The Queen Virgin

Awesomeness

2012-01-27T17:43:00.003-05:00

Last night I dreamed (dreamt?) my yoga instructor (who I have a yogi crush on) and Lady Gaga, amongst many other random celebrities, were at a party that was taking place in my childhood home. We were in my bedroom, complete with pink carpet, tie die peace poster and full length princess mirror in the corner. I don't have a particular love for Gaga so I'm not sure why she was there, but I thought my best friends would die if they saw a picture of me and La Gaags in my childhood bedroom. So in an act that makes total sense I handed her the camera and she started taking pictures of me and my yogi crush.

I feel like the last year of my life has gone on this way. Something happens that seems awesome and then for some unknown reason I turn around and do something completely inane.

All I can do is hope that one of these times the outcome of my backwardness is awesome too.

Career Nutshell in the Vaguest Sense

2012-01-16T10:48:00.003-05:00

Well, well 2012, better late than never, no? I've been waiting patiently for you for ages. I know you've got lots of things, good things, hidden in the months of your year and I can't wait for them. You're like my life's Santa Claus and I've been a very, very good girl so shower me with gifts dammit. I deserve it.

About six months ago I quit a job with a company I had been with for eight and a half years. I worked my way up through the ranks at a painfully slow rate comparatively speaking to some of my (i'm going to say it please don't cringe) male counterparts. Despite being constantly told how talented and valuable I was, I watched two male co-workers come from behind me and get promoted above me, one right after the other. I work in a male dominated field (which is allegedly changing) but as far as my career goes I have always been at most one of two women in the department. My lack of stepping up for myself, an insecure, vindictive female boss and the relative charm and smarts of my male co-workers (whom I don't blame) kept me from rising the ranks faster. It sucks to have to admit that I played a part in how hard my career has been. At any rate, I spent many years there frustrated but unable to get a job elsewhere. When I was finally denied my latest promotion, and told to my face in so many words that they knew I was totally capable of handling the job but they were going with someone else, I quit.

It was a great feeling.

Of course I did have another job lined up which gave me the promotion I deserved.

And I was SO excited. My own optimism still surprises me at times. I couldn't wait to do all the things I had been denied and to be part of a new creative team that was about to embark on a huge project. The timing seemed impeccable.

Then I started the new job. I liked my boss a lot but I couldn't quit seem to get into the groove of his creative sense. It wasn't until later that I realized it was because his creative sense is insane. I quickly learned the big company project was handed to an outside vendor and the internal day to day job seemed way harder than it needed to be, especially because in retrospect I was only doing the work of the position below me. After three months I started to think maybe this wasn't going to get better, the creative process was unstructured, frustrating and not conducive to good work. After another month I realized it was only going to get worse. The directors I worked with still tried to do my job while failing to do their own. It's like having the IT guy standing over your shoulder telling you what to do and then shoving you out of your chair to do it himself but then not really knowing what he's doing so he makes the problem worse. (No offense IT guys, but you know you do it.) By month five I decided to quit and after month six, which will be this coming Friday, I will be set free.

The difference is, aside from the time length, is this time I don't have a job lined up.

I am relying on my reputation (it's a small industry) and my connections to hopefully get me freelance work and the thought of not having a boss, not having to call anyone when I'm sick or having to ask for time off, makes my head spin with excitement. This is what I should have done long ago, but I know it never would have worked had I tried it before. I hate to say it, but it's only because of what I've been through that I have the confidence to go solo. It's thrilling.

I haven't felt this happy in a long time.

As you can probably guess there is no update on the men front. I seem to be unable or unwilling to handle both the professional and personal sides of life when something stressful happens on the work side. I'm hoping though with a change this big in my professional life the stresses I've faced before won't be an issue. There won't be anyone promoted past me or a boss choking my career. AND as a freelancer I'm hoping to be exposed to a lot more people- i.e. to meet a lot more men.

As always time will tell.

NSA

2011-11-20T21:43:00.000-05:00

I watched her write it in my chart wearing an expression I'm sure read that hurts. Not Sexually Active. There is nothing derogatory or even slightly negative about it, it's just a medical fact simply stated. But man it still stings to see someone else put it out there, even if she is a doctor who has most likely written that in other women's charts without judgement. At least I hope.

My annual this year hurt like hell. I'm not sure why it seems to be more painful as I get older...maybe it's because physical pain is easily forgotten. At any rate, I tried to tell her I didn't need a pap this year as I am still clearly NSA but she said it had been three years and blah blah blah. I didn't fight it. Though if I had known I'd be walking around with what felt like an internal paper cut I would have.

Every once in a while I check out site meter and find out what leads people to my blog. And still, three years later, it's this post. After reading all the comments I have certainly had to re-evaluate all I've been told and consequently what I believe about my own health. It was a surprise to discover patriarchy has his dirty hands in what has clearly become a profitable industry: women's health. A US Government Health Panel has decided against an annual

"...blood test to screen for prostate cancer because the test does not save lives over all and often leads to more tests and treatments that needlessly cause pain..."

but yet Pap Smears, which often produce false negatives, aren't necessary for all women all the time and are also a source of needless anxiety, are "being performed against guidelines" and add to health care costs as well.

(2007 CDC statistics)

http://www.cdc.gov/cancer/cervical/statistics/index.htm

12,280 women in the United States were diagnosed with cervical cancer.
4,021 women in the United States died from cervical cancer

http://www.cdc.gov/cancer/prostate/statistics/

223,307 men in the United States were diagnosed with prostate cancer.
29,093 men in the United States died from prostate cancer

It never occurred to me that something was being forced on me that I didn't need. I knew I had to have one in order to get on the pill and I blindly accepted it as a part of keeping myself healthy. I should have known better. I am a big fan of educating yourself to protect yourself from circumstances such as these, but I'm also aware not everyone has access to education. Hell, I consider myself pretty intelligent but here I sit not knowing I'm being forced to do something I don't want or even necessarily need. How do you know when standard practices are wrong? It also (being wrapped up in my own American life) never occurred to me that women the world over are dealing with unwanted but required tests in an even uglier way.

I can't help but think someone has to be profiting from this otherwise it wouldn't be happening. The medical industry is just another notch in big corporate greed's belt. Or elsewhere in the world just another way to keep women in their place, scared and at someone else's behest.

Your sexual health, whether you are active or not, is an extremely important part of life. I'm just no longer sure who to trust to maintain my health. I'll still go to the doctor but I just won't believe every last thing I hear without looking it up for myself. Maybe it's not too late to go to medical school.

Strike Two

2011-10-06T22:43:00.003-04:00

I asked another guy out, who by the way indicated on my profile of a certain dating site that he was interested in me FIRST, and he never responded.

Seriously?

Can I just get a date?

I know it may sound like I'm coming on strong but I swear I'm not. Aggressive is the last thing I know how to be so I don't get it.

I also realize that now that I'm finally ready both intellectually and emotionally to date doesn't mean it's going to happen this instant. But I mean, come on! Both of the guys I asked sent me either a subtle or a literal message they were interested, or at least liked me in some way.

I know I know. Patience grasshopper. I've got to be honest, it's not my strong suit. Lately I pretty much want to ask every guy I think is cute on the street if he wants to go for coffee.

Now that's a little desperate with a touch of aggressive. Especially considering I don't even drink coffee.

Mission: Turning New Leaf Accomplished

2011-09-23T21:38:00.003-04:00

I asked a guy out today.

He said no, but in the sweetest way possible.

He's a nice boy.

I still like him.

I received an email from an ex-co-worker yesterday. We didn't really know each other that well and only worked directly together maybe once, but he sent an email to see how my new job was going. I always thought he was cute and despite not being together that often I sort of got the feeling he liked me. I never responded because a) we worked together and b) he's so young! At least 10 years my junior.

Anyway, the fact that he sent an email out of the blue made me think maybe he was interested in getting together, so I replied with an ask. Paraphrased it went like this: "at the risk of sounding dumb, I've always thought you were cute and now that we don't work together why don't we go out?"

He replied with an answer full of compliments that made me smile. Paraphrased it went like this: "I've always thought you were cute too, but I've actually just started seeing someone and want to see where it goes. But I want you to know that I would totally go out with you otherwise."

Sigh. I know I just started but can I please just get the timing right?

Yellow Equals Cute and Taken, Apparently

2011-09-07T22:27:00.004-04:00

Scene: Queen Vee stops at the organic market (yes I'm one of those people. I've seen one too many documentaries on the way our food is prepared and am freaked out enough to bleed more money for the ancient way of growing food. Naturally.) on her way home from work. She waits at the deli counter for her half pound of honey turkey as a male walks up. She instantly turns 13.

QV: oooo he's cute! he's tall! i love his yellow t-shirt, how cute! he's cute! i should say something! say something! ooo he has a nice body too.
(looks away, a little surprised that she actually noticed his body)
Second Deli Counter Guy: Next?
(cute guy doesn't move)
QV: wait, is he cute or am i telling myself that because i really, REALLY want to go on a date already?
(steals another glance)
Second Deli Counter Guy: Next?
(cute guy still doesn't move)
QV: no he's cute. say something! say something dammit! eerrrr what if he's married. does he have a ring?
(tries inconspicuously to look at his hand)
QV: no ring. but what about a girlfriend? well the only way to find out is to SAY SOMETHING. he probably has one. he's wearing a yellow shirt AND he's cute.
Second Deli Counter Guy: Next?
(cute guy yet still doesn't move)
QV: (raises her hand and sort of points at the deli guy) um...do you...?
Cute Guy: I'm still thinking.
QV: oh ok. ok now say something else. SAY SOMETHING ELSE.
First Deli Counter Guy: here you go!
QV: thank you! (smiles broadly making sure to look at cute guy still wearing the smile as she turns around)

Queen Vee heads over to produce, defeated.

QV: well, at least you smiled. that's a first.

Fin.

Let Go, Robot, Let Go

2011-08-29T21:37:00.000-04:00

May, June, July, August...It's amazing how everything and nothing can change and stand still at what feels like exactly the same time. In the last four months my life has turned absolutely upside down, and yet right now, at this moment, I'm in exactly the same place I was a year ago before I had the meltdown and sought therapy. Well, with the exception that I am now well-adjusted and not floating in a sea of depression. So there's that.

In short, I traveled to Asia for two weeks, I bought a car, I quit my job because I found a better one, I terminated therapy, I will soon terminate the medication and I adopted two shelter pets. Out of all of that, I can't believe I didn't adopt my fur balls sooner. I wanted them but kept telling myself I couldn't handle it, the catastrophist that I am, so I lived without. Having animals greet me when I get home is the absolute greatest feeling. Being able to love something that loves you back unconditionally is doubly amazing...and before you start shaking your head I am not replacing romantic love with pet love, I'm just saying it's really nice to have a little daily love even if it comes in a little furry package.

My life is pretty amazing. I'm so grateful for all that I have, all that I've been able to work to achieve, and all I've become in my 33 years of life but I'm still clueless as to how I've not crossed paths with someone I'm attracted to and want to spend time with yet. After a year of therapy I've come to recognize a lot of patterns, protections and defense mechanisms that have lead me to this point in my emotional life, but it still doesn't explain everything. My therapist did not want me to stop but I'd had enough. It was way more stressful to go than it should have been and I needed a break. I needed to feel normal to some extent again.

I'm not saying I'll never go back because I am now aware of not only how much I needed it but also how much it helped me. However from this point on right now I need to take the next steps (to finding and getting into a relationship) on my own. I don't think she appreciated me feeling like therapy was a crutch, or rather a symbol that I was handicapping myself before I'd even started, but she understood it was holding me back from actually seeking a relationship. A glaring reason to not stop therapy I suppose but what could she do? No means no. It is one of my flaws that I need to experience my emotions privately, but it was one of my life lessons to discover that I need to share them afterwards.

So me having uninviting body language and shying away from social interactions aside, I've been told by friends and friends of friends after the fact that someone was interested in me. My newly encouraging mother says men are afraid of smart, pretty, successful women. So the fact that I'm smart and on the quiet side while socializing makes me a target not worth pursuing? Uh. I need a guy who sees that and takes a stab instead of pretending like I don't exist because I seem unattainable. Even if that was true in the past (being unattainable) maybe I would have more confidence if guys had more confidence and approached me. As much as that twists my feminist panties in a bunch to admit, it's nice to get the attention and it's only natural that it would boost my ego. Sometimes I need that. There I said it.

I try not to live my life regretting things, but every once in a while I wonder where I'd be today if I had kept the open heart I once had as a young girl. If I had some how made it through with even one less heartache so it hadn't slammed shut as hard as it did and for so long. But then I guess if I had maybe I wouldn't be as strong or as successful as I am. Who knows. I used to be a big proponent of 'things happen for a reason'. Now I believe things just happen. Sometimes you make them happen, sometimes they happen on their own. Control is an illusion, though it doesn't stop me from thinking I can have it. It's hard to approach finding someone to be with from both of these perspectives (making it happen and happening on its own) because I tend to lean to one side, depending on the day. My next step is to stop analyzing it so much and just let it go.

Let it go.

The theme of my life apparently. It took me 10 years to let go the pain I felt from one broken friendship, which is terrifying in terms of getting into a romantic relationship where love is supposed to be a truly binding connection. But my eyes are so much wider now and I can see so much more...and I've even come to accept that pain is part of it, it just doesn't have to be all consuming. I know I'll need help with that one if and when the time comes but at the very least I know that now. I don't have to lose another 10 years trying to suppress it while convincing myself I'm happy with all I have. It was a valiant effort but I only failed myself. Yet another type of pain to let go.

I do still believe that life is what you make it- and so I am happy with all I have I just know it's ok to want more...even if it contradicts everything I think. Not everything has to be rational. It's called being human. I think for a while there I was attempting to be a robot. It was just easier. So I've really tried to change my outer vibe- I'm smiling more and chatting more and just trying to invite the good in. I found another dating website that actually has potential and I'm trying to be more social in order to meet more people. So far it's a nice change. I haven't met anyone (or gone a date) yet, but I'm way closer than I've ever been before. Baby steps.

Note To Self

2011-04-01T20:09:00.002-04:00

Dear Emotional self:

Why are you so far behind the rest of us? Why are you anchored to 2001? Financial self has grown tremendously! She refinanced her mortgage by herself and is taking steps to understand how to invest her money. Physical self is getting a little bit of an ego now that she has committed to yoga and can actually see tone in her arms and belly. And intellectual self, yours truly, has finally come to terms with her achievements and failures and her view of the future. She has finally admitted that finding someone to share her life with is not only important, but something she actually desires. Now that her priorities have changed, things are supposed to start falling in place. The only thing holding it all up is you emotional self. Yes you. With all your abstract fears and irrationalities you are weighing us down and making it very hard to take even the smallest step forward. Now I admit, I am not without fault here, I did manage to repress you for a good ten years, but now's your chance! You're free! Let it out! Catch the hell up to the rest of us before sexual self starts making noise and wakes self loathing self. Because no one wants that. She's such a bitch. So please emotional self, I implore you. Forgive me and let go of what happened. You are stronger now, it could never happen again. Start on a new track. Life is waiting for us.

Love,
Intellectual self

Crisis Completion, Next Mission

2011-03-18T21:21:00.002-04:00

My whole existence has been fueled by an internal war. So many of my desires are completely contradicted by my behavior, and most of the while I've been aware of it. It's like I'm looking at myself under an enormous magnifying glass but my arms are strapped down and I've lost my voice. It's incredibly frustrating to feel paralyzed when you know your limbs work perfectly well.

What I've learned through this 'crisis' as my therapist calls it, is that there are repeating themes in my life stemming from the same behaviors. To name a few: I don't want to rely on or accept anyone's help because of the fierce independence I'm not even sure how I came to possess. I don't trust people because I'm afraid of what they will eventually want to take from me. That stems from knowing that I put others before myself even if it's to my own detriment and from experiencing painful friendships where I was taken advantage of for precisely that. I have a hard time standing up for myself because I don't want anyone to feel angry or bad or what have you. I think this also stems from putting other's feelings/needs ahead of my own. I run from confrontation because I don't want to get emotional. It goes on.

I thought I had been to the bottom of my emotional barrel and back but it turns out there's a whole other barrel I didn't even see.

I tried to end therapy. Again. I've been feeling really good lately and the sessions were becoming a source of anxiety. It felt like I was just chatting about my week and repeating myself about the whole dating thing. I wanted to stop them so I could enjoy the bit of happiness I've reclaimed. She said that if my goal was to get through the 'crisis' then yes, it has been reached. But there is still an underlying interpersonal issue that hasn't quite come to light yet that will surely come back at another point. She actually said, "don't you want to take care of this while you're still young?" I laughed. I don't feel young. Then again, I often feel like I'm 16 so I guess it's really irrelevant.

I don't feel like I can 'get out there' and meet people while I'm in therapy, because I don't want to talk about it and know that I will have to. I'm so sick of talking about myself and my feelings, I just want to clam up and enjoy my solitude again. I also feel the need to process things by myself. Sharing something new doesn't sit well with me. (E.g., I didn't tell anyone about Red until I'd known him a few weeks.) But I know this is exactly the same state I was in before I became dysthymic, and I would definitely end up there again if I didn't force myself to change my behavior and actively look for someone. So I am at a total standstill. I want to stop therapy to meet someone but I should stay in order to figure it out while with someone. I'm at a point now where I despise myself for all of this, but I know I have to do something different than I was before. Therapy is different. I guess. The part of me that wants to end it also believes that I am totally capable of getting into a relationship without any help. But there's a little voice that squeaks, "what if I'm not?" I hate that voice but for now I guess I'm going to keep going.

Ah Catch 22, how you stab at my heart.

So ok guys. Queen Vee is going to try to meet you. Just as soon as I return from a two week vacation halfway across the world. (And a much needed break from therapy.)

Promise.

And Scene.

2011-01-27T21:34:00.003-05:00

All that optimism from a few days ago?
Half it.
That's about where I am today.
Due to insurance issues I had to take a break from therapy. A few days ago was my first time back in about a month. I was all ready to walk in there and talk about how good I felt and maybe end therapy while continuing the medication until summer. Instead she made me realize that just because I felt better in one respect doesn't mean I had it all figured out. I sort of knew that, but I thought I was more on the way to being able to handle it.
Guess not.
Tears yet again for reasons I could not place, aside from disappointment and the realization that I'm still putting myself under so much pressure one unexpected thing happens and I break.
Sigh.

Phase 5

2011-01-23T21:30:00.004-05:00

What is it about time that allows it to speed by sometimes and drag on others? Different cultures perceive time in different ways, but the ones without time fascinate me. Like the Hopi. There is no past or future verb tenses. The closest they come is sooner and later. Imagine what life would be like without the constant cultural pressure to prepare for the future and remember the past because it makes you who you are. In some ways it sounds amazing. It would be so much easier to focus on what's happening now, living life as it happens, rather than suffering the past or worrying over the future. In other ways it seems sad, because memories are a big part of who we are and who hasn't dreamed about something fantastical happening to them in the future?

Time for me feels like it should be measured in phases:
0-6 phase 1: generally, oblivious bliss.
7-13 phase 2: learning the real differences between girls and boys and what's happening to my body?
14-17 phase 3: (for many) testing the boy/girl waters and figuring out who you are.
18-27 phase 4: thinking you know who you are, getting shredded and having to start over.
28-35 phase 5: realizing control is an illusion, a coping device for the human condition, and figuring out what to do next.
etc...

So by definition then I would be 5. That sounds about right. I've reached a point in my life where everything I used to think I would do when I grew up, I should have done by now. It is my experience that the two have not coincided. What I thought I'd be doing and what I am actually doing aren't the same. And for a good while there, it terrified me. It angered me. It depressed, confused and shattered me. And as you already know it sent me down a path of isolation, self-deprivation and sadness to a place where nothing seemed to make sense. Fortunately I finally recognized just how lost I felt and found another path to try to get me back.

To back up my age 5 theory, 3 of my friends in the past few months have told me how full of rage and often sadness they feel. Despite the 4 of us leading very different lives, I think they're experiencing the same thing. There's just a point where no matter how good or bad your life is going, unconsciously you realize it isn't what you had in mind and all you are left with is an acute discontentment you cannot place. Life is harder than that and even harder to accept that you didn't live it how you wanted to, or rather, it didn't turn out how you expected. It just sort of...happened. You end up feeling crazy because your emotions flick back and forth to the extremes and you don't know why. I know I sound like a ridiculous new ager, but it really is about accepting what you cannot control.

And that has been the biggest lesson I've learned. Just to make it clear, I've always known that I've needed to accept what I can't control, but a lot of people don't realize that no matter how your intellect sees it, your emotional self needs to see it too. Being that my intellectual and emotional selves have been separated for so long, it's no wonder why I couldn't actually feel the acceptance.

It has taken five months of therapy (and a little medication I will admit) to bring my two selves back together. That's not to say they're happily remarried and living in the country, it's just a start. I feel like my heart has finally caught up to my head in certain important respects which is what I guess I've been unconsciously fighting this whole time. I don't believe that it will never happen again, but I'm more aware now of how my mind works and that I do need to give myself time to accept things, trust things and believe in things again. I still have fears and other annoying insecurities which I still need to work through, and frankly I don't know if they will ever be resolved by my own doing, but I finally feel like I'm at least headed in the right direction. It's a relief.

Haven't ended therapy yet but I am considering it. I will try to write more about other things I worked through in sessions if you are interested. But as per usual with me it will take some time. Because we all know there's never enough of it!
Hope you are all doing well.
Maybe phase 6 will finally reconcile who/where I am with who/where I want to be. Time's a'wastin'!

The Catastrophist

2010-12-01T22:44:00.000-05:00

Queen Virgin: The Catastrophist. It's my new sub title. You like?

It has been quite a windy road these past few weeks...months even. Therapy is going...well it's going. I don't have anything to compare it to so I'm not sure if it's great, so-so or completely unhelpful. I still cry during every session, most of the time for reasons I cannot place, but I'm not depressed. In the past around this time I've gone down, recovered somewhat for Christmas and the New Year but then fell right down again when the winter took its hold on me. I suppose because I am feeling mostly normal right now that it's a start in the right direction. One of change anyway.

K calls me a catastrophist. I'm always thinking about how things explode in the end before I even attempt to begin them. I've known that I do that concerning guys and dating, but I've recently realized that I do it almost across the board when dealing with emotional issues. I have the habit of downplaying things because I don't want them to blow up. That is to say, I never make a big deal out of anything, I lessen my importance in my friend's lives by clamming up and I run from any sort of disagreement. I didn't know how big a part of my life it played until my doctor said, "it sounds like you have a tendency to put your own feelings last". Like when I make plans for my birthday and go to a restaurant everyone can afford rather than the one I want to go to that's a little more because I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable. Or not calling a friend when I really need to talk because I know they're busy and don't want to interrupt them. Or when I let people treat me badly because I don't want to say anything that would make them feel bad. Across the board.

So I don't make a big deal out of anything and I end up getting hurt because I don't let anyone know what's important to me...but, and here's the kicker, if I did let them know what was important to me and they disappointed me I would end up getting hurt. That is the latest gem I learned in session.

And really all this does is oil the self-loathing fire I had managed to get to low simmer.

At some point I felt the walls going up and the urge to just block everything out coming on strong again. Almost like I was holding the anchor of depression and I could just let it go and sink or I could tie it up. I decided to reach out to a friend who I've sort of been to hell and back with (who oddly enough is not K) because I know she of all my friends is the most like me and knows me about as well as I know myself. I told her how many times I wanted to call but didn't because I know she's busy, but admittedly more so because I couldn't take it if she answered and actually said she couldn't talk right at that moment. She could not grasp how that would be just as crushing to me as if something tragic happened and I called and she said she couldn't come. Though I am aware that not being able to talk on the phone and not physically coming to help a friend in dire need are at opposite ends of the spectrum, the emotional result for me would be the same. She kept saying there's no way in hell any of my friends wouldn't come if I called, and the chances of me needing someone like that are pretty low anyway, but I couldn't get her to understand my...my catastophist'y. I couldn't tell her how every time she rescheduled our dinner my heart sunk. A great example of a) not letting her know how important she is to me and b) putting my feelings last. I didn't want her to feel bad about hurting me, though she was completely unaware of it and had legitimate excuses to reschedule. See I know how irrational my emotions are so I bury them. I count only on myself and loathe any form of needing someone because needing someone ultimately leads to getting hurt.

Oh there is so much more, but I'm tired. Hopefully I'll have some more time to write soon-

So Many Things!

2010-10-03T20:19:00.004-04:00

"Well, I'm finally a real New Yorker. I have a therapist now!"
-QV

This is pretty much how I told my friends about my latest venture into the mess of my mental health. Only one said outright she knew something wasn't quite right with me, but probably never said anything because, well, what can you say? Why are you acting weird, but not in a constant, definable way? They all understood though and gave me props for taking the steps to try to help myself. A few of them felt bad about not being able to help which made me feel good and bad at the same time- good because they care, bad because that was not my intent upon telling them. How could they help when I hid it all from them?

I still don't like therapy, but it's a little easier now that I've gotten a handle on myself and my emotions. I'm not quite sure the latter is a good thing because I need to remember how to be emotional without breaking down, but at the moment I'm not involved in anything really emotionally driven (outside of work which is causing me frustration) to test it. I still feel awkward at times because I don't know what to say and I don't want to repeat myself every session. It actually makes me laugh to think in literal terms about how I'm basically shelling out a ton of money to someone to listen to me talk about myself for 45 minutes.
It's weird.

I decided to start taking medication. It's been three weeks and I have to say I think it is working. My irritation level has decreased and I think that because I started feeling better before I started the meds it's done its job to keep me from falling back into a depression. My last wedding was last weekend and I still feel pretty good. After the previous three weddings I felt sad and down on myself. It was a destination wedding which lasted three days- I met a ton of new people and was stuck in the position where I had to be social with a ton of new people every night...and I actually enjoyed it. I had fun all three nights, days too! I'm finally feeling little bits of my old self coming back.

In other news my decision to get over myself and stop making excuses has lead me to take a baby step and sign up for a dating site. I'm a little worried about the fact that the first group of guys interested in me are all over 40. Not that there is anything wrong with that, I just have a lower number as my cutoff and it sort of strikes me as either careless or desperate. Don't start yelling, I'm still looking at their profiles and checking them out, I'm just saying. A lot of the older guys I used to work with had puppy dog eyes for me too. Odd.

I did get one email that just said 'sexy as hell'. I'm not being sarcastic when I say it was nice to read, especially because none of my pictures have any element of sexiness to them. My question to you guys is, should I respond to the nice emails I get if I have no intention of continuing emailing? I'd like to say thanks, but I'm afraid it will it send the wrong message if I'm not interested in them. What should I do?

One last note of thanks to all of you who sent good comments and thoughts my way and who are pulling for me. It means more than I can say.

xo
QV

But What If Drugs Cause Hugs?

2010-08-28T16:50:00.000-04:00

“After ten years in therapy, my psychologist told me something very touching, he said, “no hablo ingles.””
Dennis Wolfberg

I have to wonder myself if it actually mattered who I first talked to when I finally worked up the courage to call for an appointment. Which by the way, I got as far as calling the number my insurance card said to call and then became paralyzed. It took me a week to make that call and I induced a reflux attack for nothing: the voice on the other end simply gave me my insurance information and told me to look up a doctor online. I was too overwhelmed to be angry that the stupid benefits book didn't just say that. K actually ended up making the call for me and the doctor called me back to make an appointment. I'm extremely lucky to have her.

After the fourth appointment I was much calmer though still anxious, and finally separated my feelings about therapy from my feelings about the therapist. My first appointment with the Psychiatrist went by and after speaking with her it became clear that I was uncomfortable with the Psychologist. I decided to stop seeing her and wait until I received the Psychiatrist's evaluation before finding another Psychologist.

Her recommendation is that it isn't urgent but I would benefit from medication. The decision is mine. I go back and forth daily.

I caught myself singing to myself the other day. In what feels like a past life it was a sign of a good mood and relative happiness. I tried to remember the last time I actually felt that way and was already two springs back before I kind of gave up. Even though I know what I'm feeling now is only a slight lightness of being after unloading years of packed in emotional turmoil, it's a wake up call to just how low I've been feeling and how very long!

I am amazed at how I couldn't see it until that moment.

This makes the case for getting on the happy train. My hate for big pharma and aversion to ingesting chemicals pulls the case back.

My next appointment is next friday. Where's my little black 8 ball?

The First Step...So I'm Told

2010-08-06T20:51:00.003-04:00

Well...the inevitable finally happened I suppose. I had what I can only describe as an emotional meltdown and I'm now in therapy.

A couple of weeks ago I was visiting K, she just had her second baby, and we started to talk a little bit about how I was feeling. She works in the industry (so to speak) so she recognizes my depression before I even realize I'm in one, but this time she also introduced me to the word dysthymia. She explained to me what it was and it struck me as being true; Chronic mild depression with sleep disturbances and fatigue. That pretty much sums up my existence. I had myself convinced that because I was not unhappy, I was happy. (I'm sure I could just skim some old posts as proof.) She opened my eyes to the fact that they are not exact opposites. I still laughed and took pleasure in small things here and there, but most of the time I just felt blah. About everything. A switch went off, but I didn't really know it until my Psychologist asked what brought me to her. She kept asking what happened to make me call for help. I kept saying I don't know, I just knew I had to come, I've known for a long time and I just finally got up the courage. She said something specific happened to spark it all. Then suddenly that conversation came back to me and I remembered thinking that I had to get over myself and ask for help or I'd be depressed and alone for the rest of my life.

I realized that I needed to finally admit that my attempt to fix myself all these years was not working. Watching that tiny newborn asleep on my chest didn't exactly start the biological clock ticking, but it did get the desire for a shared life into the fire.

I have actually only had three sessions so far, but after the first two and before the third I was incredibly anxious, had stomach aches and couldn't sleep. I cried almost to the point of hyperventilation the first session, slightly less the second and kind of just quietly cried the third. I suppose that's progress. Most of the time I couldn't even tell you why I was crying, I just couldn't stop myself. (I've since come to the conclusion that I've been burying all my emotions for so long, now that I've opened the well it just keeps flowing.) I feel less anxious now, but I wonder if it'll come back before my next session. She actually recommended I see a psychiatrist for a consultation for medication after my second session because apparently most people feel relief after opening up. I bee-lined in the opposite direction. I am not thrilled with the idea of drugs but if the Psychiatrist also recommends it I won't fight it. At this point I might just do anything for a decent night of sleep.

I don't like it. Talking about myself (out loud to corporeal people, as opposed to you my dear readers). For many different reasons it makes me uncomfortable but K keeps telling me it's supposed to be hard. My therapist says the same thing, go figure. I knew it would be I just didn't realize how hard. Your own emotional health is a hard thing to be objective about. But in so many words, they both tell me that I'm doing well. Like a good friend K promises it will get better and I have no choice but to believe her. She has been on both sides of this therapy thing. I just hope it's relatively soon, I'm so emotionally exhausted right now I don't know which way is up.

Notes In Passing

2010-06-13T09:58:00.003-04:00

Well, two weddings down, two to go. The first was full of family friends I've known forever so it was fun (though no prospectives) and the second was full of people I didn't know at all so I kind of sat alone at a table all night. Truth be told, the sexy little dress I was wearing required pasties and I FORGOT TO PUT THEM ON. So I really couldn't get up and dance, for modesty or class I don't know which. (Don't ask me how in the world I forgot something as important as that. I didn't even realize it until I was half way up the thruway!) I chatted with people don't get me wrong, it's not like I relegated myself to a corner refusing to look anyone in the eye. I'm not that bad. But it seemed everyone there knew and were friends with a lot of people, and there definitely weren't any single guys. I was just kind of the odd one out knowing only the bride and her family. Funny how things work like that sometimes. I lived with her for four years!

I have no new realizations about myself. The art class was a lot of fun but full of only females. The work was kind of intense so we didn't end up chatting a lot which in turn means I'll never see any of them again. I still haven't met up with the guy I'm interested in. My friend has to kind of set something up and she's in the midst of wedding planning so I can understand why my dating needs are not at the top of her list of priorities. I'm meeting with the friend of mine that lent me the book about the guy with overwhelming defense mechanisms so we can chat about it. She had to read it for school so I'm sure she'll help me understand some things or at the very least put them in perspective. I have to skim it again because since I've read it my brain has filled up and emptied twelve times with other things. I find my retention level decreases with each passing year.

Anyway, hope you all are enjoying the summer, if that is what season you are in :) or staying warm if it is winter.

I wonder what Lady Ga-Ga would think of me....

Brain on Fire

2010-05-02T20:45:00.005-04:00

Luckily I've been so busy it hasn't dragged me down, but a lot has been going through my mind lately. It must be due to the book I'm ready about this 40 year old guy so isolated by his own defense mechanisms it took him almost 8 years of therapy to break out of them. I identify with a lot of his thought processes and it is freaking me out. Of course, he suffered abuse as a child and I did not - but that makes it even weirder. More on this when I finish the book.

Then I read an article about "the introvert". This article could have been written about me. The only difference between me and the woman in the article is I was not pathologically shy as a child (or have ever been divorced obviously).

"Matsuoka...is open to romantic relationships, but "whomever I'm with must know that at least one day a week I need to lock myself in my room and stick feathers on a sculpture," she warns."

My bff makes fun of me because I won't visit her on Sundays. Sundays are queenvee days. Lately it's actually been more than just Sundays because I have a lot of art/music projects going on and with being a slave to corporate America in order to live, there's never enough time. I have to have time away from work and people in order to clear my mind and create.

Anyway, it was nice to read something that validates instead of pities the way I live. Social interaction, though not hard for me, is a definite drain. I don't really enjoy being around a lot of people at once- I don't like having to make small talk which means I usually get pushed to the periphery for not participating which I also dislike. And it's not like I want the attention of the room either- there is a time and place for that. I'd just rather be with one or two friends chatting or doing whatever it is we do to entertain ourselves. I feel a little guilty because I told a lie to get out of a bachelorette party this weekend. It was after the shower which I did attend, but I knew I'd never last through an evening of bar hopping with girls I'd really just met. And I didn't want my friend to feel bad that I wasn't having fun so I came home. No harm, no foul and I got a little extra time for my latest art project.

Anyway, the weddings begin in two weeks. Come what may!

PS. There is someone I'm interested in, but until I see him again and find out if he might be interested in me mum's the word. I don't really know him (met him once and have heard things about him from mutual friends) but I can't stop thinking about him. It's making me feel like I'm 14 years old. Gaaah.

(In)Sane and Mortal

2010-03-22T22:36:00.003-04:00

It's kind of funny how fleeting the feeling or mortality is. Every once in a while my body freezes up with the realization that an absurdly large amount of time has passed since I last thought about it, and yet it feels like only days. Which also means death has gotten that much closer without my knowing it...or changing the things I'd like to about my life. Then it passes and I'm lost in the oblivion of my daily routine again.

Unless I've taken a nose dive while frozen and ended up in a dark hole for months. But that hasn't happened in a while...

However I'm beginning to see how the definition of insanity attributed to Einstein, Rita Mae Brown and a Chinese proverb is suddenly applying to my life:

"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."

I get up, I go to work, I occasionally hang out with friends, I come home, I go to bed. And yet I expect to meet someone who will change my life. Granted I don't get up and think today's the day I might meet someone! I still think it will eventually happen. Maybe that only makes me half insane.

But you cannot discount the fact that there are people who end up meeting people who change their lives in the course of their daily routines. It happens. I still can't help wishing, after all these years and against all knowing better, it would happen to me. And like, today.

I signed up for an art class in an attempt to do something fun and try to meet new people. It starts in April. I used to make new friends so easily...I know it's the only way I'll ever meet anyone. I've just fallen into such a comfort zone with the friends I have. New ones take so much energy. And by energy I mean going out and making small talk and getting to know people in the most painfully slow manner. When did I become such a recluse? Oh right. I spose I've always been one to some extent it was just easier when I was trapped in certain learning institutions with others in the same situation as me.

Maybe I can blame alcohol. Maybe it would easier if I could just drink like the rest of the people in this culture. It's a cop out but hell, it's legitimate. It's an enormous pie piece in the chart of how people socialize in this city. I feel like I've been left off of invites because of it and I refuse to believe it's because of me. I don't make people feel bad about drinking or guilty because they are and I'm not. Whenever I am out at a bar I just quietly decline a drink for myself like it's no big deal. But in the end apparently it's enough to not want me around. Or at the very least forget that I'd like to be invited just to hang out. It sucks. But I'm getting whiney so I better stop.

So as you can see things haven't really changed, and I haven't written lately because of it. I'm hoping this art class at least gets me going in terms of leaving the apartment when I don't have to and maybe finding out about other things I can do around my neighborhood.

I have four weddings to attend this year. Have I mentioned that? The good news is only one of the brides is younger than me. I am taking part in two of them which is awesome because though I consider them both good friends, I did not expect them to ask me to participate. AND I found this sexy little dress to wear to hopefully more than one, if not only one of them.

So yay for good things! Fingers crossed I will stay on the high road and these weddings won't chill my mortality bones.

The Year Begins

2010-01-17T12:59:00.003-05:00

Well that was quite a ride. I'm still a little dizzy but I'm back on the optimistic track, at least for now. It's funny how I can recognize the pattern and yet when I get to this stage it always feels different, like this time it will be true. This time it will happen.

I went down pretty hard this time, but without being totally aware of it. I mean, I knew I was feeling sad but I think I slipped into a kind of depression I've never felt before. This is a self-diagnosis of course so its inaccuracy could be phenomenal but I digress. Let's start at the beginning shall we?

I found some old emails from Jean. Actually, all of them. I'm a pack rat, what can I say? I saved them all to those old school floppy disks, along with everything else I ever wrote in college. When I finally found a drive that could read the disks I was inundated with what I had forgotten about my former self. I didn't have any of my emails to her, so I could only glean snippets of myself through her responses. It was very disturbing. Every email was like a love letter to me. I wondered if mine were the same to her. When we became friends the bond was so fast and so tight it seemed like we'd be friends forever, but I can't remember exactly how I worded my feelings. I can only hope it wasn't like hers to me- declarations of everlasting friendship and perfect soul mates with undertones of possession I never could have seen at the time. All of this sounds like a romantic interest, and it was in a Victorian sense. We did not have sexual feelings for each other, at least I didn't for her, but there was this romantic notion that our friendship was above any other, the kind great epic stories are made of, and we just knew we'd always be there for one another for the rest of our lives.

I should never have saved them let alone read through some of them again because it sent me back into a mind space I did not want to be. I still haven't thrown them out. I don't know why. I can't seem to let go and I know it's really screwing with my head. Anyway another round of analysis began and I realized that she was just the last in a line of much lesser betrayals that finally broke something in me. Since I ended that friendship I learned how to be friends with people while not letting them anywhere near my heart. I knew how overly sensitive I had become (or have always been) and in order to cope I just built walls everywhere. How do you stop a defense mechanism? How do you stop protecting yourself even though you know you're overreacting and shouldn't be hurt by certain things? This is my dilemma. I started thinking that I'll never fall in love because I'll never be able to let down the walls. All because of her. The hate and anger and pain all came rushing back.

By the end of December I couldn't stop thinking about how broken I felt and it manifested in tears. I was crying at the drop of a hat but at the same time didn't feel the usual heaviness I feel when depressed. While the tears gushed all I could think was why am I crying so hard? Just stop! This is ridiculous, cut it out! But they wouldn't. One morning I was 3 hours late to work because I literally couldn't get out of bed and when I did I happened to get a phone call from K. As soon as I hung up I cried for half an hour. It was getting out of control.

Then something went down with my brother which absolutely sent me reeling. He and my mother have had an unspoken tension between them for years now, but the older I get suddenly the more I find myself involved. To make an incredibly long story short, dealing with him when I was already feeling so down sprung a hysterical leak, and while on the phone with my mom. I don't know how she could understand me between sobs and erratic breathing but she managed to calm me down.

Christmas was hard, mostly because I was still crying a lot. Christmas Eve my mom and I had another talk which resulted in me crying for almost an hour, stifled as it was. That however, was my last cry. I think I just needed to get it all out, and by all I mean my anguish over this family drama as well as the residual pain I guess I'm still feeling from the self-loathing I carry around about how I let everything play out with Jean. I hate how she is still part of my life but I just need to come to terms with the fact that she is my history and always will be. I just can't let her keep being part of my present.

Since that night I haven't cried and have been much happier. I suppose it was kind of like a cleaning of the slate. I started the new year with some ambitions and so far have actually followed through. Work has been great, the apartment is great and I hold hope that I will actually do some new things this year, not just say I will. Life is hard enough as it is, I don't need to keep making it harder for myself. That's not to say I won't go down again, I'm pretty sure it's in my genes, but I can try to prevent myself from dwelling on useless things. Ah the optimism the new year brings.

May it have brought you some as well. :)

Scratch That

2009-11-22T10:48:00.001-05:00

I try to be honest with myself. I do. But in reading over my last post for the eight hundredth time many of my answers just don't feel quite right. I realize there are a lot of things I tell myself to make living life the way I do bearable. I escape a lot into movies, tv, music...my own imagination, because they make me feel without complicating my life. I have managed to scrape away all the drama in my every day existence to the point where I feel numb. Only that's not quite right either. It's more like the absence of drama and emotion makes for such an even keel there is nothing to feel. I look around me and have to admit that everyone I know is at an equal arms length away from me. Even my closest friends, whom I love and know would do anything for me, are just outside that line where disappointment remains just that instead growing into hurt or anger, the gut feelings behind disappointment.

Is that lack of trust in people doing it? Or have I just accepted that life means being disappointed and hurt and angry at times so I've armored myself against dealing with it? As strong as I like to pretend I am, I know that I have the potential to shatter.

I also know I have the potential to be melodramatic, at least internally. I'm pretty sure no one would say I behave that way.

So how do you reconcile feeling like you're unraveling with feeling like you're being overly dramatic? Like your problem is both huge and irrelevant?

I just don't know. I've made myself sad now. I'm going to go ponder why I ever thought isolating myself inside a small group of friends was ever a good idea.

Here Goes Nothing...

2009-11-15T22:10:00.000-05:00

Thanks to the two brave souls who asked questions!

1. What are you the most scared of when it comes to finding someone?

Hmmm...that is a really hard question I think because I've come to realize that over the years it has actually changed, or possibly become a foundation I've built other fears upon. In the beginning it was purely sex. I was scared to death of getting an STD or worse, pregnant. Then it became my independence. I didn't want to give up my time to have to spend with anyone. Then it became about the relationship itself. Like you anom, I became completely insecure about never having had one, but for me the fear was more about my behavior. How do I act? What do I do? Can I say no to things? What's expected of me?

Now? It's most likely a combination of all of those things put together, but for the most part it's gone back to the sex. I know most people say it's an awkward act anyway and that you can't really do it wrong so to speak, but that doesn't change the fact that I still feel like I can. I'm nervous that it will hurt but ultimately I think I'm just scared I'm going to embarrass myself.

About the relationship itself though? I have to admit I will most likely play it cool until I'm ready to tell him that I don't have a line of ex-boyfriends. I consider it something intimate that he will have earned knowing and it will probably step the relationship up if he's not freaked out by it. Actually I'm sure the virginity thing will come up at the same time so in essence it's all a matter of timing. I think the reason revealing not only my virginity but my non-relationship status is not my number one fear (it's definitely still a cause of anxiety) is that I most likely won't tell him until I'm comfortable with him. And if we are that deep into it, I mean, if I trust him enough and he gets to know me well and that's when he walks away, c'est la vie. Yes, it will suck and probably hurt like hell depending on how deeply I feel for him, but if such a side note in what makes me me bothers him enough to end it, he's not good enough for me. That is his issue to bear, not mine. I refuse to be humiliated by it. But messing up sex? My cheeks are already burning. It's silly I know, isn't it?

2. Go out with that guy you just wrote about.

Put simply? No. Why would I do that? I already feel bad enough for not liking him, why would I get his hopes up by going out with him? It's cruel. I cannot help that I am not attracted to him. I may like him even more if I go on a date, but that would only makes things twice as hard when there's still no spark. I don't believe that sparks can grow.

3 . Have you tried internet dating? If so why did you stop? If not, what are you waiting for? 

I signed up for a free one once, but I don't think it really counts as trying. I need to meet people in person, I have a hard enough time trusting as it is. Via the internet I trust no one. Possibly not even myself. It will never work for me because I don't trust it.

 4. When walking down the street, what percentage of men fitting your general demographic (race, age, etc) do you find yourself attracted to? Trying to get a sense of how picky you are about looks. Furthermore, do you really think looks are everything?

My demographic? Like .05%. I am of mixed ethnicity and though I'm in NYC, it's not a melting pot so much as a quilt as they say. And I'm not particularly looking for a half-American half-Asian man...though I wonder if that would be a common bond to start building on. I did meet a half-Australian half-Asian boy and I asked for his number mind you, but it was because I thought he was cute and was attracted to him, not because of his ethnicity (though in retrospect it was nice to have something in common at first glance). Most of the time though I'm not even looking. I'm either on the way to or from work, not man-seeing. This is something I'm trying to break myself of so I can tell for myself if my chemistry really is messed up.

As for looks- they are relative like everything else you find attractive about another person. They are important as far as they spark some attraction in me. I went on a few dates with a guy I thought was absolutely gorgeous, but there was absolutely no mental attraction. On the other hand, I have one guy friend I am mentally in step with in almost every way, but I'm not physically attracted to him. And I actually think he's cute. So no, looks aren't everything. But in most cases unfortunately it's the first thing that will get my attention. My standards don't include things like must be tall and have brown hair, but I will admit those things will probably make me look.

 5. Why havent you sought therapy for your issues? Ive had many dating related issues and this has helped me get through them. You state at the beginning of this blog post that you have issues with men, sex and relationships so why not work on them.

I went to a psychologist once for a couple months, after I finally got away from Jean and was struggling with yet another different kind of overwhelming friendship. Because they were both with women, I never got to the men part. At the time I was greatly embarrassed by it because I felt that my dumb men issues didn't merit needing a therapist. I'm still of that mind set because I'm stubborn and still believe that one day I will meet a man who I am attracted to and who is attracted to me and all of this will be moot. I think at times I blow this whole thing out of proportion, and I don't really have a problem with men, I have a problem with the expectation to have one, the game of finding one and my deep aversion to wasting my time when it could be better spent doing something that makes me happy. Perhaps my issues simply all stem just from never having had sex or a relationship, but I'm not going to just go out and do either of them just to 'get over it'. I realize neither of them are that big a deal, but why force myself to do things that don't feel right? I have more respect for myself than that.

 6. How many men have asked you out on dates that you have denied? I dont mean random idiots on the street but say people that you knew in one capacity or another.

[I must preface with I don't get asked out a lot, but it's because I apparently don't make myself approachable. Guys are intimidated by me but I'm not totally convinced my body language is the reason why. No offense guys, but most of you are not that observant. My best friend told me years after we graduated from high school that she knew a handful of guys that liked me but never said anything. Why? I don't know. I couldn't have had the same body language that I do now. I was not so jaded then...]

Two. The first was in college. He lived down the hall and was very sweet. He surprised me one day by putting glow in the dark stars on my ceiling after I had seen them in someone else's room and said I liked them. At that point I was too scared of everything to actually date someone, especially someone on the floor where it could become very awkward. We ended up becoming good friends though and stayed that way until I stopped speaking to Jean.
The other was a few years ago. A man I worked with was let go and a few months later he sent me flowers. I always knew he kind of liked me, but he was twice my age and we had very little in common besides working for the same company. He understood and told me he had to give it a shot.  

You forgot a few...
6a. How many have I said yes to?

To official date requests, that is to say he said the words "do you want to go out?" Four. I've been on a few other unofficial dates where it was just me and a guy but no one ever said the word 'date'.

6b. How many men have I asked out?

Two. The first was Dennis, that story is here. The second was Red, and that ended in disaster as we all know.

So I've actually come to a conclusion having gone back over the few number of men I've interacted with in a boy meets girl kind of way. It seems when I finally find a guy I am attracted to, in most cases I don't sit back and stare. I asked out two guys. Not many women can say that. I asked two other guys for their numbers. Well technically I gave Vincenzio my number, but it was before he asked for it so that counts. I got his in exchange. And the half-australian half-asian guy.

So I'm not afraid of dating it seems, because I want to do it when I find guys I'm interested in, I just don't want to date guys I'm not interested in. The problem is I have very limited exposure to new guys to be attracted to and want to date. And there it is. No wait, here it is. The problem is I have limited exposure to new guys to be attracted to because I don't enjoy being social and meeting random people at parties at bars, feel bad if/when I do meet a guy who is decent and clearly likes me but am not attracted to, still have some issues with the time commitment and overall don't have the energy or desire to get over myself and go be social at parties and bars, stop worrying about nice guys' feelings and being selfish with my time. I want him to find me and make time expand. Is that so gaddam much to ask?

 7. What kind of work do you do?

Let's just say I consider myself extremely lucky to enjoy what I do. After 4 years of paying my dues, 3 of which I was a miserable mess, my professional life is at an all time high. I get to be creative and use the one talent I actually believe in to make a living. This is sometimes why I believe my personal life is out of balance (at least in my head). Can't have both or it would be too much, you know?

Open Letter To You!

2009-11-06T19:50:00.001-05:00

Dear Readers:

Do you ever get the feeling you are repeating yourself? I'm beginning to feel my blog is becoming just that. Different ways to state the obvious: I have issues with men, sex and relationships. In many ways I know why I do some of the things I do but feel powerless to change my behavior so therefore nothing changes. I have bouts of good and bad periods. The posts usually come when I've gone through or are going through a bad period. Case in point- I saw a guy today who I'm pretty sure likes me. I can pretend to be oblivious, but it was all in his body language. He is a friend of a friend and is extremely sweet. His demeanor is exactly what I'm always saying I want but doesn't exist in American men, totally proving that I'm an ass, and I should absolutely go for him.

But I'm not attracted to him.

And I hate myself for it.

This is why I don't date. I would drown in self-loathing before we ever made it to drinks.

But I won't bore you with more of that now. A new reader recently suggested I do a Q & A. I know I recently gave an interview but I figured I'd take my chances and see if there are any readers out there who do actually have questions they'd like to ask me. My sitemeter tells me I have readers from all over the world, but I don't know how many of you come back. I don't get a lot of comments or emails! Anyway, since I have nothing new to write, I thought you all could ask questions or even suggest things you'd like to hear me go on about. :)

I'm open to anything!

Comment or email me!

Love,
QV

It's The Modern World. Man.

2009-10-19T22:25:00.003-04:00

Scene: QV is walking home from work. A man comes up beside her, she barely hears him through her earphones. He is wearing them too.

him: what are the chances of my buying a beautiful girl such as yourself a cup of coffee?
QV: (realizing a voice is talking to her, she turns to him and turns away quickly) um...sorry, i've got to get home
him: c'mon, one cup.
QV: uh, no thanks?
him: what, you don't trust strangers who come up to you on the street?
QV: no
him: well what about if we stay in touch, you could give me your phone number or email?
QV: i don't think so
him: we wouldn't be strangers anymore
QV: if i see you again in passing we wouldn't be strangers anymore either
him: what are the chances of running into each other again in city of 10 million people?
QV: you never know
him: what are the chances that we're meeting now?
QV: i'm sorry
him: you really don't trust me?
QV: it's the modern world, man. (as she crosses the street) but i appreciate it.

It's the modern world man? Who the f just said that?

What just happened?

He didn't strike me as particularly sketchy, but in looking back at the conversation it was totally sketchy. He may have been on the up and up, but how am I supposed to respond to that? I say that with the side note that he was not attractive to me, and maybe a little off putting in a stereotypical way. He had a shaved head, baggy sweatshirt and a serious tone that altogether made me almost step into the street before the light had changed. If he had been cute, closer to my age and less serious would I have accepted? Can I say I might have and not sound like either a liar or a potential victim?

Can I also say that I had this HUGE grin on my face the entire conversation? I hate that that is my knee jerk reaction to discomfort. It's absurd!

It is the modern world. It has messed with the simple act of meeting strangers.

PS. Isn't it kind of ironic that I don't even drink coffee?

The Logic Of Trouble

2009-10-11T23:24:00.004-04:00

During the last semester of my senior year of college, my favorite professor asked me where I wanted to work. My dream company. Having only ever been asked what I wanted to do, I was thrown completely off. I had never thought about where I wanted to do it. After thinking about it for only a minute, I said CC. I was surprised at how quickly I came up with the answer because I had no clue what I wanted to do. Seems the where was a lot easier to imagine than the what. Anyway, internally I laughed because I thought it was such a ridiculous long shot and set my sights...well not lower, but let's just say elsewhere. Amazingly enough however, by the end of the year I was working at CC. And I was ecstatic.

There has been one other time in my professional life that I said what seemed an impossible goal out loud and then over time actually achieved it. In retrospect I realize it was a combination of luck, timing and hard work that got me to all the places I've been in my career, and in a way it actually makes me sad.

Statistically speaking my personal life is a losing gamble; it contains only one of those ingredients. I've only ever had one impossible goal I've said out loud, but I spend no time meeting guys and I just can't work that hard to find him. And in all honesty if good luck is something you make or somehow attract, I might be on the losing end of that one too.

I don't know why I see it and still can't change it.

I wonder if this internal war has been fought for so long and is at such an absurd height because the opposing forces are of equal strength. I love my life the way it is: living alone, supporting myself, doing everything I want to do whenever I want to do it and selfishly not having to make any compromises or sacrifices. But life is to be shared, no? Wouldn't my life be richer with someone to share it with? Or have I been lured in by the myth of love?

The last few books I've read have been historical in nature and though I enjoy reading accounts of actual events, in most cases it doesn't help my neurosis about men. Generally speaking, from ancient times to our "civilized" times men have treated other men they find inferior like dispensable factory parts. They are used and then discarded when no longer functional. Poor men, men without weapons and uneducated men suffer at the hands of the richer, the armed and the political elite. And who suffers at the hands of the men who have been humiliated?

How this all pertains to me is a thinly stretched, righteous thread of the (incorrect) stereotypical definition of feminism: they are women, I'm a woman, we are connected and men at the most basic level are evil kind of thing- at the very least they only want one thing and will take it whenever, wherever they can. I know that. It's really just more fuel for my fear of men fire. But yet, you just can't ignore the way humanity's existence repeats itself...

This train of thought has so obviously exploded from something I found out about Red it's embarrassing (thus why i've tried to bury it). Apparently he got the number of another woman in the building from an invite she sent out for a party and one night he texted her asking if he could come by for a visit. They had never hung out before and she thought it was a little strange, but she had talked to him in passing and thought sure why not, he seems nice. He arrived with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

I laughed pretty hard when I found this out because honestly it's pretty hilarious. It is in no way comparable to the hardships the women of history have had to deal with, but in trying to connect the dots of my (somewhat ridiculous) logic sex is the common driving force behind men's behavior throughout time. In the meantime I've been flooded with doubt about my judgment. To this moment I still cannot outright admit he's a player and I was just part of the game. I've even made the concession that not all players are dogs. I just have to believe he's a decent guy at heart because if I don't it means I will never trust myself to make a good judgment. Which in turn means I will never trust any guy. Ever. Look how long it took me to find this guy! How are luck, timing and hard work supposed to follow that?

I am in trouble.

I am in deep, dark trouble.

Sigh.

2009-09-17T19:57:00.004-04:00

Have you ever suddenly just been cold? From the inside out, no matter what the temperature outside? And you just know the only way to make it go away is to have someone's arms around you, warming you with their body heat and, if you would permit me my romantic heart, love?

I have.

Hey Guess What? Still a Virgin!

2009-09-12T10:49:00.004-04:00

Disclaimer: this post is full of sarcasm and detail about my experience of being poked and prodded at the doctor's. If you are not interested in details, skip this one! (For women who haven't been to the GYN yet, this article is a pretty good description of what to expect.)

---------

Dare I say I have survived my third annual, fourth ever visit to the gynecologist? During which I again got to reveal my virginity?

I dare.

And aren't you just dying for a replay of it?

I knew it.

I arrive at the doctor's office. Fast forward to me sitting in that weird open-in-the-front gown with a white starched sheet across my lap. I wait. And wait. And wait.

I am SO going to be late to my 10:30. Did they forget about me? What's taking so long? Oh I think I hear her coming. Nope, just that elderly lady talking about having her breast implants removed again. Uh can you imagine being sixty with implants? Let's read the female genitalia chart on the wall for the fiftieth time. Why does the hymen exist? It's such a stupid piece of...what is it even? There is no point to it. It functions only as yet another burden on female sexuality. Something to break to let everyone know she either is or isn't a virgin. Stupid hymen. Where the hell is she? Can she just come in here, feel me up and then stick something up my hoohaa so I can get out of here? I am so going to be late to my 10:30.

My doctor finally arrives, apologizing for the wait, and says "let's review your last visit" a few times in different ways.
"You were 30 on your last visit, so we did the HPV test."
"Yes."
"Do you have the same partner?"
Um what? Did she just ask me if I'm a lesbian? Oh! Oh! No, that's just the politically correct way to ask if I've been sleeping with the same person as I was last year. Ogod. That's even worse. "Um...I don't have a partner."
"Oh ok."
Fast forward through other miscellaneous menstrual talk.
"So I'll do another HPV test and if it's negative we won't have to do one next year."
"Well, I don't know if it matters..." I totally know it matters. "...but I'm not sexually active so I don't know if it's necessary." It's so not necessary.
"Oh yes of course, it's written on the chart that you haven't been active, I'm sorry I should have seen that." Yeah. It kind of sucks to have to tell you repeatedly that I'm still a virgin. But whatever. "So we don't have to do that test if you don't want. I won't do the gonorrhea test either if you'd rather not. How does that sound?"
"Good. Thank you."
"Ok so I'll do the pap smear, a breast exam as well as a pelvic exam."
Fantastic. Let's do this.

She takes what feels like twenty minutes mooshing my boobs around and all I can say about that is I really hate having my boobs mooshed around. I'm very small and that much pressure is uncomfortable (not painful mind you), bordering on nauseating. I'm pretty sure most women are uncomfortable in that position, but the nausea is just a me thing. (It's psychosomatic.) It's like squeezing a water balloon in search of a marble you are sure someone put in it before they filled it, but just can't find.

Then we move down. Because I've been waiting so long and have kind of worked myself up, I must be tense. It hurts more this time than any of the previous times (but does not leave the residual discomfort I felt for a few hours after last my visit but that's probably because she didn't do the other tests) but I think I said that last time so maybe it's not really that bad. She apologizes because she can tell. All I can think is I've got to start having sex. Then she does the pelvic exam which clinically put means she feels the inside walls of my reproductive organs.

In closing she tells me to read the instructions that come with the pill pack and that she knows the exam was very uncomfortable but I made it through. I REALLY need to start having sex. Then it's all over and she's gone.

Then I'm running across a few avenues and cross streets and I'm 7 minutes late to my 10:30, during which I'm shoved between two guys, smelling like latex. Fantastic. I wonder if they're wondering what that smell is.

---------

On one of my last posts about my trip to the GYN, someone commented about how crazy Americans are about having all these tests at times when they are unnecessary, then getting false results and in turn having our lives turned upside down by it. While this may be true, I only know what I've been exposed to, which is the American health system and for that matter mind set (so you have to bare that in mind when reading my take on the subject). I just received a mailing from my health insurance saying women should start getting pap smears at 21, STD tests at 24 and HPV at 30, younger for each if sexually active. (I think they make a lot of assumptions about when sexual activity begins, but I may be biased.) And then I read information somewhere else online that said you don't need a pap smear until 3 years after becoming sexually active. It all comes down to how informed you are about all these different things that doctors do and don't do as well as your comfort level with applying them to your body.

In retrospect I think I made the right decision, that is to say waiting until my late twenties to start seeing a GYN because I wasn't sexually active. That might not be the right decision for you, but even if/when you do go to the doctor, you can decide what tests to take. Just remember to educate yourself and that you're in control!

Oh. Em. Gee.

2009-08-16T15:36:00.002-04:00

Are you guys ready for this? Are you sitting?

I got a text from Red while I was on vacation last week, almost exactly two months from the night we were supposed to go out.

Him:

Hey! Are you home? I wanted to stop by... I realize I owe you a big
apology for skipping out on our date and not getting back to u
at all.

My response:

yeah that was a pretty shit thing to do. But in dropping me completely
u showed u were no longer interested. When I realized u weren't hurt
in a ditch somewhere

I lost interest too. I believe in 2nd chances so I hope u can show the
next girl who thinks you're cool that u are. See u around.

Harsh? Perhaps. I just have no use for that kind of bull shit. I haven't heard back from him, which is to be expected since my last text was pretty final. It's odd because after it happened I was all riled up and said I was done with him, but in retrospect if he had come to me a few days later or even a week later and tried to apologize I would have heard him out and probably given him a second chance. Two months later? I think not.

If I had let my curiosity get the better of me I suppose I could have heard him out now, let him apologize and then kicked him to the curb. But really, who has time for that? If you like me you like me, if you don't you don't. If you have issues, congratulations, so do I, but don't think I'm still going to be hanging around two months later. I am definitely not that kind of woman. Desperation is not in my repertoire.

Also, not getting back to me? Like it was a phone call about borrowing a dvd or something? Boy needs to work on his language skills. Even within a 120 word text. And stop by? I'm not even sure he's still in the building. Many units were repossessed and put back on the market. His included.

Ah well, in other news I just got back from a nice, long relaxing vacation in a tropical paradise. Sad I'm back, but for lack of a better cliché, my batteries have been recharged so I can soldier on with a smile. And a fabulous tan. So there's that. :)

Movies That Taught Me Nothing

2009-06-28T12:25:00.003-04:00

Still haven't seen Red. Either he's avoiding me or he was making an effort to try to see me before. Either way it doesn't really matter because I haven't changed any of my normal routine in effort to avoid him. I'm back to enjoying being by myself (for the time being anyway). And due to that I don't have anything in particular to whine about. Heh. Give me a few days, I'm sure something will come up. So I'll do some movie reviews, those are always fun. Especially when the movie is a piece of [redacting redacted].

He's Just Not That Into (Boring Stereotypical Drivel)

I have absolutely no excuse for watching He's Just Not That Into You. And just to be clear, my bitterness about the absurdity of this movie was alive and well before I was stood up, so that has nothing to do with it. :) My friend and I figured it was going to be bad, so I guess maybe we watched to see just how bad it would be. We were both disgusted pretty early on, but too lazy to turn it off so we muscled through. I kind of wish we hadn't.

It's no wonder guys have this image of women as being desperate, pathetic emotional wrecks that become parasites when a little attention is paid them. All the main female characters in movies like this are written that way! The only one who was halfway normal was Jennifer Aniston's character, and she only got what she wanted because she was willing to give it up. What? I suppose you could turn it around and say well in the end he actually gave up what he wanted, but at least in terms of this movie he didn't seem to mind it and only decided to do it after losing her. But anyway, the point of it for me is this: This movie was crap. I don't have any female friends even remotely like the main female character. I never have. Even the girls who could never be alone and were always chasing boyfriends never acted like she does. Maybe the group of girls and women I've known is an anomaly but it was pretty aggravating to watch her. Then again, maybe there are women out there like that, and it's really just that I know I would never act that way that I was so irritated by her actions. She was completely devoid of self-respect and only gained it through, of course, a guy. Who she only starting liking (as more than a friend) after realizing he liked her. LAME. The only good thing was that all the women were self-sufficient in every other way. I realize this movie was supposed to be cute and fun and more about the drama that occurs between men and women in all stages of relationships, but it just could have been so much better. Selling this perpetuating stereotype of desperate women on the basis of "it was inspired by a line from sex and the city" makes me hate it even more.

And not for nothing, it didn't really portray any of the men in a great light either. One was a cheater, one was just kind of a dick and the other two were just eh. All in all? Out of 5 stars this gets 1/2 of one. And only because Justin Long is cute.

Strictly (Hardly Anything) Sexual

Ok, I fully disclose my reason for watching Strictly Sexual: I thought there was going to be some soft porn. I'd never heard of it and by the title and description: "Two successful women, sick and tired of dating and relationships, decide to keep two young men in their pool house for strictly sexual purposes" I thought I was in for a little look-see.

I was wrong.

[Just like the time I bought a movie called Mezmerized at the grocery store for $1.00. The description was: An orphaned New Zealand girl marries an older, wealthy businessman and learns to deal with his strange sexual desires.

Turns out he was a peeping tom.

SERIOUSLY? That was a definite waste of 94 minutes. It was insane of me to expect more for a period drama set in the Victorian era and made in the 80s that I paid $1 for but still. There is a dark, twisted underworld to those Victorians. I'm sure of it. But I digress.]

This movie was just ok. Aside from the fact that only one of the women was successful, the other one was just born rich, it ended up being just another relationship drama but with a different kind of start. (Though the way it ends isn't that bad...) The girls thought they were picking up male prostitutes, the guys thought two hot girls were hitting on them. Hilarity ensues. Except it didn't. The only thing that really stuck out was the one chick was bad in bed and knew it, and ended up having the guy try to teach her how to enjoy it. One of their sex scenes, which was shot from the neck up, was so awkward it started to make me anxious (because of course I put myself in her position). But I'm pretty sure I'm going to do more than just lie there, so I guess there's that. I've never been in a passionate relationship (obviously) but I think the other couple's portrayal of chemistry that just doesn't work was pretty good.

Out of 5 stars this gets 2. Really 5-3 because the title and description are total misleads.

Can someone please write a movie about a somewhat normal 30something female virgin who is looking but not desperate? Or is that too anti-stereotypical to bring in the bucks? Hello? Indie world?

That's A Wrap

2009-06-12T23:44:00.002-04:00

It would seem I was wrong. Utterly, completely, 100% wrong.

At least now I have a hilarious party story. Should I keep you in suspense or just spill it? I'll give you a hint: it rhymes with shmood shmee shmup.

Let's take a look at the replay shall we? I apologize in advance for the profanity. It happens when I'm angry. I'm referring to myself in the third person (this time) because I'm hoping it will allow me to grow some perspective of which I may still currently be short.

-QV meets Red.
-Red casually and generally invites QV over any time.
-QV and Red walk to work a few times.
-QV subtly asks Red out, turns into him coming over to QV's apartment to hang out.
-A few days later Red texts QV one night asking her to come hang in his apartment. She does. Before she leaves she asks when he's free for dinner. They set a date.
-On said day, she doesn't hear from him so she shoots him a text in the late afternoon saying, "are we still on?" He waits until 1 hour before they are to meet to tell her that he's stuck at work, can he take a rain check? She playfully says "keep me in suspense why don't you?" and that it's no problem, but they'll have to go next week because she's going out of town. He laughs, apologizes, says he'd rather be having dinner with her than working and that next week it is if she must go out of town.
-The night QV gets back from a 5 hour train ride after spending three full days with her friend and her friend's ten month old, she gets a text about an hour after being home that he stopped by but she must be sleeping. If she is actually up he'd love to hang out. She texts back that she didn't hear him knock! But that she is actually really beat after the train ride and baby time, but when can he do dinner? He texts that it's only 9:30 and she is lame but how about Wednesday? Before she can respond he knocks on her door. Despite being exhausted, dirty and looking every bit of both, she answers. He wanted to see how hard he had to knock for her to hear it. She says ok, but is still tired and hasn't even showered! He says he hasn't either. She says Wednesday is great, let's get together then. He says ok, he understands.
-Wednesday comes. He never shows up.

Aaaand scene.

WHAT? What just happened?? Did he really just STAND ME UP? WTF? Who stands someone up anymore? With all the many modern, impersonal ways to blow people off, at least have the courtesy to let me know you've changed your mind so I don't wait around for hours wondering if you're ok. If he decided he didn't want to actually start dating me, I would have been ok with him telling me that to my face. I would have even remained friends if he wanted to, hanging out every once in a while. The time we spent together should have told him that much. It was so casual! I know I didn't come on strong or desperate. It was days, sometimes almost a week between times we'd text or hang out (which in retrospect was fine with me). If anything maybe I came across as not as interested as I actually was? Or maybe I'm getting my just desserts? Karmically speaking somehow? The thing is I've never stood anyone up. I've never even gotten involved with anyone so how does that work? I'm thinking maybe I pissed him off by not wanting to hang out that night and he decided then that he was done with me. Or maybe he never wanted to go on a date which is why he got 'stuck' at work the first time? Way to send some mixed messages jerk. (Of course, I still haven't heard from or seen him so if something did happen to him I will feel like a gigantic asshole.)

That night (um 3 ago to be precise- thus the still growing perspective) I had a little emotional meltdown. The ironic thing is, I was feeling myself go down before this even happened, starting a few weeks ago actually with a visit from an old friend I had in common with Jean...But I digress. I had an insanely stressful beginning of the week and this just rounded it off. I was so angry, and here comes yet another irony, at myself. I mean yeah I was pissed at him for being a dick, but like usual I turned it inward because apparently all I ever think about is myself. I was already thinking well shit, my first possibility in 10 years and this is how it begins/ends? On the same night? I HATE THIS. I actually got all ready to go and sat and waited. I never thought I would be one of those girls. I thought I'd have enough awareness to be able to tell if a guy liked me enough to NOT STAND ME UP. THIS is why I don't date. Good GOD I'd be so embarrassed if I wasn't so mad. How often do I do this? Never. Can't the universe give me a fucking break? I started thinking everything I've been telling myself these past few months is crap and that I've just been talking myself into it because I want so badly to change. I thought fuck him, fuck this, I'm done. The door I thought I was opening slammed shut again.

The next day I ended up talking to a good friend (via IM) who told me to stop punching myself in the face. Didn't I see how messed up it was that he stood me up and I was mad at myself? I couldn't get her to see that it wasn't about being stood up (most likely because I wasn't making sense). It was about me retreating to square one after thinking my hard work in trying to change was getting somewhere. It still is about me wondering if maybe I really am wired to be alone. Because if I'm honest, I worried on some nights that Red would text me to hang out and I wouldn't have a good excuse to get out of it. I thought a lot about having someone to do things with and it made me happy, but then I also thought about how unhappy I'd be on the days/nights I just wanted to be alone to work on projects or write. How that would end up pissing him off, confusing him or hurting him. I know it's selfish but I didn't like worrying about what he was thinking. It's too hard to have someone else in my head. I don't know how people do it. I have enough trouble with my own thoughts and feelings...and I wonder if all of this is STILL an ongoing effect of my friendship with Jean. I was so consumed with how she was feeling and how I could make her happy that there was no me. I had no thoughts or feelings of my own. I can't go through that again. It destroyed me. It took years to rebuild myself. And I wasn't even in love with her! I wonder if I ever do get into a relationship whether I'll be able to distinguish what's too much and what's not enough. I suppose if I love him, caring about his thoughts and feelings will be balanced because I obviously have enough self-love to last me a lifetime. That is definitely not to say there is no self-loathing because I've pretty much cried for two nights over my solitude and what of myself I've created to keep me that way. But I suppose it's all about perspective. I shouldn't have IMed with my friend the day after because I had none. The mixture of disbelief, anger, sadness, resignation, pain and relief was overwhelming and I didn't know what to do with it.

Granted it's only 3 days later but this evening something occurred to me: Though it has actually been 10 years (no exaggeration) since the last time I've truly been interested in a guy, my previously thought decimated hope that I'd ever meet another one turns out to just be deflated. Under the rubble it's still there. Perhaps this really was just a catalyst in getting me to open up. This is in direct contradiction to my wonder about being built to be alone, which admittedly I still think. I have no explanation for this. I suppose hope never dies despite believing something contrary. I'm still hoping I'll meet a guy who I really want to be with, from the start, and having someone else in my head won't be so hard. Or at least, it'll be preferable to being alone. What freaks me out is how hard I know it's going to be, both to meet him and let him in, mostly because I'm really good at getting in my own way.

So yesterday I was at square one but I think I've climbed back up a peg today...hopefully. Maybe the door hasn't slammed shut. I dunno. I'm still swimming in emotion, trying to make sure I go in a good direction. The depression is still a threat, especially after my mother (who doesn't know about any of this) said she needed to make sure I had somebody before she dies (which isn't any time soon but still), but I think if I ride it out it will ebb as always and I'll be back to my old happy confused self, as opposed to my basket case confused self. I don't know why I continually torture myself with this internal war about being alone and being with someone. Sometimes I think I wouldn't know who I am without it.

Love and Evolution

2009-06-01T21:35:00.004-04:00

Merriam-Webster consistently uses the word affection in its #1 definition of love. Affection is defined as a moderate feeling or tender attachment. What a way to bring the house down, huh?

I love you.
I have a moderate feeling for you too!

In my case I kind of expect love to be a combination of a great appreciation (and dare I say affection) for a person and an even greater desire to be with him (in more ways than one...don't be a perv!), among many other things I'm sure I have no idea even exist. But wanting to be with someone is not something I've ever really felt, and I don't mean sexually. I'm talking simply being in the same place at the same time as someone else for an extended period of time. Sure I have found people interesting enough to spend time with and I certainly find my friends interesting enough to hang out with, but when it comes down to it going home by myself at the end of every day is what I wanted. (That is not to say I didn't wish every day to meet a guy and fall in love at first sight, wiping away the whole internal war between the expectation to be with someone and wanting to be alone, because I did. Who doesn't want the idealized version of love?) That is something that I have only been able to fully admit recently because it is such a contradiction to a) society's (which includes friends and family) expectations and b) the influence of society's expectation on my own thought process. I truly believe that if everyone had left me alone I would not have experienced such a tortured transition when becoming an adult. And let's face it, lived a tortured existence while a teenager and a late 20 something too. Because jeez, who ever heard of a girl who actually wanted to be alone? (I found an old poetry journal of mine the other day...talk about dark and melodramatic! So filled with angst and anger, it's no wonder I was such a basket case!)

I think I've only recently been able to fully recognize it (I've always known it deep down, but questioned it too much to accept it) because as all things do, I'm evolving. Ok, that might be pushing it. I can really only hope that I'm evolving, but maybe I'm just aging. :) The need to be alone isn't as powerful as it was, though it is still obviously an important part of who I am. Had I met Red a year ago I would have already retreated to my corner, if I had responded to him at all. Now I think about spending time with him, putting aside those cherished nights to myself, and I don't hate the idea. I still struggle with it, but if he actually likes me in the long run I suppose he'll learn to respect/accept my needs in that way too. The fact that I'm thinking about him as a potential part of my life is pretty big. It's new territory for ms leave me alone. But this change I think has been coming for a while. Maybe I just needed time to prove to myself that I've made it as I am and can now open up to share it with someone else.

Red and I have hung out a couple times since my last post, always in our apartments. It kind of sounds bad, but it's not. It's been comfortable and every time we talk or hang out it's been fun and mutually initiated. I'm actually not worried about the casualness of it because if I'm reading him right I think he likes me, but if I'm wrong and he doesn't I'm ok with that. At least at this stage. We were actually supposed to have a kind of first date tonight, dinner on the town, but he ended up getting stuck at work. I managed to not get myself worked up about it during the day but I didn't hear from him at all so I started to think he was blowing me off. I chided him about it in a playful way when he finally contacted me. We are rescheduling for next week since I'm going out of town. I've been flirting...well, what I possess as a sorry excuse for the ability to flirt and it's been good. I suppose we're moving at a snail's pace but that's probably a good thing for me.

I haven't told anyone about him except my best friend kb. I debated on telling her because though I try my hardest not to let the opinions of others affect how I feel, I know that they can still sway me depending on who it is. Well that and I don't want anyone bothering me about it with questions about how things are going. Probably not a big deal for most people but because it's me, and everyone I know KNOWS I don't date, the questions would be endless.
Anyway, the HA'larious conversation went as follows:

qv: i have something to tell you but you have to promise promise promise not to bother me about it.
kb: ok, give me a minute. (she thinks) ok tell me.
qv: there's a boy i'm interested in.
kb: (pauses) ok, not what i thought it was going to be but ok this is good.
qv: what did you think i was going to say?
kb: one of two things...that you put a profile up online or...that...(trails off)
qv: that i'm a lesbian?
kb: yes!

I guess not even the ones closest to you can understand what goes on in your head. She knows me pretty well but I guess not well enough to know that if I was a lesbian I would have told her a long time ago. Course she probably thinks/thought I am/was repressing. But I digress. I laughed because I know pretty much everyone close to me thinks or has thought it and simply because I don't date and don't talk much about men in general. For all of our differences people still force each other into neatly understandable labels.

I told her about him and where I met him and her first reaction was to warn me. Really? Would I...ME...not be aware of the consequences of starting something with someone who lived in my building?? ME, who hasn't been attracted to or been comfortable around a guy since her junior year of college? ME, who imagines the end of every encounter before it even begins? I realize now her fear is more about the physical aspect (she's 4'11" and is always aware of her surroundings and potential threats) of having him so close, but still. I wanted a more enthusiastic response from her being that this entire situation is out of character for me. Or no, I shouldn't say out of character because I've never done it before so it's probably actually very much my character. I should say pushing limits, opening doors, exploring a new part of myself. But again, she thought I might be a lesbian so whatever. :)

But in tying this ramble back to my original thesis statement, to me love is like this tangible seeming intangible thing...something sparkly that glints in the sun from its place on the road but when you get to it to try to pick it up it has somehow moved further away...just quietly sparkling, waiting for you to come pick it up. I thought I'd feel it when I met the 'one'. Like the sparkle will be in his eyes and I'd just know it was for me. Perhaps one day I still will. I like Red and I want to get to know him better, but I wonder if love will ever enter the equation. I wonder if it will ever enter the equation for me with anyone. I suppose only time, that hard-hearted bitch, will tell.

The Pursuit of What?

2009-05-15T23:18:00.001-04:00

I imagine it's natural to question happiness when you've been on the sad side so long. To question something good when nothing at all has been happening forever. The struggle between wanting to believe I control my own happiness and falling back on 'why me?' is one that goes on, but maybe it's not without reason. Maybe it's all just to get me to a certain point. After all, we only grow when we question, right?

I caught Red on the way out the door a few weeks ago. We chatted for a good ten minutes before we reached the train and went our separate ways. I decided on my ride uptown that I'd ask him if he'd been to the bar around the corner and if not would he like to grab a drink. Shockingly I couldn't bring myself to knock on his door so a few weeks passed.

Then one morning he caught me on the way out the door. His greeting made me smile: "It's a pleasure to see you this morning!" It takes so little! My first question? "Where did you come from?" I realized as soon as it left my lips it was a very idiotic way of asking what I had so thoroughly planned out in my head. He laughed and responded the only way he could have: "From another planet far, far away..." He's got a sense of humor. Check! The conversation was easy and his body language seemed on par with how I felt...happy, a little kid-like (he was hopping onto curbs). It was a good vibe. Maybe I was reading things the way I wanted to see them, but hell, I've never done that before so why not put myself in a good place?

So I kind of, sort of asked him out.

QV: Have you been to the factory?
Red: No.
QV: We should go for dinner. It's amazing. (I raved a little about the food.)
Red: It sounds like it!

But he didn't get it. Typical guy...from what I hear. We get to the train, I try again.

QV: Are you around this week? We should definitely do dinner.
Red: Yeah, what day is good for you?
QV: Any day but Wednesday, the Lost finale is on.

He stopped in his tracks. I thought he was going to make fun, which is totally acceptable, but when I looked up I saw a very serious expression. I realized he didn't have cable because we talked about it earlier so I immediately invited him over. We'll order in! I said just come up whenever you get home. He seemed excited, as was I, if only to have someone to watch with. :)

Wednesday arrived and he knocked on the door. He said he promised his friend that he'd go running with him but he didn't want me to think he'd forgotten. He'll be up in say, an hour? Sure, sure. I'll wait to order with you. You sure? You don't have to if you're hungry. No, it's ok. I'll have a snack. So he goes. So does my mind. But I soon realized that it was totally not a date and I shouldn't be thinking so hard about it. He's coming to hang out and watch TV, so we'll just get to know each other. It'll be fun, just freaking relax. And surprisingly...I did. He arrived an hour later and we talked and ordered Thai food. It was actually a lot of fun and totally stress free. And here's the best part...dinner came with only one fortune cookie (despite it being Thai food). We split it and I gave him the fortune to read. He was thoughtful.

QV: is it good?
Red: oh it's...good. (He smiled and handed it to me)

Now is the time to go ahead and pursue that love interest!

For real? I had to laugh. Knowing that it is human nature to look for signs and make recognizable patterns out of things we don't otherwise understand is not stopping me from finding a little hope in this group of words on this tiny slip of paper stuck inside a random fortune cookie. And it's weird. Though there haven't been many, with the very few guys that I have attempted to kind of get to know I've never really been hopeful before. Now I'm sure some of you are saying that hanging out and watching TV is total friend territory, and perhaps it is, but in my book it's pretty much the only way this is going to get started for me. It's another good sign.

But now I have all these new questions about why I'm feeling the way I'm feeling. Which is to say hopeful, maybe a little excited...but not getting ahead of myself mind you. I'm not even expecting that we'll start really dating, but for once I don't feel so closed down. Just getting to know someone I think is cool will brighten my spirits, but getting to know someone who has romantic potential? This is new territory. I find myself asking if I'm making myself feel these things because I'm tired of being alone. (However, I've been tired for a while now and I've never been able to make myself feel any differently.) I find myself finally accepting that love at first sight is not the only way love happens. (I can imagine spending time with him and getting to like him more and more.) I find myself wondering if I'm finally changing or if this is the way it was supposed to go all along. Maybe things will work and if they don't maybe I'll actually be able to date or at least find interest in someone where I couldn't muster it before. Maybe I just finally met someone interesting I'd like to get to know. Perhaps it's simply the discovery that the potential actually exists at all for me...

And then I tell myself to shut up and take things one day at a time. Que Será Será.

Mantra

2009-05-13T19:35:00.001-04:00

In order to change I must let myself be vulnerable. In order to be vulnerable I must relinquish control.
In order to change I must let myself be vulnerable. In order to be vulnerable I must relinquish control.
In order to change I must let myself be vulnerable. In order to be vulnerable I must relinquish control.

Translator Wanted: Male to English

2009-04-26T10:45:00.005-04:00

I met a guy who just moved in to the building a few weeks ago on the stoop. We were both leaving for work and struggling with umbrellas and keys. I asked him if he had just moved in and he said yes, but I didn't hear which apartment because I automatically assumed he had moved in with the girl who had also just moved in. (This is legitimate...somewhat...due to the realtor telling me a while ago that all the units under contract were by females.) I also remember thinking it was too bad because he was cute. I stuck out my hand and introduced myself to which he responded in same. I'll call him Red since for some odd reason I remember him having reddish brown hair. We said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.

Then the other day while climbing the stairs to my apartment, I passed a guy standing in the doorway to apartment C which I thought was still empty. Guys (and girls too) please help me interpret the following paraphrased but pretty accurate conversation. At the moment I am trying not to read into it being anything more than just a friendly invitation, (I mean it's not like he wasn't speaking plain English) but it seems kind of early for such a thing. We did just meet after all, albeit twice.

QV: hi! did you just move in? (i peeked in at this point which i regretted as terrible etiquette directly after the conversation was over.)
Red: hi. oh...i moved in about 2 weeks ago? i haven't been around much on the weekends though.
QV: my name's QV, i live in F. (i put out my hand)
Red: i'm red. (he shook it) the place is a mess still- (he waved his hand inside)
QV: ha! don't worry about it. i moved in in december and i still need a couch.
It suddenly hit me that I had met a 'Red' on the stoop a few weeks ago, but his hair was not even close to reddish. It's dark brown. Weird.
QV: did we meet before? outside?
Red: (he chuckled) yeah-
QV: omg! i'm sorry! you look so different!
Red: well i got my hair cut and shaved the beard so-
QV: oh! ha. (i should have said that it looked good, because it did, but i didn't because i didn't think to- i was embarrassed i didn't recognize him) well...i guess i'll see you around!
Red: yeah! hey if you ever want to stop by and hang out just knock on my door.
QV: oh yeah! same! just come up! (what? what am i saying?)
Red: ok, see you around!
QV: bye!

So...is he interested? or just friendly? or both? I mean, I probably come off as pretty friendly myself in this scenario, which after all my harping on being anti-social would seem out of character but it's not really. I do like meeting new people, just not at parties or bars or really in numbers bigger than one. Anyway, I did mean it when I returned the invite at the moment, and it's not that I want to take it back now, it's more like whichever one of us knocks on the other's door to hang out is kind of picking up the ball so to speak. And thus begins the awkwardness! And YES while I wrote that I know how ridiculous it is, I'm getting so far ahead of myself I might as well be time traveling, but I can't help thinking it. I wouldn't be me if I didn't. I can't quite remember exactly what he looks like because my first image of him was clearly wrong and the second one was marred by embarrassment from the first- but I do know I wasn't unattracted. Which for me is pretty big.

Oh boy.

How To Date A Non-Dater (Good Luck With That)

2009-04-12T14:34:00.006-04:00

There are probably many things Ian Coburn knows how to do, but one of them for sure is how to tell a great story. His book about dating disasters is highly entertaining and quite informational. I definitely enjoyed the read. Check out his site godisawoman.net for some excerpts, blurbs and comments.

"It's a game. To date, one has to play; it's not a choice. If people don't play, they don't date."
-Ian Coburn

And so the reason for my dateless existence is explained. This is something to bear in mind when reading my reactions, because I feel it puts me in a different category than most of the audience for his book. Perhaps I'm wrong, but I feel like most people don't mind dating, or at least actually try or want to try to do it, and so by reading this book can enjoy and identify with his trials and errors. I didn't take away the thought that dating was something I could be successful at, it was more of an oh my god I'm never, ever dating kind of feeling. I just really, really don't want to play. But in his defense, I kind of felt that way before I started reading.

So aside from enjoying his stories, I had two general reactions. One of which, the feminist one because you had to know I'd have one, was to notice the pointed physical description of every female, simply said breast size and ass shape (with some hair color and leg length thrown in for good measure). What saves him from my wrath is his observation of their personalities as well as my understanding who his target audience is. (Other guys who need visual representations in order to fully appreciate the situation...I'm guessing.) Well, that and the fact that you can tell while reading that he is a genuinely good guy who actually does care about women and what they're feeling. That alone puts him way above the rest. (Any man who respects a woman enough not to take advantage of her when she passes out right before the deed is done, even if she really wanted it too, is a stand-up guy. This is of course how all men should be. Sadly it is not.)

But as I just previously stated, the fact of the matter is I'm coming at this book with the baggage of not just not being in the game, but not really wanting to be in it either. His understanding of the game and how to play it is detailed and eye-opening for those people who never really thought about just listening to the person they're trying to get to know (and perhaps bed). I know that the women he picks up are also playing the game, but my second reaction is one of discomfort. I don't know if he'd be able to read me like he does other women, but if he figured me out I'm sure his approach would probably work and I'm not sure that sits well with me. I don't really want to be played, even if it is with the intention of getting to know me. I'm sure it's because that stupid suspicion that has been ingrained in me since birth changes the latter part of that thought into the intention to get in my pants. How messed up is that? How will I ever meet a guy if I refuse to allow him any kind of approach? I'm know I'm looking at it the wrong way, that is, he's figuring me out so he can get his game on rather than he likes the look of me and is figuring out how to approach me in a way that will get my attention. That said, I'm clearly I'm the kind of woman he'd probably avoid anyway because apparently he can't win no matter what he does. Ha. My lengthy singledom is pretty much self-explanatory, no?

It occurs to me skimming through it again that a lot of what he says is common sense. It's just that people let their issues get in the way. Ian of course says it better: "There are a lot of walls out there in the dating world that people build around themselves. The irony is most people don't need them, they just chose to build them." He goes on to say guys take dating for granted- there will always be someone else to hit on. I venture to say for most women the walls are used as protection. One glaringly bright example is myself. I can't meet guys because I'm too suspicious to let them meet me. Omygod that sounds so deranged but it's true! In my defense I don't like bars (where most guys' intentions are suspect) and as much as I enjoy being alone, don't really like attending events by myself (where I probably could meet a decent guy). I always see things in the paper I'd like to go to but don't and just end up thinking I would have gone if I had someone to go with.

He also talks about how dating should be fun and I agree. It's just that there's too much pressure (mostly self) for it to actually be fun, for both parties involved. The minimal experience I have had has not been fun at all. My response to it now is pavlovic. Avoid! Run! Escape! It's ironic because though I can be a real homebody, when I do go out I can be quite fun! I love to travel and get lost and see sights, I love live music and new things and will try anything once (ahem...a lot of things. Many things. There are obviously some exceptions, ok?) I love diner food and chatting the time away, I'm always the first one with a ridiculous joke or to somehow make an ass of myself. So why can't I see dating as fun rather than akin to surgery without anesthesia? Show me how to date without feeling awkward, hurting anyone's feelings, worrying about impressions, worry about intentions...and I'll play a few games of operation with you. Maybe I'll even let you win.

At heart I guess I'm a house cat. I want to be picked out by someone I'm also attracted to and I want to be loved but only when I want to be. I say again. Deranged.

At least I have a sense of humor about it. :)

Crushed Expectations

2009-03-28T19:25:00.004-04:00

I'm so disappointed in myself (that old familiar feeling). I keep talking a good game about how I'm going to change things, and then I go and blow off a party (i.e. social gathering with males in attendance). My friend totally knew I was lying when I called to say I wasn't coming because of a stomach ache. I know some of the people that will be there, but not well and I don't feel like feeling awkward. Granted it would only be for a few hours, I just can't muster the energy to go. And I want to kick myself.

Why am I so tired? That was supposed to dissipate after all the stress of trying to buy this apartment went away.

Why can't I change my aversion to parties? Is that just something I need to accept and figure a way around?

I'm sick of this war between believing in fate and believing I make my own. This clash between knowing I'm fine alone and wanting to share my life with someone and being unable, or possibly afraid, of letting it happen. Of actual change.

Am I actually afraid of the change I've been blabbing on about? Ogod.

I'm sick of me.

Can I trade brains with someone for a while?

The Buck Stops Here...Possibly There

2009-03-16T22:27:00.004-04:00

I was watching a show on History the other night about, what else? Armageddon. Apparently there have been numerous people from various cultures throughout time (e.g., ancient China, European middle ages and modern Hopi Native Americans) that believe(d) the world will end on December 21, 2012. I just found the website and am surprised that I've never heard it before. (Aha! I just realized why there's a new movie called 2012 coming out!) It's fascinating to me because last summer a woman handed me a leaflet that said the world was going to end on May 21, 2011. That is to say the Rapture will occur and the world and all its heathens will be consumed in a firey hell.

So...which is it?

Mind you, I am not mocking anyone who believes these things. I'm just saying I don't. (Though the 2012 stuff is pretty freaky, despite the website selling t-shirts. Anyway 11:11 am Greenwich Mean Time is 6:11 am NY time so I'll still be asleep. Assuming I'm still in NY then...)

I had to laugh at myself because while watching the show I believed everything I heard. I actually said out loud at one point, "please let me know love before the world ends." Then when it was over I thought that's absurd. How could anyone know the exact date the earth is going to implode? Because I do believe it will, just not in our lifetime. And not by any higher power's hand. Humanity will either destroy the planet that feeds and we'll starve or we will destroy one another for having different beliefs. Either way, no one is responsible but us.

They say all these different prophecies have come true, about wars, natural disasters, disease...yeah well how hard is to pick a date and say there will be a flood that wipes out some random city built near the waters' edge? Or that someone with evil tendencies will rise to power only to gain more through terrorizing others? or that too many people living in poor, dirty conditions will lead to suffering and death? It happens all the time. People are dramatists. Alarmists. History repeats itself and we need to constantly reassure ourselves the end is near to cover for the fact that we've seen it before, just in a different way. (For every person that predicted something that actually happened, there are like a thousand who predicted armageddon. And yet we're all still here. YK2 anyone?) We have to shout a lot to make sure other people are still listening. We need to create something big to ensure we give meaning to our lives. People don't ever grow up and stop needing attention. It's our nature. This is what I believe.

I don't need to predict a world wide natural disaster or the coming of the antichrist (which PS is NOT Obama) to scare myself into feeling alive.

I just need to stop all the bullshit in my head and learn to love someone.

Before the world ends.

My Cold, Happy Heart

2009-03-03T20:50:00.005-05:00

"And then that look that you gave me
Sent me rushing through guilt's door
I'd already started to feel callous
Like I really should care more"
-Ani Difranco

Callous
2 a: feeling no emotion b: feeling or showing no sympathy for others: hard-hearted.

If they were to update this entry in Merriam-Webster my picture would be placed beside it. Well...I guess only if there was the addendum "one is not close to or does not know well" after 'no sympathy for others'. And yet, as soon as that Sarah Mclachlan animal cruelty commercial comes on I just about sob openly. Why do I feel so twisted?

In the past couple months, 1 friend became a domestic partner, 3 other friends got engaged, my youngest cousin got married and I just found out my other younger cousin is getting married this summer. I can genuinely say that I am excited for all my friends and can't wait to be part of the festivities. My cousins on the other hand...I just don't know them that well. My youngest cousin I don't know at all. What brought about this whole callous business is the fact that I found out her husband was recently killed in Iraq. They got married in October. This is heartbreakingly sad, but I feel nothing. I guess I feel bad for her, she's never had much luck in life. Period. But what can I do about the situation? I can't comfort her, I don't know her. I don't even have her phone number. My mother tells me her heart aches for her niece, but me? I'm beginning to think my heart has shrunk. It's the same reaction I had to finding out about the separation I mentioned in the last post. I mean, that situation is slightly different because he doesn't want comfort or anyone's pity. But still. It's the start of a broken family and all I can do is look at it from the outside and think 'well that's sad', but not actually feel any sadness.

My younger cousin that's getting married- we communicate a few times a year but we're not really in each other's lives. She used to really look up to me when we were growing up, but again, I don't really know her as an adult. She asked me to be in her wedding to the guy she was engaged to before this one, but hasn't mentioned anything to me about being engaged now or the wedding this summer. My mother told me and has been on my case about it ever since. Not in the 'when are you getting married' way, she just wants me to start making travel arrangements because the wedding is down south. I'm like, she hasn't even called me! I don't even want to look at how much air fare will be because it's a holiday. Why does this bother me so much? I should just be happy for her and call her to congratulate her but instead I'm just kind of annoyed which puts me only one notch above the border of not even caring.

I feel like there's not enough room in my heart to care, but why? What else am I filling it up with right now? And then at the same time I feel like I have so much love to give. I should care but I can't. I could care but I don't. The clash is causing me to feel detached...to just about everything. That's not to say I'm not happy, because I still am- about all the things I've written about since the new year. I think that's what worries me. I'm still happy in my detachment. That sounds disasterously close to shutting down, just in a different way than I have before. A more innocuous way that won't ring any warning bells to let me know I'm sinking and will eventually have to crawl toward the light again. Can you shut down if you're happy?

Perhaps it's just that my present particular human condition is to question my happiness (though it seems extremely pointless and ultimately self-defeating). Maybe I'm happier because I've lessened how much of others lives I let into my own. Maybe by unconsciously (though now realized) shutting it out I've become happier. Maybe I'm just tired of sadness. For the first time in a long time there isn't this latent sadness hanging around me, so now I have to question it. Figures, right? How could I be happy when so many horrible things are happening every day? AND I'm still single? I must be callous. I'm thinking I should just take this at face value for the moment and enjoy my happiness, no matter what the cause, instead of beating it to death with the stick of obsessive self-analysis.

Is there a good place to lose a stick of obsessive self-analysis? Where can I misplace it so I'll never see it again?

Love Unavailable Style

2009-02-16T12:25:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking a lot about love lately. Not because it's the marketing month for it, but because I think I've reached a point in my life where I've achieved a certain level of satisfaction with my life and it's the one ingredient I don't have. Don't get me wrong, there is always room for improvement and I still have other unfulfilled dreams, but when it gets down to it, life is pretty good. Great career, great apartment, great friends, great...missing piece?

I received sad and incredibly mysterious news about a family member separating from his wife after 22 years. My brother and I talked about it and his comment was, "I thought I was emotionally unavailable." Before I knew what I was saying I replied, "well we all know where I stand with that one. I'm still single at 31."

Did I just suddenly realize something totally obvious about myself? Is it possible to be greatly emotional and emotionally unavailable at the same time? How do I know if I've never been in a relationship where being emotionally unavailable described my behavior? Or maybe always being single is the number one sign of someone who is emotionally unavailable?

I'm working on theory to give myself a little hope- maybe being emotionally unavailable is not the same thing as being emotionally 'on-hold'. For all my excuses and explanations for how I have ended up where I am today, I know that after constantly pushing the thoughts of love and boyfriends and relationships and sex into the back of my mind, somewhere along the way whatever the reasons were evolved into a kind of shutting down so I wouldn't have to think about it at all. Despite that (not thinking about it) not working, the repression still did. Maybe...maybe it's just a different kind of unavailability, one that will surely change once I meet someone worth sharing life with. Because I do want to share my life. I'm thinking that alone kicks me out of the unavailable group. Sigh of relief.

I remember feeling like I was meant for something bigger when I was in my teens and early twenties. I used to joke with friends all the time, "am I famous yet?" As asinine and naively pompous as it was, I felt it. Or perhaps, I thought myself into feeling it. At any rate, it lead to a lot of wondering and waiting around for something big to happen, someone to recognize my talent or maybe even I would somehow end up doing something worthy and it would give my life meaning. I spent many years frustrated and irritated at myself for not reaching that higher ground. I always felt like there was more out there for me, more than just growing up, getting a 9 to 5, having a family, settling into the suburbs, etc etc etc. The thought scared me I realize now, because in my mind it translated into being nothing special. Just doing what everyone else was doing. I always wanted to be different, for as far back as I can remember. It never occurred to me that love could make what I deemed 'nothing special' bigger and more amazing than it could ever be seen or felt by me from the outside. Considering what a romantic I am, this is weird. Why wouldn't I believe that love makes people's lives better, no matter how they live it?

(I just finished reading Revolutionary Road and the cynicism I found in it reminded me of my old assumptions that people who lived 'nothing special' lives were either unhappy with them or kind of blind to the repetitive emptiness. This is very strange because I grew up in the suburbs in a very traditional house, albeit my mom wore the pants, and had a wonderful childhood and great family life. Where did I get so many negative ideas? What did I see that I didn't want to become? I still want no part of the suburbs, but I wonder where it all stems from? Perhaps it's nothing deeper than not wanting to live suburban style?...but I suppose that's a quandary for another post...)

And so yes, to anyone else who is not me, falling in love is the big, glaringly obvious thing I've been waiting for all my life (while at the same time destroying any potential for it). Being the staunch independent I am, I somehow convinced myself that love was something that would happen, but wouldn't give my life meaning. God forbid I depend on anyone else for anything, especially self-worth. I spent a long time trying to find meaning in my life and it wasn't until I realized I am the only one who can give my life meaning that I reclaimed part of the happiness I felt before I began questioning my existence. Ah the blessed obliviousness of childhood! It is now in retrospect I see that I was mixing up life meaning and life change. In one respect it's ok because I managed to find happiness and life meaning within and by myself. In another it means I've denied myself the unique experience of finding love and sharing my life because I thought it meant I would be co-dependent. For some people this may be the way it works...but for me, I know my life will only be enriched. It can only get better. Even despite the drama it will surely bring, it's a life experience! And all my life I've been so concerned with having every kind of life experience! How could I have been so blind!?

So here's to feeling famous because you're in love.

Does it matter that I still didn't put the sheep first?

Put the following animals in order of their importance:
pig, sheep, horse, cow, and tiger.

(check comments for silly symbolic meanings)

Pimp Daddy

2009-02-08T19:38:00.005-05:00

My father and I have a way of being able to talk about potentially awkward things without it being awkward. I suppose it comes from his years in the medical industry as well as my mother's intention to try to embarrass the hell out of him whenever she could. Anyway the following conversation took place after my mother handed me a sales flyer and told me to find a bra I wanted.

QV: (angrily flipping pages due to not finding any bras on sale in my size) if they can't make bras for flat girls, they should at least give us something to cover the nipples. Or make it socially acceptable to see them.
Dad: you have to get the...pastries.
QV: i'm going to go ahead and assume you mean pasties.
Dad: (laughs uncontrollably)
QV: can you imagine me walking around with crossaints on my boobs?

It's Just Like 1987, Without The Sweater Vest

2009-01-24T12:04:00.004-05:00

Remember the days before the internet went public? Before you could reach out anonymously to an online community for some sort of, I dunno, bearing witness of your emotional existence?

So yeah. That's how I've been living since the end of November. It has been strange...and extremely inconvenient. I've come to realize how much I rely on the internet to talk to people. I don't like the phone and barely ever come close to going over my minutes but this month my bill is exorbitant. On the phone with the cable company, on the phone with the gas company, on the phone with co-workers, on the phone with my parents- funny, hardly on with any of my friends, but they all know how much I hate the phone so they barely call anyway.

And I'm sure you can guess that because I had no way to talk about it, big things happened! Well...not in the relationship area (big surprise) but that big event that I expect to set changes in motion finally happened. I FINALLY got and own my own place. Throughout the end of November, beginning of December I felt like I was a boxer in a ring with no gloves. The blows were coming from everywhere, including my own fists, and I couldn't defend myself. What is it they say? Divorce, death and moving are the three most stressful things in life? That is for damn sure. My contract was not the normal contract so I couldn't set a close date. If I could have, I never would have gotten stressed. Instead I was a walking zombie. The first two weeks of December were the worst ever. Every day I waited, knowing I had a deadline that I was ready to defend one day, ready to give up on the next. My entire life savings was at the heart of it and I was left just hanging in the wind as to whether or not I'd actually get to spend it without losing it completely. Insanity.

So now here I am, in my brand new apartment...hemorraging money. A new dresser, a couch, gas bill, utensil holders, hooks for doors, putty for the holes the workers left, paint, cleaning solutions...etc, etc, etc. Not that I'm complaining. :) It's fun to have my own place to decorate however the hell I want! Onward and upward!

But then...and here returns our favorite drama queen...I've now been alone in this apartment for a while now. I took a week after the holidays to set everything up and buy all the furniture I need, but now I know it wasn't such a great idea. I don't have a car so I couldn't and can't get anywhere, I (still) don't have internet so I can't order anything, I don't have cable so I don't even have tv. (This cable/internet situation is really starting to get on my nerves. I sent an angry but professional email this morning to someone who I hope can make things happen.) So what's left but to listen to music and self-analyse all day long?

I've been good though, while on vacation I refused to get myself down despite the loneliness that was very palpable due to the circumstances. Though I've felt lonely in the past, I always at least had a roommate or friends around to take the edge off. Literally sitting by yourself in a quiet, not quite yet comfy apartment does not take the edge off anything. But now that I'm back to work and have contact with people on a daily basis I haven't thought about it much. The other good thing is I have a lot of other distractions concerning fixing up the place.

And I'm still counting on the change that will come with this new milestone. He's got to be closer now. :) Once it gets warmer out I'm going to really explore the neighborhood and actually smile at people instead of look the other way. That will take some conscious effort for this hard edged city girl but I'm willing!

Still here!

2009-01-11T19:52:00.002-05:00

Still alive!
Still analyzing!
Still a virgin!
Still without internet access at home! It's been over a month. I'm starting to get the shakes. Might be another month before I get it the way things are going...but it's all good. Especially because it's the new year and though I did not make a list of resolutions, I know things are going to change this year. Mostly because I'm going to attempt to take responsibility for making things change.

FIngers crossed!

(For internet too!)

Words Are Worth A Thousand Pictures...Sometimes

2008-11-06T22:20:00.003-05:00

Throughout the course of this blog I have been contacted a few times by people interested in interviewing me. I responded to each that I would be happy to answer any questions they had but I would not be photographed or video taped. All but one lost complete interest in me. Funny how what I have to say about being a virgin suddenly loses its value when you can't see me actually saying it. At any rate, the most recent email was from a comedian named Ian Coburn, author of the book "God is a Woman: Dating Disasters" and the blog http://www.lunchisnotadate.org/. He still cared what I had to say and asked me some thought-provoking questions, my answers to which I hope provide another insight into my character as contradictory as it may be. I am grateful to him for the opportunity to answer questions I might not have thought to ask myself...or perhaps answer myself honestly without a second party to bear witness. He was also gracious enough to post all of it, but because I can't say anything in ten words or less it's going up in three parts.

The first is here.

The second is here.

The third is here.

Feel free to comment or email me your thoughts!

A Pap Smear A Year Keeps The Doctor...Near?

2008-11-03T13:27:00.003-05:00

Well...I got my shiny, happy flower postcard! Woohoo!

Pap smear - normal
Gonorrhea/chlamydia - negative
HPV virus - negative

The second test I forgot about was the HPV test. My doctor told me it's done when you hit 30, but I had to look it up again to remember why. HPV is the virus that has been linked to cervical cancer and the test determines if the virus is present while the pap smear is the test that determines if there are abnormal cells, which the virus causes. Apparently 30 is when the risk for cervical cancer is at the highest. There is a very small percentage of people who aren't sexually active who have HPV in their system, but a majority of cases are transmitted sexually. I've read on a couple different sites that a very high percentage of sexually active people (including men) will have HPV at some point, but probably don't know it for lack of symptoms. The only obvious sign for both sexes is genital warts, but for women sometimes a positive test result is the only way they know. According to the CDC website there are 40 different types of genital HPV.

The controversy over whether young girls should get the HPV vaccine gardasil is ongoing. Merck's big push with their 'one less' campaign is frankly insulting but I digress. Any drug company that lobbies to have their product be a requirement for 6th graders, (6th GRADERS!) is suspect, and yet, they still managed to bag 339$ million in sales for their last quarter last year. However, sales for a number of their drugs are falling off which isn't making the good old boys at Merck happy. Thousands of people will be getting pink slips, not in response to their flat "disappointing" sales or the crumbling economy of course, but because the higher ups want to restructure.

A common search for women finding my blog is 'do virgins need to go to the gynecologist?' I wonder if after reading the posts about my few doctors appointments they are encouraged or deterred. Though my very first visit wasn't ideal, it really wasn't that bad and in the long run I'm glad I went. I obviously never worried about actually having STDs or being pregnant, but there was always a gnawing feeling that I should get checked out just to make sure everything was healthy. Virgin or not, it's important to go because not all symptoms are obvious nor are all causes of problems sexual. I'm not trying to scare anyone into going, god knows that never worked for me and I loathe to be in Merck's company, but it kind of allows you a more peaceful state of mind. It actually made me feel a little more adult about my sexuality because I was recognizing and taking care of my sexual health.

So to all my virgin readers who haven't gone to the gyno yet, make yourself an appointment! Don't be nervous about how it will feel because it passes quickly and is worth it in the end. The hardest part is just being that exposed. I wasn't sure how to pick a doctor either, so I found some names from my insurance's directory and looked them up online. Oh the age of instant information! Some had bios and info on where they practiced and even had comments from patients while others had nothing at all. For me it was important to find a female who had been practicing for at least 10 years but not on the verge of retirement either. The one I ended up with was actually not the one I (thought I) made an appointment with, as she was with a group who all had varying office hours. I assume because I was a first time patient that they just scheduled me with whoever was free. I'm not complaining because I really like her and who's to say I would have felt the same way about the other doctor? Check the sidebar for a link to vitals.com for a doctor search in the US!

When you get your shiny, happy flower postcard you'll be glad you went. And if you get a call instead, at least you will have the chance to treat whatever it is. Just please do a little research on any drug you are encouraged to take. I am not anti-drug on the whole, because I know and have seen the great results they have, but it's still run by an industry that's in it for the money, not your health. Much like most HR departments are in it for the company, not you. But I'll put the cynic away now.

Yay for pap smears!

...We Interrupt This Regularly Scheduled Whine for a Defensive, Incredibly Profane and Irate Open Letter to That Random A**hole on the Street...

2008-10-10T21:45:00.004-04:00

Dear random a**hole on the street:

When I stepped onto that curb and looked behind me in utter shock, it wasn't because I saw a 'brown man' and was scared of the stereotypes that surround your ethnicity. When I stepped onto that curb, there was no one around so when I felt something hit the back of my heel I thought a grocery had fallen out of one of the 10lb bags I was carrying. When I turned and was suddenly head to chest with your stupid a**, it completely surprised me. I was expecting a nectarine and instead was faced with you. The moment after that of course I was scared of you, you ignorant f*ck, you stood a head taller than me and were walking close enough to step on me. Why wouldn't I suspect you of something? There was NO ONE ELSE on the goddam sidewalk, why did you have to be so close?

Then you went into some kind of rant, throwing your hands up and looking back at me like I had done something wrong. You assumed I was scared of you because of your race. F**k you, you d*ck. I could play the race card too, 'cuz if you hadn't noticed, which you didn't due to your pointedly defensive reaction, I am a minority too. I could say you targeted me because the cops wouldn't care all that much if something happened to a brown girl like little old me. But I'd never do that because I'm not an a**hole.

I won't apologize for being female and worrying that a large male walking very close to me when no one else is around might do something to me. Have you been living under a f**king rock? According to the US Department of Justice, in America a woman is raped every 2 minutes so how dare you try to make me feel bad for fearing for my safety around you because of your own dumb a** insecurities about being a minority. I would have reacted THE SAME GODDAM WAY to a strange man of any race who was way too close to me for no reason.

Read the news. Learn about personal space. Walk in a woman's shoes for a day. Get a f**king clue, and while you're at it, get over yourself. Women don't look at you like that because you're a minority, they look at you like that because you're an a**hole.

Sincerely,
QV

...And now back to our regularly scheduled whine...

Too Many Teardrops...

2008-10-05T20:25:00.000-04:00

I cried in my sleep one night a few weeks ago. I dreamed it was the end of the world, happening both right at that moment as well about to happen. It is so strange how contradicting events can occur simultaneously in dreams isn't it?

In one scenario, the earth was literally cracking and opening with me on one side and my parents on the other, and in the other scenario, I somehow just knew the world was about to end and my parents were so far away I wouldn't get to see them before it did. I'm not sure if there were people around me screaming, or if it was because I had two events that couldn't possibly happen at the same time happening at once, but it was extremely loud and chaotic. The type of loud that becomes muffled because your ears can't handle it. I was crying so hard it turned into silent heaving sobs, where my chest actually ached and I could hardly breathe. There was no fear of death, but instead an overwhelming sense of loss...I guess the kind that can make a person cry that hard, unconsciously in their sleep. I woke up without opening my eyes and felt the tears streaming down my face.

Who does this?

The most obvious interpretation is that I am having separation anxiety from my parents despite being away from them for 7 years now, or simply that I miss them and am worried about them as they are getting older. I only get to see them twice or so a year so that's understandable, but the armageddon part? Do I have to be such a drama queen even in my sleep? Give it a rest sister, it's no wonder you're so exhausted.

But I looked up a couple different dream sites to see what the running theme among them was, and they all said it was an emotional release. No duh. That's what crying when you're awake means too. But one online dictionary continued on to say it was a way to regain an emotional balance due to the suppression of feelings you don't want to deal with during the day. In a dream state there are no defenses to stop them from making a full-fledged appearance.

Who knew defenseless could be a good thing?

The Tide

2008-09-24T19:04:00.002-04:00

"Save me
From the ranks of the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone"
-Aimee Mann

I went to visit my BFF and her baby boy recently. As you know from my previous posts I've been tired and listless lately, but I wanted to see them so I made the effort. She was really excited for me to come, but I'm not fooling myself. I knew that 80% was because it gave her a break from the baby (her husband watches him when I'm around) and 20% was to actually see me. Maybe 70/30. At any rate I know that I'm a kind of distraction so I try to act the part. Admittedly I was using the visit as a kind of distraction myself, so all's fair. She's always been extremely perceptive of changes in my behavior, but I figured she's been so cooped up and depressed about her life lately that she wouldn't really notice. I tried but I couldn't muster a lot of energy. We drove out to the mall, something I haven't done in ages so it was fun and a nice change of pace for me. I usually hate shopping to begin with, but lately it seems I can't even find staples that I like so it makes it ten times worse. There is nothing remotely wearable out there (if you have any taste that is). Everything is either uglier than sin or doesn't fit in any way shape or form. It's depressing.

Anyway, I found myself kind of slowly going down throughout the afternoon. Maybe being with her reminds me of how I was when I was a teenager (we've been friends for 17 years) and how nothing has really seemed to change for me since then regarding my alone-ness. I'm not unhappy where I have landed, and in terms of career and friends and location I'm where I want and thought I'd be. It's just that one aspect that always drags me down. Perhaps it really just comes down to not reaching a long time goal, finding love with someone I connect with on such an intense but comfortable level, that makes me feel I have somehow failed. Maybe more so myself than anyone else's expectation.

During the course of our conversation she asked if I thought I'd ever get married. I kind of stumbled over a reply that came out something like 'well I'd like to you know'. And then she changed the subject. There was no lead in into that question either so it struck me as kind of odd, not that she asked because we talk about this all the time, but how it came and went with no explanation. She went on to talk about going to her college reunion, which I realized will be 10 years for me too next year.

QV: Can you believe we've been out of school for 10 years? it will be 15 for high school soon!
BFF: No. Well, yes when I look at (my husband) and grad school and the baby and where we've lived-
QV: (suddenly very aware of how little has changed for me) yeah...
BFF: We're also going to the benefit at (our high school) next month.
QV: Really?
BFF: I think it'll be a lot of fun with (the baby).
pause.
QV: (suddenly very sad) I just don't want to get involved.
BFF: With the benefit?
QV: With the benefit, with...everything in general. (pause) I think I may be kind of a little bit depressed.
(we both laugh a little)
BFF: I'm naming my first album that. Maybe kind of a little bit depressed.
QV: You know what I mean though. It's not debilitating, it's just there all the time-
BFF: Why?
QV: ...I don't know
BFF: Of course you do. People who know they're depressed usually know why they just have a hard time admitting it-

I hate that she's always right. She works in the field so there's a reason for her always knowing, but her knowing that and knowing me, she knows why. She just wants me to say it so I can make the problems real by saying them. Or at least get started on recognizing them so I can try to figure out what to do to change things. So I think anyway.

I wanted to say I'm just so sad, but I knew if I tried to make a sound at that moment it would only come out as a sob. I turned my head and looked out the window to hide my eyes glassing over. She said 'it's a lot of pressure, doing all you've done by yourself'. That made the tears sting even more. I'd never thought of it like that. Since I was a kid I've put more pressure on myself than anyone in authority ever could. I wanted to do well in school, I wanted to be a good friend, I wanted to be the peacemaker among peers, I wanted to make my parents proud. I earned myself the start of an ulcer when I was 16 because of it. I've learned to relax since then...albeit only a little here and there, but maybe that pressure to be all that I wanted to be is finally caving in on me. I have everything I want, except one thing: someone to share it all with. In terms of self-pressure, that's a heavy load of disappointment in myself.

BFF: Do you think you should get some help? (she asks for the third time)
QV: (opening the car door) Yeah, not going to happen. (shuts the door and peers through the window) I'm not yet sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the wall. When that happens you can call for help.
BFF: (laughing) Right. Ok it's a deal.

On the train home I couldn't hold them back anymore and I let a few tears slip down my face. There is an all encompassing sadness that can envelope you in a public place and make you feel invisible if you just turn your head toward the window. Inside the tears are weighted with self-pity and sadness, out there they just water the grass. Oddly enough, sometimes remembering how small a grain of sand I really am makes me feel a little better. What seems so big deflates a little and the sadness eventually ebbs.

Here's hoping the next flow doesn't crush me.

Grinning and Baring It

2008-09-20T11:04:00.004-04:00

Well...the most dreaded day of the year, which now occurs annually, has come to pass and as per usual I survived it. (And I was unnaturally calm about all of it. It was nice to not work myself up into a tizzy for once.) After visit number three to the gynecologist, still in my juvenile mind I walked away thinking, I can't believe she is the only person who has ever felt me up. Those assholes on public transportation who 'accidentally' touched me don't count. Not that having my doctor squeeze the crap out of my breasts is any more enjoyable, but it's a lot more extensive and undeserving of dirty looks since she's only trying to keep me healthy.

Doc: (looking at chart) The last time you were here you were 29, so that makes you 30.
QV: (um...did you really just say that?) yes.
Doc: And you were not sexually active. Is that still the case?
QV: (pathetic kind of laugh) ogod it's obvious! yes.
Doc: We started you on the pill only to regulate your period.
QV: Yeah...but maybe some day...

Then the real fun began as the lovely speculum was brought forth.

Doc: This may hurt a little.

YA THINK? I must have been more tense this time, which is odd because I actually felt more relaxed, or she spent more time down there than last year because it hurt more than a little. (She did say she was going to do a second test now that I was 30, but far be it from me to remember what it was now.) Nothing unbearable mind you, but enough that I probably made it worse by tensing up the rest of my body. I've read in a few different places that it's only supposed to cause discomfort...unless you tense up. It kind of worries me because I know sex is supposed to hurt the first time and I wonder if I'll be able to do it if I have the option of saying 'get the hell off me'. Then again, I don't expect he'll be shaped like a metal speculum that is cranked open.

Overall, I still really like my doctor. I spent a total of about half an hour in the office waiting time included, which was amazing considering last year it was about 2 hours. I guess it goes to show no two exams are alike. Except that getting a pap smear is uncomfortable.

I am sure to receive my postcard with the results in a few weeks. Fingers crossed for the bright, blooming flowers.

Standing Still

2008-09-11T20:58:00.005-04:00

I'm so tired. The exhausted kind of deep in your bones tired. I tell everyone it's because of this apartment thing and how stressful it is. The tired part of my exhaustion is definitely because of it. But the zombie-like going through the motions part is the overwhelming emotional coaster that starts in numbness, ends in numbness, but steamrolls through sadness, contentment and the crushing need to ignore it all on a daily basis. The question of 'what is it I'm meant to do' I was able to give up long ago in order to be happy with what I was doing, so why can't I do the same with how I'm meant to live my life? Why is that one so much harder to reconcile with how I'm living it?

I cried watching the news this morning. It happens every year. I only need to hear the newscasters mention the times the planes hit the towers to begin, and then full on streaming tears when the names are called out. And every year I hear a little tidbit from a speaker about a family member who perished before I have to turn it off, and it's always someone I've never heard about before. Today it was a man who the family member said used to collect left over food after business meetings to bring to homeless shelters. I think I actually felt my heart break.

The day after my watch stopped a few months ago, I stopped wearing one altogether. It's nice not to be so concerned with the time. But what if I wake up 50 one day with one devastating regret?

Why have I never loved someone?

Maybe I just need to stop pretending that because I'm ok alone, I can forget that life would be so much grander if I had someone to share it with.

I need to move. I need to be moved. And it has to happen soon...

Reflexive Anesthesia

2008-08-23T00:09:00.000-04:00

"I don't wanna be nobody's fool
I've played that part so many times before
How I long to be a shadow on the wall
I will make no sound at all
And when the sun goes down
The shadow on the wall
It cannot be seen at all"
-Brandi Carlile

According to an online dictionary "FAITH" is: 1 a: allegiance to duty or a person : loyalty b (1): fidelity to one's promises (2): sincerity of intentions

I think I've just realized why I feel numb so often. Aside from the constant routine of my daily life, which lately is very simply comprised of rising, eating, going to work, coming home, eating, going to sleep, I think I've lost my faith in people. (Or reversely, faith in myself to trust people?) So much of how we interact with others is based on faith. From every day acquaintances and co-workers to deep bonded friendships and relationships, our expectations of the people around us are that they b(1) will keep their promises no matter how big or small and (2) are sincere in how they act toward you. The bottom line being that they will not screw you over. When you think about it, this is a pretty amazing quality. The problem is, people fail. It's only human I guess. But I think my problem is that I've taken extra precautions to safeguard myself against feeling the effects of broken expectations.

I like to pretend that I'd be able to handle it if one of whom I consider to be a good friend where to somehow betray me at this point in our friendship. But deep down I know it would devastate me despite the wall that would immediately try to block it all out. This admittance is actually encouraging because it means I'm not as numb as I think I am. But...that wall...since I built it (which would be right after realizing my fault in the debacle with Jean) I just can't seem to take it down. It's become such a part of my life I don't even see it anymore, but I can feel it whenever someone new comes into my life and I can only see them at a distance. The odd thing is, no matter how much I reveal about myself (which admittedly is not usually a lot) I feel no closer. It's like a reflexive anesthesia to new people that makes me not care if they come or go no matter how much I like them. And often old people! Case in point, D. We were pretty good friends for a long while, granted the distance between us made it hard to really connect as we might have if we saw each other every day, but when he stopped writing it was almost like I didn't even care.

How have I come to be so cold?

Maybe with D it was more of an understanding that he had to let me go because I wasn't what he wanted me to be. I don't know, is it maturity that allowed me to just be ok with that? With losing a friend so that he could move on? Or is it this numbness? And even with my good friends...when the little expectations are sometimes broken (because after all we're all human, including myself) I still feel that wall, despite having actually allowed them into my heart. That sounds like a huge contradiction but no one ever said emotions were rational.

Though I've felt this numbness in the past, I think my present situation is acting as a magnifying glass over it. I've been under contract for a place to live for 6 months now, and during that time I've begged out of a lot of social gatherings because I want to save money. Of course, 6 months ago I did not know it was going to be 6 months and I'm starting to go stir crazy. I still don't have a close date because not all the paperwork and inspections are done and I just want to scream my bloody head off. I knew going in there was potential for it to take this long, but I apparently overestimated my virtue of patience.

I realized a while ago that I have placed a lot more on this move than just the expectations of a new residence. It has become a kind of symbol for change that I ultimately want to effect in my life. It will not only be a new place to live, but a new commute to work, new grocery stores to shop, new restaurants to eat in and so along with the physical change of pace I have it all worked out in my mind that I'm going to start doing things I always say I'm going to do but never do. Like exercise, see the sights, maybe join a club, get a cat and overall just get out more. I think living on my own will help this because there will come a moment, despite treasuring my alone time, when I will have had enough of myself and will want to be social.

But in the meantime, it feels like I've put my whole life on hold. Not going out, not spending money, freaking out about still not having a set date to which I can look forward to changing it all. It's such a nightmare. So I think I've kind of tried to numb myself to this now too. It's the only way I can relax about it. So I get up, I eat, I go to work, I come home, I eat, I go to sleep. All the while not really having to feel any way about any thing...It's been that way for too long now, so to break it up I did a somewhat impulsive thing and planned a little road trip next weekend with a friend. My last single friend in fact. It should be fun and a very welcome change to sleepless nights and tired days. For just a moment, I can take my life off hold.

But I wonder about this numb feeling...though I do think it's been magnified by what's happening in my life right now, the fact that it has been around for a while worries me. If I can't overcome this lack of faith in people, or in myself to trust people, how will I ever let someone in to share my life? I can only hope...another word for faith I suppose, that when I do meet someone I feel any kind of connection with he will somehow get in when I'm not looking. He will have to be quick whoever he is. And while I'm addressing him directly, where the hell are you? Don't you know you have some numbness to break though?

I Am What I Am

2008-08-13T21:19:00.003-04:00

There are all kinds of reasons why people are alone. And when I say alone, in this case I am referring to people such as myself who don't actively repel people from their lives, are actually liked by the people around them, and yet are still single at an age that is deemed unacceptable to still be single. And that's not even including the whole virgin aspect of my particular singleness. What I have discovered is that only people who don't like being alone, or have never actually been alone, don't understand how people like me can somehow end up that way. What I have discovered is that there are a lot of people who don't like being alone. After all, it means being self-sufficient in every way imaginable: mentally, physically, financially...

I am on the opposite end of the spectrum when it comes to relationships based on need. I can't even imagine what that's like. The mere thought of depending on someone for my happiness makes me want to vomit (though that's not to say I would reject someone who could add to my happiness). So I guess I have to put myself in their shoes for a moment to understand how they could not understand that being alone and responsible for my own happiness is not as hard as it seems. Or even weird as many see it. The only reason why being in the shoes I'm actually in is better, is because one day I will be in a relationship and it won't be based on need. That's comforting for me because in order to fulfill need you have to take and when one side takes too much...Not that want is any less mutable, but at least I can hope for a maturity level that will view something such as a companion for life as an important want to contemplate.

The reason I am alone has most definitely changed over the years from fear to independence to depression to yearning for love, etc etc etc. Despite all the fancy articles written by people who are no doubt no longer virgins and scientifically researched (read: virgins polled on why they're still virgins) by corporations that don't really care (after all, what kind of a consumer does a virgin make regarding the sex industry? chastity belts?), no one has an answer for why older virgins (who aren't hard-core religious or in some way repellent to the opposite sex) exist. Or at least, the right answer. They all like to think they do, with the terms they coin i.e. involuntary virgin or sociopath, but it really seems like they're just trying to label us in order to understand us. We're a freak show they're watching under the big top. How did they get that way?

Ok so in reality I haven't read that many articles on virginity because I'm not really interested in the media's opinions about it. It is very disheartening to read quotes from assholes who are freaked out by virgins, I admit. Like every one of us is going to fall in love with and start stalking the first guy we sleep with just because he's the first guy we sleep with. (And vice versa for male virgins.) For all my posts about wanting to be in love, I'm not naive enough to believe my first time will a) be with someone I love wholeheartedly (it would be nice, but I'm not a fool) or b) make me fall in love with him or him with me. It's also irritating to read the latest theory about why I am the way I am wrapped up in a neat little new term. I also admit I fell for one of them when I read the involuntary virgin article on salon.com. I even blogged about it a while ago because I was actually excited to label myself for a moment. It makes me feel icky just thinking about it. When it comes down to it, for me it feels like they are the ones making the big deal about it, not me.

You might argue that a blog dedicated to the very subject would prove otherwise, but why did I start this in the first place? Because people were making me feel weird about being single and society was making me feel weird about being a virgin. I needed anonymous therapy to feel better. My only expectation of myself is to fall in love (which would eventually lead to the nixing of singledom and virginity) and it hasn't happened yet. Why is it so strange to have opted not to put love aside in order to fulfill the other two? Or should I say, to have just settled in order to fulfill the other two? Being in a couple and having sex makes you a "normal" adult but waiting for love (or at the very least some kind of real attraction) makes you weird?

I recently received an email from someone who had this to say (I hope he does not mind if I quote him):

"I think all human beings search for perfect love in one way or another. The difference is that, somehow, the majority finds "consolation prizes" or "silver medals" and grabs them in order to at least have a taste of paradise. But I fear...in our case we are aiming for the top prize and so we must be prepared to pay...Romanticism, loneliness, sadness are the price we pay for our…superior taste."

This is exactly the mode I have transitioned into...waiting for the top prize, complete with romance and passion. :) The fears of relationships and intimacy are still there, but have moved to the back burner so to speak. I have complete faith that when I meet someone I am interested in and attracted to, the fears will eventually dissipate. I know this because when I meet someone I am interested in and attracted to, I will actually want a relationship and intimacy. (I realize romance may be a side order, but if I'm already hoping for the gold...) It's the meeting someone part I am having a hell of a time with. It's not like I don't think about just going out and sleeping with the first guy who takes a second glance, but it wouldn't help any of the other issues. Though it might help with the panic I'll probably feel the first time I do it, having sex won't help me learn how to get into a relationship. I don't meet a ton of new people every day but yet I'm ok with waiting until our paths cross. Perhaps that's leaving too much to fate, perhaps it's just dumb. I don't know. But I do know a lot of people meet in the course of their every day lives, not actively attempting to meet people.

I'm a 30 year old virgin. I am the way I am because that's just how it happened. So be it. There are worse things I could be.

To Have Sex, Perchance To Sleep

2008-08-02T19:48:00.004-04:00

"Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.
~William Dement

The dreams are back. Or should I say Hypnagogic hallucinations. (I looked it up, and I have had both the visual and auditory kind though not a narc, nor on drugs nor suffering from mood swings. Ok so it may just be a self-diagnosis, but I have all the symptoms! So at any rate, can it really all just be due to my anxiety about sex? Pathetic!) I must be stressed, which is nothing new, so why suddenly the dreams again? Enough. I'm tired of feeling like I'm being watched or having my mind read. The other night I dreamed my bed was transparent and people could see me in my underwear. It's ridiculous because number one, what? What the hell kind of dream is that? Number two, who cares if I'm seen in my underwear? Everyone wears it! Number three, the odd thing is I didn't experience a feeling of shame or embarrassment at having my body revealed (like it was when I was a kid), it's more a feeling of having people know something about me I don't want them to know. The fact that my subconscious is using the image of my naked body as a metaphor for my naked mind/heart...or my fear of revealing myself to someone is so pedantic I can't even stand it. I'm vulnerable in body and mind. I get it. As if my nudity could reveal something...like my virginity maybe? Could I be any more unimaginative?

I spoke a little about it with a friend of mine and she claimed it was exactly that: my fear of intimacy. I don't want to be vulnerable and it's taking the form of being watched (and lately being naked). She said, and I quote, "You don't want to let anyone in and you know it. It's what you do." I really, really hate that she's right. She's one of the few that has gotten in and even experienced the worst of it, and yet she's still around telling me my truths. I tried to claim it was just stress and the evolvement of these sleep hallucinations but she wasn't buying it.

Last night I dreamed I was topless at a beach resort. No one else was and I was trying to cover myself by crossing my arms, but like before not because I was embarrassed. In fact I was quite comfortable and kept forgetting and lowering my arms. I was more concerned with how people would judge me because I was topless. Like they would think I was trashy and just wanted attention or something. Of course people from work showed up and that's when I really started to stress. I couldn't find my hotel room and I ended up running all over the place, trying to follow this tiny map that was embedded on the back of the key. All the while trying to avoid being seen because I was topless. So weird.

As much as I have tried to deny it, the one theme through all of these waking paranoid dreams is that anxiety about people (mainly work people for some reason) knowing things about me I don't want them to. It's never directly linked to my virginity, but I guess I have to admit that it must be playing a part. There really isn't much that I'm hiding per se either, aside from my personal sex life, which really is no one's business anyway so what the hell? I don't know about their sex lives, why should they know about mine? Why would they be interested anyway? I can't figure it out, and I would like this obvious insecurity to stop manifesting itself in these ridiculous hallucinations. A full night sleep would be so heavenly...For godsake there's a war happening, people are starving to death, the climate is changing, whole species of animals are dying out...the world is basically slowly imploding. Seriously, why is my freaking v-card the cause of all my anxiety! Enough!

Conversations With Mom Pt. II

2008-07-23T21:37:00.004-04:00

QV: ...so there are some problems with the apartment I was looking at-
Mom: Well maybe you're just not supposed to live there.
QV: But I really like the place.
Mom: Yes but you know it's not the only apartment. There are others out there. Maybe you're husband's not living in that building.
QV: My what? I thought you'd given up on me.
Mom: You never know.

Conversations With Mom

2008-06-29T18:37:00.004-04:00

QV: ...so I'll go through all those boxes the next time I visit, and then the next time you come up to visit you can bring what's left.
Mom: I'm not coming up to visit.
QV: Oh? Never again?
Mom: Not until you get married.
QV: I am so not having this conversation with you. Do you want me to stop speaking to you?

Meet My Island Boyfriend. He Has No Vocal Chords.

2008-06-24T19:49:00.005-04:00

Sometimes I wonder if I would be better off stranded on a deserted island. Then I wouldn't have to wonder why I'm by myself, why everyone else wants me to be with someone, why I'm happy alone, why I'm sad alone, why I'm attracted to so few people, why I think there's nothing wrong with me, why I think there's everything wrong with me and most of all why fitting in is something I haven't wanted to do since high school and yet I still find myself wanting the things that would make me fit in. So to speak. Or am I just trivializing love because I've never experienced it? Where's Wilson when you need him?

I Lack Sufficient Data

2008-05-27T23:24:00.000-04:00

"...Julie told me a Barcelona story of getting locked in the Parque Guell with her boyfriend after visiting hours. Here it comes, I thought. The first ex-boyfriend had been summoned. Soon the rest would follow. They would file around the table, presenting their deficiencies, telling of their addictions, their cheating hearts. After that, I would be called on to present my own ragged gallery. And here is where my first dates generally go wrong. I lack sufficient data. I don't have it in quite the bulk of a man my years should have. Women sense this and a strange, questioning look comes into their eyes. And already I am retreating from them, before dessert has been served..."
-Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

I just finished reading this book and I thought it something to note how much I was able to identify with the hermaphrodite narrator. As an adult male, instead of a female child that is. Obviously not in terms of his struggle with gender, but with his lack of experience. And though the reason for his lack of experience is extremely different than mine, and comes with a whole different set of psychological issues, the awkwardness of that reality is very real to me.

I lack sufficient data.

There is pretty much no better way to say it.

I had the graceless pleasure of being hit on recently. I say pleasure because it's been a while and it was nice to be noticed, and graceless because as per usual too much attention makes me uncomfortable and I was mildly irritated at being disturbed. I was by myself reading a book when a guy stopped in front of me. He apologized for bothering me and asked if I knew of any good restaurants in the area, then moved on to places where good music was played, and before long was sitting on my bench. I knew as soon as he began talking about what kind of music he liked that he was not interested in finding an actual restaurant in which to eat, but I humored him. Mostly because I had no idea how to delicately remove myself from the spotlight when I clearly had no where else to be.

He talked a lot about himself and his likes and asked me a lot of questions, most of which I attempted to answer vaguely but as I cannot lie, honestly. (It would have been an interesting experiment to see what would have happened if I had lied, as you will soon see.) I never totally engaged him: I never closed my book and did not hold eye contact for very long (though I'm pretty bad at that anyway), but he was not deterred. I give him a lot of credit for being able to even attempt to pick up a complete stranger, sober and in broad daylight, but his routine though not familiar to me was transparent almost immediately. He picked the wrong girl on whom to try out his lines.

And here is how it started. He said, "I'm also into reading people's palms. You can really tell a lot about a person by just looking at their hands. It's fascinating." What my dear reader will not expect, is that I own a book of palmistry and am actually interested in reading about those kinds of things, whether they be real or not. Though my figurative eyes went a'rolling, my real ones maintained their cool. It must also be said that he did not come off cheesy or creepy in his delivery of this whole palmistry pick up. He possessed a natural ease which I think allowed me to continue the conversation without immediately running away.

By now we had already discussed two subjects that he was lucky enough to have picked to get me talking at all: music, which if he had stopped there he might have had a chance despite his attempts to impress me with the name dropping of indie and local bands I'd never heard of, and travel, though the conversation he had with a Japanese man which he repeated to me first in Japanese and then in English was enough to make me want to walk away. When he got to palmistry I had to hear what my "lines" revealed about me.

He was good. He was very good. Had I let myself, I could have almost forgotten the connection between before and after. That is to say, that just about everything he read in my palms was based on my answers to all his previous questions. If I had lied I'm pretty sure my lines would have made them truths. What tripped him up were the things he had to guess. He tried to flatter me, and bear with me because here is where my virginity and the previous literary quote come into play, and due to his own assumptions fell flat instead.

According to his reading, the fleshy part between my thumb and forefinger says that I am "a girl who is a generous lover." (He kept calling me a girl who and it was all I could do to stop from saying honey, I'm a lot older than you think I am.) He went into how he had an ex-girlfriend who would kiss a certain place on his neck because she knew it felt really good.

"What about you?"

Oh the request for way too personal information. Seriously I just met you ten seconds ago, so not long enough to tell you where my g-spot is. Hells if I know it myself, but I digress. Instead I tried to be mysterious while most likely revealing my absolute truth, "let's just say I haven't met the right guy who's found the right spot yet." Why couldn't I have just said I was a lesbian and ended the whole charade then and there?

At some point he also mentioned that I liked to take risks and perhaps was a little naughty when it came to sex. I could barely contain the bubble of laughter in the back of my throat, a) because he was so, so wrong and b) because did he honestly think that was going to work? I suppose it probably has for him in the past otherwise why would he try it again, but really. Hello? Even if I did like it upside down on a swing it's no business of yours. I believe if I had indulged him he would have gone into details. Instead and off what I can only assume was my badly masked embarrassed reaction he said, "I can explain if you'd like or we can skip it." I said, "yeeah. Let's move on."

Then he asked if I was a "nun or something."

Oh the strikes just keep coming!

When I was finally able to, I asked him the time and said that I had to leave. I stood up and he said, "ok, ok, but let me ask you one more question." I waited. "Would you like to maybe go over to a cafe for a drink and maybe chat some more?"

I looked him in the eye and said, "I'm sorry, I really do have to go."

"Really? Now?"

"Yes. It was really nice to meet you Pick Up Artist (though I did use his name) but I really do have plans." I held out my hand to shake his, and he let out a noise that sounded like surprised irritation. The only thought that crossed my mind at that moment was that's right player, you just wasted half an hour on the wrong girl. Had he let my hand linger there a second longer I would have dropped it and walked away, but he finally took it. And then I walked away. But as I did I gave him props. You're good. You're really good. You just picked the wrong cynic with too many issues to play your game.

Amor E Morte

2008-04-21T15:07:00.005-04:00

I had some pretty dark thoughts as a kid. I don't know if it was normal because I never talked to anyone about them, but in retrospect it's weird to realize I thought about death when I was 7 years old. I'd never known anyone to die or had seen a dead person or had even known about anyone dying. And yet, I wondered what it would be like if I ceased to exist. What would my friends and family do? It was never an actual emotional desire to be dead, but it was still a curiosity that peppered my usually innocent thoughts.

Up through junior high I used to leave my room just-so, so that if anything did happen to me people would be able to tell what I was doing last. Coloring in my book, reading, listening to music, doing homework. Odd that that was what was important to me. I used to make lists in my head for who would get what: Lynne would get my music, Mae would get my stuffed animals, Tina would get my notebooks. I never regarded these thoughts as strange, though I never told anyone about them. They were always just kind of latently there. A passive kind of wonder at what life would be like without me.

I also had a 'feeling' that I would die young. In my thirties so I believed. Who knows what influenced me to think these things, or if they really did come from my own imagination, but this one stayed with me for a while. At least into my mid-twenties. If I was feeling dramatic it would be after I had married and had children, a tragedy for them, and if I was feeling melodramatic it would be just after I fell in love, more tragic for me that way you see.

Anyway I suppose like most things with me I kind of forgot about my 'feeling' after a while. The odd thing is though, I had it for such a long period of time and it never motivated me to somehow do the one thing on the top of my list of things I always wanted to do before I die. Like every hard-core romantic, all I've ever wanted was to fall in love.

How does that make any sense you ask? Coming from someone who seems to have the inability to open her heart?

Excellent question. If anything, I should have been first in line to fall in love with every boy who ever looked at me. After all, I believe love is something different for everyone. I even believe there are people who talk themselves into being in love and eventually believing it even if it's not true. And yet...and yet...never have I known, or talked myself into believing I've known, love in any other form than platonic.

I guess I missed the live fast part despite 'feeling' the die young. Or was I just being true to my independent self who always believed I'd eventually get the fairy tale love? Good things come to those who wait, good things come to those who wait, good things come to those who wait.

That got me through a lot of insecure times.

Was there a time limit on it?

The Field Experience

2008-04-15T21:47:00.004-04:00

I decided to be social a few weeks ago and headed out for drinks with a bunch of colleagues. I ended up having a pretty good time, as I usually do when I make myself go to these things, and afterwards went home with a stomach full of warm fuzzies at how well-liked I felt. Or maybe it was the vodka. But I digress.

I chatted with Dee a female colleague of mine for a while and was asked something for the first time ever, right after she asked me something I've been asked thousands of times.

Dee: are you seeing anyone?
QV: nah
Dee: do you want to be?

I was caught off guard and had to think about it. After all these months of posts I still had to stop and think about it. Perhaps I'm not as open to it as I thought I was. I replied something like, "eh," but then went into an explanation of how hard it is to find a guy who's ok with a girl as independent as I am. At any rate, how not a lot of guys approach a girl as independent as I am.

She told me how after she was divorced years ago, she decided she was never going to get married again and is with a guy now who is totally accepting of it. They've been together nine years and have never lived together, at her request. I was fascinated and filled with hope, not because I want a guy who will love me on such specific terms, but because she managed to find someone who fit a pretty limiting bill. (Maybe he's always wanted the same thing, to love someone with a completely separate life, but it still goes to show any want has its counterpart...right?) My standards are high but not unreasonable. I'm willing to compromise...on some things.

She wondered out loud how it could be I wasn't with anyone because I was such a catch. I've never actually been called that before and it made me laugh. Though she can only guess what kind of catch I actually am (I have no problem saying I am a good catch..as long as you don't count all the bad habits I don't even know I have) I have to admit I quite enjoyed the compliment.

I eventually began talking to Kevin, a colleague who has made it known, at least to me, that he's a big fan of mine. Never in a weird, uncomfortable way, which is odd for me because usually when a guy who likes me but I don't like in return says nice things it makes me want to vomit, but still he does it. It is a little odd I suppose, and if anyone else ever really saw it they'd immediately become fifteen and start taunting me about it, but what can I do? I'm sure he's figured out by now that I'm just not that into him but I do think he's a great guy, a wonderful father and I love working with him. I just can't see myself with him.

It's funny because I have another colleague who just got divorced who I also like a lot, and I actually tried to imagine myself with him. He's on the opposite end of the life-style spectrum and I couldn't really see being with him either.

This guy though, I have no problem seeing myself with. But again I digress.

Me being me, after about two hours I was drained. Even being social with people I know and like is taxing for me, so I headed out. Before I left though I gave out hugs. I tend to want hugs when I get tipsy. I hugged Dee and another female colleague and moved toward the door. Gave Kevin a hug, then Simon who had just lost his job, then Rob and then Vikki. Then Rob complained that it was meaningless if I hugged everyone, so I gave him another hug. But then Simon said he's the one who needed the most sympathy so I gave him another hug. Then Kevin wanted another and then of course Vikki had to outdo them all by shouting "make out with me!" As juvenile as it seems, it made me happy. I felt a little bit like Sally Field. You like me! You really like me!

It's so silly because I know they all like me. It's mutual and always fun when we work together. I suppose it was just receiving an expression of it that's not really acceptable in the workplace that sent me home happy.

All in all I spent a lot of the evening talking about my personal life, which I despise doing, but didn't want to kill myself once. Course, I only stayed two hours...perhaps that's the magic number for me? Point is, I'm actually looking forward to the day I can actually talk about someone I'm seeing (despite my hesitation at the question). Then again, it's still a personal matter so I'll most likely keep the conversation short.

"I've Given Up On You,"

2008-03-29T23:15:00.002-04:00

the horse's mouth said.

What an odd saying.

But as it just so happens, that's where I heard it from:

It began as it usually does with us gossiping about family matters, the latest being another wedding. The conversation inevitably turned to me, not in an antagonizing way which it might seem written out, but in a way that made me laugh at my mother's logic and how she tries to talk herself into believing things when she clearly doesn't.

Mom: My friends always ask if you've found someone yet. I say no, but she found a place to live! That's what I tell them now.
QV: Oh?
Mom: Yes. I've given up.
QV: What does that even mean?
Mom: I have, I've given up on you.
QV: You have not given up on me finding someone.
Mom: You're not even looking!
QV: You know, you played a very big part in me being this way. What about all those years of, "you have to be self-sufficient"?
Mom: Well it's true! I was always worried about that...if something happened to your father what would I do? I wanted you to be able to support yourself if something happened to your husband.
QV: Can we talk about how insanely contradictive you are? You raised me on routine lectures about boys only wanting one thing and about being independent and then when I become a successful, single woman you complain? You were ahead of your time and yet completely stuck in it at the same time. You created a headstrong feminist without ever burning a bra.
Mom: I created a girl who just doesn't want anyone to invade her free time.
QV: That too. Now can you please just be happy with your masterpiece?

Brutal

2008-03-12T22:01:00.004-04:00

A reenactment of the inner monologue/conversation I had with myself last night after letting the engagement of one of my youngest cousins sink in.

.........so e's engaged. what is she, 20? what's wrong with me?
you did not just ask that.
i did, didn't i?
you're just particular.
that is extremely irritating. stop it.
what?
evading the issue by attributing it to a quirky character trait.
seriously? evading? i've beaten this horse past its afterlife at this point.
you're right. apparently there is a comfort in beating this particular horse.
can we stop talking about beating dead horses?
you started it with your whole waa waa still single-
don't say it-
why won't-
i said don't say it-
anyone-
stop!-
love me?
i hate you.
oh please. you know damn well you're right where you want to be.
and where's that?
happily single and content to complain about it internally while maintaining a mysterious air so no one knows what really goes on.
can you please shut up?
you know i'm right.
i'm going to sleep now.
but you don't have any milk for your cereal tomorrow morning.
dammit! i also have to go to the bank and cvs to get soap.........

Is it still any wonder?

Fighting The Demagnetizing Affect

2008-03-08T11:15:00.000-05:00

or How Left Brain Is Ruining My Life

There is a guy I occasionally work with who has suddenly come into view. He's one of those behind the scenes people who makes my job easier when they're on the ball, and harder when they get swamped and can't get to everything. The woman who used to work with him quit, so he has in effect taken over my 'account' if you will. I don't believe we've ever had a formal introduction, but I see him more often now and we know each other.

Anyway, the point is, I can't even tell you how long I've known him but in the last week or so I've suddenly found myself thinking about him. A lot. I don't know anything about him, except what comes at first glance.

1) he seems pretty mellow and soft-spoken (probably what made me take notice)
2) he's really cute
3) he's younger than me (early twenties?)
4) he's smaller than me (at least, I think. I'm usually sitting down when he comes by. At any rate, I usually go for the really tall, lanky guys. He's around my height or shorter but still lanky.)
5) um...I'm having quite a few lustful thoughts about what I'd like to do to him (though I probably wouldn't know how to carry any of it out.)

#5 is something new. In the past it's always been more of an academic kind of thing, where I had to almost concentrate on it. With him I'm just suddenly imagining it with no prompting. Is this what it's like to be a 16 year old boy? No wonder they can't concentrate on anything. They're imagining everyone naked all the time.

#3 and the fact that I work with him are what put up a huge wall. However, if he decided he liked me and asked me out, I wouldn't say no. However duex, I probably won't make any moves to give off any signals that I'm interested. This makes me an incredibly large hypocrite as I believe women should just ask out guys they're interested in instead of waiting for them to ask. I never said I was perfect. Though in my defense, I did make it a point to thank him yesterday for helping me out with what was a long, frustrating day. He smiled pretty big. Have I mentioned how cute he is?

But then of course, the left brain has to step in and say, maybe you're just thinking all this because it's been a while since you've found a guy attractive at all. Maybe you're not really attracted to him but you think you are because you think he's cute. Besides, your hormones are off, you cried last night at Running with Scissors for crappsake.

Why does left brain have to be so mean?

Maybe He'll Even Know How To Cook

2008-02-26T19:41:00.004-05:00

I'll be moving within the next couple months...in by myself.

I am absolutely thrilled to finally have my own place and extremely terrified I'm sealing the deal on spinsterhood at the same time...you know, since I like being alone and often prefer it after an especially long day of stupid, annoying people.

Maybe a fun, laid-back, successful, affectionate, gracious, animal-loving, humorous, sexy, well-rounded and handsome man with an accent who picks up his socks will live in the building.

And take a shine to me.

One can hope.

Sigh.

Choose Your Own Destiny

2008-02-17T14:28:00.000-05:00

When I was younger my mother instilled in me a belief in destiny. A predetermined series of events, there's a reason for everything, if it's supposed to happen it will kind of leaving-the-details-of-your-life-up-to-someone-else thing. Granted that someone else is supposed to be God, it strikes me now as an easy way out. Why should I work for anything if it's all in stone already?

But also, isn't life in the details?

If someone else is planning it for you, isn't it inevitable that a few will be missed? For those who believe God knows/sees/does/controls all I suppose the point is moot, but what about free will? The ability to choose between many options? Why would we be afforded those things if it was all planned for us anyway? That's a really mean trick I say. If this ends up being the case, we're presently existing under a pretty twisted higher power.

And yet...and yet...sometimes I can't help myself from reverting back to that childhood innocence of thinking if I'm meant to have a certain thing, it will come to me. It becomes a battle with my adult self yelling that if I want something, I have to work to get it, it's never just going to come to me. It gets awfully noisy in my head sometimes.

The choice is what ends up being so frustrating. Knowing about it anyway. I can choose to believe either side of the coin, and I usually do at my convenience, but in the end it only makes me feel like a wet noodle. Despite God's alleged hand in my life, I try to see everything as a choice. (I realize that kind of lends a hand to my already large issue with control, but so be it. At least I am aware of it.) I can choose to be angered by the asshole at work or I can ignore his pompous attitude and happily get on with my day. I can choose to be happy with my single status or I can lament not following the standard that has been set. I can even still choose to think that if I believe I'll get something, I eventually will. There's a difference between thinking it and relying on it as the way to live life.

The fact of the matter is I don't always choose the better option, but generally speaking I am happier. It also helps that other things in my life are going well, I admit, but why is it just misery that loves company? Why not happiness too?

So I guess in the end I choose to believe I get to paint the details. Although I didn't choose to exist, I get to choose how. It's a lot more work, which leads to the occasional if-I'm-meant-to-have-it-I-will thought, but the payoff is greater. I've earned it.

The Great Debate

2008-02-02T01:23:00.000-05:00

I went down to K's for a visit recently. She picked me up from the station.

K: Hi
QV: Hi
K: So...I think you should start dating.
QV: I agree.
K: (stunned silence)

We've had this conversation many times before, but this is the first time I didn't answer with some unintelligible sound which meant a) no thanks b) don't want to talk about it or c) Absolutely not.

QV: you know...one of the obviously many reasons that kept me from dating is this overwhelming fear of getting pregnant.
K: you have to have sex to get pregnant.
QV: thank you master of the obvious. I meant that in my mind dating always lead to sex which meant getting pregnant.
K: birth control.
QV: are you listening to me? It's not rational. Don't even try to tell me you don't have any irrational fears. Dating just always equalled sex to me.
K: that's because you're mother f**ed you up.
QV: she knows, she's taken some of the responsibility. But at this point I think we all know it's mine. I think if I had been someone else, I mean, if she had given all those warnings to another kid, it wouldn't have affected them the same way it did me. I was so overly sensitive to everything, no matter what she said it was true. When it didn't make sense to me I rationalized it in my own mind until it did.
K: you don't know that.
QV: no, but I still think it.

I can't help but wonder why things happened the way they did. Why all my life people have complimented me on both my appearance and my character and yet, only a handful of guys have ever approached me. How I managed to miss out on years of natural experimentation because I was intensely scared of sex. That's not to say I was scared of my body, because for some reason that was never a problem. But really, how did I manage to build walls so thick it's going to take some damn big explosives to take them down? Or is that just something else I tell myself to justify my single position?

It never bothered me before...having people think I'm a lesbian. I'm an extremely independent woman, I don't dress in lace, I listen to a lot of female singer/songwriters, I'm very pro-women, I don't talk about my sex life- easy for people to assume I must be gay right? Most of the time I don't give a rats ass what other people are thinking of me. Well, people I don't know anyway, I spent way too much of my youth worrying about that. But now that I'm 30 and still don't have a man? Well then it's practically confirmed. Really the only thing that bothers me about it (aside from the absurdity of people assuming that not having a man either means I'm gay or there must be something wrong with me) is that if everyone is thinking this, it lessons my already slim chances of actually meeting a guy. uh.

What bothers me even more is the fact that it sounds like I'm lamenting being single because I'm 30. I can't really see myself as one of those women who suddenly becomes desperate because she hit the three oh and is still single, and yet here I am talking about it. But in my defense, like the greys in my hair, it's other people commenting on it that is drawing my attention to it. I actually had to start dying my hair because everyone and their mother felt it was ok to tell me I had so many. I got sick of hearing it. Will I actually have to start dating because everyone will feel it's ok to tell me I need to settle down? Dare I bend to such societal pressure?

Outside of my closest friends, and this damn blog that I can't seem to give up, I don't speak often about this area of my life. People are fascinated by it. Case in point, there is a rumor among my friends at work that I'm seeing someone. I have no idea who started it or why, but because I won't say anything about it, they've gone crazy trying to figure out who it is. Because I won't talk about it they've decided it's someone at work which is making them even crazier. I find it all hilarious. I have a sneaking suspicion that one of my friends was trying to mess with me when he said he'd heard the rumor, which is why I decided to mess with him and clam up about it. Anyway, it's something to do at work. ;)

And then there's mom.

Mom: I showed my friends the pictures of you. They loved them!
QV: Oh yeah?
Mom: They're all wondering how you're still single.
QV: They need to find better ways to occupy their time.
Mom: They're wondering if you're a Les-
QV: Of course they are. It's the first place they go when they see me and find out I don't have a man.

I'm pretty sure that was a subtle asking, but that was the end of it. People have a really hard time understanding that it's not my first priority. Maybe that's really just all it is...all it has been my whole life. Both my parents were extremely influential in making education my very first priority, which then transitioned into getting a good job so I could be self-sufficient. With my latest promotion and some future investments in mind, maybe it's just a coincidence that now my priorities have room to shift. I still absolutely hate the idea of dating, and with any luck I'll be able to skip it, but I guess I have to admit that it has been on my mind....not just dating and finding someone, but the whole where I am in my life now. The last time I dwelled on it, I quit my job and ran off to Europe for 6 weeks. Although I'm dying to travel like that again, I don't feel the same need.

Then again, maybe a change of scenery would be good.

No, You Can't Have My Number. Ok, It's 212...

2007-12-16T15:14:00.001-05:00

I think I've mentioned it before, but guys don't often ask for my number. Or out either, but that's a different issue...something about my body language...The first time I was about 21 and was so surprised I acted like an ass. Hmmm...I think the next one was during a trip abroad. Two actually. Two men from different countries, with little to no knowledge of English, both asked me for my number within an hour of one another. Apparently Europeans have no problem with my body language. Next was the cute, young one with an accent.

A few weeks ago, I had my sixth asking. Heh. My friends and I were at a bar and he randomly came over a few times to participate in the conversation we were having. The third time he came over, he chatted for a bit before moving his position to stand next to me. I, having consumed as many alcoholic beverages my body allows, was a little toasted. Here's a reinactment, as accurate as my addled mind can replay:

Him: so...here's the part of the evening where I completely embarass myself and ask for your number.
QV: um...
Him: in front of all these people-
QV: well...
Him: let's just say I am definitely intrigued.
QV: (intrigued?) I don't really give out my number. But I'll give you my email address. (what? what am I saying?)
Him: ok here. (hands me his phone. I type in my address and give it back. He hands it back to me.) I'm sorry, but you'll have to give me your number. It won't save unless you do.
QV: ok. (what? what am I saying?)

Unable to think straight, I typed in my real number. I didn't want to give it to him. But I did.

And here's the kicker.

He never called.

Or wrote.

So why did he ask?

Yes, yes, I am glad he didn't because if I'm being honest I probably would have blown him off. I was drunk and not really acting like myself. Or rather I should say, acting like a louder, more self-involved self. The only thing I can remember about him is that ridiculousness of a conversation above. And specifically the word intrigued. I guess he just wasn't intrigued enough after the hangover finally passed.

So the point of the story is, if you ever meet me and want my number, hand me a vodka cranberry and tell me your phone won't save unless I give it to you. Apparently I'm a sure thing. And if you call and I actually answer, you must be.

A Bedtime Story

2007-12-10T20:55:00.000-05:00

I cringe whenever I hear someone say, "get laid". I'd almost rather hear "get f***ed". Almost. So it would go without saying that you'd never hear me say, "I need to get laid". However, lately I'm kinda thinking...I need to get laid. uuueeeehhh.

I had a dream in which my virginity played the lead. Very strange. It began with a large group of friends driving me somewhere. There were all kinds of blankets and bedding around so I figured it was going to be a big camp out sleep over. We pulled into what looked like a defunct, or at least closed for the season, amusement park. It was dark outside and I started to feel creeped out. Because I was with friends though (none of who had familiar real world faces) I tried to see it as an adventure.

We parked near two lines of trees leading up to a stage. They began to set up beds under the trees which I thought was odd but hell, it was an adventure, right? I walked over to someone setting up their bed and some other friends pulled me away. They lead me toward the stage on which I could now see was a canopy bed. Someone was draping material over the canopy to enclose it. Privacy in a public place I suppose. Even my dreams are ironic.

"Your first time has to be special!" someone said. And then I realized all the chatter that had been going on was about me.

Apparently losing my virginity was the evening's entertainment. Thing was, I never got the feeling they actually wanted to watch, they all just wanted it to happen. They set it all up to make it special.

Weird.

Global Virginomics

2007-11-12T12:37:00.000-05:00

There are a number of very basic things that every single human being on the planet has in common. We are born of women (until the practice of cloning destroys us all), we breathe, we sleep, we eat and we die. For the individual to survive, s/he doesn't need sex, but for humanity to survive, we do. (Again, until cloning destroys us.)

I am absolutely fascinated by the fact that out of all the things humans do to/for one another, sex and sexuality carry the most weight. Throughout numerous cultures across seven continents, it is used to gain power, to shame, humiliate, to celebrate, to get revenge, to hurt, to show commitment, to feel a little pleasure on a thursday, etc etc etc. It seems every human emotion can somehow be connected to it, and every political motivation, whether it be socially or locally political between two people, satisfied by it. Whether or not it is true, from my uniquely American experience (or lack of), it seems procreation is last on the list of reasons to have sex.

At the moment all I can do is look at it from this outside academic perspective. It's very odd to me that this basic human practice is something I've managed to miss out on for my entire life. And not due to any strict religious reason, or the desire to save myself for my wedding night (did you know that wearing white for a bride was merely a fashion trend in the 19th century? It did not begin as a symbol of purity. Before that brides wore whatever color they wanted! I want to wear red! My parents would murder me!) or even because I wasn't ready. I mean, I wasn't, but when has that ever stopped anyone? It's like I've just been procrastinating. Oh sex? Yeah, yeah, I'll do that later.

Remember that girl who was the first to put her virginity up for sale on ebay? I wonder how I didn't think of doing that. Then I realize a) I'd never go through with it and b) well, a is really all I need isn't it? But then I read that she eventually had sex in a run-down London hotel with a 44 year old man who paid her almost nine thousand pounds. And it makes me sad. I don't actually think either of them did anything wrong, but that gut reaction to a female turning her body into a commodity is fierce. People turn everything else about themselves into commodities, so why not their sexuality?

I don't know. It seems so much of my life, or should I say my sexuality in wait, is this contradiction between my head and heart. On the one hand I feel like I could put my virginity up for sale. Historically speaking, (for me) it really is only tradition and cultural expectations that put such value on it, thus enabling a price to be paid for it. Ok maybe not so much 'up for sale', but just lose it to the next guy who shows any interest. But on the other hand I want to sleep with someone I actually care about. I want it to actually mean something rather than just be an act of pleasure (which it may or may not end up being) between two strangers.

Oddly enough my head usually wins, but in this case I have a feeling it's going to be my heart all the way. Perhaps it's just because my head matured much faster than my heart that it comes out the winner most of the time. Late bloomer could be another alias of mine, but just because I'm late doesn't mean I won't bloom. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

All this came about from taking a look at my little map to the right. I've gotten hits from countries my ignorant self has never even heard of, and I'm astounded that the thoughts of and about my inconsequential self would appeal to so many people. At least pique their interest enough to stop by. Then again, maybe it's just because Virgin is in the title.

At any rate, I hope by sharing my thoughts I bring a little comfort to others who may be in similar situations and not know how to feel about it. Some days I don't think about it at all, some days I think about how silly it all is and some days I wonder how it is I really came to be the way I am. Thoughts I am sure pass through non-virgin minds as well. Could it be we're not so different? After all, everyone around the world is a virgin, no matter how you define it, before they're not. It's definitely a global thing.

A Good Sign?

2007-11-09T20:22:00.001-05:00

I recently returned from a business trip.

At least half of the men I met I found attractive.

This is unheard of for me.

UNHEARD OF.

Of course I didn't do a thing about it, #1 because I was busy working, #2 because none of them were from New York and #3 because I'm a gigantic coward.

But still.

There were blondes, brunettes, west coasters, non-americans...

Needless to say it was an amazing trip.

Perhaps I just need to get out of NYC more often?

Home Is As Figurative As The Heart

2007-10-27T17:52:00.000-04:00

I woke up the other morning without immediately opening my eyes, and for a split second I thought I was in my bedroom in my childhood home. The wall with the beatles poster was to my right, the dresser with the big, oval mirror was at the end of the bed and the closet was to my left. I could almost hear the birds that used to chirp in the tree outside the window and the clink of dishes downstairs as my mother put them away. And I felt at home. Warm and safe and comfortable.

All that in a split second.

Then I realized where I was. I was still warm and comfortable, but the safe feeling was gone. Not that it was replaced with fear of danger by any means, but I no longer felt home. Since I left my parents' house I've moved from apartment to apartment, mainly to get away from something or someone I disliked, but I suppose in a way I've also been looking for that feeling of home. I've been in the place I'm in now longer than I've ever been anywhere else but it is definitely not home.

Now I think about it and I know that I'll never be able to get that exact feeling back. It's a security blanket from childhood that I no longer need, despite wanting very much. I visit my parents now, and maybe it would be different if they still lived in the house I grew up in, but I don't feel like I'm home when I do. There is certainly the warmth and comfort and maybe even the bit of safety that I feel when I'm with them, but it's nothing like that feeling of waking up in that pink-carpeted, flower wall papered room.

Perhaps it was simply being cared for at a time when I couldn't have possibly protected myself. Perhaps it will simply be being cared for as an adult even though I don't need protecting...the knowledge that someone will be there, for me, with me, by me...It's hard to feel home by yourself.

My next home will be more about the fact that I own it (fingers crossed), than how I feel in it. After that, the best that I can do is recreate what I had as an incredibly lucky kid for my (potential) kid(s) and hope it's something they will remember for split seconds as adults to make them feel good. My search will eventually have to be satisfied by this new creation with a loving husband (fingers crossed) who makes me feel safe and warm and comfortable in a different way. I guess home is mutable, just like everything else. At this point anyway, just enough to keep me searching...

The Results Are In, I'm Still A Virgin!

2007-10-12T19:55:00.001-04:00

I received an envelope from my new doctor in the mail today. A postcard with a picture of bright, blooming flowers was tucked discreetly in it. The other side read as follows:

Good News! Your test results were normal/negative.

(X) Pap smear was normal...
(X) Cervical cultures (for gonorrhea and chlamydia) were negative/normal.

The pap smear is a worry for all women no matter what, but gonorrhea? Really? I could have told you I didn't have that. Not that anyone in a Doctor's office would have believed me.

I flashed suddenly on what kind of card I would have gotten if the news was bad.

The News? Not so good. Your test results...well, you've got health problems sister. What have you been doing down there? Call us.

Arms Opened

2007-09-20T23:17:00.000-04:00

"Somewhere deep inside your mind
there is a peace that you will find
with or without these arms of mine"
-Beth Wood

I miss the affection of my youth. Having grown up in a household without any at all, my mother made sure my brothers and I were hugged as often as possible. When I was a preteen I went to sleep away camp and learned to hug my friends once I realized I'd miss them terribly after having spent a solid month with them day and night. I began hugging my school friends. Not in a weird way mind you, it does kind of sound that way, but in the normal way of greeting or saying goodbye. They were receptive. For me it was just an expression of how much I cherished them as friends.

I love hugging people. Only now, as an adult, I censor it...even among people I've known for awhile who know that I hug. Sometimes it's out of respect for the other person who may not want to be touched, but mostly because I feel a little awkward about what they must think of me as I rush at them with arms opened. I used to hug people I just met if it was a friend of friend who I'd heard a lot about. Sometimes I still do, but it doesn't come as naturally as it used to. I wonder where along the way I became insecure.

As with everything else regarding being human, affection is so relative it's hard to believe any two people could connect on a similar level. I throw my arms around all of my friends, both when I haven't seen them in a while and when I've just seen them yesterday. It's really the only physical expression of any kind of love in my life so it's often a need, not a formality or habit. Obviously I've never really experienced romantic affection but I have no problem imagining how wonderful it feels and how empty it must feel without it.

I can take it one step further and say it's my only source of physical contact at all. I remember watching Crash and being fascinated at how the characters, despite having people close to them, were all so starved for connections they treated each other horribly just to be able to interact. I spend a lot of time alone but I can't imagine emoting through prejudices, or doing anything out of ordinary really, just to share a brief moment with someone whether it be filled with fear or anger or happiness even. I wanted to tell a woman on the subway the other day that her perfume smelled wonderful but I couldn't bring myself to say it. I don't know why, it would probably have made her feel good as well as me in return. Does that make me repressed? Or merely in control of my emotions with enough connections to people I know that I don't have to interact with strangers?

I don't know what the people I hug think about it...they always hug back so I assume it's ok. I take from it what I can knowing that it's probably more than they do, but that's ok with me.

I found out that someone I know lives with his girlfriend but has another on the side so to speak. A 'friend with benefits' as I was discreetly told on the side. I don't know if they know about each other, but everyone else seems to know about it, and that the one he lives with is the 'main' one. This boggles my mind. I want to ask him how he feels about each of them. Is he sleeping with the non-main one just to switch it up? Or does he feel connected to both of them in different ways? Is it just a pleasure thing, aka sex as a crash of sorts, or is there an actual need for more than one of that type of physical connection? Maybe it's a guy thing? Maybe it's QV thing to be amazed at what for some people is hardly worth mentioning? Oddly enough, I haven't judged him. At least, I don't feel differently about him knowing this. I'm really just curious as to why he does it.

But I don't have anyone I can just hug for no reason. Hug for a long length of time without it being weird. Hug just to feel someone's arms around me. I miss it. So when I do get to hug, I hug tight. And as childish as it is, the tighter I hug, the more I like you. It's just the way I am. So something I'm really looking forward to when someone finally breaks through...are the hugs. (Oddly enough I don't think I'll be a snuggler in bed...however, he better damn well wrap his arms around me every other chance he gets.) It all makes perfect sense, doesn't it?

It's Ok To Peek!

2007-09-15T14:03:00.001-04:00

Still here...just, well, haven't been motivated to write a lot lately. I suppose it's a good thing considering I seem to only write when feeling down or something stressful has happened. But on the other hand there are still times I want to write but don't know what to say considering I've pretty much beaten this dead horse well into its next life. On the third hand, I have been keeping with the positive thinking and though it may sound ridiculous, or only all in my head, I feel like I've been benefiting in small, maybe subtle ways, but benefiting nevertheless.

This post would fall under the stressful event kind I suppose. I went back to the GYN (because self-peeking is a lot less invasive than an actual self-exam.) My second appointment ever. Oddly enough I didn't feel that stressed the night before or that morning even, but that could have been because I was worrying instead about the bunch of guys that were supposed to come in the AM to fix the many things wrong with this hell hole I call an apartment.

Anyway, I made it to the appointment on time, only to end up waiting for an hour while 5 other women who arrived after me went in. This was a new doctor as the first one I went to retired (seriously, could I have more trouble with this whole issue?) so I decided this time to go to a female. I had no idea what to expect from her office, but I should have known Murphy's law would somehow play a part. I was pretty good at not completely psyching myself out though, so by the time I finally got to meet her in her office I was still somewhat relaxed.

She seemed a little rushed when she came in, but I didn't feel like she rushed me. We went through the usual barrage of questions, each one making me feel more and more like the goodiest goody two shoes that ever lived: smoke? no. drink? no. drugs? no. pregnant before? no. std's? no. sexually active? no. (I like how the pregnant/std questions came before sexually active one.) I had practiced in my head cracking a dumb virgin joke somewhere in there, or even just jumping the gun and saying 'never been', but she beat me to it. have you ever been? all I could say was no. I'm sure I was smiling broadly throughout this entire interview because that's what I do when I'm nervous.

Unlike my previous male doctor she didn't have any reaction. Not that that was any part of my being nervous but I'm always fascinated by people's reactions (the few I've witnessed anyway). Also unlike my male doctor she didn't tell me to tell the nurses that I would need the white speculum, like I was some kind of vaginal special needs patient. Within the first 5 minutes of talking with her I realized just how inappropriate the other doctor was.

Just so it's clear, I'm not trying to say don't go to a male GYN, just that in retrospect choosing this specific older male doctor wasn't the best idea for me. He was obviously on the verge of retiring and didn't have the greatest bedside manner, though he was nice enough when we spoke.

During my appointment with the new doctor I told her I wanted to start birth control (thinking 'because I'd like to start having sex eventually' but stating the real boring reason of regulating my period instead) and she explained everything in a quick but complete way. Most of it I know of course, being almost 30 I should by now whether or not I partake, but it was nice to have a doctor explain.

Her examination and the pap smear definitely felt very different and more painful than the last one. it lead me to wonder what the last doctor actually did, or if he did anything at all. My inexperience obviously speaks for itself by saying that, but there it is. He didn't warn me that I would bleed after the appointment, she went so far as to give me liner and tell me it's normal and not to worry. Overall she was gentle and kind and I will definitely go back...maybe even dread it a little less. Maybe.

I definitely felt that I wasn't my usual self, remaining mostly quiet without the self-deprecation, and I think that probably lent to the kind of quiet, good girl impression I probably gave her. Of course, I couldn't possibly know what impression she had of me, but on her way out almost as an afterthought she said, "it was nice to meet you," and smiled. I replied in same and wondered briefly if she said that to all her patients, or if (letting the cynic take over) I was the first older virgin she'd ever examined.

I have never felt righteous about being a virgin, the term itself meaning something different to everyone anyway, until I walked by a group of bible beaters on the way home from the appointment. I've passed them and their big cardboard bible quotes many times before, but for some reason this time I thought angrily to myself, "I'm more pure than any of you people will ever be." I don't know where it came from or why I thought it but I did. I don't even know what to think about the fact that I thought it. I'm not even sure it makes sense. Does anything I think really?

Thought Process

2007-08-18T12:28:00.001-04:00

I think D has given up on me. I've emailed him a few times but he hasn't responded. I figure one of the following must have happened:

-He's incredibly busy (which has usually been true in the past) and either doesn't have time or keeps forgetting to write back.
-He's met someone and either feels guilty for keeping up a friendship with someone he used to have feelings for, or she alerted him to how silly it is to keep up a friendship with someone he used to have feelings for.
-He still has feelings for me and is tired of keeping up a friendship on the off chance it might lead to something again. Especially since we live thousands of miles apart and only email once a month if that.

I don't know. Maybe it's for the best. I can't really say that I miss him since our modes of communication are limited and we only actually use them every once in a while. But still, it's nice to check in with an old friend occassionally.

I had a little breakdown a few weeks ago. The first one in a long time...something like 2 years. I pretty much just cried and cried and cried until I realized I wouldn't stop unless I called someone. There were a couple people I could have called, but I didn't really want to call anyone. I finally picked up the phone and called the one person I knew would not only be there for me, but would be happy that I called. It bothers her that I don't often reach out for help when she knows I can make myself suffer.

Anyway, we talked, I cried, she listened, I repeated myself and was self-deprecating, she was supportive and positive. I felt better after we hung up, and I knew it was mostly because I had talked and not kept bottling. After all, it was a buildup of a couple years. The sadness lingered for a few days but eventually it was pushed aside. It was all about the same thing of course...being alone, not being able to open up, wondering why I haven't met one single person in the last 8 years that has sparked any kind of feeling in me whatsoever, how it is that I can be totally happy alone and yet still yearn for company...yes, all the same turmoil I usually harp on when I fall into the sadness spiral.

But the difference is this time, I've been promising myself things with the actual intent to follow through. Change. Being open to experiences. Opening my heart. Looking to find, hoping to be found.

It's all about thought process...I've always known that. The trouble was altering mine.

Maybe now that I'm finally changing channels my vision will clear.

My Sign (Allegedly) Says Stop

2007-07-19T21:20:00.000-04:00

QV: Why don't you come visit for a week and help me find an apartment?
Mom: Don't you want something outside the city? A little house?
QV: If I get a little house I'll need a little car. If I get a little car I'll need a little insurance-
M: But don't you want one?
QV: Eventually I guess. When I meet someone-
M: Then meet someone! Get married! Put up a sign! Man Wanted: gentle, intelligent-
QV: Yes I need a checklist. That will make them come a'knockin'-
M: Well do something!
QV: Anyway, I thought you said I was already wearing a sign-
M: Yeah it says keep away! Hands off!

Hooray!

2007-07-15T13:31:00.001-04:00

I had a sex dream!
And in that sex dream, I actually had sex!
Not almost. We were not interrupted . I didn't stop myself.
Though I'm pretty sure he was disproportionately large, we did it!
He was wearing a pink condom!
What could all this mean?

"Tastes like a rainbow"

2007-07-07T15:59:00.001-04:00

Finally saw Knocked Up, if only because I heard it was hilarious from 4 different people who get my sense of humor. Overall I enjoyed it, but only after I put aside my disbelief at a number of things...namely (if you haven't seen it, don't keep reading...I don't know if what I'm about to say spoils anything so I'm just putting the warning out) not that she sleeps with him, as a friend of mine said she totally didn't believe, but that she falls for him. It's a movie granted, and he does change (interestingly enough I just realized I made assumptions about her changing based solely on being pregnant, and not on her behavior as I did his) I just don't think it would happen. I know, what an optomist. I'm not saying things couldn't work out, just that love may not be part of the picture.

Anyway, the point of this is I actually didn't identify with her at all, despite the fact that I'm also a single, working professional woman that just got promoted and have in the past few weeks gone out and gotten toasted. Well, as toasted as possible before the allergy kicked in and prevented any further consumption. Maybe the fact that I can't get drunk enough to lose all my inhibitions and have sex with someone ended my ability to empathize with her, but realistically it's probably the whole open heart thing. Because who I did identify with was her sister's husband. Her sister's husband.

Maybe if I eat some shrooms it will lead to some kind of behavior altering revelation and I can get on with my life.

A Mood With A View

2007-06-24T16:45:00.000-04:00

So...the the young one contacted me (read: texted) again....weeks later. He asked me to a movie, one of my favorite things to do, but I was sick (among other things) so I did what I do worst. I lied. I supposed I could have just said I was sick, since that was the truth, but instead I said I had to work late. Technically it wasn't a lie because when I got home I actually did do more work, but this is beside the point. The point is, I didn't want to go. And thus begins the ride into confusion.

I suppose I should first admit that I guess I have expectations (but God forbid he have any of me) and I don't mean like he should pay or call me within 3 days. More like, when I gave him my number I kinda wanted him to call and ask me out. I really was of the mind that I would go out with him at the time. If he had asked called me that weekend at a reasonable hour, I would have gone. A month later? I've lost interest.

Or perhaps it's more general that that. I realize I've lost the mood.

Lost The Mood.

What the hell?

Honestly speaking I don't really want to go out on a date with anyone right now, unspecific to him really. And it completely annoys me that I can sit here, admit that and then still say that I'd like to be with someone. You see, I may be an anomaly, but I think there are other women out there who can't explain their actions any more than you can stop yourself from being hurt by them. It's not a justification or excuse for this behavior, it just...I don't know. When I figure it out I'll let you know.

Famous For Her...Irony

2007-06-20T19:24:00.000-04:00

I recently missed my chance to be the face of virginity in a wide-spread publication of sorts. This saddens me because:
a) I have wanted to be professionally photographed since the day I realized professional photographers can make you look amazing.
b) My 15 minutes finally arrive and it is not in recognition of something creative or notable I've done, but rather something I haven't done at all.

Hey Alanis, that's ironic.

Wait It Out

2007-06-10T12:31:00.000-04:00

I've just returned from a trip abroad, and it has renewed my interest in living outside of NYC. I love it here and it will always be my first home, but I think I will have to make some kind of major change, like moving to a new city, in order to change anything at all. Though, if I move to another city, I wonder if things would be all that different. The basics of city life, well, any life really, are work to live, work to live and some more work to live. Unless you're rich. And then it's partypartyparty, drive drunk, get arrested, then cry when you actually have to serve out your sentence for breaking the law. Sorry, wow where did that come from?

I know there is more to life than that, but in general you have to work in order to do any of the other things that makes life fun.

On the other hand, I'm full swing into the new job which I am enjoying, so I need to give it a while before getting up and running out.

That action obviously still prevailing over the desire to move, I feel like I have somehow convinced myself that waiting works. I waited out Jean, I waited out this job, I guess I can wait out dating because eventually he will find me. Or I'll find him despite the lack of looking. Or I'll finally stop fooling myself that the reason I can't bring myself to date is I just don't want to give up my personal time or deal with someone else's baggage...which may actually just be a reflection of my own baggage. How selfish is that?

A friend told me the other day that when she went to the GYN she asked them to test her eggs. She's in her mid 30s and and starting to worry about her fertility. She wants to have a baby, but she's in no rush to find a man. I'm not yet thirty, but I know it's something I will start to think about over the next few years. Most of the time I think there's no way in hell I'm giving birth and that I will adopt when the time comes. But who knows? Do I want a child enough to be a single mother? I don't think so. But again, who knows what five years experience will bring to my life.

How can I make myself change so I don't wake up one day, 50 and regretful that I waited?

Let [Me] Them Eat Cake

2007-05-20T16:54:00.000-04:00

Friday was my last day doing my old job. Finally. As of Monday I am full time in the new position. I've been doing the job part time for awhile now, so it'll be nice to stop splitting my attention/time between two and focus on the better one. It's really just a long awaited shift to the creative position I should have moved into a year ago. Anyway, my question is, what does it say about me that I wanted a little goodbye kind of thing and didn't get one? I won't be working with the same people I've been working with for the past three years, and I will miss them. I told a few people it would be my last day and expected it to spread. I suppose that was dumb considering I did the same thing about letting them know about the promotion in general and months later some were still saying they'd just heard. I didn't want to walk around with a trumpet but I guess one ultimately has to be responsible for tooting one's own horn. It's my own fault but it's just so easy to play the victim...to feel almost forgotten.

So far this year I've been to two surprise thirtieth birthday parties for good friends, each thrown by their significant others. I was just invited to another one this summer for another good friend, thrown by her significant other. I can't help but wonder who would throw one for me? Not that I really want one, I think I just want to know that I have friends who care enough to put something together. Or at least one person.

A friend of mine does want to go to Vegas for my 30th. I'm not a gambler but from what I hear that's no longer the main attraction. If she can get a few of our friends together to go I'm all for it, but I doubt anyone can pull it off, time or money wise.

Maybe I'll just treat myself to a trip somewhere. One of those adventure type tours...hmmmm...

Must Like Pie

2007-05-13T18:05:00.000-04:00

How is it that I can pray to whatever it is I pray to out of habit these days to reach a higher mind about human existence and my role if I have one in it, but still worry about following society's equation for happiness? Do the Zen Monks have it right? Or the procreating, God-fearing people? Self-enlightenment or the blind continuation of the human race?

And how dare I be pretentious enough to actually think about these things in terms of an answer as to why I am single and though am happy most of the time still struggle with it?

For me I guess it comes down to avoiding one question. How do I make myself do something I don't want to do? (which then also begs the question, if I have to force it, maybe I'm not supposed to?) I've recently come to the conclusion...well, admitted to myself anyway, that I have no desire to date. I know a lot of people say they don't really like it, but most don't have a problem doing it and even manage to have a little fun. Me? I want the instant gratification of sharing my life with someone I trust, without working through all the business that gets you to that point. So in the meantime I'm cool with being alone and the occasional unfulfilled wish to snuggle with someone on the couch.

Would therapy help? I don't know. I feel like I've identified the problem...at least somewhat. There's the fear of sex (ie embarrassing myself due to inexperience), the fear of relationships (ie giving up my freedom) and the fear of getting pregnant (ie having another life totally dependent upon my own). Legitimate? The last one maybe. Really just weird in light of the natural human behavior to couple? Absolutely. So why? Why why why why why is this an issue for me at all?

So I think, well if I am so gadam unwilling to spend my free time getting to know someone, maybe I'm just meant to be alone (fate/excuse). Or...have I just not met anyone who makes me want to break my routine (control/excuse)? Either way I hear myself and know I'm just trying to justify my position.

I recently had a conversation with a good friend about why we're single. She has only a couple friends left who are still single (as do I) and she wondered how that could be when each of us is such a dynamic personality with a lot to offer. Knowing her friends my response was that another thing we all have in common is that we are strong, independent women who I think are unwilling to make sacrifices for just anyone (just to have someone). Not that her other married friends are dull, pushovers, it just seems that they all met their spouses through work, college or other friends. I think it takes a certain kind of strong, independent male to work well with a woman of that same demeanor and if you haven't met someone through work, college or friends on the early side, it gets harder. You'd think there'd be plenty of men like that in the city...not that I'd know since I haven't tried dating any of them...but from what I hear from women who do date, they're not easy to find.

Another friend of mine told me, 'You're such an awesome person, you're absolutely going to find someone. It's just going to be hard because the kind of guy you're looking for is also going to be home asking himself why he can't meet a nice girl.' Ok it sounds totally cheesy but during the course of conversation (you'd think I talk about it all the time jeez!) it wasn't and it made me feel pretty good. She insists that she'd still be single if she hadn't met her husband through work.

Which leads me to my latest encounter that I know any guy reading this will totally hate me for. I met a guy through someone at work at a work party. Let me lay out the excuses first. It was late, I had already had two drinks (which means I was double tired, red faced, and feeling slightly nauseous) and I had to get up early for work the next morning. I had to wait to meet him because all my co-workers who got wind of him stopping by practically ordered me to stay. He arrived and I actually thought, he's cute! Score! He has an accent! Score again! He's got a job! Three scores! I decided that if he was interested maybe I could possibly, potentially, conceivably go out on a date.

But I was so tired and thinking about getting up early the next morning was killing me. Plus all the co-workers around winking at me and poking me to go stand near him just about put me over the edge. It was all very high school which they totally admitted, but still kinda of fun. Anyway, he (and all my new high school buddies) wanted me to stay but I really just couldn't. I had already wanted to leave 20 minutes ago and I wouldn't have been any fun at that point anyway. So I walked right up to him and said, "so can I get your number? Or do you want mine?"

We exchanged numbers and I went home. After a couple days he texted me. Late. He wanted to know what I was up to and if I wanted to meet up with some people and him even later. Here's where I wished I was 20 and still in college. Though even then given the hour I still probably wouldn't have gone out. As much as I hate to admit it, I've never been able to go or stay out late. I earned a very sad nickname in college because of it. Anyway, I told him that I was in for the night but to have fun.

So of course, me being me, I have come to some conclusions about why dating him wouldn't work.

He's young and new to the city- this equals late nights out drinking, two things that are on the bottom of my list of fun things to do. I would never want to deny him that because he's young and new to the city! Who doesn't want to stay out late drinking in NYC besides me?
I'm set in my ways and at the same time looking for something other than drinking/partying to break my routine- this equals me already closing it down.

I haven't heard from him since so I either came across as totally not interested or he's waiting for me to contact him. Which I probably won't do because I suck.

So if the answer to how do I make myself date if I don't want to, is find someone who'd rather catch a movie, maybe stop somewhere for a piece of pie and then head home, then the next question is how do I meet a guy who'd rather catch a movie, maybe stop somewhere for a piece of pie and then head home if he's home wondering how to meet me? Perhaps then I'm just supposed to go it alone?

And so goes the tale of the girl who cried "I want to date but not really unless I'm immediately attracted to him and he likes pie."

Ready. Set. Yawn.

2007-05-06T11:13:00.000-04:00

Well I did it. I joined an online dating site. It was kind of an experiment more than anything else, because I knew the chances of me actually meeting someone in person were very, very slim. Perhaps thinking that right off the bat hindered any potential whatsoever and thereby made the point of joining an online dating site moot, but bear with me. I am not sure what I expected to get out of it (except maybe an ego boost. Is that a sign of pure conceit or what?) but I am not surprised by the result.

Bored.

Perhaps yet another sign of conceit? Wow.

I write in the past tense because I have since removed my picture from my profile. If I could figure out how to remove it all together I would, but I probably won't ever log in again so hopefully after a while they'll just remove it for me.

Anyway, so I signed up and filled out some of the profile. After about a week I posted a picture. Within ten minutes 2 guys sent me messages. I responded to one of them and thanked him for the compliment. He didn't respond and lived 5 states away so I think he may have really just wanted to tell me I have a great smile. Or at least that's what I'd like to believe. Over the next few days I filled out a little more of the profile and got 2 more messages. I didn't respond to any of them.

A week or so later I signed in to check on things and on the home page there was a guy's profile who I thought was really cute. I was so happy! After perusing lots and lots of pictures I actually found one I thought was cute! I read his profile. We had so much in common I couldn't believe it. In theory we'd be perfect. Then I saw where he was from. 5 states away. Why always 5 states away? I sent him a message.

I sent HIM a message.

In my usual ass-backward way I told him he was adorable and that he had great taste in music and was pretty much a perfect match, but that I was a big, fat coward that wouldn't do anything beyond sending him that message.

Who does that?

He graciously messaged me back saying I seemed cool too and that it was a shame he didn't live closer to NYC.

For a few weeks after that I didn't receive or send any messages. The site is not one of the big ones and is not well known so that's what I'll chalk up to not getting any more hits. Hey, we all have to justify things in our own heads right? At any rate I became bored and removed my picture.

So what does all this say about me? Here's what I choose to believe.

I have more of an ego than I thought, which translates to having a healthy one.

I get bored easily, though I kind of knew that before I started.

There are guys out there I find cute! Well, at least one. That's one more than before I started! Yay!

The Constant Smiler

2007-05-05T13:11:00.000-04:00

Most people who know me would probably say that I smile a lot. Up until I was 19 it was pretty much my default face...not in that weird, lips frozen kind of way, but in a habitually easy smile so even when I wasn't smiling there was still a hint of one way. As sickening as it is, my parents provided me a childhood with very little to be unhappy about.

I say 19 was the end of the default smile because that was when I began coming into the city full time. I actually had to train myself not to smile while traveling. It invited too much unwanted attention that my innocent, unjaded self did not know how to handle. On the subways and on the streets, if I caught anyone's eye with a smile on my face it was read as an invitation to approach me, or at the very least say something (in many cases suggestive) to me. How could an overprotected, suburban girl not be scared?

Thus began the inhibiting. I remember catching myself smiling while by myself on the train and forcing myself to lower the corners of my mouth. It was an odd feeling to consciously change my behavior, especially from something positive to something seemingly negative. The good thing though was that around those I was comfortable with a smile was still never far off. In retrospect I'm amazed that I didn't shut down the ability to smile altogether, given my history of putting up walls and such.

Rest assured however, I am still an easy smile and most of the time an even easier laugh. When traveling by myself I am usually listening to my ipod, and I am totally one of those people who bobs her head and mouths the words to what she's listening to. I can't help it. It makes me happy. Every once in a while I'll smile if something funny comes to mind, but most of the time I am straight-faced. And I think I kind of look angry when I don't smile.

So I am making a pledge to start smiling again, whenever, wherever I feel like it. And whatever it invites? I'll handle it. I'm not that 19 year old girl anymore. Well...most of the time.

One For Sorrow...

2007-04-18T20:11:00.000-04:00

I almost cried the other morning. Almost. My eyes welled up but nothing fell. I stopped it before it could happen. I suppose your definition of what crying is will determine whether or not I actually did, but this is not the point. The point is I'm beginning to think I may be a robot.

For the last few days though, I've been fighting a bout of loneliness which kind of detracts from the whole robot theory. Perhaps I'm more of an artificial intelligence, programmed to think I'm feeling emotions. If I wake up with Cylon scrawled across my mirror I won't be surprised.

It's a difficult thing sometimes for me to determine where my emotions are coming from. Rather, if they are real or due to the hormonal imbalance I must suffer monthly. When I turned on GMA the other day and saw pictures of the tragedy at Virginia Tech I felt a sorrow rise up in my chest that eventually reached my eyes. Granted television has become a competition between networks to see who can deliver (read: sensationalize) the news the fastest, the truthiest and the fairest, the images of college kids fading in and out over hauntingly sparse piano music were still images of another sad truth in our nation's history. And I almost cried. Despite it feeling very real I shut the sorrow off and finished getting ready for work.

Is that a sign of strength? Or a mechanical heart?

But in the moment I let the emotion wash over me I thought wow, I can still feel.

Then I got my period and the realness of my sadness dissipated somewhat. Am I diminishing my feelings in order to deal with them? Or am I really just so numb that only my menstrual cycle can knock me off balance enough to create a tear?

I don't know. I'm confused. I always thought I didn't want any drama in my life, but maybe I need a little to feel alive. Or maybe I'm just PMSing. Professionally I'm still frustrated as my promotion still has not gone into full effect, and I don't know how much longer I can tell myself I'm over feeling used and won't take it anymore. Guess three years isn't quite enough. Trying to find comfort in my own arms isn't quite cutting it anymore. About the job, about the tragedy...about the good stuff too. Consciously I feel like I've progressed with how to go about changing my personal life. Subconsciously I'm afraid I'm still afraid.

Dad Weighs In

2007-04-09T18:06:00.000-04:00

Dad: So you met your cousin's fiance?
QV: Yes! He's 1000 times better than the meat heads she usually goes for.
Dad: Oh?
QV: He plays music, he's smart, soft-spoken...
Dad: Does he have any friends?

The Academics Of Sex

2007-04-02T20:57:00.000-04:00

First, I just wanted to send a little thank you out to everyone who has commented or sent me an email. Bearing witness, even anonymously, can lighten the load (despite it being all in my mind) and those who can and do identify make it even lighter. So thanks!

Second, I'm doing some thought process rearranging. You know, trying to change the negatives into positives. In the meantime, here are some quotes from people who have had sex. Always the eternal student...I seem to have already mastered the contradictory nature of it.

"Sex. In America an obsession. In other parts of the world a fact."
~Marlene Dietrich

“Nobody dies from lack of sex. It's lack of love we die from.”
~Anonymous

“Sex is a momentary itch, love never lets you go.”
~Anonymous

“Sex is like air; it's not important unless you aren't getting any.”
~Anonymous

“Among men, sex sometimes results in intimacy; among women, intimacy sometimes results in sex.”
~Barbara Cartland

"I blame my mother for my poor sex life. All she told me was, 'the man goes on top and the woman underneath'. For three years my husband and I slept on bunk beds."
~Joan Rivers

"I haven't had sex in eight months. To be honest, I now prefer to go bowling."
~Lil' Kim

"Love is a matter of Chemistry, but sex is a matter of Physics."
~Unknown

Crazy Has Left The Building

2007-03-25T16:59:00.000-04:00

Dear everyone who now thinks I'm crazy,

Update: I'm not. We all have our moments, do we not? And anyway I have to keep things interesting. Constantly whining about being a virgin doesn't make for that great a read...or does it? Last week's observations were intensified by a mixture of hormones and the gigantic magnifying glass I hold over myself when I write these things. It's a joy being a woman. I'm not diminishing the legitimate weirdness of these strange paranoid dreams, but I have to take everything with a grain of salt. Especially things that come out of my own mouth...and mind. In retrospect I think I can officially attribute this paranoid dream nonsense to stress, and I can do this because the ol' acid reflux has returned as well. I live too much in my head and these physical/subconcious symptoms are just the real, though odd results.

I marvel at what life would be like if I could live by my heart instead of my head. I can only imagine it would be more painful, but also more joyful...broken-healed hearts are what make life worth living or so I've heard, and yet, still can't let myself get there. I want to believe it's not just me, that there are other contributing factors to my somewhat self-imposed singularity, such as location, profession, er...mentality of the demographic of which I seem to be a part, but I know it all starts at home.

Is it ridiculous that I still kind of believe that now that I've finally gotten my professional life in order my personal life will eventually follow? It feels naïve. But then again, most of the things I believe are based in a naïveté of some sort. And of course there's still the overwhelming fear that I should just accept is the brick wall 8 feet thick that prevents me from moving forward. It's just so hard to pinpoint a fear comprised of so many different elements that seem to be unfounded. Or perhaps it really is just simply the fear of sex. Why can't I just grown up? How did I become so gadam stunted?

Next Stop, Crazyville!

2007-03-19T21:46:00.001-04:00

I think I may actually be on the road to um...the bin. I want so badly to get a handle on this whole paranoid half-conscious dreaming thing I do, so the past couple times it has happened I have tried to force myself into some kind of rationality.

What I've come up with is this: still feels like people are able to read my mind, and also this other thing that I haven't mentioned before. There are these strange, non-tangible things/ideas that I am supposed to do/expected to do for work but feel really awkward doing. I can't even put my finger on what it is but it makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong. A weird shameful feeling lingers...maybe more due to having my mind read than what weird things I'm supposed to be doing. I don't know. But...I have figured out that this paranoid dream nonsense only happens when I lay on my right side facing the right hand corner of the ceiling of my bedroom. It's where I originally starting seeing the listening device in the air when I was apparently dream hallucinating. Thank God that has stopped.

I seriously think I am going crazy. I know they say if you know you're going crazy you really aren't, but there's a first time for everything.

I mean, after reading this don't you wonder just a little bit about my sanity?

I could attribute it to stress because God knows what other things it has done to my body, but I'm just not totally convinced.

Maybe there are just one too many radio waves screaming through my walls and somehow messing with my brain. All I know is, if I start to make sense of the noise and it turns into voices telling me to do stuff, don't say I didn't warn you.

One Day Can Determine The Rest...I guess

2007-03-18T15:29:00.000-04:00

It is not my birthday today but I was reading through The Birthday Book and found this:

"Perhaps the greatest problem for [these] people is coming to understand themselves, being able to straighten out their complex, difficult personalities. Usually it is seething emotions which keep them from viewing themselves in a more objective light. Many born on this day use their work as an escape from what seems an excessive self-involvement."

(Though I suppose posting this contradicts trying to escape self-involvement...)

"...Because of their desire for independence, and because they tend to limit themselves to a few choice friends, [these people] risk condeming themselves to a lonely life. Yet being alone is not necessarily a lonely experience for those born in this period."

(Not all the time, but every one in a while I am a lonely loner...)

S.W.A. ...?

2007-03-13T20:22:00.000-04:00

You know that feeling you get when you realize you've forgotten something but can't remember what it is...and then you do but are hit with another realization that you haven't forgotten what you thought you did but for whatever reason still feel like you have?

This has been happening to me almost every day, and what it is I feel like I've forgotten is to kiss someone goodbye. How weird is that? Even knowing that I haven't forgotten this doesn't make the feeling go away. I'm starting to wonder about my sanity. Well actually, I started that a long time ago, but you get the gist. It's a renewed wonder.

The half-conscious paranoid dreams have been in and out lately too. It is disconcerting in a waking state to think about what someone would think of you if they knew your thoughts. When the line between reality and dreams is blurred it becomes terrifying. At least, for me. Which is weird because it's not like I'm thinking horrible things (all the time anyway) it's more the invasion of privacy that gets me. As much as I hate to admit it, I actually like the fact that you can't ever know what goes on in someone else's head. Or perhaps it's more that no one can ever know what goes on in mine that I like.

One of the first things that Jean said that ever angered me was, "I know you like the back of my hand." First of all, if that was true she would not have said it. Why make me angry when I was happy to be her doormat? Second of all, she couldn't possibly know I would learn to self-preserve and cut her off a few years later because the back of her hand would never change.

I suppose this speaks to my um, ability to let people in. Which, by the by, I have done many times, just on my terms, slowly and to a certain degree. It's not that I'm hiding things about myself, with the exception of the whole sex thing, because most of my close friends know a great deal about me...I think it's more about how far into my heart I let people. In Queen Vee terms, how much I miss them when they're gone?

Maybe I've been letting more in without knowing it which is why I feel like I've been forgetting to kiss them goodbye. No that's not it. What could possibly be the cause for this odd, odd feeling?

Welcome To My Second Dollhouse

2007-03-07T21:48:00.001-05:00

At some point this year I will turn 30. This fact doesn't upset me at all. In fact, I'm kind of looking forward to it. Since I was a teenager I've always thought I'd look, feel and be at my best in my thirties. I suppose there is something to be said for mind over matter, but I can also attest that I didn't make my twenties painful by purposely being over-stimulated, under-sexed, wet-noodillish and perpetually exhausted. I used to think it was a second coming of age until I realized mixing pop culture and psychology was just a trendy way to justify my behavior. Well, that and I now know I haven't quite finished growing up yet, nor will I in the foreseeable future.

Every couple of days I find myself wondering about my place with an almost overwhelming awe. What am I doing? Do I really have this job? These friends? This life? Am I supposed to be doing something else? How did I get here?

I received an Alumni magazine from my high school the other day and read about this kid I once knew. For the past couple of years he's been working in Africa, helping people with HIV. For the past couple of years I've been working in the entertainment industry bitching about a boss who's been holding me down. Um...inadequate is the only word that comes to mind when comparing my place with his in the larger scheme of things. I know it's futile to do such a thing, because no matter how good you are there's always someone better as well as someone worse, but in the space around my life that's what happens. I compare, feel bad for a while, and then it passes. It passes because I've accepted the fact that I could never handle going to Africa and helping people with HIV. That's not to say that something profound couldn't happen to me and change that, but at the moment it's one of my truths.

I think my career choice (and therefore my place?) is one of the very few things I've been able to reconcile with the direction of my life, or at least my desire to be a contributing member of society. I spent a lot of time worrying about who I was helping and if my existence was worth anything if I wasn't. I even went so far as to quit the industry cold to figure out if I was doing the right thing. Or at least, the right thing for me which eventually I realized was the point I was missing. Right for me is an entirely different ball game than the right thing. Because honestly, what's the right thing? Too many (mostly religious) people confuse the right thing with a good/kind thing. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing, (sorry) it's just not everyone can be a doctor. At least, I can't. And I'm ok with that.

I'll always wonder about my actual, grain of sand place in the world, because I still often feel like the proverbial (is that the right word?) square peg, but that's what makes it worth living isn't it? Everyone (sans the big bores) loves a mystery. What could be coming next?

For me it's the big three oh. Does it bother me that I'm still a virgin? Well...yes, but only because it means I haven't connected with anyone on a level where I can give myself over completely. Sometimes I wonder if I ever will, because even in my friendships there are things I hold back, but I still hope. Maybe this year is the year. I've been so lucky to explore all that I have in my life so far, it's time to face the boys...um, the men. A man.

Update On Jane Mag's Legal Pimping Debacle

2007-03-03T16:58:00.000-05:00

Sarah is still publicly dating.

I am not.

We are both still virgins.

Do you see?

The Progressive Downfall of Professional Socialization

2007-02-25T17:46:00.001-05:00

Or What Happens When Co-workes Go Out For Drinks Armed With A Corporate Card

1st round
Bitch session about how much everyone hates their lazy bosses

2nd round
Gossip about said bosses and how pathetic their lives must be to be so miserable at work

Half way through 2nd round
Gossip about said bosses and how pathetic their sex lives must be to be so miserable at work

3rd round
Gossip about who (non-present co-workers) is sleeping and who has slept with who

4rth round
Revelations about their own sex lives

5th round and beyond
No one really remembers but it was probably about sex

I don't go out for drinks that often so my co-workers seem to love it when I do. The whole being allergic to alcohol amazes them and they love to see me test my limits. Only when after I've had a little and I let them feel my heartbeat do they believe me I think. At least, that's when the 'omg are you ok?' sets in. One of the reasons I don't often go out is because it kind of sucks to watch everyone else get drunk while I only get to have one, immediately followed by a pounding headache and nausea if I don't chase it with two glasses of water.

Another reason, if not obvious already, is the inevitable conversation consumer. Sex, sex, sex. Is that all anyone ever thinks about? Oh right...even I do. I just can't contribute without feeling like a total ass because I totally don't know what I'm talking about. It's weird though, I've come to realize that while my not dishing about my sex life gives me a bit of mystery, the assumptions made are never that I'm a virgin. It's usually that I either just don't like to talk about my straight encounters or I'm a closeted lesbian. Never that I just don't have any experience to talk about, which is a good thing I think. I can only imagine their reactions: first the amazement (once I've convinced them I actually am a virgin) and then the set ups with the perfect guy(s). Or worse, the 'I don't know anyone who you could go out with because everyone I know is a whore'.

I was totally tempted to lie last night, and was preparing myself to spew it if the floor was given to me with the expectation of an answer, but my pauses and subject changes were subtle enough to avoid the spotlight. Plus it will probably keep them guessing should they actually remember it later. I was only up to one and a half by the time they hit five...The more I hang out with them though the more I know they're going to try to 'out' me or at least get me to spill about something sexual.

I told them I 'dated' Dennis though, which may tide them over for a while. Though I'm sure it'll come back to haunt me...again only if they remember I said it. I guess that's the good thing about the involvement of alcohol. What happens in lala land, stays in lala land. So what if it's only because they've lost too many memory brain cells?

What If You Have No History?

2007-02-16T22:39:00.003-05:00

Years ago I left home for college with the intention of trying many new things, most of which I would never think of doing while living home. Of course my status as a goody two shoes kind of prevented me from actually following through with them, the exception being the non-law breaking, health-risking ones. Like giving blood.

Being questioned by a nurse wasn't something I expected, as living the life of a sheltered little girl it didn't occur to me to think that people's blood might not be all that healthy to give. I mean, if someone wanted to give blood they must be clean right? It's not like there were drug addicts around trying to earn a cookie by offering their already paltry blood reserve.

Once the questions started though I knew what would be coming. At 17 I didn't think much of my virginal state so I smiled and answered no to every expected question...except one: "Are you pregnant?" I kind of snort laughed and said, "not unless I'm the next Virgin Mary." She didn't crack a smile. I thought it was funny. I've come to discover it's a line used by many of us virgins when we'd like to end the endless sexual history questions with a bit of self-deprecating humor. However it would seem that only the ones saying it actually think it's funny. When did we become the only ones with a sense of humor?

Two years ago I forced myself to finally make an appointment to go to the Gynecologist for the first time. Ever. I blame that irresponsibility on my parents' need to believe I was a good girl and never making me go in my teens. That being the truth aside, I still yell at my mother for it because since I've always been sexually inactive I couldn't scare myself enough into going. She scared me out of sex but not into preventative medicine. No lectures on how I'm putting my health in jeopardy necessary. It's hard enough for me to make an appointment to get my hair cut let alone make one to see the doctor. I hate the phone, I despise making appointments and I loathe having strangers touch me, even if it is in my best interest.
Vaginal Speculum, 1e/2e AD
I chose an older male doctor because I figured he had years of experience and would be desensitized to the sight of a naked woman. I never said I was logical thinker. At any rate, it made me a tad more comfortable. Just a tad. His office was small and lived in, his desk was littered with papers and plastic models of a uterus and drug paraphernalia. I did not tell him it was my first GYN exam ever, but when we got to the sexual history questions I could not lie. When I told him I was not sexually active and had never been, he paused. You may not think that's much, but when you get an OBGYN doctor to pause it's because he's surprised. In that moment I could have sworn his eyebrows raised just slightly. He closed the folder and asked me to tell the nurses up front that they should prepare the white speculum for me.

Now, because I was nervous as hell and not thinking straight, I missed the fact that it was totally inappropriate for him to ask me to do that (as well as the connection between sexual non-history and speculum request). I find it ha-larious in retrospect that I was just dumb enough to do it. And when I did, I wasn't even discreet because I didn't know what the hell the white speculum was. I marched right into the nurses station and said, "the doc said I need the white speculum!" All three of them looked up. I might as well have shouted, "hey girls, prep the virgin prod, this one's gonna be tight!"

Thank God I didn't find out that the white speculum was any different from the regular ones until he was actually examining me and explaining that it was smaller so it wouldn't hurt. I would have been mortified if I hadn't been so nervous. I think the nurse who was in the room with me felt bad because she could tell I was going through this whole, "omg I'm still a virgin and now the whole office knows it" episode. Either that or she was wondering if I was a closeted lesbian.

And so on a completely different note, the upside to this virgin business, as I know my fellow virgins will agree, is that worries about pregnancy, stds and other health risking factors due to sexual activity is not something that plagues us. In fact, sometimes it even saves us time when the doctors are trying to rule out reasons for the illnesses we do get.

Because you know as soon as I start having sex I'm going to be doing online searches for herpes and chlamydia.

Ready Point

2007-02-15T20:54:00.001-05:00

Well...it finally happened. After all this time, waiting and wondering when the day would come, torturing myself with alternating thoughts of confidence and doubt...I finally got what I've been waiting for...a promotion!

What...did you think I meant sex? No, I didn't think so. You're too smart for that.

But for once the optomist in me gets to tell the cynic to take a flying leap. It's wonderful. Ok yes I can still complain about the fact that this company/these people has(ve) treated me with disrespect (for 3 out of the 4 years I've been employed by the greedy corporate regime), but the fact of the matter is I still earned this position based on my creative talent and my talent alone. I didn't kiss anyone's ass or constantly bother the higher ups with chatter about how great I am or with small talk for which I have no tolerance. I let my work speak for me and it feels fabulous to finally be recognized.

I know that in itself sounds pompous but I don't care. I'm proud for not giving up on myself as I have been prone to do in the past. And it's just the cherry on top that I overcame actually being held down by a boss. (Granted I use the term 'overcame' loosely as my boss became my ex-boss before I got promoted but whatever. I'm still taking credit. Side note: it's even more delicious because the VP is now aware that I was being held down.) God it's like a bad 80s movie about rising to the top...which is funny because I'm no where near the top. I've reached the place I want to be and for now...I feel a giant sense of relief. My whole life has been about what was next, what I needed to be working toward, who was keeping me from it. After I make the transition I'm actually wondering what I'll have to worry about. It's almost frightening.

My ambition is not great, I have no desire to be president or have people working for me. I just want to do what I do best and maybe get a pat on the back once in a while. This isn't to say I won't be moving on to bigger things eventually, but I've actually reached a career goal and if you couldn't tell I'm just a little awed by it.

As it turns out, the ex-boss has allegedly changed her tune about me as well. While never directly or outwardly negative towards me, her behind the scenes is coming to light. I have no contact with her anymore, but she came back to write up our reviews for the year and according to another co-worker on her level, she wrote me a rave review. My co-worker insisted that my ex-boss has turned a new leaf. I'm not so quick to imagine that's the case, my bruised ambition tends to believe she can't exactly not give me a rave review and come out looking like she doesn't have something against me.

But anyway after I let the news settle in, as well as controlled my urge to tell everyone I've ever met because it's not totally official yet, a thought passed through my mind:

Now I can start looking for a man.

Seriously. I heard it echo through my brain and then I actually laughed out loud. What an absurd thing to think. And yet I thought it. And if I'm actually honest with myself, I'd admit I meant it. Seriously.

So despite my amusement at my own roller coaster of emotions, could it be that maybe I have possibly, actually reached a potential ready point? Finally? Would it be so obvious as all that? Should I take it as a kind of sign that a few weeks ago I even wrote a song about reaching that ready point?

Do I dare dream?

Tatay's Broken Mold

2007-02-04T00:33:00.000-05:00

When I was about four years old my mother told me I cried and cried when I found out I couldn't marry my father. Little did either of us know what a foreshadowing it would turn out to be.

I'm sure there are thousands of studies about who people tend to marry and why, but I think it's logical to say that if one grows up in a relatively happy household, they will seek partnership with someone who resembles one or both of their parents in some way. As I'm sure I've blogged (read: whined) before, it's probably obvious that I am looking for many of my father's qualities in a man. The problem with this is I don't think they make them like my father in this country. That is probably the weirdest thing I've ever said but it's true. That's not to say they don't exist, but they are awfully hard to come by. Most American men aren't taught to be sensitive or gentle. We can all accept that generalization as true, no?

But it's more than that. There is an innocence about my father that at 68 he still possesses, and it amazes me. I have yet to meet a man who even comes close to having this vulnerability about them. Of course he has his shortcomings and traditional beliefs that can be narrow minded at times, but we all do. It's what makes us who we are. I do think the human mind is capable of opening up to just about anything, especially the acceptance of our fellow human beings, but only if the burden of self-importance is overcome. For now, everything in moderation, right?

Before your educated yet perverted minds get to it (no doubt there already) I do not suffer an Elektra complex. I respect and love my father, but I don't want my mother dead nor do I actually want my father. Incest isn't really my scene. But I do wonder if in this day and age men like him exist in my generation.

This war has darkened everything. Fear is a major factor in our every day lives, at least that's what the media/war lords want us to accept for ratings/votes, and it doesn't lend a hand in allowing people their innocence. How can you believe the good in other people or in the purity of life when you feel threatened by strangers as well as those who are supposed to be your protectors? Maybe I'm fooling myself in thinking other people feel the same way, but show me a man my age who doesn't hide his fear with machismo and I'll show you our wedding picture.

But I can't really have that little faith. I'm probably just looking in the wrong places. After all, I am in NYC, the self proclaimed capitol of the world, which leads me to my next theory. Maybe I should move abroad for a while (something that has been in the back of my mind since I graduated college) both to experience a different way of life and a different...shall we say, breed? of men. (Not that I have ANY experience, proof or validation to make this gigantic sweeping judgment, I am well aware. But what do you expect from an almost 30 year old virgin with bright eyes and a suitcase of unfounded fears of men/sex/relationships?) Of course, unless I move to an African desert or a jungle in Thailand I fear the working for a living will cage me in the same type of life I live now. Which is not to say is bad, it's just...not different.

And let's not forget the spark, shall we?

Have I mentioned one of the things I have in common with my father, oddly enough, is my occasional naiveté?

Seriously?

2007-02-03T00:50:00.000-05:00

Pronunciation: 'ska[ng]k
Function: noun
Etymology: origin unknown
slang : a person and especially a woman of low or sleazy character

You knew it was only a matter of time (like the Jane Virgin debacle) before my sentiment about the above 'the trailer park called, they want their trash back' reared its ugly head. (Note: it does not matter how much money your trailer park happens to possess, a trailer park is a trailer park.)

But really? I think I'm going to be sick. I mean, we could all probably learn a few things from JJ, but this skank a dank? I suppose we could learn what not to do from her, but in all honesty...ew. I know I'm overestimating probably a large portion of the male population when I ask, who in their right mind would want her to be their first?...their last or anywhere in between really? For crying out loud "she's the village bicycle, everyone's had a ride."

I suppose the same could be said for JJ, but for some reason I have a lot more respect for her. Being a feminist and all, and trying to open my mind up to the concept that the sex industry is actually an industry that some women want to be in, I think she's done pretty well for herself. But skanky mcskankerson? Whether or not she actually does the devirginizing or merely teaches how to become devirginized, I wouldn't want her anywhere near me period. (And yes I am completely ignoring the fact that the call is only for male virgins. Apparently female virgins have standards and won't sleep with just anyone the casting directors choose for them. At least, that's my guess.) Why does being rich and talentless bring people fame, more money and opportunity?

At this rate I'll never get anywhere.

But no, for real. Watching a reality show about teaching male virgins (18-34, if you're 35 or up and still a virgin well...apparently your virginity, like a female's, is no longer marketable) how to seduce women and finally discover their "special purpose"?

I'd rather give birth to a cactus.

Conversations With Mom

2007-01-27T11:34:00.001-05:00

QV: can you believe im almost 30?
Mom: not really. youre still a kid to me
QV: i'm still a kid to ME. you got yourself a peter pan in me
Mom: right hahahahaha
QV: every single astrology both western and chinese say independent, loner, etc etc
Mom: cant have kids that way
QV: your fault. shoulda had me in 76 in april or something
Mom: oh well, no grandkids for me
QV: oh stop it. maybe if you said nice things about boys everyone once in a while....
Mom: i like D how about that
QV: ha! little late for that. why didnt you encourage me in highschool?
Mom: i did. you said one of your friends liked him and you would not get in the way blah blah blah. always a goody two shoes

Apparently I was born a goody two shoes. My mother had 12 marriage proposals and had broken 12 hearts by the time she met and married my father (at 20).

8 Seconds

2007-01-21T11:18:00.001-05:00

I went out with some family friends yesterday who I haven't seen in a long while. As I was late, they had all gone around filling each other in on their lives by the time I arrived. I was expected to spill the moment I sat down. My favorite question was first.

"So are you seeing anyone?"

"Ummm, no."

Long, pregnant pause during which all eyes were on me. Can we say AWKWARD? I couldn't figure out what to say next and apparently no one else could either. Granted it was probably only about 8 seconds, but 8 seconds of complete silence during any conversation let alone that one is kind of weird.

I know I'm making too much of it, but it was just odd that it happened when it did (ie, after the first question asked) rather than ten minutes into the conversation when a lull would be normal. Like that was the only thing they were really interested in knowing about me.

HAhhahaha! So ridiculous.

I need to come up with a follow up response...keep the conversation moving. Perhaps, "and I've never had sex," would work?

"To Do Or Not To Do"

2007-01-20T12:33:00.001-05:00

"Or Online Dating And Why I'm Still Not Sure How I Feel About It. Aside From Scared. Because It Still Involves Human Interaction At Some Point."

Tap tap tap tap...I don't know. I'm not even sure how to begin. Ultimately I know whatever I say will make me look foolish, but pretty much every entry in this blog does that so I guess I shouldn't be worried about this one.

Here's the thing...if I'm outrageously picky in the real world, imagine what I'd be like in cyber space? A couple of my friends are proponents of online dating and have encouraged me in the past to sign up. One said at the very least it'll help my ego. I've scanned a few of them but the whole thing just makes me nervous. You know the whole distrust issue I harbor? It flares up a little when dealing with anonymous online spaces where the potential for people to lie outweighs their self-control, or at the very least misrepresent themselves based on what they'd like to be rather than what they are. (I know I know, everyone does this sometimes. I realize not everyone is out to take advantage of other people...but some of them are. Sometimes I think maybe I'm just nervous I'm one of the ones who, despite all my suspicions, is still naive enough in some ways to be taken.)

But theoretically speaking, let's say I'm able to get past that and find someone's entry that I believe is honest and straightforward. We start emailing, I get to like him (as he presents himself in writing- because I know that if say, someone like Fred :) met me in person he'd be surprised at how different I am...or rather, how much easier it is to read me, than listen to me stutter through my nervousness), we decide to meet, I feel zero chemistry and have to either give him the 'let's just be friends' or stop communication altogether. (Putting the horse before the cart much? Obviously the reverse is possible too, but I'd rather just assume not so I can hide behind it. How's that for honest?) It would just make me feel worse than if I had met him through a friend and didn't do the emailing because we would have already gotten to know each other. God writing that out loud makes me realize how utterly ridiculous it is...and yet, can't rid myself of it.

Or perhaps I'm making excuses because I want things to happen naturally. And yet, can't make myself do anything to get that ball rolling either.

How can you stand someone who won't help herself out?

Why are you still reading this?

Maybe one of these days I'll grow a set and at least sign up, see what happens. At the very least it'll give me something else to talk about (along with a potential ego boost?) Why is it that I can take risks with my life, but I can't take any in it?

Jump off a cliff? Done it. Swim in dangerous waters? Done it. Step in front of a speeding bus? Done it. Quit my career track? Done it. Go out on a date? eeeeeeeeee! Scary!

I'm Done

2007-01-16T18:56:00.000-05:00

Ok that is it. That is IT. I've had it. I'm done with my subconscious. I'm done with my consciousness. I am so over myself it's not even funny. When do I get to look back and laugh already?

Here's the latest offering from the depths of my horribly unfunny mind:

First of all, I'm in this strange house where every room is dedicated to some kind of sex play. Um...I don't even know how that's possible considering the breadth of my exposure.

Second of all, I'm half naked in one of these rooms with a guy (who I of course don't know and of course can't remember his face) who is also half naked.

Good start to a dream if one is to be had, no?

So we're making out, great, great, great...suddenly he rolls over and turns on the TV. Are you ready for this? It's wrestling. Incredibly this doesn't deter me. I throw myself across him and say, "You know, this isn't really turning me on."

He says, "Yeah, me either," and continues to watch.

Again, incredibly, I still try apparently thinking the direct approach has a chance in hell of working.

"I really want to have sex with you."

He sighs. He actually sighs and says, "Oh ok" like I'm putting him out.

He gets up to turn out the light and I wake up. Unfulfilled. Again.

Seriously? Someone just put me out of my misery.