping but my heart wasn’t in it anymore, so I feign clapping putting my hands together with no noise) until finally, I am disgusted and annoyed. Stop clapping, people! Hurry up, take your bow. No encore. I am over this. So imagine in monogamy having a private performance for 50 years and you have to sustain the applause all by yourself.

The long applause. In my experience, the first 3-6 months of a relationship are all about discovering and enjoying the great things about the person. It is easy to celebrate the person when the show is new. Beyond that point, it becomes an accumulation of criticisms and disappointments. Or boredom. The same stories over and over, the same predictable behavior. The good things are still there but they become muted. There is no energy to celebrate him anymore because he is a selfish, insensitive, obnoxious asshole (Ok, that was just my last boyfriend). But you get the point. Even if he or she does not turn into a terrible person, it is hard to keep saying the good things about someone or remain conscious of finding new things that you appreciate because you are so comfortable and the excitement has worn off.

Maybe some of us need so much praise that we should be a traveling show. Maybe some of us need it to be fresh and genuine. Maybe monogamy isn’t such a great idea after all. But praise – praise is always a good idea.

I said it.

I had a dream last night that Angelina Jolie died in a plane crash and I was somehow involved with returning her kids back to their native countries. Weird.

Of all of my celebrity gossip favorites, I love the Brangelina Brood best; they are really an attractive family. (“Coupledom is a performance art…This is why good-looking couples can be so reassuring, inspiring even. Waylaid – as they often are- by their beauty, we can conspire, briefly, to be shameless, like them. To have nothing to hide. Good looks, after all, are our best cultural anti-depressant. They keep the show on the road.” — Adam Philips)

I think that part of the reason that I like Angelina so much is because she seems to be a really involved mother and I like that she has created a multi-racial family. This summer when I was in NYC, I always saw tons of adorable little kids at the park and I started to get pangs of maternal yearning. I’ve known for a few years now that I definitely want to have kids, but the intensity of this desire has been increasing with time.

Last week, I had lunch with two of my girl friends and I came right out and said it. For the first time ever.

Flat out.

Present tense.

No modifiers.

“I want to have a baby.”

They reacted exactly the way I had always expected them to which is exactly why I always refrained from saying it. They looked aghast and laughed.

One said, “Don’t say that! You’ll jinx yourself!”
I said, “You mean, if I say that, I won’t ever be able to have a baby?”
She said, “No, that you WILL… and too soon.”

I broke the rule of young, single, obviously too soon for you women everywhere. If I had just added the little word “someday,” they probably would have nodded and said, “Me, too.”

It is hard to explain. I do want to have kids on an emotional, natural, “I feel like I want to have babies” level but I don’t actually want to have a baby right now in a realistic, the way my life is now sort of way. The feeling is there; the concrete readiness is not. I want a baby. I am not ready to have a baby. I am DEFINITELY not ready to have a baby. I know that. There are so many things that need to come before that: my maturity level must rise, my income must rise, etc. Oh, and the little matter of finding the right genetic contribution from a male/great father and life partner. It’s funny, but I am more sure that I want to have kids than I am about wanting to get married. I suppose that I should figure that stuff out before I go around freaking out my friends over brunch.

Why I Don’t Hate Women (Anymore)

In my younger days, I often struggled with defining myself as a feminist but also being annoyed with (other) women’s behavior. I found the cattiness, gossip, male-centeredness, and superficiality ridiculous. I enjoyed being around males because they seemed less likely to involve me in complicated, dramatic situations. Males definitely talk behind people’s backs, but it usually lacks the well thought out venom of a girl on girl attack. In high school, I remember feeling that my social standing and most of my female friendships were precarious. With one wrong move, BAM!, my social life was over or something equally dramatic.

I might still feel that way if I were in a high school environment, but now that I have tentatively emerged into adulthood, it seems that I and my female counterparts have reached a level of maturity that alleviates some of the bitchiness and replaces it with a sense of solidarity and support for each other. This is probably due to the space that adulthood provides – getting out of the lunchroom and dorm life helps a lot. Relatedly, it could be due to being around people who are more similar to you as you get older – it is easier to support someone, if you are going through the same things.

But I think that there is something to be said for women being able to understand women, and to provide the type of conversation and emotional language that is often necessary. I had lunch a couple weeks ago with two women, one was 38 and the other 50, and they were telling me that the secret to their marriages was to have each other to rely on for emotional support instead of solely relying on their husbands. And for younger women, how many times does a guy start crying at a bar because of his romantic problems or because he hates being single? Yet, it happens all the time for women.

I was joking with someone the other day that I should do an autoethnography of being really attractive at bars. I kid, I kid. But truly, there is an interesting dynamic in the girl’s bathrooms of bars. Maybe it is just Bloomington, but girls are very sweet to each other there. Random girls compliment me all the time while I am washing my hands. And beyond that, I have come to see the way that my friends are very supportive and understanding of one another.

So, I wonder if we have grown out of high school or grown into womanhood? I would say the latter, at least for me. Even though the edges have softened since high school, I think women can still be cruel to each other and many people never outgrow the adolescent mindset. But I have increasingly felt like I am growing into being a woman, whatever that means. In some ways, I am sure, it is just living up to the stereotypical gender roles. But I like being feminine (and truthfully, the attention that I get for presenting myself that way). In my appearance, I enjoy wearing dresses and makeup. I have recently decided to learn how to cook. One goal for this year is to expand my night wardrobe – no more sleeping in t-shirts and boxer shorts. In addition to those exterior things, I am going to celebrate the sensitive, caring, and supportive female friendships. I am a feminist. I am feminine. And now that I am ok with being both, I can better appreciate other women – and not hate them anymore.

Why I Love Gay Men

Some of you may know that As The World Turns is my favorite soap opera. I have watched it my entire life. I have become myspace friends with an actor on the show (accidentally at first, and then when I found out he was on the show, I was really, really friendly). When in New York City for undergrad, I attended a community soccer league game that a bunch of the guys on the show were on (and some Fordham guys were on, so it wasn’t totally creepy and stalker-ish of me to be there). One of my great friends, Zach, had a day part on the show. When I was out in New York City this summer, I often lied to people and said that I was a struggling actress and always mentioned my “work” on ATWT.

And now…I love the show even more because they are having the hottest gay lovin’ storyline ever. Seriously, this is hot. I love it. Sometimes, I wish I were a gay man…or that I played one on TV.

Return of the Good Time Gal

My first weekend back in Bloomington was really fun. The first few weeks of Fall semester are always so great because there are so many opportunities to meet new people, energy is high, and the weather is still nice.

I really think that this semester will be a fresh start. I have worried way too much over the past 6 months and I am done. I finally thought, “What if I just let go of everything? What would it be like?” And it occurred to me that it would be freedom and relief and I could just enjoy my life.

So that is what I am going to do. I just want lighthearted fun and good times. I am one of those people who can stress myself out over friendships, relationships, and what people think of me. I just want everything to be balanced and harmonious, but it can be draining to constantly worry about those things. No more.

Instead, I am going to focus on the positive. I am so grateful that I am able to go out, meet people, and have great times. I just need to learn how to have faith that everything will work out.