I have a bone to pick with this whole "dating" thing. Over the years I have been told by people how easy and simple it is to just meet single people and go on dates. I've read numerous books where the heroine has no problem going on dates and lamenting how the man is not the one. I've watched Sex and the City and other television programs that display women and men going on dates with what appears to be an endless parade of single, attractive people.
I feel so behind the curve. If in one season Carrie can go on say, at least 20 dates with at least 15 different men or if my mom can tell me about all these horrible dates she went on in her glory days or if Sookie Stackhouse, a telepath in Bon Temps, Louisiana, can go on dates with hot vampires, werewolves and everything else under the sun, then why not me? Why have I failed to tap into this natural resource of available men who ask women on dates? I've only been on MAYBE 3 or 4 official dates with different men in the 8 years I've mixed with the opposite sex. Obviously I have a lot of catching up to do.
But where is this seemingly endless supply of single people? Most of the time I feel like the whole pool of single people is compared to some sort of open market. There are all these people just milling around looking to date. These people are all different shapes and sizes and colors and are just waiting to go on a date with you. It sounds as exciting and exhilarating as a foreign Farmer's Market. All these unfamiliar goods for you to experience and handle. Oh so glamorous.
I am a pessimist though and I am here to shatter this perfect picture of dating. Because if there is a market like this, it is not like the picture painted above. It is more like a Black Market or Knockturn Alley. (Yeah, so maybe the problem of me finding dates has more to do with my frequent Harry Potter references, that's another blog though) Here's my flawed reasoning for this:
I grew up in a high school with 100 people. Let's just say that it was 50% male, that means that there were only about 50 males to date. Break that down to factor in males with girlfriends and we're down to like 30 single men. Break that down to factor in males who could read and we're down to like 5. Just kidding, but you can see my pool was small. So when I graduated, I was looking forward to a larger pool. Thousands of single guys in one area. And they were in college, so they had to be able to read! Oh, the possibilities!!!!! The possibilities to date, at least for me in college, were slim to none. The possibilities to hook up? Never ending. Again, I found myself rationalizing. Well, men in college aren't focused on dating or settling down, so wait until you graduate. Then surely men would be lining up down the block to ask me out. Not so. Granted, I've only been out for 2 years, but in that 2 years I have been on 0 dates.
Which makes me wonder if the Market of Single People is even real. If it does exist, it's a shady place, a dark place with under the table dealings. "Hey, let's date and say how simple it was just to perpetuate the myth." It's evil, I tell you, evil!
Evil because single people like me with hardly any dating experience feel inadequate and out of place. There HAS to be a reason everyone else has been able to shop around this mythical, magical place and I haven't. If there are all these single people milling around, looking to date, I must be wearing some sort of invisibility cloak or smell like a troll. (Can you tell I went and saw the new Harry Potter?)
Maybe it is my Harry Potter references, or my dimples, or my rather large ass, or my personality. It's not that I sit around just waiting for someone to ask me out. I've been a single girl asking out a single guy. (Let's not talk about those results though).
All of this frustration comes from all this bullshit you get told when you're single. It is shoved down your throat. Not to give you hope, but to make you feel worse and helpless. Because whenever I hear someone tell me about all these single men out there waiting for me or anything like that, I just feel worse. I mean, I'm single and not going on dates. Wouldn't that suggest that in fact, no one is looking for me or that I am not a date-able girl?
I just wish I could have more honest discussions about dating and love. Not just fairy tales or urban legends. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so hopeless.
I guess in the meantime I will work on keeping those Harry Potter references to a minimum...
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Reciprocity
As we grow up, we are taught the act of sharing. You are scolded when you steal all the cookies and won't share them with your siblings. You get five minutes on the wall when you won't let little Susie play Barbies with you because you are staging a Barbie's woman conference on the current status of plastic female toys in the playroom and all Susie wants to do is have Barbie go on a date with Ken. Time and time again we hear the words "Sharing is Caring." Our parents tells us it's just not nice not to share your toys.
And for awhile I think this subtle brain washing works. We are conditioned into sharing everything within an inch of our life. You need a pencil? You need some Chapstick? You need a kidney? Things go well, we're all living in a non-selfish world, sharing and caring until our little hearts' content.
Then something happens. There comes an act where sharing is not the name of the game. Our parents are now telling us not to share our toys. Everything we have been taught, words that Barney, Elmo, Big Bird and other great minds of our generation have uttered are out the window. This of course is sex.
At first we are told not to share our body's with just anyone. Save the sharing for someone 'special.' There are obvious reasons for this: STDs, babies, etc. This is sound reasoning that I can support and understand. But I think perhaps this break in the sharing thought process sends out shockwaves when it comes to the act sex. Because with sex, sharing is not a top priority.
Reciprocity is what I find to be lacking in sex. A mutual sharing of privileges is nowhere to be found in the bedroom (or car or outside or wherever you're doing the deed). There is a kind of unsaid code of you get yours, I'll get mine, but when that code is broken, not much is said. You just simply lament for a brief moment on the fact you didn't get yours while the other individual definitely got theirs and move on.
I, like probably all of us, have had first hand experience with this. I was in a serious relationship where I was willing to use my oh so skillful mouth in ways that left my significant other fully satisfied. He quite enjoyed it and would ask for it on occasion. I didn't mind because I only thought that if he was being satisfied, I should also be getting some satisfaction. Well, the Rolling Stones' "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" quickly became my theme. He would lend a hand and we had sex, but he would never go down. Plus, he was a selfish partner. Once he was done, we were done.
After months (yes, months) of frustration, I brought up the whole oral dilemma and the lack of mutual climax. He simply stated that he would never go down because he thought it was gross. Gross? Really? And me putting your dick in my mouth is just normal procedure and is not "gross"? He also told me that when he was done, he was just so tired he did not have the energy to see to my needs. I was beside myself. It definitely put a strain on our sex life. I was not getting the attention I needed, I craved, and he was just sitting in after orgasm glory every time. He was the perfect picture of selfishness and gluttony, and I believe Elmo would have been very disappointed in him.
Yet, that was a relationship. I should have spoke up more about my needs and wants, but, ironically, I didn't want to appear too selfish. And I suppose he just didn't think it was gross, but his refusal to engage in oral stemmed from his inexperience. But, I will note, that he was also my first foray into the land of oral exploration, so that excuse seems just as weak as the "gross" stance.
Then there are the hook ups. Where any pretense of having to make the other person happy flies out the window and people take it as an opportunity to be as greedy as they can. As long as you can snare the person in to bed, you are golden. I haven't had the largest amount of hook ups in the world, but out of all them, there have been only 2 men who have engaged in the act of reciprocity. Which is about only 10-20% of the men I have hooked up with. Which is super pathetic.
Oh, and not to mention the impatient nature of the hook up. Instead of just being happy with what they get or patiently waiting for me to venture down, the hook up feels the need to push my head down to their oh so majestic dick as if I were unaware of where it could possibly be located or that I should give it any attention. Oh, thank you, sir, for guiding me, as I am a poor, clueless girl who just wants to please you! And, also, the hook up's need to shove my head down ever farther while their prized possession is in my mouth. Is that really a smart idea? A gentle push, okay, but shoving will lead to one of two things: me throwing up all over your little friend or me biting, and no, not the playful kind of biting. The knowledge and sense of Sesame Street is nowhere to found in these scenarios.
Of course it's not just men who are the selfish ones. I admit to not giving back to my fellow man once or twice. I have girlfriends who attest to the same thing. We all just seem to forget that sharing is caring, no matter the situation.
But there are those rare gems of true reciprocity. There is one individual who made me see the light. I help him, he helps me. I have never left not satisfied and I can safely say he is always satiated after a rendezvous. He makes it a point not to finish until the fat lady sings, and believe you me, I'm always singing. And sometimes I'm singing one or two or three songs of joy.
I guess in a strong relationship, the law of reciprocity will rule supreme. Both individuals will not do it only out of obligation, but because they truly want to reciprocate. And this won't only be in the bedroom, but seep out into all aspects of the relationship.
It's a place I think of as fantasy, much like Sesame Street. Because it appears too perfect, all these people getting along and loving and caring and sharing and signing and being happy. But maybe only because I've yet to get there. To me it's hard to fathom a place where sharing really is caring and someone is willing to both share with me and care for me. I'm working on getting there though.
Until then, I just like to sit in self pity and bemoan: Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?
And for awhile I think this subtle brain washing works. We are conditioned into sharing everything within an inch of our life. You need a pencil? You need some Chapstick? You need a kidney? Things go well, we're all living in a non-selfish world, sharing and caring until our little hearts' content.
Then something happens. There comes an act where sharing is not the name of the game. Our parents are now telling us not to share our toys. Everything we have been taught, words that Barney, Elmo, Big Bird and other great minds of our generation have uttered are out the window. This of course is sex.
At first we are told not to share our body's with just anyone. Save the sharing for someone 'special.' There are obvious reasons for this: STDs, babies, etc. This is sound reasoning that I can support and understand. But I think perhaps this break in the sharing thought process sends out shockwaves when it comes to the act sex. Because with sex, sharing is not a top priority.
Reciprocity is what I find to be lacking in sex. A mutual sharing of privileges is nowhere to be found in the bedroom (or car or outside or wherever you're doing the deed). There is a kind of unsaid code of you get yours, I'll get mine, but when that code is broken, not much is said. You just simply lament for a brief moment on the fact you didn't get yours while the other individual definitely got theirs and move on.
I, like probably all of us, have had first hand experience with this. I was in a serious relationship where I was willing to use my oh so skillful mouth in ways that left my significant other fully satisfied. He quite enjoyed it and would ask for it on occasion. I didn't mind because I only thought that if he was being satisfied, I should also be getting some satisfaction. Well, the Rolling Stones' "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" quickly became my theme. He would lend a hand and we had sex, but he would never go down. Plus, he was a selfish partner. Once he was done, we were done.
After months (yes, months) of frustration, I brought up the whole oral dilemma and the lack of mutual climax. He simply stated that he would never go down because he thought it was gross. Gross? Really? And me putting your dick in my mouth is just normal procedure and is not "gross"? He also told me that when he was done, he was just so tired he did not have the energy to see to my needs. I was beside myself. It definitely put a strain on our sex life. I was not getting the attention I needed, I craved, and he was just sitting in after orgasm glory every time. He was the perfect picture of selfishness and gluttony, and I believe Elmo would have been very disappointed in him.
Yet, that was a relationship. I should have spoke up more about my needs and wants, but, ironically, I didn't want to appear too selfish. And I suppose he just didn't think it was gross, but his refusal to engage in oral stemmed from his inexperience. But, I will note, that he was also my first foray into the land of oral exploration, so that excuse seems just as weak as the "gross" stance.
Then there are the hook ups. Where any pretense of having to make the other person happy flies out the window and people take it as an opportunity to be as greedy as they can. As long as you can snare the person in to bed, you are golden. I haven't had the largest amount of hook ups in the world, but out of all them, there have been only 2 men who have engaged in the act of reciprocity. Which is about only 10-20% of the men I have hooked up with. Which is super pathetic.
Oh, and not to mention the impatient nature of the hook up. Instead of just being happy with what they get or patiently waiting for me to venture down, the hook up feels the need to push my head down to their oh so majestic dick as if I were unaware of where it could possibly be located or that I should give it any attention. Oh, thank you, sir, for guiding me, as I am a poor, clueless girl who just wants to please you! And, also, the hook up's need to shove my head down ever farther while their prized possession is in my mouth. Is that really a smart idea? A gentle push, okay, but shoving will lead to one of two things: me throwing up all over your little friend or me biting, and no, not the playful kind of biting. The knowledge and sense of Sesame Street is nowhere to found in these scenarios.
Of course it's not just men who are the selfish ones. I admit to not giving back to my fellow man once or twice. I have girlfriends who attest to the same thing. We all just seem to forget that sharing is caring, no matter the situation.
But there are those rare gems of true reciprocity. There is one individual who made me see the light. I help him, he helps me. I have never left not satisfied and I can safely say he is always satiated after a rendezvous. He makes it a point not to finish until the fat lady sings, and believe you me, I'm always singing. And sometimes I'm singing one or two or three songs of joy.
I guess in a strong relationship, the law of reciprocity will rule supreme. Both individuals will not do it only out of obligation, but because they truly want to reciprocate. And this won't only be in the bedroom, but seep out into all aspects of the relationship.
It's a place I think of as fantasy, much like Sesame Street. Because it appears too perfect, all these people getting along and loving and caring and sharing and signing and being happy. But maybe only because I've yet to get there. To me it's hard to fathom a place where sharing really is caring and someone is willing to both share with me and care for me. I'm working on getting there though.
Until then, I just like to sit in self pity and bemoan: Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street?
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