I've been thinking about how I run into walls when it comes to matters of the heart, mainly because I can see it trying to happen again, and... no more. I've reached my limit. I'm liking New Orleans guy *slightly* more than I'd like to, *slightly* more than our agreement calls for, and his head is not in the same space. This has made me begin to want him more, something that I now know is a pattern. I maintain a certain neutrality until the guy doesn't show the same level of interest, and then I find myself pining after him. The reverse psychology of that whole scenario seems so typical as to be beneath me. Of course, that's the problem with thinking anything's beneath you - the universe immediately makes it the crushing force directly on top of you.
I've been reviewing old journal entries, and a little over a year ago I was sitting down at a damn fine taco place with two of my most trusted male friends, and we were talking about the experiences (sexual) that keep us trapped in time, memories that we go back to over and over. One of the observations I'd made about that conversation is that this instant recall is a delicious torture, because it is so easy to bring the memories to mind, so easy to still feel the heat of his fingers stroking my neck, so easy to go back to it in my head over and over again. But, it is so painful because the one I wanted at the time was never truly available, save for the occasional fuck he'd throw my way. Torturous was the hope that the love, the lust could make its way back to me. Up and down. Rise and fall. All this time later, and I can still remember feeling flush and dizzy from his touch, and wanting to just stay in his bed forever.
One of my homies said that these are the wonderful and painful things we covet - these memories one treasures and protects, like 'my precious'. I couldn't have said it more perfectly than that. I'd gone back and forth between two men - friends with each other, old friends of my good friends, really a terrible set up from the beginning. And yet... letting go of either one of them has been wrenching at times, because I hold tight to those wonderful, agonizing memories. My other homie, in his lovely accent, said something also very profound - that sometimes you are meant for some one, but only for that moment, that short span of time. I wish I'd understood that concept at the time. Instead of acknowledging that it couldn't last forever, my feelings intensified when they didn't love me back, and I felt like a ridiculous person for not being able to let go. I'd pursue one, be turned away, and pursue the other, only to find the same result. Gah. Metaphorical walls with Casey-shaped holes.
Allowing myself to swoon in my recollections, while exhilarating in the moment, is the cement glue that kept my feelings stuck in high gear, even when all evidence suggested that I abandon ship. Well, I'm not 16 anymore, and it is a punch in the gut to see exactly how much of this pushmepullme existence for my heart has been my own doing. The only thing going for me is that the pain of those experiences was so intense, so sharp, and so long-lasting, that I won't ever put myself through that again. My lovely New Orleans experience will stay in New Orleans, and I will begin the process of removing him from my visual field so that I cannot covet those memories into an obsession. If I had to put myself through all of this pain, my hope is that I am coming out on the other side wiser, stronger, and more protective of my heart.
Final note: As I'm considering publishing this post, with all it's scary (for me, at least) honesty, I am reminded of what some of my most trusted girlfriends have said on the subject of love, some of which I've already expressed in this forum. Being so pursuant of love has not gotten me anywhere, but as I open myself up to possibilities and let the universe work its magic while I go about living my life, good things come my way. I'm not so certain of the woo woo "magic of the universe" schtick, but I think that being open is the mindset that works for me, both internally and externally. Having said that, coveting these memories is a closed loop, a reliving of the past that can only impede a truly receptive quality for the future. I think that I'm able to cut off a problematic set of feelings for my New Orleans experience because I might actually finally be "getting it" at the cellular level. Here's hoping...
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
New Rules: Intimacy Edition
The more I think about it, the more I really want to write a rule book on dating and sexual etiquette for guys. Having endured a number of unwashed balls, I present to you this list of New Rules for dating and those intimate moments:
New Rule: Check your privilege, dudebro. When polled, what women fear most about men is that you'll attack, rape, and or kill us. Guys' biggest fear is that we will laugh at you. So, yeah... not quite the same. Be understanding when we want to meet you in a public place, let a friend know where we are, or want to put the brakes on physical encounters until we know we can trust you. Our fear has been well-earned - respect it.
New Rule: If you show up looking nothing like your online photo, don't act like we're the assholes if we refuse to go out with you. Be yourself, and use up-to-date pictures with your online dating profile. While many of us don't mind a few more wrinkles or pounds on our guys, almost all of us intensely dislike liars, and we'll know you've been lying the minute we see you.
New Rule: Develop a higher standard of cleanliness in your home, at least when a woman is coming over. Remember that a woman's anatomy is designed to trap and grow life, and while the result with sperm can be beautiful, the result with your dirty sheets, your nasty toilet seats, and your germ-ridden couches is decidedly less so. Cleanliness for us is not about being picky, it's about not having to deal with cottage cheese in our underwear. Yeah, I went there.
New Rule: Wash your fucking ass and wedding tackle if you want us to play with them. Remember that women have extremely sensitive noses, and that your playground is thisclose to your waste treatment plant.
New Rule: CONDOMS without whining. I am particularly tired of men that want to have no-string sex without a condom. These men whine, "It doesn't feel the saaaame." or "I can't keep it uuuup with a condoooom." Let me tell you something - there are a number of STDs for which there are no symptoms for males, so there is a high likelihood that, if you have something, you don't know it. However, these same STDs can render women sterile, can cause painful conditions which are expensive to resolve, and, in the case of HIV, Hepatitis, and HPV, can kill. I don't want to fucking hear about your issues with condoms - your right to pleasure without responsibility ends at my right to live and have fully functioning reproductive organs. Nut up, masturbate with condoms to practice, find a brand you like, and don't make a woman ask you to put one on.
New Rule: No sexual bullying. This is real life, not a porn flick, so your desires do not supercede a woman's desires. We are not just a series of hungry holes into which you can stick your dick, and we are not responsible for your orgasms. In real life, an orgasm is one's own responsibility and starts in your own head - and if you're really lucky, you get to orgasm with someone else's delighted assistance. Pushing a woman's head down on your cock, going deeper than she's asked you to go, asking her to continue servicing your member long after her thresholds for comfort and pain have been met - these are all abusive and selfish behaviors. Don't be a dickhead - or you're gonna be a lonely dickhead.
These are obviously written from my point of view, so your miles may vary. The main point is that respecting your partner sexually by being clean and considerate will get you so much farther than assuming that anyone will simply deal with your disgusting and presumptive habits.
New Rule: Check your privilege, dudebro. When polled, what women fear most about men is that you'll attack, rape, and or kill us. Guys' biggest fear is that we will laugh at you. So, yeah... not quite the same. Be understanding when we want to meet you in a public place, let a friend know where we are, or want to put the brakes on physical encounters until we know we can trust you. Our fear has been well-earned - respect it.
New Rule: If you show up looking nothing like your online photo, don't act like we're the assholes if we refuse to go out with you. Be yourself, and use up-to-date pictures with your online dating profile. While many of us don't mind a few more wrinkles or pounds on our guys, almost all of us intensely dislike liars, and we'll know you've been lying the minute we see you.
New Rule: Develop a higher standard of cleanliness in your home, at least when a woman is coming over. Remember that a woman's anatomy is designed to trap and grow life, and while the result with sperm can be beautiful, the result with your dirty sheets, your nasty toilet seats, and your germ-ridden couches is decidedly less so. Cleanliness for us is not about being picky, it's about not having to deal with cottage cheese in our underwear. Yeah, I went there.
New Rule: Wash your fucking ass and wedding tackle if you want us to play with them. Remember that women have extremely sensitive noses, and that your playground is thisclose to your waste treatment plant.
New Rule: CONDOMS without whining. I am particularly tired of men that want to have no-string sex without a condom. These men whine, "It doesn't feel the saaaame." or "I can't keep it uuuup with a condoooom." Let me tell you something - there are a number of STDs for which there are no symptoms for males, so there is a high likelihood that, if you have something, you don't know it. However, these same STDs can render women sterile, can cause painful conditions which are expensive to resolve, and, in the case of HIV, Hepatitis, and HPV, can kill. I don't want to fucking hear about your issues with condoms - your right to pleasure without responsibility ends at my right to live and have fully functioning reproductive organs. Nut up, masturbate with condoms to practice, find a brand you like, and don't make a woman ask you to put one on.
New Rule: No sexual bullying. This is real life, not a porn flick, so your desires do not supercede a woman's desires. We are not just a series of hungry holes into which you can stick your dick, and we are not responsible for your orgasms. In real life, an orgasm is one's own responsibility and starts in your own head - and if you're really lucky, you get to orgasm with someone else's delighted assistance. Pushing a woman's head down on your cock, going deeper than she's asked you to go, asking her to continue servicing your member long after her thresholds for comfort and pain have been met - these are all abusive and selfish behaviors. Don't be a dickhead - or you're gonna be a lonely dickhead.
These are obviously written from my point of view, so your miles may vary. The main point is that respecting your partner sexually by being clean and considerate will get you so much farther than assuming that anyone will simply deal with your disgusting and presumptive habits.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
New Rules
Since the last post was so heavy, I thought I'd switch it up with something lighter. Stealing outright from comedian Bill Mahr, here are the New Rules, Casey-style:
New Rule: If you invite someone over to your place for dinner, you should sweep the kitty litter off the kitchen floor. Here's a novel idea: Move the kitty litter box ANYWHERE OTHER THAN THE KITCHEN.
New Rule: If you have cats, you should de-fur your couch if you want any action. A little cat hair is to be expected, but if you can't see the cushions for the fur, you have a problem.
New Rule: If you can hear the mice in your walls, do not invite anyone over until you've a) called your landlord, and b) fired your many cats.
New Rule: If you invite someone over to your place, the bathroom should, if anything, smell like cleaning supplies, not urine.
New Rule: If your bedroom is so dirty that you borrow the roommate's room for making out, you are not ready to date. Go back and try again.
New Rule: If you walk into any of the above mentioned situations, turn around. Don't take the hit for someone else's bad sense of appropriate. Teach him a lesson and make him a better boyfriend... for someone else.
Now, off to scrub myself with antibacterial soap for about three hours...
New Rule: If you invite someone over to your place for dinner, you should sweep the kitty litter off the kitchen floor. Here's a novel idea: Move the kitty litter box ANYWHERE OTHER THAN THE KITCHEN.
New Rule: If you have cats, you should de-fur your couch if you want any action. A little cat hair is to be expected, but if you can't see the cushions for the fur, you have a problem.
New Rule: If you can hear the mice in your walls, do not invite anyone over until you've a) called your landlord, and b) fired your many cats.
New Rule: If you invite someone over to your place, the bathroom should, if anything, smell like cleaning supplies, not urine.
New Rule: If your bedroom is so dirty that you borrow the roommate's room for making out, you are not ready to date. Go back and try again.
New Rule: If you walk into any of the above mentioned situations, turn around. Don't take the hit for someone else's bad sense of appropriate. Teach him a lesson and make him a better boyfriend... for someone else.
Now, off to scrub myself with antibacterial soap for about three hours...
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Good night, and good luck (repost from private journal)
Tomorrow (6/5/09) is the anniversary of the Rev. Dave's death. There had been some confusion as to his actual date because L & T didn't find him until the next day, but we confirmed it was the 5th. I loved Dave, and he didn't love me back, and our breakup broke our friendship as well. Six months later, after getting the job of his dreams, and a place of his own, and a newer car, and a really sweet girlfriend that seemed to be a much better fit for him, he drank a case of beer and put a gun to his head.
I've been reading my old journals, crying, and wishing still that it had all been a bad dream, and that I could still have my old friend Dave back. Here's what I wrote the day I found out:
I've been reading my old journals, crying, and wishing still that it had all been a bad dream, and that I could still have my old friend Dave back. Here's what I wrote the day I found out:
Private: Good night, and good luck.
{ June 6, 2009 @ 9:26 pm } · { Uncategorized }
Dave killed himself, probably on Thursday. His job called L and T because he hadn't shown up for work, so they went to check up on him and they found him lying face up and naked on his bed, gun in his right hand, left arm over his head. He’d put his comforter up near his head, I suppose to obscure any exit wounds. One small kindness from an act that caused so much pain and anger and sadness.
I wish you would have stuck around. The good stuff was happening, and I don’t think you knew it. Maybe you could never know it. But we all wanted you alive. Yes, even me. Regardless of what I’ve said in private in anger, I would not want your life to be cut short. It was already going to be shortened by the alcohol, but there was still the chance to turn it around when you were alive. There is no coming back from this, except perhaps as a reincarnation. Wonder if I’ll see you again.
Right now, the Medical Examiner is opening you up and discovering the ravages of alcohol on your body. Your bones will be softer than that of an average 35 year-old man. Your liver will be hardened and blackened from abuse. Your brain will show signs of mental illness, and your blood will reak of alcohol. Your heart has been forever stilled. Someone from your family will call a funeral home, I suppose, and arrange for transport of your body back to Oklahoma. You spent one glorious, terrible, and painful year away from the place of your birth, but now it is time to go home again.
I’ve been OK most of today, with just a break down here and there. But then the weight of it has begun to feel heavy, like an object that seems to get heavier the longer you carry it. I’ve been romanticizing why / how you took your life, trying to find the kindest thing to say about it. But what you did was unkind. And not tragically romantic. Just tragic. If you are in another state of consciousness, I hope that you realize that things could have been better. Though I also hope that you are at peace – Max is at peace, so maybe he felt your torture as well. Though I also wish you were here so that I could slap you, I hope that you silenced the demon trying to reach into your head. If you see my great-grandmother, say hi for me.
What sucks about all of this is that mine is the pain of unrequited and disregarded love. I’m grieving for someone who never gave me a second thought, and who would have his friends believe that I was a crazy bitch. It feels stupid to grieve for you, and I wish I could throw away the stone on my heart. I am grateful that T and L accept my pain as real, because if they didn’t, I might not be able to.
I have more beautiful and poetic things that have come to mind today, but I didn’t write them down and fear that they are lost. The truth is, I spent today at the lake, enjoying the sun on my face, and blue of the sky, and cool of the green-blue Colorado river. I am grateful that I could feel and see these things, and I hope that during your short time on Earth that you enjoyed those things too. I hope that your last sunset was beautiful.
The only thing I can do now is appreciate what you gave me. Cool music. Cool people. Beer, dammit. And biking. I will think of you every time I bike downtown, and every time I get a hankering for a Maui Bowl from Wahoos, and every time I pass Lovejoys, and every time I drink a Fat Tire. I’m sorry that it was impossible for us to reconcile as friends in this life, but I hope you have forgiven me for my part in the next life. I hope that you feel like Dorothy, and know that the love you didn’t feel was there the whole time. I hope that there are bikes in heaven, and I hope that St. Arnold needs an apprentice. And finally, I hope that you can feel the sun on your face and know that is the love that was always there for you.
I love you and will never forget you.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Resurrecting My Inner Samantha
I got to spend a lot of time with M this long weekend, and I'm so glad that I did. The physical chemistry is pretty great with him - when he decides to be physical. I purposefully wore a skirt on our date on Sunday, which definitely piqued his interest, and another base was rounded, ha. Problem is, until we parked on that dark road and started getting physical with one another, he was kind of annoying the shit out of me. No need for details, he wasn't doing anything wrong per se, but I've been noticing some red flags and my mind just wasn't letting me get away with ignoring those. Ain't that a pisser.
We saw each other again on Monday, and while the hanging out was nice-ish, I still really wanted to just get to the making out, which we didn't. It was yet another date with M that left me feeling distinctly dissatisfied - and not just physically, either. I realized that, while he'd be an awesome fuck buddy, he'd never work as my boyfriend. We just don't connect on an emotional level. Thankfully, with him being 25 and all, we had a perfectly cordial IM chat in which we dissolved our attempts at a relationship, and established that some no-strings sex was now a possibility.
Part of my wanting to do this had to do with the realization that I have been stifling my inner Samantha (of Sex and the City, as if that needs to be said). I'm an incredibly physical person, always have been, always will be. But I got it into my head that my sexual freedom was somehow distracting me from the important business of finding The One. I developed this theory that my enjoyment of the occasional zipless fuck was fucking up my larger goal of being in a relationship. I think this weekend, and my dating M in particular, have been about me figuring out that my little theory is utter bollocks.
For a while now I've been clumsy, unfocused, and not in the moment. In short, I've been needing a proper lay, and it's been driving me to distraction because I've been setting aside that desire in search of The One. Well fuck, that was never going to work. I've been feeling like I've lost my mojo, and I'm pretty sure it has something to do with me trying to act like I'm not a sexual being.
In looking back, I got here after my divorce, when I lost my equilibrium and confused sex with love, which led to major heartbreak. I would of course want to protect myself from that kind of pain again, and I hate the idea of soulless sex, so I thought I'd do my best to hold out for The One. Problem with that is that I'd let myself get to the point of almost desperate, and then have some kind of completely non-intimate sex that was not at all satisfying. I'm finally coming around to the idea that I have no say on when that fucker's gonna show up, so while he's taking his (her... maybe) sweet time showing up, I've got needs, dammit.
This weekend reminded me that I in fact do know how to have non-relationship sex that is satisfying. Is it as good as relationship sex? Absolutely, unequivocally not. But this sex thing has been fucking up my ability to fully embrace my singleness, and even to some extent my sexuality, and I am so done with that shit. I have some really dirty, beautiful no strings sex set up for my two trips to NOLA, and I've realized that I really do need that in my life. Some will judge me for it, but I think the biggest lesson this life is teaching me is that I do my best when I follow my own path.
In all this talk about sex, I want to make it perfectly clear that I do very much want to be in a relationship. In my mind, that relationship, whenever it comes, will be wonderful and sweet, and I will fully embrace monogamy and long-term love. I feel like I'm finally becoming comfortable with these two seemingly contradictory parts of myself - the lover and the loved. For years I went about it kind of blindly, sometimes amorally, and sometimes doing things that I now regret. But I'm also realizing that I can integrate all of these aspects of me, without judgment, and without stifling. No doubt I'll still run into walls and flail about blindly, but my hope is that, by accepting myself for who I am, and living according to my morality (which values the feelings and needs of others as well as my own), that I end up with a life and a partner that I can truly enjoy and be proud of.
We saw each other again on Monday, and while the hanging out was nice-ish, I still really wanted to just get to the making out, which we didn't. It was yet another date with M that left me feeling distinctly dissatisfied - and not just physically, either. I realized that, while he'd be an awesome fuck buddy, he'd never work as my boyfriend. We just don't connect on an emotional level. Thankfully, with him being 25 and all, we had a perfectly cordial IM chat in which we dissolved our attempts at a relationship, and established that some no-strings sex was now a possibility.
Part of my wanting to do this had to do with the realization that I have been stifling my inner Samantha (of Sex and the City, as if that needs to be said). I'm an incredibly physical person, always have been, always will be. But I got it into my head that my sexual freedom was somehow distracting me from the important business of finding The One. I developed this theory that my enjoyment of the occasional zipless fuck was fucking up my larger goal of being in a relationship. I think this weekend, and my dating M in particular, have been about me figuring out that my little theory is utter bollocks.
For a while now I've been clumsy, unfocused, and not in the moment. In short, I've been needing a proper lay, and it's been driving me to distraction because I've been setting aside that desire in search of The One. Well fuck, that was never going to work. I've been feeling like I've lost my mojo, and I'm pretty sure it has something to do with me trying to act like I'm not a sexual being.
In looking back, I got here after my divorce, when I lost my equilibrium and confused sex with love, which led to major heartbreak. I would of course want to protect myself from that kind of pain again, and I hate the idea of soulless sex, so I thought I'd do my best to hold out for The One. Problem with that is that I'd let myself get to the point of almost desperate, and then have some kind of completely non-intimate sex that was not at all satisfying. I'm finally coming around to the idea that I have no say on when that fucker's gonna show up, so while he's taking his (her... maybe) sweet time showing up, I've got needs, dammit.
This weekend reminded me that I in fact do know how to have non-relationship sex that is satisfying. Is it as good as relationship sex? Absolutely, unequivocally not. But this sex thing has been fucking up my ability to fully embrace my singleness, and even to some extent my sexuality, and I am so done with that shit. I have some really dirty, beautiful no strings sex set up for my two trips to NOLA, and I've realized that I really do need that in my life. Some will judge me for it, but I think the biggest lesson this life is teaching me is that I do my best when I follow my own path.
In all this talk about sex, I want to make it perfectly clear that I do very much want to be in a relationship. In my mind, that relationship, whenever it comes, will be wonderful and sweet, and I will fully embrace monogamy and long-term love. I feel like I'm finally becoming comfortable with these two seemingly contradictory parts of myself - the lover and the loved. For years I went about it kind of blindly, sometimes amorally, and sometimes doing things that I now regret. But I'm also realizing that I can integrate all of these aspects of me, without judgment, and without stifling. No doubt I'll still run into walls and flail about blindly, but my hope is that, by accepting myself for who I am, and living according to my morality (which values the feelings and needs of others as well as my own), that I end up with a life and a partner that I can truly enjoy and be proud of.
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