Sunday, December 23, 2012


Much coffee, much grog!

Marijuana, with eggnog!

Saturday, December 22, 2012

More Than Sex, Less Than Marriage

On the flip side of my frustration with dating in this town, I'm not interested in goal-setting love in the form of deciding to marry the next person I date--before I've even met him. The way I've heard some women talk, you'd think going on a simple date was the first day of marriage or something. Yikes. Look, if you've ever branded yourself a husband hunter, this poet thinks you're doing it wrong. Now, while I'd love to find someone who I not only want to but can marry because the circumstances line up with the feelings, I have zero interest in a roommate, even one I'm engaged to, unless I do get married. Then, yes, I will of course live with my husband (I won't take his name, though, not even in hyphenated form; sorry if that gives you a sads).


I've been living alone for about a decade now. A lot of people will read a sentence like that and take it as a depressing commentary on my life, as if it's one devoid of men or dating or fun or pancakes in favor of sitting in front of a phone, a landline phone, like a relic, waiting waiting waiting. The word itself, "alone," has become an indictment, some Victorian gasp, as if you just sit there in an armchair clutching said arms, staring, waiting for that time when you "have someone to cook for." Even through the lonely phases, I have to say it's the general negative attitude about unmarried women that depresses me most. Just as the always-togethers, a group I've been a member of at various points, don't understand not having someone there, I've now come to wonder how it is that some people are so upset about being by themselves, even for brief stretches, that they endeavor to always be in a relationship. To me, that comes off pod-ish, like that goal setting thing of putting the form before the content. And if you're someone who can't live alone, or can't be single, are you someone who can really love, or can really be with someone? If someone's always there, how do you even know? Whatever the answer to these vast answerless questions, I find it's people like this who are the most judgmental of single women.

After years of roommates, with some being...unstable, and now years of unfulfilling dating in nyc, save for some romantic dalliances and a long-distance relationship, the urge to find a stable, wonderful long-term partner again has increased, but I also know that can be like bottling a rainbow, especially if I stay on this coast, and I am, at the same time, less inclined to put up with crap. Mocking me as too picky, arrogant, damaged, too old, cold, cat lady, blah blah blah, does not change that. And watching the altar racers or the procrasinators limping there (who just, above all, including how miserable, bored, unfulfilled or frumped out they are, can't bear to be aloooooooone) has made me realize that, whoa, my experiences with dating have apparently been good, as I don't feel desperation so much as desire, desire driven higher by the confidence that I have more to offer and give today, even as the culture devalues me for being a woman now over 35. Still, once you've had it good, the games of managing down expectations, negging, control, etc., do not read, do not appeal.

A lot of people do compromise to have kids, which is only natural to an extent, but I've seen it taken to what appear to be some pretty grim extents. I would like to have a kid, though am not willing to shack up with someone I'm not both in love with and enjoying a mutually positive, supportive relationship with just to attain a goal--what a cold way to view the creation of a human life. I would also love to live in a country where my tax dollars go toward covering health care and where misogyny is not so rampant. These two variables put a real and tangible damper on my desire to procreate. Who knows, I might have five kids if I had been born in a more civilized civilized land.

Capitalistic business model relationships may be all the rage, but this kink leaves fun and happiness to take a backseat for what feels like far too many people in my age range--or, going to the other extreme, as we low EQ Americans are wont to do, it's all about fun, a casual time, not looking for anything serious right now, predicated on the belief that partnerships can't be fun, it would seem. So, fling or forever, people!

Well, right now I want more than sex, less than marriage. That would seem to pose a problem, given the latter dichotomy, but it seems a much healthier way to approach dating than seeing the person as a disposable sex time or a this-could-be-my-one-true-sooooouuuuulmate. So, I'll stick with the healthy approach. And it occurs to me: I like my life. I like running it, I like deciding how and where to live it, I like pursuing my own endeavors. And I like men who like to do the same. Wherever they are.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

School Sign Says

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Shit Mainstream White People Like

We see the nightmare of the lies that you speak.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Oh, Craigslist

Now, now.

I know Craigslist takes a lot of heat, some of it deserved, but I have found several reputable clients on there in the last decade--no, not johns--publishing companies seeking editors.

And I don't think it's fair to blame one website for incidents of violence or assault, as the trend in the mainstream media has been.

I also don't think the gradual decline in quality in a lot of the ads is a reflection of the dreaded Craigslist, but of an overall decline in both grammar and professionalism that I see online at sites like MediaBistro, too. In either case, cough, all the smiley faces on the planet do not disguise the fact that you're not even paying minimum wage.

In NYC, the list is where a lot of people still find apartments. So it's not all pervs and syntax sluts--which brings me to my current favorite find, provided by our friend Craig since, like everyone else, we're both hypocrites:

Header: Adult Scene Descriptions, 5 to 7 words each

I guess brevity would be key.

Ad: We need descriptions written for adult scenes, similar to what you can see on any adult tube site. You will be able to see a timeline (presented by thumbnails) based on which you can describe a scene (5 -7 words).

Maybe the current dearth of viable jobs and/or clients is contributing to this impression, but I can't help but find the prospect of this work both funny and entertaining, a way of procrastinating on actual serious work that I'd actually enjoy.

Ad: You have to complete at least 600 descriptions in 2 day period.

I'm sorry?

Ad: You work will be checked and funds released (considering that everything is approved). Poor performers will be banned.

Talk about performance anxiety.

Ad: We have 100,000 descriptions to work on so it can be an ongoing project for you.

I'll say!

Ad: Payments can be arranged via (paypal, check, wire).

Oh, can they--you'll compensate me? Smiley face! And...

the kinky gives way to another sleazy scam, the classy version of MediaBistro's recurring ad for an underwear company copyeditor, the one that used too many capital letters to say things like, "We take underwear SERIOUSLY. You must have a PASSION for men's underwear."

I do. But I don't want to have to talk about it with unsexy weirdos. They're banned, too.

Sunday, December 09, 2012

Am I Really This Irresistible?

Turns out the best time for someone to try to wrest their way into your apartment, from the perspective of the lady of said apartment, is PMS time. Plan fail.

Of course, there really was no plan on the part of these two men at all; they just kept turning the doorknob even though the door was clearly locked, without, say, buzzing the intercom, ringing the conveniently located and easy-to-see doorbell, or knocking on the door first. No, just bum rush a person's home, then laugh at them when they get all pissed. I called the super, one stop before calling the police (who may or may not have been helpful; for me, that's been a 50-50 split overall) and turns out they were supposed to be painting two doors over. Though I don't buy the more maudlin overstatements about PMS, it did give me an edge in ensuring I was fully assertive in this case. It's bad when you have to yell-explain a concept like not grabbing strangers' doorknobs and trying to force one's way into their homes like it's at all normal. What if I was some crazy biker guy or something, someone inclined to (understandably) go for a knife or a gun in response to the horror movie image of your doorknob moving around inside?

I've had a handful, at least, of such incidents and it's a little creepy, a little zombie-like that no matter how unethused you are about, say, your current dating experiences, there will be dudes trying to get in your house without so much as sending an IM first if you (here's that dreaded phrase, gasp!) live alone.

One worker dude climbed through the window of a house I was living in once; he rang the doorbell, but I was getting dressed in my bedroom so didn't go racing to answer, considering he wasn't supposed to be doing any work inside my apartment, ahem, but painting the outside of the house, apparently leading him to decide, "Hey, I'll just jimmy the living room window all the way open and climb right in." When I say, to vent, that men are crazy, I am not being a hater.

I've been followed into the bathroom by a guy hitting on me. I remember being bewildered; he was otherwise normal -- smart, seemingly sane, good looking, like tall, blonde, and good-looking good-looking, and yet he couldn't at least just wait outside?

That reminds me of this friend I probably shouldn't have dated, though it was enjoyable while it lasted; it's just that we might still be friends today if we hadn't and we were pretty different about what we wanted dating-wise. And I handled it badly, leaving to go back to grad school, which I was going to do anyway, granted, but leaving abruptly.

A few years later, he showed up as a student in one of the classes I was teaching, though he wasn't registered for the section and it was blessedly full. It could have been a coincidence since adjuncts don't get their names listed in bulletins (and: karma). Though, and maybe this was partially guilt talking, I felt I couldn't have ethically denied him entry, I felt pretty sure someone in the department could have spared me the added weirdness of teaching him if the section wasn't full. On the silver sliver side, he's very smart, so there could've at least been some good deba--er, discussions. The waiting-outside part comes in later, when I would see him hanging in the outdoor balcony-hallway after class and the resulting conversations would be strange, strained, like he thought I did it on purpose.

I guess you could say I'm in demand man-wise if you see the latter as...romantic pursuit. I don't; I alternate between seeing it as scary and hilarious.

The best relationships I've had were friendships at their core; at the very least, you can laugh at shit like the above together.