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emmanation

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Archive for the ‘dating is fun!’ Category

well there goes my future man plan

Thursday, February 5th, 2015

The day I closed on my new house, I went to Boulder optimistically at the time I was expected to be there for the closing, even though several pieces of information should have led me to believe that the closing was going to be delayed. (Spoiler alert, totally delayed.)

While I was waiting, I went to the mall and looked at expensive cabinet pulls at Anthropologie, and I went to Target and bought a microwave. Then, shockingly, the closing was further delayed, so I went to Barnes and Noble to look for the latest issue of Cherry Bombe. Didn’t find it, but did find something magical.

I half picked up two separate handsome Boulder dudes in the magazine aisle by looking at Modern Farmer. I don’t know what it was, but both of them started following me around after they saw me flip through it. I didn’t talk to either of them because MY LIFE but I had this idea that Modern Farmer would be my salvation should I need to meet a new fella.

AND NOW. 

 

dance party healing

Sunday, January 11th, 2015

On Friday I met a forty-six year old ex-nun who is now engaged to her twenty year old boyfriend. Her twenty year old boyfriend that she met when he was six, before she became a nun, and then re-met when he was eighteen and homeless and looking for her.

It was a very strange story, and it was even stranger when it was told to me by the ex-nun while she was ringing me up in Boulder at a home goods store because I had no warning to brace for it and it seemed really rude to ask questions. Another woman got in line about at the ‘I met my fiance when he was six and I was thirty two’ point. I have no idea how the story was playing with her because the ex-nun was gazing very very consistently at me and I had no opportunity to glance to the right.

Oh, the ex-nun also is a healer. Using crystals. A crystal using healer. A crystal using healer who was a nun and is engaged to a man twenty-six years her junior and is very free with those facts.

I know it sounds like I’m making fun of her, and that’s because I am. It’s a weird story, it just is! IT IS. Like, I like an unconventional love story, but if an adult woman having a feeling of deep connection with a six year old that she of course would never act on is part of the story (oh did I mention that the romantic part started the first time they met, not the second time? no?), then maybe it’s not a story for the CHECKOUT LINE.

In slightly less exciting news, I got kind of sad tonight because I’m watching the last season of The Office and basically Pam and Jim and oh my god and blah. I’m lonely, whatever, etc. So instead of purging to a random person while scanning her credit card, I had a dance party.

If you find yourself in a similar situation, I highly recommend Katy Perry and Avril Lavigne.

Maida and Agnes either strongly agree or strongly disagree. What does barking during an entire song mean?

 

brace yourselves, this is going to hurt

Wednesday, August 20th, 2014

This is the worst breakup I’ve ever had and I’m not doing a very good job with it, you guys. Like, if it were a job, I absolutely would have been fired. If it were a relationship, I would have been dumped. Oh, wait.

So I have some things that I’m working on to try and help myself get and be better about the whole fucking mess, and they are serious, but I also thought it wouldn’t hurt to remind myself of things that hurt before that are now just things that I write about on the internet. As in, some day, in some context, this whole thing will be something that I write about on the internet. Hopefully.

In the order which they occur to me, rather than most to least painful or vice versa:

  1. In high school Andrew, this ridiculously tall fellow who was a grade below me (but my actual age), didn’t want to be my boyfriend even though we totally KISSED ON THE STAIRS. Like, laying down. That shit hurt my back like you would not believe. I don’t remember how I found out he didn’t want to be my boyfriend. I might have asked. I do remember someone telling me that he liked Courtney better and that I shouldn’t worry about it because she was ‘a dog’. That was the first time I’d heard that in the context of calling someone ugly, and I was embarrassed because I thought Courtney was really pretty. I cried a lot. (We’re going to let this story stand in for Brady and Jason and whatever other dumbass boy didn’t want what I wanted when I wanted it too (because he was a person with his own needs etc but it hurt me at the time and that’s what this post is about OK GOD), because if we didn’t this would just be a list of boys who I thought broke my heart at the time). Also, Andrew smelled like dampness, and not in a good way (if smelling like dampness in a good way is a thing that is possible, I’m not really clear on that).
  2. When I was a sophomore (high school theme, I know), Rose got the role of Rosie in Bye Bye Birdie instead of me. You know how many musicals have altos as leads? Like, two. Bye Bye Birdie is one of them, and she’s a co-female lead, but still. I did end up getting to sing a song at a little metal cafe table while wearing a poodle skirt with several of my best friends.

    In the middle. In case there was any confusing between me and the blonds and the redhead.

    In the middle. In case there was any confusion between me and the blonds and the redhead. We’re all wearing We Love You Conrad pins.

  3. I was in science class and Jessica called me a cunt. I don’t remember why but it was certainly the first time I’d heard that word out loud, and I was simultaneously mortified and heartbroken. Also, she was one of FOUR Jessicas in my class, and I don’t really remember which one she was. I might be facebook friends with her now? It’s not clear. Too many Jessicas.
  4. When I finished my first book (she says casually while the third languishes, ignored, in a window behind where she’s currently typing), I submitted it to the agents of my five favorite authors. Form rejection letters, all around. That is a thing that happens to writers, but goddamn that shit hurt. Then, instead of trying harder, I published it on amazon and felt better. Finding agents that were not already representing world class authors was too hard.
  5. That one review on amazon. I would link to it, but that would require me to go read my reviews and after that one review I’m never going to do that ever again. It’s funny now, sure, that she was so upset about all of the drinking in a book that is literally NAMED CORKED AND HAS A PICTURE OF A WINE BOTTLE ON THE COVER, but the fact that I’m yelling actually maybe seems like it’s not funny. Nope, not funny. Not upset about it anymore either, though.
  6. I made 300 cupcakes for a wedding, the only time I had ever made that many outside of a professional bakery setting, and it was 95 degrees and they did not look good by the time the wedding started. I took the money anyway and felt nauseous every time I thought about it for several years. The cupcakes didn’t end up in any of the photos.

See? And that’s not the serious things. That’s not that time I (and several doctors) thought I might have had MS (didn’t). It’s not the loss of Cloey, or my grandma. And I don’t cry (very often) about those things anymore either, right?

Oh! I forgot one. My best friend’s boyfriend, on whom I had a ridiculous thirteen year old crush i.e. I was pretty sure that he was my future husband and the only man I would ever love and the only person who would ever truly understand me, tried to kiss me but for reasons that are unclear we were laying in a pile of hay in a parking lot (Nederland is weird, y’all) and I was surprised and rolled down and hit my elbow and then tried to climb back up to kiss him but I couldn’t find my footing and I pulled down like half the pile. We never got to kiss. When you’re thirteen, that shit is life ending.

So. This is not those things. But this is a thing that will be ok, eventually. And then I will write about it on the internet.

compatibility

Tuesday, August 12th, 2014

I met Crockett for delicious wine and a tasty lobster roll at The Empire after work today, because that’s kind of how we roll on Tuesdays post breakup. (Minus the lobster roll, because that’s a short term thing, per the head chef/owner (I asked)).

(I love lobster rolls.)

I wonder, now, what I would think of Crockett if we were going on a first date. When we met we were younger. (Duh, dummy, whatever.) I was coming out of a long period of time of being alone punctuated by really really terrible decisions. I dated that guy who was a friend’s younger brother, for example, that I barely exchanged words with and yet somehow we became boyfriend and girlfriend and then I kept canceling things and he got mad. Or those other guys. Whatever.  This is not that post. This is a post about me making new friends or failing to do so.

I started to make a new friend recently, but it didn’t go very well. In this case, I made some serious comments about the implications of men calling women they date crazy (actual mental issues are serious business and not to be made light of. ‘Crazy’ as usually used by men in that context means that a woman has wants and needs that aren’t in line with his needs or aren’t within the boundaries of what a woman traditionally expresses on a date) and the difference between that and women calling men creepy (also not particularly fair, but when a dude presents as putting his desire to be near you above your own desire to be not-near him, that can turn non-safe faster than most men would believe possible, so early labeling is to a large extent a safety issue for us) and it wasn’t received openly. My prospective new friend thought I was lecturing/yelling/something something and said that I would be more convincing if I WAS QUIETER ABOUT IT.

The thing is, I was totally lecturing/something something. (I was not yelling). These are things that I care strongly about, and things that I will never talk about the way that I’ll talk about TV or that tick that turns people into vegetarian zombies or whatever. There’s not a place in my future where I’ll stop lecturing/something something when I talk about that stuff.

I was a grown up when I met Crockett, but I became the person I am now while I was with him. (Most of that is documented here, actually.) I wonder, if I met him now, if we would even be friends. I think we would, but I also think he would say some things that would make me mad. And I would say some things that he would think were stupid. And I would make him mad. But I would see that he is smart and funny and currently underutilized in his whole life. And he might see that I’m …. whatever I am.

My work friend, Coastie (see the recent post where he laughed at my dumb joke and no one else did), is sort of an exercise in opposites when compared to the friend who thought I was a yeller. He’s not aware that women calling men creepy and men calling women crazy is even a thing. He doesn’t know what reddit is. I could explain the crazy/creepy phenomenon to him and he would agree, because he wouldn’t understand that there was a subset of people who think that doesn’t make sense. My across-the-hallway-coworker, who has been online dating a lot, would think I was making a big deal out of something that doesn’t really exist. We are not going to be real friends. My friend Chewbacca would not necessarily agree with me, but would engage in honest discussion and would never accuse me of taking it too seriously. Most of my other friends (girlfriends) just let me say things and nod and smile and sometimes ask me to intervene when some dumbass is saying things like ‘yo that girl I met last week was crazy’. I don’t know what Crockett would have done if he hadn’t grown into this version of me with me.

I’ve been watching too much Sex and the City. But the question is: when you’re a fully formed adult person (in as much as that’s a real thing which come on, we’re talking 50% fully formed for the best of us), how much compatibility can you expect from the people you love? How much are they expected to agree with you, how much to humor you, and how much can you disagree on?

 

post about actual Emma sex

Saturday, August 9th, 2014

I was going to say ‘golly that title isn’t that interesting sorry but I was going for honesty so you can move right along if you don’t wanna hear about it’ but who am I kidding.

It’s also kind of a lie, because no. I’m not going to talk about actual sex that I’ve had.

What I am going to talk about is an article that was recently shared by a facebook friend of mine and liked by several others.

Five Reasons You Should Have Sex With Your Husband Every Night

I’m not even sure why I clicked on it. It wasn’t shared by feministing (as if) or even Jezebel. Or even xoJane, my favorite hate read. It’s HuffPo. Love ‘em but not exactly a bastion of clear feminist thinking.

Brief unpacking.

Reason 1: Being a mom is unsexy and exhausting.
Issue: Too easy. OH THE ASSUMPTIONS. The article never said ‘your child’s father’. So your number one reason has to do with procreation. Those of us without kids are still having regular sex? (Here’s where the title comes in.) That’s not a terrible assumption. I certainly had more regular sex than my child having compatriots. However, what about adoptions? Or fathers who are primary caregivers? Or men with husbands who clicked on this?

Reason 2: “If you want your husband to act like a man, you need to treat him like a man.”
Issue: COME ON. The second line is ‘Hold the eye rolls’, but come on. Fuck you. The paragraph that follows is a summary of all of the things you always hear paired with this statement. He’s more loving when he’s having regular sex. He works hard all day and wants to see you naked. Essentially, you don’t have to be into it, he deserves it.

Reason 3: Connect.
Issue: Eh. None. In a typical heterosexual relationship I do think sex helps you connect unless you are intentionally working around it for any or all reasons.

Reason 4: “Sex relieves stress.”
Issue: If you’re not having sex, it’s likely not going to stress you out LESS to force it into your schedule or what have you. Counterpoint, masturbation.

Reason 5: “Sex is fun.”
Issue: Counterpoint, masturbation.

Look, I think regular sex between two people who are into it is one of the best, most funnest things. The problem here is that this (I KNOW, not written by a professional or whatever) article puts the onus on us havers of uteruses, and I think that happens too frequently. The assumption is that our dudes are always ready for it, and so any time we’re not having sex it’s because we, the ladies, are choosing not to. (See spreadsheet guy for a sense of the expectations around hetero cohab sex.)

‘We’re not having sex because’. I don’t feel sexy. My toddler is taking up my time. I’m just not feeling it.

YES. Then say those things and don’t have sex. And reasonably expect that your partner will, at some point, tell you he’s just not feeling it either. The idea that women can get laid whenever they want and men always want it isn’t good for any of us, y’all. Articles that encourage women to have sex for any reason other than ‘I felt like it’ consistently undermine our right to do just that – have sex where and when we want to and at no other time. And they make men feel unjustified in EVER not feeling like it.

And if you are able to have sex and think it might be kind of fun even though you might take some warming up and part of this article speaks to you, then by all means, have sex with your husband. Whether he feels like a goddamn man afterwards or not.