The difficult part about being in a serious relationship is maintaining your individuality. At least for me. I’m lucky enough to be linked to someone who doesn’t need constant babysitting and manages to fend for himself when we’re out with friends so I never have to worry about neglecting anyone. We both seem independent enough that we won’t get lost in each others’ identity. But then the hard part happens…the part when I have to hang out with his friends when I’m not in the mood to be social. Shit…I have to be in a particular mood to even want to hang out with my friends.
He asked me join him for a friend’s birthday party tonight (a Monday night…at 22 this might’ve been acceptable but in my mid to late 20s, the idea of partying on a Monday night is just so unappealing). And since my stomach has been acting up (too much spicy food and fried stuff), I won’t be drinking. To top it off, the party is at The Standard in Downtown. Nothing wrong with it…except t here’s everything wrong with it. No offense but that just isn’t my scene.
Who made up these relationship rules? What are these terms and conditions and why do we feel obligated to do these things in order to be considered a good boyfriend/girlfriend? Would it be wrong to cancel? Am I selfish because the idea of coming home and vegging out on my new Netflix movie sounds more enticing than accompanying my boyfriend to his friend’s birthday party? Is this where resentment comes into play? I understand compromising and changing in order to have a harmonious relationship but I always thought of that as something different – like, having to get accustomed to sharing a bed or giving up your leftovers. Going to a rooftop party at The Standard on a Monday night? Not quite what I had in mind.
So here’s the compromise: I go. But I drive by myself and leave at midnight. He can either come home with me or stay with his friends. That's fair...right?
Monday, August 10, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Like A Fresh Pair Of Batteries
Lately I’ve been having mini episodes of the quarter-life-crisis. I’m beginning to realize it's a recurring theme in your 20s. It comes when you have the desire to change everything and feel something new. In November of this year, I will have my 3 year anniversary at my current job. I think to myself, what have I done since I’ve graduated college besides work and take a few trips here and there? Why do we long for dramatic changes? And why am I too chicken to make them happen? When a new job comes up, or a promotion happens, or you take a fun trip somewhere, or you purchase a new car--you satiate that craving for something new--at least for a moment. Then life is good. But when the novelty wears off the feeling of inadequacy and lost potential comes back.
Sometimes, though, you don’t need something overtly drastic to recharge and feel alive again.
This guy that I started talking to on OkCupid and met up with in New York back in May (I guess he’s kinda cool or whatever) visited LA for the first time. I showed him around – everything from the beachy vibe of Santa Monica to the gritty gentrified feel of Silverlake (and even some parts of the hot-ass San Gabriel Valley and Pasadena). As I showed him around, I felt like i was rediscovering these places--almost like I was on vacation...at home.
On his last day, I drove him to the airport at 4:30 in the morning. Slightly cranky, but reflective more than anything, I got that feeling you get when you near the end of a trip. Reality sinks in and you realize you have to revert back to your "regular" life and pick up the comforting yet mundane routine that you've adopted in order to feel a sense of control. The spontaneity dissipates.
After I dropped him off at LAX, I rushed back home with the hopes of getting a few more hours of sleep in before I had to go into the office. Suddenly, life was ordinary. My bed was empty. My dinners were solo. My nights were quiet. As I left LAX, I realized that I saw LA for the first time again. I didn’t need to move to a different city, take an exciting trip, or apply for a new job to feel new. He gave me a different perspective on the city that I’ve learned to love in spite of everything I hate about it. It felt new...so new.
Sometimes, though, you don’t need something overtly drastic to recharge and feel alive again.
This guy that I started talking to on OkCupid and met up with in New York back in May (I guess he’s kinda cool or whatever) visited LA for the first time. I showed him around – everything from the beachy vibe of Santa Monica to the gritty gentrified feel of Silverlake (and even some parts of the hot-ass San Gabriel Valley and Pasadena). As I showed him around, I felt like i was rediscovering these places--almost like I was on vacation...at home.
On his last day, I drove him to the airport at 4:30 in the morning. Slightly cranky, but reflective more than anything, I got that feeling you get when you near the end of a trip. Reality sinks in and you realize you have to revert back to your "regular" life and pick up the comforting yet mundane routine that you've adopted in order to feel a sense of control. The spontaneity dissipates.
After I dropped him off at LAX, I rushed back home with the hopes of getting a few more hours of sleep in before I had to go into the office. Suddenly, life was ordinary. My bed was empty. My dinners were solo. My nights were quiet. As I left LAX, I realized that I saw LA for the first time again. I didn’t need to move to a different city, take an exciting trip, or apply for a new job to feel new. He gave me a different perspective on the city that I’ve learned to love in spite of everything I hate about it. It felt new...so new.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
The Singles Club vs. The Crazy Club
As a member of the Singles Club, I constantly find myself scoffing at the things my coupled friends do. When I hear "babe," "baby" or any variation of that term of endearment, I shiver. Whenever I see couples doing affectionate things like caressing each others' arm or giving each other pecks on the cheek, I look the other way. I could never empathize with my friends when they'd have complaints like "OMG he hasn't called me and he usually calls me around this time" or "I met his ex and she's really cute and they're still friends. Wanna see her pics? Let's look at her pics and tell me she's ugly!" And when coupled people do these things to someone like me, a person who has been a member of the Singles Club for, oh i dunno, all of his life, it just doesn't resonate well. So I'll justify the complaints with responses like "Oh it's nothing, his phone probably died" or "Yeah, you're definitely cuter. Look at at her face." And then they come back with "No. Because a, b, and c." and at that point I just roll my eyes and want to strangle my coupled friend because honestly, I could care less and my main concern is getting a a drink so that I can get drunk enough to the point that the complaints become laughable.
But then something suddenly changes when you start dating someone you really like and you become THAT person. The person you never thought you would be. You join the Crazy Club. You find yourself stealing affectionate caresses with that person, although you VOWED to never let that happen in front of your friends because you know how uncomfortable that made you feel when you had to see it. You start freaking the fuck out when the person hasn't called/texted you all day when you used to tell yourself "I would never be the crazy type in the relationship. I need my space so I'd give my significant other space also."
I've heard that the feeling of falling for someone is an extremely scary thing, but beautiful nonetheless. You allow yourself to be vulnerable, to let yourself feel things that are totally foreign to you. Those cheesy love songs with lyrics like "you're on my mind all day," "I'm so sprung on you," take on a whole new meaning. Then you take a good look at yourself and think, "I am crazy. I lose it when I don't see him. I freak out when I don't hear from him." No one ever tells you that when you start to lose yourself in someone, you also lose your sanity.
All your crazy coupled friends are ecstatic that you're finally understanding what it feels like to be crazy, just like them. They initiate you into the club by forcing you to tell them exactly how you feel when you start to lose it. Then they nod their head in agreement with a face that screams, "I know. It's hard, isn't it? It's hard being crazy." And you look back at them as they nod their head and empathize with you and suddenly, you see yourself in your friend's eyes...staring right back at you.
FUCKING SCARY.
I mean...not that I'd know or anything.
But then something suddenly changes when you start dating someone you really like and you become THAT person. The person you never thought you would be. You join the Crazy Club. You find yourself stealing affectionate caresses with that person, although you VOWED to never let that happen in front of your friends because you know how uncomfortable that made you feel when you had to see it. You start freaking the fuck out when the person hasn't called/texted you all day when you used to tell yourself "I would never be the crazy type in the relationship. I need my space so I'd give my significant other space also."
I've heard that the feeling of falling for someone is an extremely scary thing, but beautiful nonetheless. You allow yourself to be vulnerable, to let yourself feel things that are totally foreign to you. Those cheesy love songs with lyrics like "you're on my mind all day," "I'm so sprung on you," take on a whole new meaning. Then you take a good look at yourself and think, "I am crazy. I lose it when I don't see him. I freak out when I don't hear from him." No one ever tells you that when you start to lose yourself in someone, you also lose your sanity.
All your crazy coupled friends are ecstatic that you're finally understanding what it feels like to be crazy, just like them. They initiate you into the club by forcing you to tell them exactly how you feel when you start to lose it. Then they nod their head in agreement with a face that screams, "I know. It's hard, isn't it? It's hard being crazy." And you look back at them as they nod their head and empathize with you and suddenly, you see yourself in your friend's eyes...staring right back at you.
FUCKING SCARY.
I mean...not that I'd know or anything.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
jaded?
I get too excited too easily. I get too invested too fast. Then it’s gone. It fizzles away. So when I do start to get excited, I try to remind myself that I don’t care. I like being single and I don’t want to be tied down by this thing called…a boyfriend? I get lonely though. And some nights, hugging the pillow just doesn’t do it for me. But gross…why do I talk like this? I can do bad all by myself. I like the single life. I do. I do. I do.
I’m beginning to realize that when I say those things, it’s because I’m trying to soften the blow so it doesn’t hurt when the disappointment happens. It reminded me of an episode of Mad Men. January Jones’ character gets a gig as a model for coca-cola because they were looking for girls with that Grace Kelly look. She’s thrilled that she finally gets do something more…more than the housewife routine she does on a daily basis. After a one photo shoot, the art director tells her, “Coca-cola wanted to go in another direction. Less Grace Kelly, more Audrey Hepburn.” She’s devastated. But when she gets home, she convinces herself and her husband that she never wanted to model. It was too fussy for her. She prefers being at home and taking care of the kids. She doesn't like whipping up a quick half-assed meal for her husband to come home to. She likes to take her time. She likes gardening, wearing aprons, and doing laundry.
In some ways I feel like her. I get so excited that I tell all of my friends about this new prospect. Then before anything can even happen, it’s gone. So to save face,I convince myself that I love being single. And in a way I do. I love the freedom. I feel independent and content with myself. I definitely don’t NEED someone in my life. But would it be nice—of course.
And then people tell me about the book,The Secret. “Don’t say things like that!” they tell me. “You have to put it out into the universe so that it manifests itself." Well I’m putting it out there then – I’m excited! I’m giddy! I like this feeling and I’m gonna enjoy the ride and seeing where it'll take me! And if in the end, it all goes down like the rest of them, that’s okay!
Because I can easily convince myself that I’m through with it.
I’m beginning to realize that when I say those things, it’s because I’m trying to soften the blow so it doesn’t hurt when the disappointment happens. It reminded me of an episode of Mad Men. January Jones’ character gets a gig as a model for coca-cola because they were looking for girls with that Grace Kelly look. She’s thrilled that she finally gets do something more…more than the housewife routine she does on a daily basis. After a one photo shoot, the art director tells her, “Coca-cola wanted to go in another direction. Less Grace Kelly, more Audrey Hepburn.” She’s devastated. But when she gets home, she convinces herself and her husband that she never wanted to model. It was too fussy for her. She prefers being at home and taking care of the kids. She doesn't like whipping up a quick half-assed meal for her husband to come home to. She likes to take her time. She likes gardening, wearing aprons, and doing laundry.
In some ways I feel like her. I get so excited that I tell all of my friends about this new prospect. Then before anything can even happen, it’s gone. So to save face,I convince myself that I love being single. And in a way I do. I love the freedom. I feel independent and content with myself. I definitely don’t NEED someone in my life. But would it be nice—of course.
And then people tell me about the book,The Secret. “Don’t say things like that!” they tell me. “You have to put it out into the universe so that it manifests itself." Well I’m putting it out there then – I’m excited! I’m giddy! I like this feeling and I’m gonna enjoy the ride and seeing where it'll take me! And if in the end, it all goes down like the rest of them, that’s okay!
Because I can easily convince myself that I’m through with it.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
hatin' on the club - pt 2
i didn't think much of the encounter at the club. i sorta saw it as affirmation that my mojo is back. not exactly a "omg omg omg omg omg!" feeling. more like a "yep...still got it" feeling. on a whim, i decided to call him. our conversation was reassuring. he seemed like a fun guy. a singer, apparently. a transplant from wisconsin who is an aspiring singer. a singer with accolades to his name. local celebrity, i guess. he told me he was going to feed the homeless later that night. i felt a mix of laughter and admiration. because, really...who says that? i was caught off guard but impressed by his giving nature. i was excited to hang out with him...BUT, i still wasn't feeling "omg omg omg omg omg"---yet.
on monday night my hip hop class at LA Fitness was cancelled so i decided to free up my night to hang out with this singer. i went to his place in k-town. when he came to get me, i was shocked at how...tiny this motherfucker was. not even short, TINY. i mean, talk about the lollipop guild welcoming me to munchkin land. was i that drunk? whatever, i kept an open mind.
i walked into his place and he told me "it's filthy." it wasn't filthy. it was unsanitary. it was a landfill. it was like a garbage truck manifested itself into a person and shat all over the place. piles of dishes from 4 months ago accumulating in the sink. gross. then i realized that since "singing" doesn't pay the bills, he works at a pot store part time. and for my birthday, he gave me some pot. at least the munchkin singer was nice and thoughtful. but as i looked at his place, i realized, he has a makeshift room in the living room--curtains separating the 3'x6' living room from his..."room". he's 31. with a makeshift room in the living room. whoa.
we were supposed to get yogurt but he couldn't find his wallet in the mess that is his life. so we sat on his couch and "talked." his actor roommate came home and the two of them started talking about their gigs. how they're rising stars. how they've worked so hard and this year will be a good year for them! they're gonna make it! i felt like a fly on the wall. i might as well have been invisible. when the actor retreated to his room, singer decided to continue to talk at me...not to me, but AT me. about his meeting with the VP of Clear Channel. and his meeting with some executives at NBC. and how KROQ will be playing his songs on rotation soon. listen, transplant, i wanted to say. i grew up in southern california. i'm immersed in the indusry. i'm jaded. this isn't impressing me.
every time i spoke up to insinuate "hey it's my turn..shut up," he just kept talking...and talking...and talking. i got so bored and felt so disrespected that i purposely tilted my head back and stared at the ceiling. he continued to talk..and somehow, he started talking about america and capitalism. how he hates corporations like starbucks and mcdonalds because "america wasn't founded on those princples. the people who came to america wanted equality and for everyone to get a piece of the pie. not to kill the mom and pop shops...the way mcdonalds and starbucks does....you're bored, aren't you?'
"kinda. but anyway, you're wrong." i told him.
"how so?"
i'm not one to talk about values or american history but, i had to speak up.
"well people who came to america didn't want equality for everyone. they came here because they didn't agree with the church in england and they wanted to practice puritanism freely. so they came here with selfish intentions. then on top of that, they killed off people who were already living here. then they created the constitution...for the white man. the constitution wasn't written to take into account minorities. it was for the white man to progress. how is that about equality and everyone having a piece of the pie?"
"oh. is that what they taught you?"
WHAT IN THE HELL!?!?!
"uh no. that's american history. that's what YOU should've been taught. it's in the textbooks."
"well that's not what i learned growing up."
"is that what they taught you in wisconsin? because it's wrong."
"this is weird..."
"yeah. well...that's what you should've been taught."
it was uncomfortable for a few minutes after. i was trying to figure out how to get out of the situation. he got a text from a friend and i immediately found that as my exit. "i should leave. i have work early and i have to get up at 6am." (i never wake up at 6am for work).
"okay. thanks for hanging out on a school night. are fridays usually good for you?"
"yeah. friday nights are good to go out." (and that's the truth...i go out on friday nights.)
"cool. i'll call you on friday!"
i walked out of his apartment and suddenly i felt it. the "omg omg omg omg omg omg" feeling. the "omg what the fuck was that?" feeling. the "omg he's like 2 feet tall" feeling. the "omg, he's stupid and thinks america was founded on values and princples" feeling. the "omg...i hate meeting people at clubs" feeling.
O
M
G
i thought this munchkin singer was cute?!?! this stupid, arrogant transplant from wisconsin...munchkin singer!? how drunk was i?!
got me hatin' on the club.
on monday night my hip hop class at LA Fitness was cancelled so i decided to free up my night to hang out with this singer. i went to his place in k-town. when he came to get me, i was shocked at how...tiny this motherfucker was. not even short, TINY. i mean, talk about the lollipop guild welcoming me to munchkin land. was i that drunk? whatever, i kept an open mind.
i walked into his place and he told me "it's filthy." it wasn't filthy. it was unsanitary. it was a landfill. it was like a garbage truck manifested itself into a person and shat all over the place. piles of dishes from 4 months ago accumulating in the sink. gross. then i realized that since "singing" doesn't pay the bills, he works at a pot store part time. and for my birthday, he gave me some pot. at least the munchkin singer was nice and thoughtful. but as i looked at his place, i realized, he has a makeshift room in the living room--curtains separating the 3'x6' living room from his..."room". he's 31. with a makeshift room in the living room. whoa.
we were supposed to get yogurt but he couldn't find his wallet in the mess that is his life. so we sat on his couch and "talked." his actor roommate came home and the two of them started talking about their gigs. how they're rising stars. how they've worked so hard and this year will be a good year for them! they're gonna make it! i felt like a fly on the wall. i might as well have been invisible. when the actor retreated to his room, singer decided to continue to talk at me...not to me, but AT me. about his meeting with the VP of Clear Channel. and his meeting with some executives at NBC. and how KROQ will be playing his songs on rotation soon. listen, transplant, i wanted to say. i grew up in southern california. i'm immersed in the indusry. i'm jaded. this isn't impressing me.
every time i spoke up to insinuate "hey it's my turn..shut up," he just kept talking...and talking...and talking. i got so bored and felt so disrespected that i purposely tilted my head back and stared at the ceiling. he continued to talk..and somehow, he started talking about america and capitalism. how he hates corporations like starbucks and mcdonalds because "america wasn't founded on those princples. the people who came to america wanted equality and for everyone to get a piece of the pie. not to kill the mom and pop shops...the way mcdonalds and starbucks does....you're bored, aren't you?'
"kinda. but anyway, you're wrong." i told him.
"how so?"
i'm not one to talk about values or american history but, i had to speak up.
"well people who came to america didn't want equality for everyone. they came here because they didn't agree with the church in england and they wanted to practice puritanism freely. so they came here with selfish intentions. then on top of that, they killed off people who were already living here. then they created the constitution...for the white man. the constitution wasn't written to take into account minorities. it was for the white man to progress. how is that about equality and everyone having a piece of the pie?"
"oh. is that what they taught you?"
WHAT IN THE HELL!?!?!
"uh no. that's american history. that's what YOU should've been taught. it's in the textbooks."
"well that's not what i learned growing up."
"is that what they taught you in wisconsin? because it's wrong."
"this is weird..."
"yeah. well...that's what you should've been taught."
it was uncomfortable for a few minutes after. i was trying to figure out how to get out of the situation. he got a text from a friend and i immediately found that as my exit. "i should leave. i have work early and i have to get up at 6am." (i never wake up at 6am for work).
"okay. thanks for hanging out on a school night. are fridays usually good for you?"
"yeah. friday nights are good to go out." (and that's the truth...i go out on friday nights.)
"cool. i'll call you on friday!"
i walked out of his apartment and suddenly i felt it. the "omg omg omg omg omg omg" feeling. the "omg what the fuck was that?" feeling. the "omg he's like 2 feet tall" feeling. the "omg, he's stupid and thinks america was founded on values and princples" feeling. the "omg...i hate meeting people at clubs" feeling.
O
M
G
i thought this munchkin singer was cute?!?! this stupid, arrogant transplant from wisconsin...munchkin singer!? how drunk was i?!
got me hatin' on the club.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
hatin' on the club - pt. 1
on my birthday weekend i felt like i was the shit. i had my mojo. i had swagger for days. i was flyyy. when i went out with my friends on friday night, we danced up a storm at popstars (it's seriously like our version of cheers...you know, where everybody knows your name). as i was dancing, someone approached me from behind and said "you're a really good dancer." in my drunken state i blurted "thanks!" and flashed a smile. i looked at my friends and they raised their eyebrows hinting 'go talk to him!' i thought - why the hell not? it's my birthday!!! i started dancing with the guy and immediately wished it would end when he started dancing too. because MAN..he was bad. but i was determined to get a conversation out of this. i took him by the hand and dragged him off the dance floor. we had a conversation by the bar.
for the most part i can't even remember what we talked about. i just remember feeling a rush of adrenaline - almost like an out of body experience. was this really me? talking to a guy at a club? i don't even know how to flirt without sweat beads dripping down my forehead and here i was being ballsy and aggressive. honestly, the words we exchanged could've been gibberish, i was high off the feeling. and somehow i managed to ask this guy on a date. we exchanged numbers and hugged. "well, let's not be rude," i said. "let's get back to our friends tomorrow, we can figure out when we can hang out." slick. i thought. who was i?
i called him the next day. we had a pleasant conversation about the turn of events the night before. how he thought i was charming and a breath of fresh air. "i was glad you didn't pull me aside to have a make out session....you actually wanted to talk." he told me. after the phone call i was ecstatic but calm enough to remind myself not to get too head over heels. i couldn't even remember what he looked like. but i had a date lined up. i felt something different about this one. it felt new.
i couldn't really hate on the club anymore. i guess nice encounters happen there after all...
...to be continued...
on my birthday weekend i felt like i was the shit. i had my mojo. i had swagger for days. i was flyyy. when i went out with my friends on friday night, we danced up a storm at popstars (it's seriously like our version of cheers...you know, where everybody knows your name). as i was dancing, someone approached me from behind and said "you're a really good dancer." in my drunken state i blurted "thanks!" and flashed a smile. i looked at my friends and they raised their eyebrows hinting 'go talk to him!' i thought - why the hell not? it's my birthday!!! i started dancing with the guy and immediately wished it would end when he started dancing too. because MAN..he was bad. but i was determined to get a conversation out of this. i took him by the hand and dragged him off the dance floor. we had a conversation by the bar.
for the most part i can't even remember what we talked about. i just remember feeling a rush of adrenaline - almost like an out of body experience. was this really me? talking to a guy at a club? i don't even know how to flirt without sweat beads dripping down my forehead and here i was being ballsy and aggressive. honestly, the words we exchanged could've been gibberish, i was high off the feeling. and somehow i managed to ask this guy on a date. we exchanged numbers and hugged. "well, let's not be rude," i said. "let's get back to our friends tomorrow, we can figure out when we can hang out." slick. i thought. who was i?
i called him the next day. we had a pleasant conversation about the turn of events the night before. how he thought i was charming and a breath of fresh air. "i was glad you didn't pull me aside to have a make out session....you actually wanted to talk." he told me. after the phone call i was ecstatic but calm enough to remind myself not to get too head over heels. i couldn't even remember what he looked like. but i had a date lined up. i felt something different about this one. it felt new.
i couldn't really hate on the club anymore. i guess nice encounters happen there after all...
...to be continued...
Monday, March 23, 2009
twenty six and plenty sex.
i turn 26 on sunday. i didn't fully process this until i was unpacking things in my room and wondering what my birthday theme should be. Smurfs. Thunder Cats. Muppet Babies. All 80's cartoons. FUCK. I'll be 26 soon. then i got to thinking about my cousin jason. he's my age. he proposed to his girlfriend of 7 years. he's saving money to buy a house, marry his fiance, and start a family. and here i am, trying to figure out which 80's cartoon will be the perfect theme for my 26th birthday party. then i realized how many people around me are getting married. as we grow up we all encounter milestones. when you turn 18, you're attending high school graduation parties and going off to college. when you're 22 (or somewhere around that age), you're attending college graduations. and i guess based on the people around me, when you hit your mid to late 20's, you start going to weddings. so as my domesticated, traditional cousin prepares for his wedding, i'm still trying to figure out how the hell to date.
while i've learned a thing or two through these adventures, i'm still pretty baffled about how this it's all supposed to work. the most important lesson i've learned, however, is that if i can't picture myself having sex with you, then i probably shouldn't date you. i know, i know...shallow. but i tried dating with no hang ups. i put myself out there and went on dates with guys that would typically make me feel dirty inside and want to take 5 showers in a row--and it didn't work. sure, the majority of these dates were pleasant. entertaining even. but i started to sound like a broken record: "he was really cool. i liked his personality but there's no chemistry." and i'm starting to realize that "no chemistry" is a euphemism for "i think he's really ugly." i can't seem to find the happy medium. when i find someone extremely hot, i don't want him to have a personality or any substance. and when i think the person is ugly, i expect him to have personality for days.
i think the problem is that i'm having a hard time reconciling the idea of a harmonious, commited relationship with the idea of sex. for me, the two can't seem to co-exist. i guess the catholicism is rooted in me because it boils down to the whole "virgin/whore" dichotomy. how can i possibly be sexual and carnal with someone i'm supposed to respect and love? i can't make sense of it. so yeah--i admit--most of my sexual encounters have been with guys that i don't see as...human, for lack of a better word. it's just sex. raw, emotionless, but fucking HOT--sex.
so this all wasn't in vain. as cliche as it sounds, i guess i've pinpointed the problem, and that's the first step to fixing it. so from here on out, i'm only dating guys that i find attractive...and hoping that i don't automatically think of them as vapid pieces of ass. maybe i can learn to have sex with a person instead of a body. now i have to figure out how to snag a date with someone i find attractive. that's tricky.
i think i'll figure that out at 27.
for now, i'll try listening to the lyrics of this song while imagining love and butterflies and all that sweet shit.
while i've learned a thing or two through these adventures, i'm still pretty baffled about how this it's all supposed to work. the most important lesson i've learned, however, is that if i can't picture myself having sex with you, then i probably shouldn't date you. i know, i know...shallow. but i tried dating with no hang ups. i put myself out there and went on dates with guys that would typically make me feel dirty inside and want to take 5 showers in a row--and it didn't work. sure, the majority of these dates were pleasant. entertaining even. but i started to sound like a broken record: "he was really cool. i liked his personality but there's no chemistry." and i'm starting to realize that "no chemistry" is a euphemism for "i think he's really ugly." i can't seem to find the happy medium. when i find someone extremely hot, i don't want him to have a personality or any substance. and when i think the person is ugly, i expect him to have personality for days.
i think the problem is that i'm having a hard time reconciling the idea of a harmonious, commited relationship with the idea of sex. for me, the two can't seem to co-exist. i guess the catholicism is rooted in me because it boils down to the whole "virgin/whore" dichotomy. how can i possibly be sexual and carnal with someone i'm supposed to respect and love? i can't make sense of it. so yeah--i admit--most of my sexual encounters have been with guys that i don't see as...human, for lack of a better word. it's just sex. raw, emotionless, but fucking HOT--sex.
so this all wasn't in vain. as cliche as it sounds, i guess i've pinpointed the problem, and that's the first step to fixing it. so from here on out, i'm only dating guys that i find attractive...and hoping that i don't automatically think of them as vapid pieces of ass. maybe i can learn to have sex with a person instead of a body. now i have to figure out how to snag a date with someone i find attractive. that's tricky.
i think i'll figure that out at 27.
for now, i'll try listening to the lyrics of this song while imagining love and butterflies and all that sweet shit.
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