Why You’re Not Married

I’m sharing this article because I believe it to be really, really true. And now that I can accept that most of what she’s saying about me is true- I have to figure out how to cope.

Enjoy.

Why You’re Not Married

Tracy McMillian, Feb 13, 2011 Huffington Post

You want to get married. It’s taken a while to admit it. Saying it out loud — even in your mind — feels kind of desperate, kind of unfeminist, kind of definitely not you, or at least not any you that you recognize. Because you’re hardly like those girls on TLC saying yes to the dress and you would never compete for a man like those poor actress-wannabes on The Bachelor.

You’ve never dreamt of an aqua-blue ring box.

Then, something happened. Another birthday, maybe. A breakup. Your brother’s wedding. His wife-elect asked you to be a bridesmaid, and suddenly there you were, wondering how in hell you came to be 36-years-old, walking down the aisle wearing something halfway decent from J. Crew that you could totally repurpose with a cute pair of boots and a jean jacket. You started to hate the bride — she was so effing happy — and for the first time ever you began to have feelings about the fact that you’re not married. You never really cared that much before. But suddenly (it was so sudden) you found yourself wondering… Deep, deep breath… Why you’re not married.

Well, I know why.

How? It basically comes down to this: I’ve been married three times. Yes, three. To a very nice MBA at 19; a very nice minister’s son at 32 (and pregnant); and at 40, to a very nice liar and cheater who was just like my dad, if my dad had gone to Harvard instead of doing multiple stints in federal prison.

I was, for some reason, born knowing how to get married. Growing up in foster care is a big part of it. The need for security made me look for very specific traits in the men I dated — traits it turns out lead to marriage a surprisingly high percentage of the time. Without really trying to, I’ve become a sort of jailhouse lawyer of relationships — someone who’s had to do so much work on her own case that I can now help you with yours.

But I won’t lie. The problem is not men, it’s you. Sure, there are lame men out there, but they’re not really standing in your way. Because the fact is — if whatever you’re doing right now was going to get you married, you’d already have a ring on it. So without further ado, let’s look at the top six reasons why you’re not married.

1. You’re a Bitch.
Here’s what I mean by bitch. I mean you’re angry. You probably don’t think you’re angry. You think you’re super smart, or if you’ve been to a lot of therapy, that you’re setting boundaries. But the truth is you’re pissed. At your mom. At the military-industrial complex. At Sarah Palin. And it’s scaring men off.

The deal is: most men just want to marry someone who is nice to them. I am the mother of a 13-year-old boy, which is like living with the single-cell protozoa version of a husband. Here’s what my son wants out of life: macaroni and cheese, a video game, and Kim Kardashian. Have you ever seen Kim Kardashian angry? I didn’t think so. You’ve seen Kim Kardashian smile, wiggle, and make a sex tape. Female anger terrifies men. I know it seems unfair that you have to work around a man’s fear and insecurity in order to get married — but actually, it’s perfect, since working around a man’s fear and insecurity is big part of what you’ll be doing as a wife.

2. You’re Shallow.
When it comes to choosing a husband, only one thing really, truly matters: character. So it stands to reason that a man’s character should be at the top of the list of things you are looking for, right? But if you’re not married, I already know it isn’t. Because if you were looking for a man of character, you would have found one by now. Men of character are, by definition, willing to commit.

Instead, you are looking for someone tall. Or rich. Or someone who knows what an Eames chair is. Unfortunately, this is not the thinking of a wife. This is the thinking of a teenaged girl. And men of character do not want to marry teenaged girls. Because teenage girls are never happy. And they never feel like cooking, either.

3. You’re a Slut.
Hooking up with some guy in a hot tub on a rooftop is fine for the ladies of Jersey Shore — but they’re not trying to get married. You are. Which means, unfortunately, that if you’re having sex outside committed relationships, you will have to stop. Why? Because past a certain age, casual sex is like recreational heroin — it doesn’t stay recreational for long.

That’s due in part to this thing called oxytocin — a bonding hormone that is released when a woman a) nurses her baby and b) has an orgasm — that will totally mess up your casual-sex game. It’s why you can be f**k-buddying with some dude who isn’t even all that great and the next thing you know, you’re totally strung out on him. And you have no idea how it happened. Oxytocin, that’s how it happened. And since nature can’t discriminate between marriage material and Charlie Sheen, you’re going to have to start being way more selective than you are right now.

4. You’re a Liar.
It usually goes something like this: you meet a guy who is cute and likes you, but he’s not really available for a relationship. He has some condition that absolutely precludes his availability, like he’s married, or he gets around town on a skateboard. Or maybe he just comes right out and says something cryptic and open to interpretation like, “I’m not really available for a relationship right now.”

You know if you tell him the truth — that you’re ready for marriage — he will stop calling. Usually that day. And you don’t want that. So you just tell him how perfect this is because you only want to have sex for fun! You love having fun sex! And you don’t want to get in a relationship at all! You swear!
About ten minutes later, the oxytocin kicks in. You start wanting more. But you don’t tell him that. That’s your secret — just between you and 22,000 of your closest girlfriends. Instead, you hang around, having sex with him, waiting for him to figure out that he can’t live without you. I have news: he will never “figure” this out. He already knows he can live without you just fine. And so do you. Or you wouldn’t be lying to him in the first place.

5. You’re Selfish.
If you’re not married, chances are you think a lot about you. You think about your thighs, your outfits, your naso-labial folds. You think about your career, or if you don’t have one, you think about doing yoga teacher training. Sometimes you think about how marrying a wealthy guy — or at least a guy with a really, really good job — would solve all your problems.

Howevs, a good wife, even a halfway decent one, does not spend most of her day thinking about herself. She has too much s**t to do, especially after having kids. This is why you see a lot of celebrity women getting husbands after they adopt. The kids put the woman on notice: Bitch, hello! It’s not all about you anymore! After a year or two of thinking about someone other than herself, suddenly, Brad Pitt or Harrison Ford comes along and decides to significantly other her. Which is also to say — if what you really want is a baby, go get you one. Your husband will be along shortly. Motherhood has a way of weeding out the lotharios.

6. You’re Not Good Enough.
Oh, I don’t think that. You do. I can tell because you’re not looking for a partner who is your equal. No, you want someone better than you are: better looking, better family, better job.

Here is what you need to know: You are enough right this minute. Period. Not understanding this is a major obstacle to getting married, since women who don’t know their own worth make terrible wives. Why? You can fake it for a while, but ultimately you won’t love your spouse any better than you love yourself. Smart men know this.

I see this at my son’s artsy, progressive school. Of 183 kids, maybe six have moms who are as cute as you’re trying to be. They’re attractive, sure. They’re just not objects. Their husbands (wisely) chose them for their character, not their cup size.

Alright, so that’s the bad news. The good news is that I believe every woman who wants to can find a great partner. You’re just going to need to get rid of the idea that marriage will make you happy. It won’t. Once the initial high wears off, you’ll just be you, except with twice as much laundry.

Because ultimately, marriage is not about getting something — it’s about giving it. Strangely, men understand this more than we do. Probably because for them marriage involves sacrificing their most treasured possession — a free-agent penis — and for us, it’s the culmination of a princess fantasy so universal, it built Disneyland.

The bottom line is that marriage is just a long-term opportunity to practice loving someone even when they don’t deserve it. Because most of the time, your messy, farting, macaroni-and-cheese eating man will not be doing what you want him to. But as you give him love anyway — because you have made up your mind to transform yourself into a person who is practicing being kind, deep, virtuous, truthful, giving, and most of all, accepting of your own dear self — you will find that you will experience the very thing you wanted all along:

Love.

Tracy McMillan is a TV writer whose credits include Mad Men and The United States of Tara. Her memoir I Love You and I’m Leaving You Anyway is now available in paperback from Harper Collins/It Books. She lives in Los Angeles with her 13-year-old son. Follow her on Twitter.

Line Steppin’

There’s this guy I know from grad school. While I don’t know him-know him, we’re friends on facebook in a very “people-you-know-in-common” kinda way. He starts chatting me up pretty regularly on fb and calls me a few times. I discovered very quickly that he’s the kind of person that can talk and talk for like 10-15 minutes without any response or input from you. This was a little annoying at first, but I’m used to (over)talkers and am always in the market for men who can talk me to sleep (it’s much better than listening to that “sounds of the ocean” bs) .
So one day he IMs to ask if we can hang out that night. It’s last minute, and he clearly doesn’t have a plan for a location or activity, but I throw him a bone (because I’m a sweet, compassionate lady) and suggest that we meet up to play pool in union square.

He’s already secured a table by the time I get there, so I go over to meet him and he goes in for the big hug which catches me off-guard. Not that there’s anything wrong with the big hug, I just wasn’t expecting it as an opening gesture from someone you don’t really know all that well. All the while we’re playing pool I’m getting distracted by this guy’s appearance. He’s not bad looking or anything like that, but he’s extremely well put together, the light purple sweater over the shirt and tie with grey jeans was one thing, but then I noticed that his hair was kinda long and perfectly trimmed, and his nails were freshly done. So I wondered if maybe I just happened to catch him on that one day when he got a shape up and his semi-annual manicure, or if the coiffed hair, effeminate beard and shiny nails are his every-day do. When I come across guys doing this urban metrosexual thing I’m always trying to 1- discern if my gaydar was off and 2-perhaps more important than if he’s gay, figure out if he’s prettier than me, because I can’t date a guy who is prettier than me, or who has boobs that are bigger than mine-it’s just not fair…but I digress.

Anyways we continue to play pool and the rest of the date is pretty uneventful. We end up finishing our wine at the bar and talking a bit where I try to explain that I tend to be uncomfortable with unanticipated touching from people I don’t know too well. He seems to acknowledge that he caught me off guard with the hug earlier and then keeps the conversation moving. We end up talking about the 5 love languages (more on that later) and overall have a pretty decent date….. until he walks me to the train, says goodbye and shakes my hand. It was like we just left a business meeting and he’s agreed to fax the TPS reports.

I’m puzzled, but don’t say anything in the moment because I need to rush home where my jump off aka the young boy is waiting outside my apartment (don’t judge me). I spend the next hour or so telling the young boy about the my date, and apologizing for leaving him waiting- because of Mr. Handshake man can’t close a conversation even when you’re standing in the cold outside the 4 train. When I tell him about how my date ended with a handshake and he laughs and says that’s what I get for stiff-arming the hello hug in the first place and it’s my fault for throwing the guy’s game off before the date even started.

As usual I think on what the young boy said, because I think he’s smart, and decide to make a joke out of the handshake in an IM conversation with Pretty Boy Handshake the following night (yes I passive-aggressively mask contempt with derision- in case you didn’t know). We get to talking and the conversation quickly turns into a quickfire round about what I’m willing to do sexually. I try to dial it back, but he keeps up with the rapid fire questions and he’s really over the top, when I become non-responsive and won’t entertain his anal sex questions. (Yes after a first date that ended in a handshake he follows up with anal sex.) In my mind I totally can’t figure this guy out. I mean we had a conversation about boundaries, especially physical boundaries, and also how you show someone that you like them. So how did he get from handshake to anal sex??

Line steppin’ and entitlement. He just took too many liberties and acted way too familiar way too soon. Sometimes with the line steppers it’s inventing nicknames,  others it’s asking personal questions, but most often it’s starting “sexy” conversations that are inappropriate. And in general, sex questions with someone you just met and are not having sex with are inappropriate. Dude basically came off creepy and perverted and then tried to act like he didn’t know where the line was. Really dude? You thought it best to end a date with a handshake to not seem too forward, and then go in with the sex probing? This guy saw a line, decided to step on it to test the waters and then when I called him on the line stepping, he pretends he didn’t do anything wrong or perverted, and says he “has a right to be horny”. Now I don’t know if he was born with that combo of line steppin’ and entitlement, or if this is something he picked up from his frat brothers, at the barbershop or maybe at the nail salon. What I have to conclude is that this guy is a habitual line stepper; I imagine he acts like this all the time and no one ever says anything. He’s left thinking all the women he meets are prude or perhaps not as pretty as he is.

The Get Yo Game Up Seminar Series

With all these damn degrees I feel that need to start teaching courses. Some of the guys I’ve been out with recently seem confused about what women respond to. Perhaps this stems from a lack of knowledge about 1) how to communicate and 2) how not to come off like a punk bitch. So I think ima offer Texting 101 and Dating 202- which are both pre-requisites to advanced Get Yo Game Up.
Required materials: Balls (grow a pair. After testes descend work on acquiring backbone).

Topics covered:

1. State your intentions, if you are interested in someone, and by interested I mean sexually interested, let them know. How you might ask…

2. Pay a real compliment.

Do not say, “You look nice tonight.” or “That’s a nice top.” Instead say, “You look sexy. I like that dress on you, it’s a great color.” “I notice you got your nails done; they look pretty.” Advanced students should aim to make non-lewd, non-creepy compliments about one’s body. (Repeat: This is an advanced move, beginners often screw this up and end up sinking the ship before it’s left the port.)

3. Make a plan and then ask for a date.

Do not say “oh. we should hang out sometime. When are you free?” Instead say, “What are you doing on Thursday at 7? I want to go to this event. Will you come with me?”  Or the advanced game version, “Are you free on Saturday night? Great. I made reservations for us. I will pick you up at 8. You should wear that sexy little black dress. I like when you wear that.” If you don’t make a plan with a specific idea, date and time, you will not get anywhere. Plan in advance, have a backup idea. Be clear that you are asking for a date. Follow through.

4. Stop with the fucking idiot texts and IMs.

When you are really interested in someone, ask straight out for their phone number and then follow up with a phone call. Texts are for short, quick messages, not conversations, especially with someone you may be interested in sleeping with one day. If you want someone to know that you are feeling them-call- or be discarded to the “friend” box or “only interested in sex and not worth my time” box.
-sidebar- I went out with this guy twice over the summer. After the second time we went out (the time when he ordered one drink and two straws, and needed a lesson in male privilege at 3am on the dance floor at the reggae spot, but that’s another story) he sent this long (like 3 parts long) text message about how he asked his friend to interpret our date and was wondering if I was into him. Then in the following weeks he sent random texts asking to hang out- without a date or time- and then started sending touchy feely texts about his brother going to college and his autistic son. What? Really dude? There is no foundation for messages like this. This is NOT the way to express a sexual or even friendly interest in someone you just met and want to know better. He sent all these texts and he never once picked up the phone to ask me out on a date. Dude might have actually had a chance if he’d man up, call me, and ask me out. Or at least express his touchy feely moments on the phone. Now I just feel sorry for him because he has no game. His touchy feely texts made him come off like a punk. And while I suspect that he’s not actually like that- I’ll never know because as long as he sends random texts I will not respond positively. He really needs an intensive course in Dating 101.

5. Make physical contact.

Contact it the best, probably the only, way to see if there’s the potential for attraction beyond friendship. Hug, kiss, touch etc and pay attention to the sensation (or deadness feeling) in your NaNa region. Let this be your guide.  Yeah it may seem forward to lean in for a kiss, it may seem over the top to grab a thigh, but how else are you going to figure out what’s really good? Everyone has boundaries (trust me I have more than most) but it’s on the person to let you know when they are uncomfortable or what their limits are. If after a kiss or two the person responds and green lights you- man up and make a counter move.  Make something happen or risk being labeled a punk who is afraid of woman bits.

These are just a few pointers to help the wacktastic fellas out there get a clue as to why things may not be going as you expected. More detailed analysis and advanced skills will be covered in the extended course sections, but I want to leave you with a few key ideas. Confidence is sexy. Be straight forward. Sometimes you need to cut the foreplay and make a tactical move. When you see some otherwise normal guy with a beautiful, funny, smart girl- do not assume he must be rich, assume he’s put effort into attracting her, thought about what she might like and put his game on that level.

Really when it comes to game some of you think you’re playing some ill poker with crazy skills and mad strategy, and it’s more like a rousing game of canasta with your auntie or down and out solitaire.

 

Yellow Fever or The New Orientalism

The new orientalism….
For whatever reason there aren’t many east Asian guys in my sphere. I’m not sure why really, but apart from some acquaintances and a few friends from college, the east Asian guys are conspicuously absent- especially on the dating tip. (it’s weird, i mean the Indians and Pakistanis are a plenty;  the Chinese and Koreans-not so much). Anyways, Anthropologist type that I am, anything unknown is immediately of interest. And considering that Black women and Asian men are two least-married demographics and the broad stereotypes that exist about each group, (not to mention my fascination with the rhetoric around interracial dating) I knew I had to explore this further.

I’m sure we all know someone who exclusively dates Asian women. You may have even teased that person about catching the “Yellow Fever”. Now there are a lot of issues I could go into about exoticism of Asian women (women of color in general) but I’ll limit my focus to Asian men and the stereotypes that make them seem like unlikely dating prospects, particularly for black women: asexuality, small penises, “engrish”,  C++, and an odd affinity for martial arts and rice.  (With all these divisive stereotypes out there, I thought I’d throw out a potentially inclusive one, PORK aka the other white meat that might just make love bonds between Black women and Asian men. Think on it.)

But back to my point

So la few weeks ago I was browsing Meetup.com in search of pick-up soccer games and soca lovers, and came across a group for Black women and Asian men. There was just too much potential, and you know I couldn’t miss out.

So on a Saturday afternoon the group met at a bar in union sq. Surprisingly there are more men than women. I immediately hit it off with one guy who basically starts in with a dis about how his Android is better than my iphone. I ask what he does for a living and he explains that he’s in finance and was laid off last year and has been interviewing for more finance jobs. It seems in the interviews they ask technical questions and logic puzzles along with the general interview stuff. So he says “Wanna hear some logic puzzles?” I which I respond, “Sure”.

I’m thinking… wow either this guy is a total nerd or he’s trying to test my intelligence. But aight I can get my nerd on- I mean it is Saturday afternoon and we’re at a dating event at a bar- if this isn’t the time to isolate ourselves and nerd out doing logic puzzles, when is?

After like 25 mins we get called out by the group organizer for not mingling with the others. So we try to engage the rest of the group in the logic puzzles, with limited success, except of course from the other guys  two of whom are fobby computer programmers (stereotype). So this one guy comes over to talk to us more about the logic puzzles and as soon as he can’t figure one out- he starts telling the guy I’d been talking to that there’s a problem with the question. Then the pissing contest begins. These two guys basically start fighting about whether you can solve the puzzle mathematically or logically and who is more stupid for not knowing the best way. They both did that finance guy thing where they morph into assholes for like 5 minutes until someone backs down and the other emerges victorious.

After they were done measuring their dicks, I’d decided that I’d had enough and I basically make my way to the door, thank the girl who organized the event and step out. Logic Dude follows me and asks for my phone number. So I do a quick mental tally- He’s smart and cute and NOT socially inept. BUT he’s also unemployed, clearly has a temper, and about as tall as me. I decide to let him call me (he did win the pissing contest after all). I say goodbye and head to TJs to grab some groceries.

About 15 mins later logic dude texts me to ask if I’m still in the area and want to hang out. I meet him in Union Sq and we talk about going to a movie. The movie doesn’t really work out, so we just hang out and talk for a bit and he asks me if i know what he really does. Hmm something defiantly seemed amiss so I’d pretty much decided that there was something he wasn’t being upfront about with regards to his financial sector job search. But when he asked me if I knew what was up- I was like yeah, I know. He’s totally a drug dealer. He doesn’t need a job in finance because he’s probably part of some elaborate Asian drug ring that controls all of Queens.

Anyways- in the end I’m not likely to get yellow fever any time soon. Asian or not, men are men and drug dealers are drug dealers. This experience has shown me firstly, that Asian men are indeed attracted to Black women even if it’s just in the typical exoticized/ hyper-sexualized way that yields the video ho phenomenon (but I’ll save that for another post). Also, while I can be friends with the cute Indonesian drug dealer (high brow, not some common street hustler, hanging around the Queensbridge projects) I don’t think it could ever be romantic or serious. Because I’m not coming to visit your ass in Riker’s.

Fool’s Gold

False advertising. Men complain a lot about being misled by women who are wearing heals, weaves, false eyelashes, makeup,  push up bras etc. But really, women are not the only ones who go around misleading people. One such example of this common male deception is the Trojan Magnum. Really fellas? I guess a lot of you guys have really big opinions of yourselves- and far be it for me to go around crushing your self esteem- but most of you, like 95% most, do NOT need to be buying these.

Yeah, ok, maybe you don’t really have a realistic idea of how your size compares to others, or what qualifies as “normal”. (Though I refuse to believe that you don’t “notice” the other guys in the locker room, or understand that the men in porn movies are abnormal- but I digress).

When you leave the box of magnums conspicuously out on the nightstand or pull one out of your suit jacket pocket- there’s an expectation that follows, and when you don’t live up to that expectation- we. are. disappointed.

So fellas, unless you’re a serious grower, or you’re duct-taping that mess to your thigh just to get your pants on- regular condoms will do.

Ladies (or other fellas, whatever) DO NOT FALL FOR FOOL’S GOLD.

Serial Texter

Yeah so totally no formals rules exist for interacting with people you’ve just met via text. Perhaps this explains how some go from ok to wacko in 140 characters or less. In any case- we really need to establish a protocol.

Yesterday I get off the train from a Target trip and am approached by this guy. He introduces himself and I tell him my name. The rest of the conversation goes like this.
-That’s a nice name. So people call you like “Rolla” or something?
me: Um….no. People call me by my name.
-Well I’d like to shorten it to….
me: You just said I had a nice name, why are you trying to chop it up? I told you my name, you should call me by my name.
-Where are you from?
me: Here.
-But like where?
me: New York
-What’s your nationality?
me: I’m American.
-But what country are you from?
me: The US
-Oh. I’m Guyanese. I’m from Guyana.
me: ok
-You’re attractive.
me: thanks
-Do you have any kids?
me: What? What kind of a question is that?
-Well do you? I don’t have any kids.
me: No.
-Are you married?
me: Wow. You ask a lot of questions. I’ve known you for like 3 minutes.
-Yeah I’m an open person- I ask a lot of questions.
me: Yeah. I can tell.
-I’m 35. How old are you?
me: I’m too old to be telling strangers how old I am.
-You’re very pretty. I’d like to call you sometime and maybe take you out. Can I give you my number?
me: You can give me your number, but I’m not going to call it.
-Can I have your number then? What would be a good time to call you?
me: I dunno. I’m going out tonight so I won’t be around.

So I give him my number. Mostly because it seemed easier to say yes than no ,and by this time we were in front of my building and I just wanted this guy to go away. I go inside to get ready for a friend’s housewarming party- it’s just after 6:30pm. Then it starts….
(all these text messages are verbatim; the spelling and punctuation are his)

7:13pm U make my day
7:26pm PHONE CALL
7:47pm Give me a call when you get sometime sweetheart!
10:42pm Hi sexy.
11:02pm  me: “Hi”
11:02pm How u doing
11:17pm I guess you busy sweetheart
11:17pm Good nite

8:00am Picture 1

8:39am Picture 2

9:52am PHONE CALL #2
9:53am PHONE CALL #3
9:54am Hi sexy what are you doing today u mind if I take u out!
2:19pm PHONE CALL #4
2:20pm PHONE CALL #5
2:21pm Am saying you just gave yo # to gave it!
3:00pm me: “No. I just didn’t know you would call 5 times and send 10 texts and pictures in less than 24hrs. I went out last night and slept in today. Maybe giving you my number was a bad idea.”

Really? Dude just wouldn’t stop. He really never gave me a chance to call him back or whatever. Any interest I might have had was gone after he spent hours blowing up my phone! And who sends (unsolicited) topless pictures of themselves in durags to strangers at 8am Sunday morning? Was that supposed to entice me? I’m sayin, after not hearing from me all night dude woke up early to take pictures of himself with the phone. Or did he have the pics on his phone already just in case someone asked? And the shirtless one looks like he just got out of the joint.

But I digress….now I know the guidelines on texting are unclear- but in the absence of hard and fast rules common sense should take over. Like if the person you’re trying to reach isn’t responding to your texts or phone calls, either they aren’t getting them or they are choosing not to respond. But either way…come on. So now I’ve clearly upset dude because I’m not walking around with the phone in my hand or structuring my day based on his offer to take me out. And serial texter knows what building I live in. Soon enough it will become very obvious to him that I’m not going to date him- and who knows how he’ll react. So if something pops off- please show the pics of shirtless Jack to the cops. Thanks. (and note the nappy chest hairs. ok i’m done.)

UPDATE: now dude is sending pics of his penis. I’ll never understand the genital photography. Like ok it’s Monday morning, and you decided to get up and text penis pics to a stranger who already told you that you were coming on too strong?! Again was this supposed to entice me?  I really need to work out this blocked number thing.

UPDATED UPDATE: After like 4 days dude started sending nasty texts like “you’re and ugly fat bitch”  “you know you wanted me to send those pictures” etc” And he kept calling, like constantly. So one of my guy friends answered my phone and was like- really dude, you need to stop. The situation kept escalating so I called AT&T, got the number blocked, and had to file a police report. Dude is clearly unhinged. Some dudes just can’t handle rejection.  Bananas.

Pull the Trigger

You know, sometimes I tell myself, Ima broaden my horizons and not be so close-minded, give a new guy a chance. Sometimes I can sense the bitchassness in a man  from the start. Sometimes I don’t pay attention. Sometimes I try to ignore it.  Sometimes I am an idiot. I probably should  just go with my instincts rather than trying to be all equal opportunity. Then I might not have to deal with so many socially inept  punks in my path- but whatever. Here’s the deal. In the past few weeks I’ve come into contact with a few  new, go-out-on-a -limb- guys. But once the ball was in their court, none of them could figure out what to do. First you dial- but then what?

Example: Chuck, a vegan chef from Ghana, works at the health food store I’ve been frequenting for like the past 4 years since it’s down the street from where I do yoga. One day he’s stocking the prepared food case and says “hello”, he’s seen me in here yadda yadda. I explain that I do yoga down the street he asks me for my card and asks if I’m a yoga teacher. I give him my card and say that I’m not a yoga teacher but that I work uptown. That’s pretty much the whole conversation- much like ones I’ve had with the other guys who work in that store. (including the really attractive rastaman who won’t give me the time of day)

Then it happens. Chuck V(egan) starts calling me at work- every day. Always with the same conversation….
Hello this is Charles. How are you today?
-I’m fine.
That’s good. You seem busy.
-Well I’m at work. (awkward silence)
Yes. well I was just calling to say hello.
-OK.
Ok bye.

Next day, same shit, almost verbatim. Total deja vu.  I’m like really dude? How many phone calls does it take to ask someone out? Cut the crap, just ask. Pull the trigger. Don’t just suggest that maybe we do something sometime, but actually pick a day and a time and an activity and ask me to join you. Man up, and reserve some of my time.
My friends basically told me to get rid of this guy and his daily phone calls by telling him I was a lesbian or that I had a boyfriend. Actually one friend said that he probably thought we were dating. He calls, I answer- we date. Really? (insert silly African stereotype here). But do I really have to concoct some lie? Why doesn’t he just make a move? Make an effort to gain my interest if not my affection?  Yeah, everyone gets nervous, and I can be intimidating sometimes- but really dude is like 35- make something happen already.

You see Chuck V, if you can’t even get your game up enough to ask me out, you’ll probably never try to kiss me, and nothing will ever go anywhere because I’m not interested enough in you to start pulling out stops- like I would if I thought you were actually fly. The next time you try to holla at someone in the Westerly Market- sit down, come up with a game plan and then dial.

the day I almost killed a man

So I know I’ve mentioned various members of my MENagerie before, and more recently how I’d cleaned house except for the one guy. Well the longest running member has now also fallen, and my what a fall it was.

A few weeks ago I went over to his apartment after work, nothing new. We hadn’t seen each other in a little while so we had some catching up to do, but before long got right to the foreplay. This is his favorite part, and I tolerate it. I mean it’s fun for me too, when it serves it’s purpose, which is as a precursor to sex. The problem is when foreplay is no longer a precursor, but in fact the main event. I’m sure you can agree that that is just wrong- akin to trickery, bait and switch, like paying to see a movie and being forced to leave after the previews…. but worse. Here’s why…

After like 20 minutes with the kissing and the touching, I’m fully aroused and ready to go. But before anything happens, like before we even reach for a condom, and waay before he ever gets near to being inside me, he cums all over my leg. (fyi this has happened a few times recently, and I try to be cool. It happens- I know that- I’m not totally heartless) But that day, I was so so so keyed up, my hormones were all over the place. I couldn’t be cool. I flipped out. My thoughts were racing. (I kept trying to figure out if in fact he really just ejaculated on my leg, as if, magically, I could will his dick to get hard again, like sexual telepathy, this could not be real and had to be some sort of sick joke)

I started to whisper “I can’t believe that just happened.” “I’m so mad right now.” “I think I hate you.” I’m saying this as I start to strangle him. Yes, I was sitting on top of this man, squeezing his neck and looking with blind hatred, into his eyes, whispering about how I wanted to kill him. I Imagine this is what roid rage is like. For a minute, I was totally that chick- the crazy one you tell your friend’s about. I was just so frustrated and in that moment my frustration, anticipation, and ultimate disappointment was manifested as murderous rage. He didn’t even try to stop me from strangling him- he knew, he totally knew what it was. I think my sex-rage frightened us both.

I get up, wash the jizz off my leg, get dressed, and go to yoga.I think he may have even apologized and suggested that he’d go see a doctor. I was waaaay to fixated on not-freaking-out again and trying not to be totally resentful, to listen to what he was saying as I jetted from the apartment.  A few minutes later, as I sit on the 1 train, I begin to think that perhaps I overreacted. All this yoga and chanting, and peaceful intentions thwarted by hormones and lust. I get to the yoga studio and tell my friend about how I just tried to kill a man. Concerned she asks, “Who?” I say, “my j.o.” and she descends into laughter.
Maybe a week and a half later I see this guy at the gym, and nothing, no hello, or even a nod acknowledging the other’s existence-not from either of us. So I figure he’s either still afraid that I’ll kill him or (rightfully) pissed that I nearly strangled him. We haven’t spoken since.

And alas, the final member of the MENagerie falls into obscurity. I guess it’s a rebuilding year.
What can I say?

Easy cum, easy go.

Believe It or Not

I met this guy online a few months ago. He’s from Brooklyn and recently moved to Albany to take a job manufacturing those nano-chips they put in cell phones and such. A rather regular guy who identifies himself as Black and Indian- interesting- but not groundbreaking. Our phone conversations and gchats have been basic getting-to-know-you, how was your day, type stuff and I’ve determined that he’s at least normal enough to meet in person.

Though he’s in Brooklyn pretty much every other weekend, last weekend was the first time we met in person. He went out of his way to arrange this date- a week in advance. He asked is he could take me to dinner the following Thursday night. We batted around food ideas and settled on this tiny, hole in the wall, Peruvian place in Queens that has awesome chicken and green sauce (if you don’t know about the green sauce yet you need to ask somebody). He picked Queens because he knows a place near the restaurant where we can shoot pool (which he does regularly, and I’ve been trying to learn how to do).

We meet up at the Brooklyn Museum, and I realize, seeing him in person for the first time rather than in pictures, that he has a really big head. Really big- especially compared to the size of his body. Seriously, like a watermelon. But far be it for me to hate on someone for a physical attribute they can’t control. I mean, imagine if every guy I encountered wouldn’t date me because I have huge hips. That would be wrong. There’s a lot more to a person than one grossly disproportionate feature. So I try to get over it, and try to avoid staring, and we head to dinner.

We have a nice meal, nothing elaborate, but we share some chicken, tostones, yucca, and salad. No alcohol, no dessert.  There’s some food left so we ask the waiter to wrap it. The waiter returns with the wrapped food and the bill. Without looking at the check, I open my wallet and put $20 on the table. Which he takes, adds a few dollars to and starts to get up. I’m like really?? The check was about $23. (Yes you can get a good, cheap meal, for 2 people, with plenty left over, in Queens). Knowing the meal would be so cheap, I totally expected him to slide my $20 right back to me.

But he didn’t.

Then I’m like, OK, well maybe he’s not really feeling like this is date-y, and wants to keep it on a friend to friend level. But then I would expect that he would split the bill with me.

But he didn’t.

Essentially he just paid the tip.

And then he took my leftovers home.

I’m not sure exactly how to feel about this. I guess it’s one of those modern woman meets chivalry-is-dead conundrums. I don’t mind paying for my half of things, but I still kinda think that whoever does the asking-out, and planning the date, should be expecting to pay. And if someone picks an expensive restaurant that they’ve been wanting to try, the person who picked the expensive place should be ready to pay. I catch myself thinking oh no, could I be a gold-digger? I mean obviously I wouldn’t offer something that wouldn’t expect to spend. But really, if a $23 check is hurting you- perhaps you don’t need to be eating out at all, much less taking my left over chicken and yucca home.

Anyways, I didn’t say anything about how I paid for dinner, because $20 isn’t that serious. But I took that as a sign that he wasn’t very interested- alas I was wrong. Even though I totally let him off the hook for playing pool, claiming tired and food coma, he damn near insisted on pool- and he was driving so I was kind of at his mercy. So we went to some shady Korean pool hall off Northern Blvd. The rest of the night was fine, nothing exciting, or noteworthy at all.

I’m thinking that was it- I’ll likely never hear from this guy again but…the next night around 10:30pm, when I’m chilling with another guy, big head starts blowing up my phone with all these text messages. Like “What was your overall impression of me?” “I had a good time.” “I think you’re funny and cute.” “How do you feel about me?”  etc.

When I don’t immediately respond, as I was “entertaining” my guest, big head writes “I guess you don’t like to talk about your personal feelings.” “I’ll come back to Brooklyn next weekend and we can hang out again.”

Maybe I totally misread or over-analyzed his not paying for dinner thing. I took that as a lack of romantic interest, but clearly I was wrong. When I told one of my friends how I ended up paying for dinner, she was outraged. I just feel bad for the guy, I mean his head is over-sized and perhaps his wallet is undersized. Or maybe he’s just stingy.

Do I pretend nothing happened, write it off as a bad first date, and give it a second chance?
Should I see him again and just try to steer him down the friend path?
Do I confront him about taking my yucca and green sauce?
Do I see him again, if only to and try to measure the circumference and volume of his head and put that call into Ripley’s or Guinness Book?

Suggestions welcome.

Food-a-phobic

When I want to get to know someone, especially a potential love interest, I always want to watch him eat- not only what he eats, but the way he eats it. It stands to reason that if he’s good at eating one thing…. he’s good at eating another.

I think a person’s approach to food says a lot about their approach to life. There are many ways this can play out, but there’s a reason that food and the act of sharing a meal, are so important across cultures. Food is meaningful. You learn a lot about a person by eating with them.

Anyways….I’ve dated a few guys who have what could be considered food issues- here’s just the tip of the iceberg.

Food-a-phobia, type A.
One guy, who I now understand was dealing with severe body-image issues, never ate. We’d hang out all almost all day, from like 2pm into the night, and he’d never eat anything. He’d watch me eat (often), because I’m not about to pass out. I would say that, maybe apart from having a sip of my lemonade once, and a random french fry off my plate,  I never saw him consume anything besides water and a beer or two. (This guy also couldn’t sustain an erection. It was a problem. Iron/protein deficiency? We may never know.)

Food-a-phobia, type B.
This guy, the one I met at speed dating, took me to lunch at a Thai restaurant. (His choice- and a good one.)At lunch I ordered pad thai with tofu and he got chicken fried rice (wouldn’t have been my choice at a Thai restaurant, but whatever, I didn’t say anything). When our food arrives, he proceeds to pick out all the vegetables from the fried rice. He went into an explanation about how he eats fruits and vegetables, just not all fruits and vegetables. I’m like, hmmm OK. I make a joke about only eating chicken fingers and fries- and it would have been funny- if it wasn’t kinda true. This guy goes on to explain how he “doesn’t eat anything that looks weird or smells funny…. or anything mushy… especially warm and mushy”. Hmmmm. After his explanation is complete he asks, “So what about you? Don’t you have any quirks? Anything weird about you?”
Nah son. After the stuff you just told me, I am definitely the most normal person at the table. Trust.

Now I understand food preferences, and problems with certain textures, flavors etc. (I don’t eat beef or pork, and at the moment I’m trying to stay away from dairy and gluten.) But I think that your openness to try different foods might be indicative of your openness to try other things. When it comes to food, one should be at least a little adventurous when you have the opportunity. No, you’re not gonna like everything, but at least be able to say you tried it.

Is this an out and out sex metaphor? Of course not. Someone who makes otherwise conservative food choices (steak and potatoes, pasta and meatballs) might not be so conservative in bed. Similarly someone who makes “exotic” food choices (tofu and quinoa, eel and bok choy) might have otherwise “plain” sex choices. Either way (in)compatibility at the dinner table doesn’t necessarily make for (in)compatibility in the bedroom. And I’m totally still willing to put this guy on to a few things- because you know I’m an educator at heart.

In any case, the dinner table is a good place to get to know someone- it all comes down to what you’re willing to put in your mouth.