Okay, I have a reason for not posting Tuesday, a really good reason actually. I had a strange and short bout of food poisoning Monday night and early Tuesday. At one point on Monday night, I was leaning on the bathroom wall crying and falling asleep. Sexy, I know. So I was asleep almost all of Tuesday day, until I realized I wasn’t going to die Tuesday evening. YaY for not dying.
I had no idea what I was going to write today until Sara linked a Cracked.com article. This one was as mortally offensive as the first one I wrote about, I don’t think anyway. I do have delayed rage reactions sometimes. It really did focus in somethings that have been floating in my head, but I have been hesitant to write about. Screw it, I talked about food poisoning, dating is far less icky.
The idea of playing hard to get pisses me all the way off. I agree with Gladstone here on this.
You know what most of the precepts of modern dating pisses me the fuck off. I know, I know, I don’t have the success rating to warrant having any sort of viable opinion, but honestly, I am pretty okay with being single. I would rather live a battery powered love life than do a lot of the bullshit that goes with the dating dances. I’m not talking about shaving and high heels, I am talking about the games.
Dating for normal people is like urban-fucking-warfare. There are rules and tactics and weapons. Woman huddle together and have strategy meetings and try to figure out the psychology of the enemy (the guys they are dating).
Hard to get can kiss my ass. I know I am “blessed” with traits that make it hard for me in the romance department. I have an … impressive… stature. I am loud, opinionated, smart, funny, and apparently possess intimidating confidence. (My own father told me that my confidence intimidates people, after he asked me if I didn’t scare away the guy I am dating after the first date. I think he was joking about the scaring away part. Probably.) I have come to realize that these things are not always bonuses. So, what am I supposed to do? Pretend I am not these things until a man is comfortable enough to “overlook” these qualities in me. Okay, yeah, fuck that.
I am flawed, crazy,emotional, and weird, but I am also amazing. If someone else can’t handle it, then they are not right for me. I am a bit of an expert on trying to fit myself into a shape that would work with someone not right for me, and I know it never works. I always end up losing bits of myself in the process.
I don’t believe in playing it cool. If I like someone, I want to be able to tell them. I’m not saying I think it is a good idea to gush to a man how much you want to have their babies after the first date. My guess is that emotion is something you should examine awhile before sharing, but if I feel a real connection with someone, I am going to tell them. I would want them to do the same with me. It helps calm insecurities that would be normal on both sides.
Also, societal pressure about sex is pissing me off. I don’t know how much men feel but women have it from all sides and it is crazy. We are bombarded with all of these messages from everywhere with what we do with our ladybits. If we give it up too soon, we are giving away a valuable chip, but if we don’t give it up quickly enough either the guy will get frustrated and go find an easier mark, or we are letting down our feminist sisters by caving to patriarchal chastity demands.
Straight up. Do what feels most comfortable to you. Fuck societal pressures. If you want to sleep with a guy on the first date, do it. If he thinks you are a slut, then he is a juice noodle that you don’t need. If people tell you that you are trading away a chip (Kathleen gave me this brilliant analogy, she has some amazing thoughts on this I wish she would write down and publish) and leaving him with nothing else to look forward to, then point out to them he can look forward to more sex with you.
I am on the other end of the spectrum, I am a snail’s pace sort of gal. I can’t separate sex from emotions, and I have always known any attempts to do so would just leave me hurt. I don’t think sex is dirty or wrong, I am just not interested in it without emotional attachments. This makes me a bit of a unicorn, but that is okay. Believe it or not, some of the strangest pressure against my attitude is from other women. I’m not moving at a snails pace for patriarchal ideas that my value lies in the lack of mileage on my lady garden or to hold a power over a man. I move at my own pace for my own reasons, and the only one who has any say is the man I am with.
Another part of the dating warfare is women analyze everything. We analyze EVERYTHING. This is part of a conversation I with the Viking I am dating (another Kathleen-ism) is men don’t think about things nearly as much as we do. We think ourselves into craziness. Good men say what they think and mean it, and if they are playing games, then they are assholes, and you can’t accommodate for assholes.
Women weigh everything. We turn conversations over and over like stones in our hands until they are worn smooth. We do this to other women unintentionally. A friend harmlessly asked me about the hug at the end of a date, trying to explain what three different hugs have been scientifically proven to mean, my brain imploded, and I panicked like a damn deer in the woods. She didn’t mean it to happen, like all of the other women in the world, but we, by nature, overload ourselves.
I made the decision that I am too damn old for worrying about all of this shit. I am not the urban dating warfare type, and most advice doesn’t apply to me. If I screw things up with the incredible Viking, I am screwing them up on my own terms. This way at least I know I blew them up by being me and not trying to be something else. Also, I might drive myself less crazy.
Yeah, I meant this to be a response to the article, mostly it ended up being a rant about dating.