Coffee: DENIED!!
Last week I went back to my hometown for a Halloween party. I even wore a costume and everything. I don’t go up there very often, and every time that I do go… I am glad. Thought I was going to say I regret it, huh? Nope. Anyhow, R and I got to the party fashionably late and in high style. Who knew that this evening would lead to my latest WTF moment…
One of the things that I enjoy about going to the hometown is that all of the pressure of socializing with an agenda is out the window. I have long abandoned the idea that this particular little slice of heaven would bring forth a guy I would want to date… or would want to date me for that matter – let’s not forget I did more than a decade of hard time there, so I have some context for this attitude. Plus, when I am there I am generally flanked by R so I have a nice comfortable landing spot, and exit strategy. This shindig was no exception to my previously established assumptions. Therefore, you can imagine my surprise to make contact with someone (new) who seemed pretty interesting, and who has an incredible back story as well. Suffice it to say I was intrigued enough that it made the next morning’s brunch conversation agenda.
Over the course of several hours of brunch Dr. T and R and I talked about the changing social dynamic we are facing these days re: meeting people, and of course the inherent distinction between his, and ours. Facts being what they are, it is a lot easier to be a dude of our – shall we say, station – or just be honest and say age? It reminded me of this sentiment from an article about all the Single Ladies:
I realized that I too have always just assumed that the whole “love” thing would just work itself out. It turns out that is a bit naive, and by the way, don’t read that article if you are still in that frame of mind: total spoiler. So, we contemplated, what was the best course of action to take in navigating these waters, (which seem like they should get smoother with maturity – not more fucking rocky)? We could all speak to different strategies coupled with equally diverse (and though often humorous, still disappointing) outcomes.
Should one “get out there” and try to make things happen even if it’s not what you were naturally inclined to do? Should you use places in your comfort zone as a “hunting ground”? Internet dating? The fact of it is, all of it made me want to barf in my cappuccino. I have always said that if I wasn’t going to meet someone doing what I normally do, and in the course of my normal life, then I wasn’t going to meet the right person. I still believe that, but the reality of that scenario is that I work pretty much around the clock during the school year, using my free time for yoga and the gym… and then I want to travel when I am not working. This is not conducive to being a successful dater (which we have long-established I have no idea how to do anyhow.) Not to mention, I don’t even know what i am looking for. This particular line of rhetoric was precipitated by my admission that I do not go out on Friday night. “I am just too tired,” I told Dr. T. “But it seems like you are always doing stuff… totally energetic,” she replied. “You can’t trust Facebook,” I reminded her.
And here it is, Friday night and I am home. Exhausted. Not at all unhappy, but completely aware that my staying in perpetuates the reality that I will continue to reduce the odds of meeting someone new and interesting or at least the bearer of interesting potential.
So, maybe it was not too crazy to consider someone I met in my hometown. Shit, I have certainly considered far more suspect possibilities in places far afield.
Information was acquired (from both sides of the equation, I might add) and contact was made. “Let’s get together for coffee or something…” “That would be great, we should have some free time coming up with the holidays…” “By the way, I thought you were gorgeous.”
Aaawwwwww.
And then the Facebook connection was established. I looked at his profile. I saw some things that made me go “Hmmmmmm….” [You went to Pahrump? On purpose? FOR.FIREARMS TRAINING????] But, in my typical optimistic fashion (don’t laugh I am an optimist, but of course only in the most ridiculous circumstances) I overlooked these few things. After all, had I not just spent hours talking with my best friends about how (c’est la vie said the old folks, it goes to show… ) you never can tell? Plus, you can’t trust Facebook.
Plans were made. Life went on. Two days later I got this message:
Listen, why don’t we hold off getting together for that drink. After checking out your fb stuff I realized that you and I are polar opposite on our politics. Friendship sounds a hell of a lot better at this point.
Of course, being the headcase that I can sometimes be, my first reaction was to go back and look at my Facebook page. Umm… What? I couldn’t even figure out how it was “political.” Save for the poster from my union that one of my amazing coworkers made for us to carry at the General Strike standing behind Occupy Oakland… oh, hm. Perhaps that is political. But, as a historian, I would certainly NOT miss an event like that! And as a teacher (he is one too) who in the world could be anti-union? I looked further. I had a Howard Zinn quote. Okay, maybe I am a little political. I considered all of this in a new light. But cancelling a coffee date? I shook my head. Does the guy know anything about me? Well, he is related to people I have known since I was six. He knows where I grew up, not a traditionally conservative bastion – though these days, sheesh. Everything else he gleaned from… from… Facebook?
I looked at all the stuff on my Facebook. Things I have selected to share with a very wide variety of people and re-reconsidered. It may be political. It may ideological. Hell, it may be psychological. But mostly, in my opinion, it is there to be intellectual – and I don’t mean all smarty pants, but I mean to engender thought, or perspective. Yeah, even argument. Some of the people I respect most in my life are the ones who really come at me from a different angle and are not afraid. [That would be you, Mr. Fox Island.] But in the end I went back to the same old place:
“Seriously. Am I not cute enough to override the red flags??? Do you know how many guys I have gone out with in spite of the plethora of screaming scarlet banners??????”
Ooohhhh…
Wait a minute…
…perhaps Mr. Freinship-sounds-a-hell-of-a-lot-better-at-this-point is on to something here…
Round and Around we Rebound: I’m piloting the relationship Swiffer
Throughout my basketball career, my most dominant stats were always rebounding. I had some games where I totally controlled the boards on both sides of the floor. My record for rebounding stood for ten years or so after I graduated. My coach accused me, on more than one occasion, of padding my offensive rebound stats by being such a crap offensive threat on the put back. I can’t tell you if it was intentional but I can certainly tell you I knew how to rebound. This is one of the reasons I always liked Charles Barkley. Anyone who knows anything about basketball knows, the man dominated the boards when he was so inclined. In addition to his general hilarity, bordering on total ridiculousness, and real likelihood to say absolutely anything ["These are my new shoes. They're good shoes. They won't make you rich like me, they won't make you rebound like me, they definitely won't make you handsome like me. They'll only make you have shoes like me. That's it."] Charles always sent the ball home.
I don’t care what people think. people are stupid.
~ Charles Barkley, “The Round Mound of Rebound”
Not that I want to be the Round Mound of anything, but it turns out that rebounding continues to be a particular area of my expertise.
Who knew?
What not to do on a date. If you want another date, anyhow.
Alright, let’s face it, I am hardly any expert on this, and I appreciate that dating is hard. And frustrating. And often awkward. Even downright tedious. This is probably why I don’t really date and therefore lack expertise on the subject. [Hey you in the back, I hear you talking about how my choices for dates are at the root of the problem. Not that I am denying it... but, SHH.] But, even when I talk to my friends who really do date, like really make the effort to get out there and focus, focus, focus…. I hear the complaints.
Anyhow, for what it’s worth here are a few things I would say you should categorically NOT do on a date.
The Retribution Hook Up.
I have been wanting to write about this but then thinking, hmmm…. perhaps it is too much for certain members of my audience. But I am struggling with the notion of censure these days as well as the more basic censor. I am torn. The question of how personal to be – or not to be – begs a degree of serious consideration. But then, at this point, it seems like, what the hell. Scandal sells, and my circus of a dating life could be a NY Times syndication.
So, as Mr. Vonnegut so aptly said, it goes.
When one gets asked out it is hard to not be flattered and I would say this even includes the requests that come from people you would never even consider offering an affirmative. It is nice. It is validating. It makes you feel special, like, selected or something, even if you were already feeling pretty fly about yourself. When I was recently asked out by OMYSFYSFYBMM I was all of the above, though I was certainly not averse to acquiesecing. I was pretty psyched, frankly. And, as the details of the date are not really so salient here, plus I think people have imaginations that might lend more color to the story than my words might, I will just say it was a pleasant set of circumstances all the way around. It was what I would describe as a successful date.
For all of these reasons, you can imagine my surprise to learn, on the second date, that OMYSFYSFYBMM has – not had, but has – a girlfriend.
-Uh…
-Yeah, well, I know. It is kind of weird.
-Umm, weird is not precisely how I would describe this.
-Well, we have been having some problems for the last few months and…
-”Few months”?
-Well, we’ve been together for five years…
-Five years?
-It’s just that, well, I don’t know. She was cheating on me and so we have been sleeping in separate bedrooms…
-You live together?
-Yeah, we bought a house last year. And the thing is, it is kind of complicated…
-You think?
-I just.. well, I don’t know how things are going to go and well, there is a kid…
-You have a kid?
-No. I mean, well she has a kid. And, well, he is 12 and I have been you know, with him since he was like seven and…
-I think the word you are looking for is not the linking verb ‘with’ but rather the active verb ‘raising’.
-Yeah, yeah. That is the thing. And so… Well, really I had sort of made up my mind to try to work it out with her the day that I asked you out and…
-Why did you ask me out?
-The first time I saw you I knew I wanted to get to know you, you were just totally intriguing and -
-’Get to know me’?
-Well, yeah, and -
-But, you are in a relationship.
-Yeah, well, like I said I am not sure-
-You live together with a child.
-I know, it is confusing. But she was seeing some other guy and I, well, I didn’t think you would be so cool and-
-You ‘didn’t think I’d be so cool’?
-I don’t know, I had no idea I would be so interested and -
At this point a million things were going through my mind. On the one hand I felt lucky that he had not confessed that he had AIDS or scabies (under our current circumstances, the latter would be more problematic than the former). On the other hand I was super irritated at the notion that he even thought I might not be ‘so cool.’ Then again, I was glad to know he was not fathering children around the City with reckless abandon and that he seemed to accept responsibility for the one he was “with.” And it was nice to know that someone thought you were hot enough to ask out on the day you had decided to attempt to work it out with your LTR. What the hell?
And then it hit me: “The Retribution Hook Up.”
It made perfect sense. He had been pissed off enough to try to ‘do unto others’ as it were. She cheated. He would cheat. This was new for me. “The Other Woman.” I thought about this label. I did not like it. Making completely fucked relationship choices for my own life has been a full-time occupation, I hardly have the time to be fucking up other people’s shit.
I considered the karma I have undoubtedly piled up with my past relationships and the attendant fall-out. It is substantial to be sure. Could this be a part of it? Maybe. It could also just be my own proclivity towards selecting, from an admittedly wide array, the most likely person to cause me problems in an intimate, interpersonal way. The whole situation stinks. And of course, OMYSFYSFYBMM and I are incredibly compatible in a million ways. I suppose the cheating may be one of those. When he texts or calls, which is always just when I have gotten him off my mind, it takes an iron will to simply ignore. I called in all the girls as my support network. C in HK reminded me in her perfectly succinct way:
Stop feeding that stray cat of a man.
This is a dead-end street with a car coming.
No.
That woman will go apeshit. Do not continue. She will be angry and blame woman not man.
So, now I have the opportunity to do the right thing. Maybe it will reduce a bit of my karmic debt and maybe it won’t. But one thing is for sure right about now:
Ho’s before Bro’s – and if you hooked up with me and *then* you were surprised at how cool I am, you are clearly not paying attention.
My own comedy of errors. And this shit is true. Seriously.
The only thing that is going to offer any kind of credibility to the following story is the simple fact that I could not really be making shit like this up, because if I could, I would no longer need a day job (and for the record, I DO need a day job, so if anyone has any fabulous ideas, call me.) For dramatic effect (though little is needed) I am going to start in the middle. We’ll see how that goes…
Apparently a funny thing happens to people when they get to be a “certain” age; they start to really re-evaluate their lives and, depending on said analysis, they start taking actions that might be slightly out of character. I am being euphemistic there. Basically, when people get to an age where they start to look at their lives more from the point of how they are ever going to get to do all the things they want to do rather than from the point of view that they have forever to do all the things they want to do, they start doing some whacked out shit. I believe I am at or around that age. Whether I have succumbed to the whacked-out-shit-phase is likely a fairly subjective notion.
One of the things that has fully dominated the psyches of many of the women I know and the men who will admit it within my peer group, is the partnering-up urge. It’s like a latent Sex & the City virus. I have never been married (or divorced – win!) so I will have to speak to some of these things as an observer rather than a practitioner, but I certainly have been on the coupling up bandwagon. Due to some pretty choice moments over the past couple of years, I am much more detached from this phenomenon, but it lingers and occasionally rears its ugly little head into my otherwise pretty satisfying life. One of these head-butts contributed to my creating a profile on an on-line dating site. Yeah, yeah. It was as bad as I could have ever imagined it. But as they say, ‘all my friends were doing it’ – and no, I would not jump off a bridge if ‘all my friends were doing it’ (mom) but, I thought, “Hey, it is the information age, maybe this is how people do it these days… I shouldn’t knock it until I try it.” [Error #1: not trusting my gut instinct that this was a really bad idea, at least for me - people who are unfamiliar with IRL dating should not embark on the virtual variety. Real. Talk.]
After creating a profile and meeting approximately three people, all of whom were really prefect for that scene, and totally repulsive to me, I realized that this was not the way forward no matter how many people told me they ‘met their husband on Match’ or they had a neighbor who found their soul mate in some forum, on such and such website. I was done. I happened to be having this conversation with two of my closest HK friends in October of 2008 as we sat in Carnegie’s enjoying a nice adult beverage. Now, one of these friends is committed to the on-line dating world and she is sticking with it, full throttle and has a clear agenda. The other could not be more of the opposite. I guess I was sort of the one in the middle, on the proverbial fence… but I was getting ready to jump over into friend #2′s yard. We were talking about the ins and outs of all of this: dating, meeting people, marrying people… The pros, cons, pressures, stereotypes, assumptions. All of it. It was sounding worse by the second and I was sure I was making the right decision to leap off the fence. In the midst of the conversation, my iPhone did its little techno bleep letting me know I had new mail. I checked it. It was an email from someone on the soon-to-be-deleted dating website. [Timing adds so much to this story.]
We/I opened the email. I looked at the message which said something along the lines of “I am from San Diego and graduated from UCSD and now live in San Francisco and travel to Asia frequently for business and will be there this weekend and your smile caught my attention and then I saw the UCSD connection and that there was a PoliSci connection and so hey.” In typing this now, the number of red flags seems more apparent than I thought at the time for sure, not the least of which is the implication of bullshit that can be detected from such effusive run-on sentences. I looked at his photo.
I knew this dude.
Why ask why?
I recently came across this blog and I love it. And I would like someone to write an analogous one for my situation, something along the lines of why there are no guys [who date Western girls] in Hong Kong. Of course I am not going to write it, because if I did it would provide ammunition for people to call me bitter – among other things.
Two of the posts that really resonated with this tall girl who has a history of attraction to the pseudo-alpha male (recently replaced by the pseudo-pseudo-alpha male, in other words the one pretending he is not pretending to be all that…) are The Absence of Bullsh*t Artists and Heightism.
The description of the Bullshit Artist is painfully familiar. I definitely know this guy, I have probably dated him and if I didn’t, I wanted to. Like, for example, take a guy who moans that people call him a hispter, goes out of his way to be so Indie-oriented that he just makes eclectic look like bad plaid, wears ringer Ts and, well, IS a hipster. He loves mad pontification and of course, irony. He totally plays up his intellect, but hides behind a pretense of… actually I am not sure what it was – and yeah, this is a real example (of course… you KNOW who you are.) Yeah, he had me early on. I should have read the article and saved myself a lot of dramz:
Bullsh*t artists comprise about 20% of the male population and in a way keep monogamous societies functioning. Girls prefer the authentic alpha male, but that’s about 5% of guys, so there’s this huge space of unsatisfied female desire. Regular guys deal with this through drug abuse, religion, and sometimes self-improvement, but the bullsh*t artist isn’t a sucker for second place. He buys a Harley, frosts his hair and adopts a swagger he saw on a VH1 reality show. He says he’s a club promoter or speaks surfer pidgin. He digs through pop culture bromides of “coolness” like he’s Carrot Top with a trunk in Vegas, pulling out whatever artifice – aesthetic, linguistic, professional – that might provide a passable illusion.
Spot-fucking-on. It is the “Hey Guy” all over again.
Then there comes in the issue of ‘heightism.’ Now, I am going to step up to the plate and admit I am heightist, and then immediately qualify that statement by explaining that I am 5’10″ and I love high heels. So, really, shortness is tough for me. But I am starting to wonder how rigidly I need to adhere to this. And what it all represents in the bigger picture. Consider this:
Imagine asking a non-socialized third party, a Martian say, to scrutinize our modern, information-based economic order and identify which trait is more highly prized by humans, height or brain power. The alien would choose brain power every time, right? Of course, because that alien would be a short, self conscious Jupiter-head and totally compensating.
I am going to have to agree. And then wonder.
But more to the point is something that I always used to refer to as the seasonality of boyfriends. In high school I dated (umm… the term being loosely used here because I am still unclear as to what dating is really all about – in Petaluma, we hung out, exercised bad judgment and called it a night) a guy on the soccer team when I was a junior and he was a sophomore. He was on the varsity team and he was a total stud. Until you took him out of his element, at which point serious issues would arise. Like, I would ask him to “Please not talk, or whatever.” Seriously. And when soccer season was over? Yeah, done. Then it was basketball season, so I dated a guy on the varsity basketball team, who was not really very bright or particularly good looking, but he could shoot the long ball like an All-American. He was good to go until baseball season. (Here, I must admit that baseball players, for some reason, seem to have the most potential for year-round appeal, don’t know why, but it seemed to be the case.) Anyhow, you get my point (and my questionable morals/judgment.) Back to the blog of the day:
Male attractiveness doesn’t exist in the abstract – it’s a fluid thing that depends on your environment. You can be pretty average in life, for example, but if you develop one situationally specific skill, like being a black-belt in karate, and publicize it, by say teaching a co-ed karate class, then you’re suddenly a bonafide bad-ass, at least behind the doors of the dojo.
The article goes on to say that:
In other words, all that a guy needs to be desirable is a one socially relevant talent. You can be poor if you’re brawny, you can be weak if you’re brainy, you can be boring if you’re beautiful, you can be bald if you’re a black-belt, so long as you have some forum to show off your excellence. But the one thing you can’t be is short. There’s no redeeming talent for that.
A basketball coach I used to know always said, “Hell, you can’t coach 6’10″ – keep him if he’s got it regardless of the liabilities elsewhere.” So, maybe it is true. I don’t really know and my empirical evidence is not nearly broad enough to consider conclusive (impressive maybe, but not conclusive) so for now, I think it is wise to simply consider the points raised by WTANGISF and look at them from both sides of the table.
It could prove to be totally mutually beneficial.
And perhaps get me off my Richie McCaw addiction, as I have a feeling he meets all of the above prescribed elements for disaster.
Not about relationships.
I do not want this blog to be about relationships.
One more blog bemoaning the woes of finding a partner, dealing with a partner, leaving a partner.
But I have been so overwhelmed by weird synchronous events that for today, it has to be. Tomorrow I will back to something much more sane, like US politics, or China, or something.
First of all, I am single.
Think for a moment what that conjures up in your mind.
SINGLE.
I’ll even do you one better than that: I am in my late 30s.
AND I have cats!
Are you getting the picture?
The thing is, I am not unhappy… but I am wondering… should I be?
Recently someone I met online, [who refused to disclose a photos of himself, but called himself "sexy0beast.uk@gmail.com"] was waxing on about how all the women intheir late 30s in Hong Kong are so desperate and washed up and looking for a man and he just can’t stand going out because of how everyone throws themselves at him. I assure you I could not make this up. He said: “in ten years time you will find yourself drunk, washed up, single, moaning about not being able to find a man.”
Needless to say I am no longer speaking with this wanker/poseur… but it got me thinking… are we washed up? Is it only the girls? In fact it seems to me that the men are more consumed with finding partners than most of the women I know. In fact, most of my married and committed girlfriends were pursued by their partners, not the other way around.
So, am I washed up?
Text v. Call – you be the judge.
Tracy is a laughing at the 42-year old who keeps texting her for a date. Pick up the phone Lazy Ass!
So the Facebook Status update read, and I laughed out loud, [I did not LOL.] But it got me to thinking, what are the rules for communication in this increasingly intimate and, truth be told, often times invasive world? Is a text message an appropriate mechanism for something as personal as a date (as if I have a clue about dating – haha… I just choked on my salad right then) or is a call required? And where does email fit in?
As I do when I am faced with conundrums of this variety, I took it to the experts – my students. I asked them to tell me in their most persuasive way, what was the most appropriate method for communication.
And the verdict? After I explained that “It depends” would not be an acceptable answer, they actually had to choose the one that was most effective and appropriate the most of the time, I got some interesting feedback. In my non-scientific way and with rudimentary calculations I can say that 50% said the telephone (an actual call) was still the best. 33% went with email and 17% went with the now widely accepted (more outside the US, I think) sms or text message.
They had interesting reasons, noting that the phone call was the most immediate and direct line of communication. The email proponents suggested that it was a good way to self-edit when you might not be able to otherwise and that there was a record of the communication. (Good and bad, I suppose…) The texting fans liked the safety of it, silent, unobtrusive (read: SNEAKY, if you ask me) and instant communication with distance that the call did not afford.
I have to say, I barely knew how to send a text before I left the States and forget about predictive text. But everyone in Hong Kong was texting like mad all the time. All of my Euro friends and HK friends used it as the primary means of communication. At any given moment walking around Hong Kong I bet you can see at least a dozen people walking and texting (not too safe, btw.) Now I text as much as the next person and when I go home most of my friends find it odd. Like email there is some element of distance that lets you be a little more cheeky via the sms, but I wonder if that is good… or is it false advertising?
Wiki says:
Short message services are developing very rapidly throughout the world. In 2000, just 17 billion SMS messages were sent; in 2001, the number was up to 250 billion, and 500 billion SMS messages in 2004. At an average cost of USD 0.10 per message, this generates revenues in excess of $50 billion for mobile telephone operators and represents close to 100 text messages for every person in the world.
SMS is particularly popular in Europe, Asia (excluding Japan), Australia and New Zealand. Popularity has grown to a sufficient extent that the term texting (used as a verb meaning the act of mobile phone users sending short messages back and forth) has entered the common lexicon.
In China, SMS is very popular, and has brought service providers significant profit (18 billion short messages were sent in 2001). It is a very influential and powerful tool in the Philippines, where the average user sends 10-12 text messages a day. The Philippines alone sends on the average 400 million text messages a day or approximately 142 billion text messages sent a year, more than the annual average SMS volume of the countries in Europe, and even China and India. SMS is hugely popular in India, where youngsters often exchange lots of text messages, and companies provide alerts, infotainment, news, cricket scores update, railway/airline booking, mobile billing, and banking services on SMS.
Text messaging has become so popular that advertising agencies and advertisers are now jumping into the text message business. Services that provide bulk text message sending are also becoming a popular way for clubs, associations, and advertisers to quickly reach a group of opt-in subscribers. This advertising has proven to be extremely effective, but some insiders worry that advertisers may abuse the power of mobile marketing and it will someday be considered spam.
So I am not sure about how I feel about the whole thing, are you hiding behind some weird facade if you rely on the text? Is email impersonal, or is it actually more balanced and fair? I don’t know- but I think I might make a call and find out.
Amanda
