Tag Archives: relationships

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Cracked.com, You Did It Again

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.

four douchebags in a row

Unless I was dating one of these dudes. Dating these guys is ickier than food poison any day.

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.

 
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Gone Feral

Last Saturday, I was interacting with a group of ladies. My female friends might occasionally swear or make raunch-tacular jokes, but I see them all as ladies. They maybe open about things not always considered polite, but that never mattered in my assessment.  My female friends are ladies. They were talking about something that seemed very civil and lady-like, and I was, of course, clueless. I made a joke that I had gone feral from being single too long. I made a couple more penis jokes, and we all moved on.

Last night, I made the same joke, but I was forced to explain it. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

By I had gone feral, I meant that I had lost my “polish.” By my polish, I mean I meant that all that bullshit about how I was supposed to act to come off as appropriately feminine and to be an acceptable girlfriend to a gigantic dickbag.

I’m very lucky, and the person I was talking to is the complete and total opposite of a douchebag and pointed out to me that some of me “feral” aspects were the best parts of me.

Now I’m just pissed off. PISSED OFF. I know it shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize this shit, but I am a slow learner.

Yes, I make dirty jokes constantly. I find everything funny. Sex is one of the funniest things out there. Making dirty jokes doesn’t make me less feminine or less acceptable as a girlfriend. It means that I would make an AWESOME girlfriend. (I’m sorry but also find farting funny, too. It might make me less than classy, but I don’t care.)

I’m bossy. I’ll admit it. If something needs to get done, and no one else is stepping up to lead, I will start trying to organize things. It might not make me some meek submissive little thing, but I am not going to waste time sitting around while people mill around not getting shit done. If you want to be the leader step up, but if you don’t step up, don’t bitch if I do. That’s not ‘masculine’ that is called time-fucking-management.

I’m aggressive about things I want. If I want something, I don’t know why I should have to wait for someone to notice and give it to me.  Most of the time when I go out with friends, I am laid back, because I genuinely don’t care what we do, but if I want something, I’m going to ask. We can’t always get what we want, but I have to feel like it is okay to try.

I say what I think. I do everything in my power not to hurt people (that don’t deserve it), but if someone is being a douche noodle, I am going to call them a douche noodle. If you ask for my opinion, I will give it to you with few exceptions. If I have something to add in a conversation, I will add it. I don’t care if it seems like I am controlling a conversation. Get over it.

Now, my friends, whom all I consider ladies, have these behaviors. Almost all of these friends are married.

GRRRRRR.

I don’t know. I think I am stopping my rant here.

 
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Small Things

On it, Bitch

This really has nothing to to do with anything. It just makes me happy

I’m reading The Hunger Games again. I might read it a third time in a row. I don’t know.  I understand it is insane to read a book three times in a row, but that’s how I roll.

I was feeling pretty bleak today. I was feeling “crying in the shower” bleak today.

Today is the anniversary of the break-up. I don’t miss the relationship, by any means, and this year has been incredible. I have had so much growth, and I am more genuinely happy than I have ever been. (I know that is strange to say when I just admitted to crying in the shower, stop judging.) I felt stupid for even letting myself note it.

I have also been feeling frustrated with myself that nothing has been happening with my writing. I feel like I should some how have accomplished more, and time is running out.

Any writer who tells you that they don’t want to have their stuff read is either full of shit or a total nutbag. Writers write for two reason: we have things in our heads we need out, and we want people to read them. We want people to read and appreciate our stuff. If you write and have no desire to write something that people will read, then you aren’t a writer. You are someone who happens to write. Well, that but only less judgy and harsh, so let me attempt to explain.

I think of it more as someone who is really into golfing (or any other sport/hobby/craft). They love to golf. Golfing makes them feel whole, and when they golf, they feel a deep connection to their inner them. I think most people have this feeling about something. This doesn’t make them a professional golfer.

It is more than about making a living writer, which would be glorious I won’t lie, but the idea that this is something you want to use to interact with the world. I want people to read my stuff, not just to be famous, or make money, but to feeling like I am making some sort of impact. I write to put stuff out there because of this crazy belief that I can make people laugh, feel, or have some sort of impact on them.

I haven’t been feeling that lately. Objectively, I know I am a better writer than I have ever been. I am learning about who I am as a story teller. I am creating ideas at a rate I never have before, and I am looking at everything I read differently. Logically, I know I am getting better. Today, I just feel like I am banging my head on a wall and making no impact on anything, and any moment I am going to pass out with a bloody forehead.

So, today I sent Tina a text that said, “I feel really bleak today. I don’t want to blog today because I know it will come out really bleak.”

She called me back.

She told me that anyone would feel the anniversary. I felt better.

She told me she felt the same way about her photography that I do about my writing. I felt better.

We raved with each other about The Hunger Games. I felt better.

She promised me an eventual drunken night at a quiet piano bar that requires a cab ride home. She said, “Sometimes to get back into your own head, you need to go completely out of your own mind.” Simple brilliance.

I don’t know why having someone understand why I feel so bleak today made me feel less bleak. Well, I do. It is the same reason I write this blog. Sometimes we all need to know that someone else gets why we feel the way we do in order to be able to handle this business of trying to be happy and live. It is odd that sometimes you have to be sad in order to be happy, and if you avoid or ignore the unpleasant you can’t ever really feel the good.

So, my friends, fight to be happy and to be yourself. They are one in the same. If you are willing to love and accept, you will find love and acceptance, including yourself. Shit happens and you have no control over it, but you can decide how you want to handle.

Those are my lessons from this year. Well, and that drunk texting is bad. Sorry again, Tina.

 
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The Love in My Life

First order of business today: Valentine’s Day. I think most people are expecting me to be depressed or grumpy like I have been in past years. Nope, I am thankful.

Last year, I had a boyfriend and Valentine’s Day sucked worse than when I was single. If I can’t be with a man who cares as much about making me happy as I do him, I would prefer to be single.

I have had a grand total of two Valentine’s Days when I wasn’t single. One was fantastic and, one was terrible. I have had more strange and wonderful Valentine’s Days when I was single.

My first year of college, my roommate Lynsie put a note on her prized stuffed animal and knocked on the door then dashed a way. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me on Valentine’s Day.

Another year, I was at a greasy spoon diner studying for a massive Shakespeare test I had when this really attractive man asked to sit with me. I never saw him again, and if another friend hadn’t seen him, I might have thought I made it up in my own damn head. We talked for several hours about everything. It was strange and wonderful.

Tina and David took me out year before last. I wasn’t single, but I was e-dating the last ex-boyfriend, and I wouldn’t have done much otherwise. They are the reason that Valentine’s Day was wonderful. Them and the excitement I felt at being in love on Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t the boy, it was my friends and myself.

This year, I am single again. I woke up to a small box of chocolates and a card that my dad bought for me. (I managed to eat all six and still make it work in my calorie budget because I am becoming a food managing ninja, bitches.) I logged on to my game and played a character that was wearing awesome pants that Tina and Dave got for me for Valentine’s Day.  Then, I went on to Facebook and found that my friend Sara posted this:

Yet another Baby Corgi

How can you see this face and not have your heart melt?

to my page because whenever she sees a corgi, she thinks of me because they make me so happy.

I don’t know if I will ever find a husband, or have children, but I do know I will never want for love in my life. I have more love in my than some married people I have known.

Things might not work out the way I planned, but they always work out.

Second order of business: things rarely work out like I planned.

I am the queen of trying to jam a square peg in a round hole. (Make all the dirty jokes you want, I did.) I was doing that yet again.

After struggling for weeks trying to get a section done with my book, my mom pointed out to me that something was glaringly wrong, and I had to change major details on the entire last half of my book. I was a little devastated yesterday, but I knew I could handle it. Last night I was up until 5 am re-outlining the last half of my book and figuring things out. I am basically going to have to write a whole new first draft for the back half. It is daunting, and yesterday it was incredibly disheartening.  I knew I had no choice but to do it.

My choices are: fix it, making it far better in the process, or quit and not finish that book. The second choice is not happening. I am finishing the book, damn it, even if it isn’t wonderful, profound literature, I am finishing it. If I can’t find a publisher, I will put it on Amazon. Even if it doesn’t sell any copies, I will have a book out for sale.

But, I am stepping back and accepting that it will take the time it takes. I hear you, Universe, I will stop rushing shit and making arbitrary time limits. As long as I am moving forward and working hard for a goal, I will be happy with what I do.

Yeah, and it is really hard to be too devastated after writing that first section that I just wrote. It is all about perspective people. Sometimes, I need it.

Third bit of business: I have some ideas bubbling in the front of my brain but they are all half formed. They are right there but I can’t quite get them. I have a feeling I need to have a long session of mumbling to myself while doing something mindless. It is a little frustrating but it will come when it comes. Yes, Universe, I heard you, damnit.

 
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Odd Trips Inward

Love and relationships have been on my mind a lot lately. I think it is mostly because of the time of year and that so many women I know are pregnant. I have been kicking things around in my head for awhile now, so, of course, I am going to over share about them here.

The most surprising realization I have had was: all you need to get love and acceptance is be willing to love and accept. Simple. Not everyone will love you, and not everyone will accept you, but people will care about you and want to be in your life.

Every living human being wants love and acceptance. It gets all mucked up in how we handle that desire, but once you realize you are worthy of love and acceptance and you decide you will love people in your life, flaws and all, then you will find it.

Some people will never accept you or love you, but you can’t help that. I used to try so hard to change myself to be more acceptable to people in my life, but I always came up short, and I was never going to be good enough. Somewhere, I don’t know where, I found people who I didn’t need to pretend with.

This is who I am. I am deeply flawed, weird, crazy, fat, socially awkward, and I will almost always, without fail, say the wrong thing at the wrong time. I am also funny, loyal, smart, honest, loving, and I find joy in making people I care about happy. If you love me and accept me, I will love you and accept you, almost without exception. (Okay, I do have an issue with people who are intentionally mean, hurtful, rude, or abusive. Aside from that, though, almost without exception.)

I am worthy of love and friendship.

I am also still deeply damaged and I am trying to figure it out how to fix me.

I don’t understand how I can see how worthy I am of friendship, but I still really don’t feel worthy of romantic love. Part of me cannot believe that someday someone fantastic will love me like I see in so many couples around me.

I believe in deep, lasting love. I have seen so much of it in my life. I believe some people are meant to be together for the rest of their lives, if they are willing to put the work into it.  I believe men can fall so madly in love with a woman that they form a pair bond so tight that are no longer whole without that other person. I just have a hard time believing that someone will fall for me like that.

Random interruption from a baby corgi

There is a reason I get into the relationships I do and why I let men I have romantic interest treat me the way I do. It is my self worth issues. I know this. I could blame it on a million things, from modern media, human nature, or being told at thirteen that I am not the type of person someone will want to sleep with because of my looks, but the truth is the reason isn’t important.

I need to look honestly at the broken parts. I need to poke at them and try to heal them. I need to admit things that people who care about me know. I have serious self-worth issues that I need to work on before I can be happy with someone else.  It would be fantastic if some man could swoop in and fix me, but I am done waiting for someone else. I have to figure out how to fix me, no one else can.

I have to finish my book for my own self worth. I need to realize all of those flaws I see are not greater than the good things about me. I have to  ask for what I want and to hold out for what I need.  I need to  learn that I could lose weight, publish books, become famous, learn social graces, but it will never be enough if I can’t accept that anyone would be lucky to have my love. I need to think I am good enough if I ever want a man to treat me like I am good enough. Otherwise, I will always need to be skinner, funnier, more successful, just different than what I am.

I need to make those crazy lady post it notes:

I am deeply flawed and broken, but I am beautiful.

I deserve to be loved like I love.

Anything else is a bunch of bullshit.

 
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Taboo

There are things we are not really allowed to write about as women. Most of them are profound and really need to be examined with beauty and delicacy.  Lives could be changed by lovingly exploring these taboo and sensitive subjects. Then there are the other subjects we don’t talk about for societal niceties like bodily functions. There is nothing profound or delicate about PMS. There are reasons never to discuss the issue like good taste and tact. One thing I have proven is that I have neither good taste nor tact.

I have been trying all day to come up with something else to write about since the world freaks out about the very idea of a menstrual cycle, which, by the way, pisses me off. Seriously, men need to grow up about it. I know they want to believe that our lady bits are there purely for their pleasure and that mentioning anything to the contrary might shatter that for them. Some how we fear that they will grow so repulsed by the idea that their soft, warm refuge has a purpose other than for them to put it in and they will never want to have sex with it again.

WTF? Seriously, dudes grow up. Many of them want to try anal and, a lot worse happens in that magical cave.

My uterus is trying to claw its way through my abdomen, and I need to worry about how men think of vaginas? And we are called the weaker sex? Men would be far better served if their mommas pulled them aside and said, “Honey, one day you will probably find some magical lady that you want to spend the rest of your life with and, if you are lucky, she will do many sexual things that are illegal in southern states. One week a month she will get her period and be possessed by demons because she is in a lot of pain and her hormones are whacked out. If you want to keep doing those kinky things with her the other three weeks a month, you will learn to give her chocolate and be as sweet as possible to her. Think of it as a sex tax and your dues for her having to put up with your shit. Man up and deal, wuss.”

What? You want me to wax it too? Screw that.

Women, we need to talk.

You do realize that men will have sex with you even if you have an afro bush? That pain and bullshit we put ourselves through to make our girl parts  “more attractive” is total bullshit. We hold the winning card here, we just need to stop being dipshits about it. Seriously.

Besides, why are we worried about our sexual organs being attractive? Have you seen a ball sack? There is no amount of shaving, waxing, or finger painting that will make a scrotum look less, well, like a wrinkly nut sack.

So this is what we need to do. We need to band together and tell them men folk that we will continue to be the lady on the streets, freak in the bed that they want. We will do all those little things that make them so happy. We are just done putting wax strips or razors on our genitalia. We might trim, but if we do, it is because we want to not because we believe their penis needs a topiary.

Also, on “our time of the month” don’t bitch about not getting sex. Don’t tell us how big of a bitch we are, or how our looks change. Understand that if you do anything but be wary of us and feed us chocolate, the rest of the month will be less pleasant for you. We might even start a website of douchebaggery where we put up your photo and other women in your area can be warned that you are a whiny ass baby. Your balls will be blackballed.

*Head explodes* I am going to go find some chocolate.

 

 
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Smash (Turns Out)

First, watch this. It is twenty minutes long but it is an amazing twenty minutes. Trust me

I know most of you did not stop and watch it. Oh ye of little faith. Just know that this will inspire a few blogs after this one.

Saturday I reconnected with an amazing woman that had been an astounding friend for many years with. (We just went a really long time between phone calls.) She linked me this and it made me think. Thinking gave me panic attacks and yesterday everything went smash.

I felt like I had done some crazy Wiley Coyote stunt where I attached myself to a bungee cord attached to a brick wall and turned on my jet pack and eventually the bungee cord and the brink wall won. BOOM.

I am Selina, Handler of Things. When there is a problem I handle it. I sit down and look at my options and figure out a plan of attack. When I am struggling I come up with multiple plans and go through them one by one caring little about actual success just caring about keeping moving. I do this with the people I care about too. It is why I seem bossy or controlling, it is because I am trying to handle things because I want to make things as good as possible for those I love. It is just what I do.

Turns out you can’t just handle heartbreak.

Selina, Handler of Things met her match with this one.

This is how I explained it to my mom after the cord smashed me back into the wall and I realized I was hurting: I am only three blocks of better trying to run fast and be one mile of better. Eventually something is going to happen and snap you back and wake you up. I was working so hard to push push push push things to make them better, to make them move, that I lost track of were I was and stopped being honest to myself. I was so busy trying to be okay that I forgot to actually help myself be okay.

Turns out that doesn’t work so well.

It also turns out that I have to be okay with that. My tendency when bad things happen to me is to downplay them. It was just a stupid break up. He was not right for me, everyone knew (including me.) He was a big bag of jerk and I am free of him. I deserve better anyway. He was holding me back an now I can be and do whatever I want.

The life I had built for that year plus died. That Selina that I was died. I gave that relationship everything I had and I went into it with my whole heart. It causes damage.

I honestly do not miss him. I see my life as better with out him. In my mind, I know I deserve better. I thought this meant the damage should be better and I should be able to move on. Yeah, so maybe I was a little wrong there. The damage is still there and it still hurts. Turns out making plans and handling things do not work on feelings of being unworthy of love and of feelings weakness. Turns out that planning and handling just hides them.

Push push push. It pisses me off so bad. I want to be better and I should be better but I am not. I should have a job. I should have plans. I should be skinner. I should be writing my great whatever the hell it is that I am going to write to change the world. I should be out making a bevy of new friends. I should, I should, I should.

I was doing the ugly cry (the one with the red face and snot) while talking to my mom and I realized I have a massive double standard for myself. If I saw someone else going through this I would say I was doing fine. I would give them far more leeway than I give myself. I would tell them they are trying hard and that these things take time. I would tell them to stop worrying about should. I would tell them that after a crash it is okay to take a few days and hide and heal. I would tell them that sometimes in life merely doing what you can is enough. Turns out I am kinder to others than I am myself.

I am hurting. I have no plans to handle it. I am just going to feel it. I am going to take a few days to hide and heal. I am going to try to be more honest with myself and try to be kinder to myself. I am going to write what I feel and not what I think I should. Beyond that, I don’t know.

 
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Curiosity and the Cat

I have sworn off of men for at least a year because it seemed like the logical decision to make.  I love men but they do nothing but create chaos in my life and I am doing a good enough job creating my own chaos thankyouverymuch. I still think about what I want in a man (like every single straight woman does) and on occasion I look at a dating site on which I have a profile just out of curiosity. Curiosity killed the cat and I don’t think there is the needed satisfaction to bring it back.

I know dating sites are all the rage with the hot young singles these days. I have had the strangest luck with it. It is has been all bad and it has all been just weird.

The Boys of the Internet:

The mail I ever got on that site came when I was 27. The man was 56.  I when I looked at his dating preferences I noticed that he wanted a woman between the ages of 25 and 35. Ugh. I could tell he was looking for a real intellectual soul match. I felt a bit ageist about brushing him off until I realized even he didn’t want to date someone his age. Seriously, though, there is little a man nearly thirty years my senior could have in common with me mentally or emotionally. I know women closer to his age and most of them are beautiful, dynamic, smart women who would make him happier.  Plus, it would feel pervy dating someone my mom’s age.

The second guy I connected with was a nerdy, smallish man who was working on his doctorate. He was very busy (so he said) but he was very smart, interesting, and charming. One night we were on the phone and he was telling me how everything in the universe was made of the same particles that were created in the big bang. He told me everything in the world was star dust. I know, I know, I am a dork but that was freaking hot. We made a date and he chickened out and I never talked to him again. I have been told his behaviors were indicative of someone who was in a relationship and was looking to cheat. /le sigh

Third guy is known as “Hatchet Boy.” That should be your first clue that things were not awesome. We sent a few messages back and forth and we exchanged myspace pages. He had some of his writing posted and it was bad angst-filled teenage “dark” crap but with slightly violent undertones. His picture was of him holding two hatchets. It gets better. Turns out he was one of the regulars at the library and he had creeped me out there too. When he realized who I was, it got awkward and a bit scary in my head. I told him I was seriously talking to another guy and I wanted to see where that went first.

I was talking to another guy, so I was not lying to Hatchet Boy. This guy was special, the bad kind of special. He dropped out of high school in ninth grade and liked Twilight. He had a daughter and baby momma drama. He also told me on our first date that his ex-girl friend might also be pregnant. As we talk over the next few days things just got more insane. He had to go rescue his daughter from his crazy ex. He found out that the wall of his heart was too thick and he needed medicine and a transplant.  His truck broke down. He had a cousin that lived near the nerd convention in Anaheim, CA that I was going to in a few weeks. Something was going on with his neighbors dogs and shot guns. I decided that either this guy was a big liar or a drama magnet and I needed to not go there.

That was the guy that broke my desire to date. (I am amazed that it took that much.) I stopped looking at the site and forgot about it then I got the latest ex-boyfriend and cancelled my account. One night in a moment of weakness after the break-up I reactivated my account.

I have only had one contact after I reactivated it and that was enough to make me roll my eyes and swear not to use the site seriously. The guy was 47 and he was a poet. If being a poet was not bad enough, his poetry was terrible. It was rhyme scheme dependent drivel. He told me his biggest frustration in life is that all the women notice him for his hot body and not his mind, rhymes, and large man bits. Do I need to explain why this did not get very far?

I still check the site on occasion just when I get curious. I always find the same assortment of strange men who can’t spell and have nothing in common with me. It helps me with my decision to stay single.

 
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Ego-Tastic!

I am starting this blog off with a disclaimer. I know, even before I start writing this, that people who read this site probably think I am a man hating, ball-snatching, hell beast. I’m not. I can try to defend myself by saying I’m not a man hater and I have many male friends but I feel like that person who says they really are not a racist and they have friends who are minorities. Everyone in the room rolls their eyes and discounts everything else that comes out of that person’s mouth as racist drivel. Truth is, I am not a sexist man hater. I really love good men. I have the privilege of knowing many good men. It is the bad ones that we all hate. This is a tongue-in-cheek look at something that I am noticing lately.

The Human Male and His Ego

Everyone knows the female of our human species is the emotional, weak, and irrational gender. Men are always the calm, well-reasoned, logical, and strong gender. It is the male ego that causes their problems.

I have always been aware of the male ego. I have had many males friends all throughout my life. I am now only beginning to see the all-important the ego is to a normal man.

I cannot pretend that I am some expert on the minds of men. I have only anecdotal evidence from friends and observations. I have also learned that I clearly have no understanding of the male brain when I am in a relationship with them. With that said, the male ego seems to be a fascinating driving force.

It is a delicate thing, the ego of a male. It is also a defining thing for a man.

To Know His Ego

I postulate that if you know the basics of a man’s ego, you know him. I believe it is a complicated, multifaceted thing that shifts and morphs as his life changes.  Knowing what drives it at any point in time helps you understand what drives the man.

What drives a man’s ego?

Most people (especially women) would snort and say sex first and foremost. I believe this is true to a certain extent. Sexual reproduction is a necessary drive for the survival of the species. If humans were not sexual we would not have survived those many hard times in the history of the species. Men seem to be even further hard wired than women for it. I don’t know how much but I suspect it is a pretty big driving factor especially in young males. Sex as a driving force is still complicated. Some guys get ego boosts from sheer numbers of partners or the physical attractiveness of their partners.  Some men get the bigger ego boost from being good in bed. I am sure there are a billion other sexual factors that are beyond comprehension to even the men that have them.

Another ego aspect is the drive for achievement. I think everyone has this, not just men, but some males take it to a special extreme. I also believe this drives the competitive nature and the desire to dominate or be better than others that some men with very obvious egos have. By achievement I do not mean purely winning, I think it is far more complicated than that. It can mean acquiring cars, women, positions of power, status symbols, or the desire to “be a good man.” The men I love and admire most consider caring for their loved ones as their most important achievements. The better their families are cared for, the better they feel about themselves. When they feel like they are failing at that then all hell breaks loose.

There is so much that can shape a way a man feels about himself I could write a small book and not cover them wrong and probably be wrong quite a bit. My point is that understanding what a man values in his self-images can help understand his behavior.

When Egos Attack

Here lies the rub. Sometimes when the male ego gets unbalanced, bruised, threatened, damaged, or major changes shit goes to hell. Women understand taking hits to the ego but not in the same way men do.

Women by nature can be nasty, evil piranhas socially. We are built to be loving and caring but we also enforce our groups social mores. We do this in some subtle and underhanded ways. We like shunning. We like back-biting. Some of the very worst female behavior is based on our drive to force the other women in our packs to behave the way we deem best for our survival. I think this leads to us having a less individual ego and more of a social one. (I know someone has phrased that better but I think other women would know what I mean.)  We have strong individual personalities but our sense of self is more fluid and less delicate.

Men seemed to be judged on more individual criteria. I think they are expected to adhere to the social mores of their group but that is not as much the focus as individual accomplishments. Their individual “manliness” is constantly being judged.

Women are judged on our femininity but we had a sexual revolution. We can define our “womanliness” in so many ways. We are no longer trapped being judged purely on our looks or domestic ability. Men are screwed in this department.

We live in a completely different society than the one that most masculine ideals were defined in. Men no longer have to hunt, build, or protect their women and young from bears. I imagine this makes things complicated.  There seems to be fairly well defined ideas of what it is to be male but the ways of conforming to that seem confusing as hell. I have no solutions, only sympathy.

Anyway, so the male ego gets severely  threatened and all hell breaks loose. I know from personal experience that a lot of the abuse that males perpetrate on the people around them comes from insecurity and diseased egos. It is human nature to sometimes want to tear people down when you are low yourself. Its a power thing. It is a dickhead thing. Don’t do it.

Midlife crisis is ego. Some cheating is ego. The man starts to feel bad about himself so he seeks other women to build it up or the idea of having multiple relationships makes them more manly. This is dumb. Get a hobby, or, better yet, try to build your ego on how well you take care of your loved ones.

Men, women want to love you. We find you fascinating, sexy, funny, or a billion other things. We just get annoyed by having to pander to your ego. Women, we love our men and they have their egos. Be aware of their ego and treat it with respect when you can. Your man can’t help it, he is just built that way.

 

 
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If There Ever Was

I got a Facebook message today from I woman I had been friends with in World of Warcraft until some guild drama ended our friendship. It really got me thinking about that period in my life.

awesome worgen image I stopped playing WoW about two months ago. I do not miss it.

God has it really only been two months? It feels like my life fell apart ages ago and I have been scrambling to put it back together while being emo and moody for far longer than that.  I might not being too bad for two months out.

Anyway, I stopped playing WoW and there is not a part of me that misses it.  I miss some of the people. I miss the feeling of community I had since I haven’t really formed bonds in Rift. I do not miss the overwhelming spot I let WoW have in my life.

I am not one of those reformed WoWheads that believe it is evil and will destroy your life if you play it. I believe it is addictive and that it is very easy to lose perspective when you play, but I feel like that is true for many many things. I think it is also true that if you lose balance and let WoW take over your life then it is most likely because something was wrong in your life.

My biggest issue with the game was that I always invested far too much emotionally into it. I allowed myself to get wrapped up in the drama that is inherent with 12 million emo gamers doing anything. My very nature is to be social and to care about people. I forgot to draw the line between caring about my other gamers who are real and do matter and the game which means nothing. I also became very comfortable allowing World of Warcraft to fill some very important roles in my life.

I need social interaction. I need friends. When I moved back here, I felt my lack of friends painfully and distinctly. I could get that big group social dynamic from the game really easily. This is the thing non-gamers don’t understand and it is very important to try to wrap your brain around, the relationships you form with other players are real. We do form relationships with genuine emotion in them. “Normal” people have a hard time understanding that since people have a tendency to put such emphasis on face to face interaction. MMOs are a bonding experience for gamers. We have a big community of people like us. We are a subculture that crosses most socio-economic barriers and most of us delight in this world of people like us.

I don’t apologize for using WoW to make friends and get a social group. I don’t even actually regret it. Now, though, with two months out of it, I miss my “real life” friends more than ever. My regret is that I lost some motivation to hang out with friends I have had for years because I had a readily accessible social core just by turning on my computer. I write blog entries and get responses from Renee, Jill, Lynsie, and Amanda and I realize just how much I miss these women. I may be the fifth wheel when I hang out with the Kreigers and the Hagans but I miss it. It is my own fault too. When I was WoWing all the time, I started to feel awkward around groups of friends and I thought it was the WoW, now I realize that it is me. I have always been awkward and I need to not let that worry stop me.

I also let WoW fulfill my need for a sense of accomplishment. I have a strange sense of self-worth. In order to be happy I have to feel like I am doing something with my life. When my WoW was at it’s most insane, I was not in school and if I did have a job, it was a half time job with no chances of advancement. My self esteem was low because I felt like I was wasting my life away. That wasn’t World of Warcraft’s fault, it was mine.

I don’t know that I have any conclusions yet. I don’t feel like I wasted years of my life. I don’t have regrets because I feel like there are lessons in there, I just have to be willing to look for them. Every small thing in my life has led me to this point. World of Warcraft was one of those things. Things may hurt, things may be hard, and I still have moments of intense melancholy but feel like I am where I need to be in my life. I feel like once I get through this there will be something wonderful, even if it is just a lot more knowledge. I need to think some more.

 
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