1 (+1?) = :)

A fabulous woman left me a comment on my last post that actually brightened my day.

“What I am convinced of, is that most people are not strong enough to see the world from their own point of view. What I mean is, most people would rather be part of a couple (even if it is a disfunctional one) rather than being alone and "waiting" for that magic bullet.”
-scribe la

I completely agree with that and reading it reminded me that I am not one of most people. I’m pretty sure it would kill me to be in a relationship that didn’t make me happy. (My friendship with Jean almost crushed me, I cannot imagine what it would have done if it had been romantic too.) I realize all relationships have ups and downs, but I’d like to believe the best ones have more ups than downs. If that is too naïve, well then let me suffer happily alone believing it.

Let me say again that though I would like to be with someone, I'm ok on my own. What sometimes worries me about actually ending up with someone, is that my world-view, my independence is like an invisible force field that keeps men at bay. I have only been approached by a small number of guys, many of whom were drunk, and I suppose I could chalk it up to not being very social, being shy in large crowds especially around men, the whole body language thing, freaking out if friends every try to set me up with friends, etc. etc. etc. (I’m not painting a very good picture of myself, I’m actually quite outgoing and fun around people I know) but I think my independence plays a part. Maybe moreso in my own mind than in the minds of guys. I don’t know. Maybe I’m afraid I’ll have to lose some of it in order to become part of a couple?

It makes sense that relationships are about compromise, if you agreed about everything it would get kind of boring…I imagine, but how do you know exactly what is compromise-able? I suppose that’s just something else that naturally occurs and is either good or bad for the couple. It’s all so daunting to think about and that’s my biggest problem. I think too much. Perhaps it’s just that I value my time alone more than trying to find someone who won’t take it from me, or at least someone who I don’t mind taking it from me.

Or maybe I’m actually happy being single and am just lamenting and confused because everyone and their mother expects me to be with someone, married and popping out babies by now. I found a great website I’m adding to my links. This site makes me feel pretty good. I shall embrace my newfound quirkyalone’ness ‘cause it’s not a bad thing. Actually, it’s pretty cool.

Sabotaging Sex

Love can happen at first sight. My parents are a shining example and forty married years later enable this belief in me. Like every other romantic I don’t just want to be in love, I want to be in love in a movie.

Everyone seems to be of the consensus that you can’t choose who you fall in love with. I half agree with this. I do believe love ‘happens’ but I also believe there are people who go through the motions, and either fool themselves into thinking it’s real or find they love the comfort of convenience. Hmm. Maybe these are just other kinds of love, and who am I to judge what works?

Attraction and love are relative things and for me it seems they should follow one another in leading up to sex. So why does it seem to me everyone and their mother is able to separate the two things? Even reverse them? I guess it’s normal to have sex with someone you’re attracted to and not in love with (at least for everyone who isn't me) but how do people have sex with someone they’re not attracted to? Do people really need to have sex that badly? Why don’t I have that drive?

Strangely enough I also believe there is more than one person who could be ‘the one’. It’s all about time and place. And yet, I can’t let myself out to meet even one of them.

I’m not a virgin because I’m saving myself for one special person. If I could find someone I was attracted to, who I felt safe with, and who I felt wouldn’t expect anything of me afterwards (which is kind of a contradiction I know) I think I’d be able to sex it up like no other. Actually, there is one guy who fits one and two, but three? I know he’d want to start a relationship and though he is my friend, I don’t think I could fall in love with him. I’ve tried to imagine it, I’ve even tried to spend time with him thinking of myself as being his better half. He is an amazing man and I'm missing out by not going for him. It's nuts that I know this and still keep my convictions. It's the spark. The goddamn spark. It’s just not there for me. Perhaps I could talk myself into it?

I’ve actually thought about asking him to sleep with me just so I could maybe get over some fears, but I can’t use him like that. He has expressed interest in me in the past and I think I’ve already stomped on his heart. Katie seems to think that if I slept with him and gave things half a chance, I might fall in love with him. Another friend echoes what I said about using him.

I think I’m a virgin because I want to be in the kind of love that makes sex amazing. Also because I’m convinced I’ll be in that 1% that gets pregnant or a STD because my contraception failed. I know there are plenty of people out there who have amazing sex without being in love, but I think the chemicals in my brain would prevent me from experiencing that unfortunately. There is a safety issue that is deep seeded in me I guess. And I’m not just talking physically.

Which leads me to confess that I want to fall in love fast so I can stop sabotaging myself before I even start. I want love to ‘happen’ so I don’t have to think (and overthink) it. I want the feeling of safety I’m just not going to get in the amount of time I want to get it. Or is that just something else I’m telling myself?

So why do I feel so unsafe all the time? Is it legitimate? Why do I worry about pregnancy and STDS and whatever else negative that comes of casual sex? Why do I feel like it is every guy’s expectancy to get laid after dating for a short period of time whether or not he actually likes me? Why can’t I give them, and myself, a chance? What’s the big deal anyway, why can’t I just get over myself and do it?

~

What if I can't let myself love someone?

My First Nongasm

"Life after death is as improbable as sex after marriage."
-Mrs. White

One summer while I was home from college K and I sat down to watch our favorite movie. We’d each seen it probably 16 times already, but we were always up for another viewing.

During one particular scene she said, “omg we were watching this the first time I had oral sex with Alex...there! there’s where I came. I will never forget it.”

Apparently neither will I.

It never bothered me in all the following times I watched the movie that when I got to that scene I thought, ah, that’s where K came. That is, until recently.

Now when I see it, it kind of makes me mad that I am unconsciously forced to remember an orgasm I didn’t have. It’s totally unfair. I love K to death but secretly, I hate her for this.

The Line

Every solo person who is dissatisfied with their single status harnesses the dangerous potential to hate the sex of the people they want to be with. In some cases that line is crossed without the single even knowing it, and it only adds to their misery. How can someone like you when you hate them before you even start? For that matter how can someone like you if you don't like yourself?

I see this in a lot of blogs by men who feel they have trouble with women. I am in no way saying women are free of fault, there are plenty out there who seem mean and shallow, just as there are many men of the same, but everything is relative is it not? Everyone seems to want something different from the people they are with and it all hinges on what ‘makes them happy’. I suppose that’s the one common goal we all have, the only differences are in our means to get it. Actions by a really great person can be simultaneously interpreted as bitchy by one, as courageous by another, etc.

You can never know how you really stand in someone else’s eyes. The best you can do is be ok with yourself. That said, I never want to look like the bad guy. I don't even want to think that I may have done something to make someone possibly dislike me. It makes me feel terrible. (Though if they dislike me for something I don't feel is my fault, fuck 'em.)

I don’t know what my problem is. I don’t hate men. If I cross that line now it would be based on what I’ve heard and not what I’ve experienced, and that’s a pretty short sighted way to live. I know this. I do find myself making sweeping generalizations about them, but a lot of that is due to making excuses for not dating and idly if not ignorantly repeating what I’ve heard other women in long-term relationships say.

Maybe I’m afraid of dating because I might end up crossing that line? That’s just silly.
Maybe I’m afraid because I’ll end up hating myself? That sounds more like it. No one can point out my short comings better than me, and knowing that my standards are high coupled with needing the spark foreshadow having to feel guilty about blowing guys off for no other reason than my own desire to find the one and not bother with any others.

It’s all so energy and time consuming. That right there probably marks me as either being selfish or just not ready to be in a relationship. I’m not sure I believe either of those things. I just want to skip the whole get to you know you part, and fall right into the comfort zone. That said it would be really weird to just meet someone and have him come over, eat my cookies, throw his socks on my floor and goose me when I did the dishes.

Maybe it’s that I feel spread thin right now and don’t have the energy to devote to one more thing, albeit my actual personal life. I’m trying like mad to get a new job because the present one is dragging me down! Spending my days trying not to be dragged down is exhausting in itself, but dealing with the treatment from my superiors when it gets politically bad is absolutely infuriating, and only adds to the exhaustion.

Then there are the creative projects I hold dear to my heart but can’t pour myself into due to the above. It’s such a ridiculous cycle considering life is what you make it. If I must drag my ass to work I might as well do it with a smile, it makes things more pleasant for me and other co-workers who I actually like. Of course there’s the distinct possibility that yet again I’m just justifying my four year theory. However, none of that extends my actual day to give me time to do all I want to do. (Plus I am undisciplined, reading blogs and watching tv instead of writing, composing and creating. Death to these evil distractions!)

Can the right man for me please step forward and render this all moot? I know there’s more than one of you out there. Where are you?

The Cute English One

Since I’ve started this retrospective chain of posts, and nothing of note is presently happening, I suppose I’ll continue with a best kiss memory.

One summer I attended a family reunion with a good friend of mine. It was her family reunion mind you, this story is not about to take that type of turn. Anyway, once again there was drinking involved which I hope doesn’t spell out a pattern for me in terms of needing to lower my inhibitions just to have a little fun. That is just lame.

For the first couple hours my friend’s sister kept poking me in the side telling me that their cousin James liked me. He really liked me she emphasized with raised eyebrows and a knowing smile. It pretty much made me want to hide. I suppose maybe that’s why I kept drinking, despite not being able to handle it very well. It gave me the courage to stick around and see what would happen next.

James eventually got me alone, which I didn’t make easy for him, however I didn’t make it impossible because I thought he was cute and kind of gave him a kiss the night before on our way out of the pre-family reunion party. Oh did I forget to mention that? If I actually knew how to play hard to get I suppose you could say that’s what I was doing. But I don’t and so my avoidance was due to my not knowing what the hell I was doing as opposed to intentionally trying to bait him.

We chatted for a little while, him asking questions and me answering in monosyllables but not out of disinterest. As I said before, shyness coupled with not knowing what the hell to do left me kind of speechless. When he called me on it the truth just came flying out. Big surprise.

James: You are one hard lady to chat up! I’m trying to flirt with you here.
QueenVee: Oh! I’m sorry, I’m terrible at this. I don’t know how to flirt.
James: What? What do you mean? All you gotta do is talk…
QueenVee: I know, but it’s not easy. Guys don’t approach me often.
James: WHAT? You’re kidding. Every guy in this room wants to kiss you. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen!

It went on like this for a while. He absolutely refused to believe how inexperienced I was, despite the telling blush under the alcohol red. He told me a lot about his life, and I suppose I reciprocated but I don’t remember. All I do recall is being nervous, tipsy and happy at the same time. Eventually he had enough.

James: Can I kiss you?
QueenVee: What? Here?
James: Yes, why not?
QueenVee: In front of your entire family? Omg, no. I can’t kiss you inside. Outside maybe.
James: Really? If I take you outside right now you’ll kiss me?
QueenVee: (looks nervously around) Yes.
James: Let’s go!

He grabbed my hand and we were outside the pub in moments, lips locked, arms threaded, my back against the wall. A few minutes later my friend leaned out the window and snapped a picture. I’m not sure I’ve forgiven her yet for it, but at the very least it's proof I wasn't dreaming!

The Shy Younger One

My cousin had a Labor Day party a few years ago at a house she was renting with college friends. They were all a few years younger than me and had just graduated, which immediately led me to (correctly) assume it would be like the house parties I used to attend when I myself was in college. Though the idea of actually attending this party was right up there with getting a root canal, I knew she really wanted me to come. I hadn’t seen her in a while and I thought it might be fun to spend time with her in her element. Plus they had a huge trampoline in the backyard.

One of the first people I met was her friend Dan, who played guitar. We chatted for a while about playing and composing and what kind of music we liked. He was cute and of course, very laid-back. I think he had a girlfriend though, which is probably why I was able to talk at length with him.

How I ended up making out with my cousin’s roommate Al is beyond me. Perhaps it was due to the beer I was drinking and not enjoying because I was uncomfortable at this party where I knew nobody. It didn’t help that my cousin abandoned me in favor of her latest boyfriend, which made me angry because I came for her, but also because it meant I had to force myself to meet new people.

Al was shorter, younger, shier and drunker than I was, all of which kind of endeared him to me. Every one of his roommates as well as my cousin told me at various points of the evening that he thought I was beautiful and really liked me. They also kept including the fact that he was inexperienced. I had to ask which one he was because I only met him briefly when I first arrived at the party. However, the next thing I knew I was in his bedroom. I suppose I related to his inexperienced status and felt just as bad for myself as I did for him. At any rate, somewhere along the way I decided what the hell? I might as well get some fun out of this.

I’m pretty sure that if he had been sober he never would have been brave enough to shove his tongue down my throat. Needless to say the memory of it is not tucked away in the best kiss vault. Actually it’s safe to say it is buried inside the worst.

And yet, I kept making out with him.

When it got to the point where the clear thought ok, this is getting gross pierced through my drunken buzz, I pulled away and literally wiped my face. I know. Ew. It’s the one and only time I’ve ever kissed a guy because I felt bad for him and thought I could get a little something out of it.

He probably thought I was a bitch because I never responded to his emails. I just didn’t know what to say. You got more out of me than alot of guys before you so be happy? You win for worst kiss, now please stop trying?