It's Not What You Think It Is

In the casual hookup scene, men often gripe about the tendency of women to get all emotionally wrapped up in what to them is purely a fun physical pursuit. Well, I got news for ya. Our so-called clinginess may not be entirely what you think.

[Before I go on, I would like to clarify that this entry was inspired by a PREVIOUS situation, not a CURRENT one. Okay, carrying on....]

When it comes to the hookup, it is true that many women will form an emotional attachment. These are the sort of women who should not have casual sex, ever. These are the women who will start to act all weird, jealous, call all the time, email crazy things, etc. This is the category that I personally try never to fall into (although I did in the past when I was younger, less experienced, and unable to see the difference between "hooking up" and "relationship".) These women should master the art of self-satisfaction and not sleep with anyone unless they're sure it's going somewhere.

On behalf of the rest of us, I would like to say something. Simply because a woman makes contact with you within a week of you leaving her house after a night of wild shenanigans, doesn't mean she wants to get married and have a million of your babies. In fact, if you think this, you need to get over yourself. In many cases, she may be fishing around for what she feels she is owed: a simple thank you.

Now be honest here, guys. How many times have you neglected to follow-up with your casual whatever partner to thank her for say, the nice home-cooked meal she made you, her splendid hospitality, or the fact that she didn't kick you out of bed when you started snoring? Would it be so difficult to shoot off a quick email a couple of days later saying "thanks for dinner, I had a great time with you, catch you later?" Is it really necessary to compartmentalize everything so damn much?

While sex often involves a bunch of potentially icky emotional things, it should never be devoid of common courtesies. If a woman is nice enough to sleep with you, you should be nice enough to treat her with a little respect. Even if you think she's a slut. Who knows--doing so might even up your chances of a repeat encounter, which is much easier for you than having to go out to the bar/on-line dating sites and pick up a new woman. Unless having sex with tons of different women is your M.O. And in that case, I would like to remind you of the syphilis epidemic currently raging through DC.

...And the Slut Gets Cancer

There's this trend I've been noticing on television that I don't particularly like. Many shows that include a female character who "sleeps around" often decide to inflict some sort of awful, unpleasant, and at times fatal, medical predicament upon that character.

*Spoiler Warning* If you care about Grey's Anatomy, like surprises and have yet to watch last night's episode, you may not want to read on (sorry Jason!).

Exhibit #1: Dawson's Creek, Jen Lindely.
When we first meet Jen, she is the mysterious NYC girl with a "checkered past", ie: she used to do E and have sex. Throughout the course of the series she's given more complexity and depth (or as much as Dawson's can muster seeing as how it's a WB show). But ultimately, her days as a slut catch up with her when she's killed off in the last episode by a mysterious heart condition.

Exhibit #2: Sex in the City, Samantha Jones.
This hardly requires an explanation. The most "sexually liberated" of the fearsome foursome, Samantha is diagnosed with breast cancer in the show's final season. Although she triumphantly beats it, this plot line didn't sit well with me. I really felt like they were punishing the character for her lifestyle.

Exhibit #3: Grey's Anatomy, Addison Montgomery.
Addie cheats on her husband with his best friend, gets pregnant, terminates with an abortion, later learns she can no longer have children because she is now infertile. In words, she "screwed up" her only chance at having a child with her evil, evil abortion. Gag.

Obviously, there are consequences to reckless sexual behavior. People who have a lot of different partners and who don't use protection are almost certain to get a sexually transmitted infection (the PC term for STD in case you didn't know). But why must TV go a-moralizing on us by giving its more overtly sexual female characters cancer, heart disease and infertility? When was the last time a television man-whore came down with a life threatening illness? What is up with the double standards? Can we please finally do away with the whole virgin/whore dichotomy? It's getting old.

Speaking of sex and illnesses...What's the deal with jokes about STIs? I've noticed a definite trend among my peers to crack jokes about STIs and refer to them as the "worst things ever" and people who have them as "nasty" or "dirty" or whathaveyou. Given the prevalence of certain strains of these infections, chances are that many of the people who make such comments may be carrying them themselves. And stigmatizing them isn't going to make public awareness any higher. Having an STI doesn't make you a bad person. It might indicate that you made some reckless choices, but even that isn't always the case.

Many people contract STIs from partners who have cheated. Others contract them from partners they thought were healthy because they didn't display any symptoms. Sure, many people who sleep around with no regard for their or other peoples' emotional or physical well beings carry STIs. But not everyone who has one does because they're a dirty slut. So let's stop stigmatizing and start being a little more understanding and accepting. If you suspect you have something, go get tested. Wear a condom, abstain, whatever. And remember, what goes around, comes around.


And on that note, I leave you to your weekends. Be safe, kids!

New Blogging Rule?

Here's what I think: When blogging about dating, the amount of words one devotes to a particular person should be less than, or proportional to the amount of time/words/apparent energy that person devotes to you in real life.

What do John Stewart, Robert Downey Jr, Calvin Trillin, Alice Waters and the Guy From This Old House All Have in Common?

Yesterday when I was short on blogging inspiration and asked you all for a topic to write about, Hipster Dork suggested that I compile and share for you my "Desert Island Top 5." According to HD, the following considerations are important for creating such a list: sources of good conversation, sources of food (and/or in my mind, ability to procure food), and sex. I know that some people leave such lists open to figures from any historical period. But that just leaves too many possibilities. So for my list, I am confining my selections to living, breathing humans (much better for conversation and sex, one must note). So, without further ado...

1.) John Stewart. Handsome, witty, liberal and charming, Mr. Stewart would make a fantastic desert island companion. John and I would trade witticisms, smack-talk corrupt political machines, and get busy when we ran out of things to talk about.

Next, I am tempted to list Ellen Degeneris. Also witty and charming, I would appreciate Ms. Degeneris's ability to bring levity to the dire situation of being stranded miles away from civilization. I've always imaged that we'd get along well in real life, with our mutual dorkiness and off-beat senses of humor. However, I don't think I'd want more than one comedian. And Ellen's self-deprecation might begin to grate a bit after a while. So sadly, she's not invited.

The more I think about this, the more it dawns on me that my knee-jerk response is to include mostly actors and comedians. Probably because we have the most exposure to their public images thanks to our lovely media-saturated culture. Sure, I could also list some hottie actors (Robert Downey Jr, that guy from Lost who use to be on Party of Five, Ryan Gosling, Hugh Grant, etc) but that seems too easy. On second thought.

2.) Robert Downey Jr. Yes, I said I wasn't going to pick another "actor-type." I lied. I've had a crush on Mr. Downey Jr since forever ago. When we get bored with the sex (doubtful, but whatevs), he can forage the island for things for us to smoke up and get high from.

3.) Calvin Trillin. I've been a long time fan of his writing since high school when I first started picking through my mom's New Yorker's. Mr. Trillin's commentary on desert-island life would no doubt be enthralling and entertaining. As a story-teller he could also entertain us with some good yarns.

We're gonna get hungry at some point after all that sex, story telling and smoking of the exotic plants. My next pick is:

4.) Alice Waters. Waters made a name for herself in the 80s as the godmother of California haute cuisine with her ground breaking resteraunt, Chez Panise. She has a nack for exploiting the wonderful natural qualities of fresh, local produce and making inventive and yummy dishes from them. I'm sure she could work some magic on whatever plants RD Jr and I don't smoke.

Hmm. Only one more. It would be wonderful to include an artist. Somebody who could make inspiring art out sand and rocks and whatever. I'd love to spend some time with Sally Mann or Sam Taylor Wood. But practicallity is important too so we must include somebody handy enough to build us some strong desert island homes, and possibly even a vessel for transporting ourselves off the island. So...

5.) The guy from This Old House on PBS. I watched this show as a kid but I can't remember who he is or what he looks like. But in terms of crafting us some very sturdy dwellings, I have no doubt he'd perform quite nicely.

And there you have it. I'm tempted to include some musicians there, but I'm not sure what use they'd have sans instruments and I already have two concubines so I don't need another sex slave. Odd, I know.

Not Punk Rock Enough For This?

"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are."

There was a time in my life, before most of you knew me, when I solidly identified with certain counter-cultural, anti-establishment communities. I loathed "The Man", couldn't ever fathom having an office job, looked down on those poor saps confined to a cubicle all day, dyed my hair alarming colors, and listened to dissonant music. Then I graduated from college and realized that reality looks a lot different when you're faced with the challenge of applying your considerable intellect and skills to earning enough money to pay rent. I also realized that I look a lot better with brown hair.

As much as I appreciate the punk ethos and even admire people who have managed to create happy productive lives fighting the establishment, that lifestyle just isn't for me. But I doff my hat to those who live it, and continue to believe that societal change depends on the presence of certain radical forces that exist to create dialectical tensions.
All of this is leads in to reporting on my date with punk-rock banjo guy. It was pretty much your typical first date. Lots of getting to know you chit-chat, some awkward silences, some flirting. What was atypical was the diatribe I listened to about the origins of punk philosophy. I felt like I was receiving a lecture, an unnecessary one at that, because having read Lipstick Traces when I was 21, I am already down with the history of the French Situationists. But whatever, it's obscure cultural history, so I'll give him a pass on that one because one rarely goes into a situation assuming your date has a handle on that stuff.

Atypical as well was how mainstream this guy made me feel. Normally men in DC make me feel like an alterna-chick freak. I've never claimed to be a preppy. My family's background is mixed, my own parents are somewhat anachronistic in many ways, I've experienced a diversity of lifestyles and have traveled through many of my own puzzling incarnations. This guy seemed a little confused that my parents could be liberals who raised their child in a small rural New England town while maintaining a semi-affluent lifestyle. He wanted to assign them a "back to nature" hippy identity, which I couldn't let him do. As much as the punks I've known in my day have tried to avoid being identified by mainstream notions of "normalness", he seemed just as apt to filter the information that I provided him with through his own biased set of assumptions.
So it ironic that a date with Mr.-Punk-Rock-counter-culture sparked a debate about identity-politics, or is it simply par for the course? I can't decide. Nor can I decide how hot I am to recreate the experience. When the date was good, it was good. But I don't like it when people try to label me as a certain "type" of person. I guess we're all guilty of it, and I strive to remember daily that everyone, including Mr. Punk-Rock-counter-culture can't be neatly assigned to pre-assigned cultural identities, no matter how many niche-specific signifiers they decorate their bodies with.

I know labels are comforting. Calling somebody "indie rock" for example, gives you some clue about their personality, but not the whole picture, as I explained to Mr. Punk Rock when trying to explain to him why I don't think I care for online dating. But it's such a convenient and ultimately empty way of experiencing your fellow man. That was the final great lesson I learned in my 20's, and of course it came about after dating two guys back-to-back who I had little in common with.

Mr. Punk Rock expressed concern that I am too young for him, which again was weird because most of the guys I date tend to be younger. Truth be told, I've been looking for an older man for some time. Now I'm not certain if age has anything to do with anything.
The date ended with me explaining that it was late and that I should go, while he opted to order another beer for himself. After a brief drunk driving lecture, I have him a kiss on the cheek and he pulled me in for a hug. It was good as far as hugs go. More intimate than the ones I've experienced with TT.

The verdict: I'm not sure I care for his personality, and although he isn't all that good-looking, there's something about him that's attractive. He appeals to my inner-rebel in a way that I can't yet identify. Or maybe it was just nice to have a man flirt with me and buy me Anchor Steams.