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!

Why 30 Year Olds Should Not Frequent College Bars

I was excited to receive an invitation from Val to attend a happy hour at McFadden's last Saturday. I've recently been drawn into her excellent circle of wonderful friends, and was delighted at the prospect of spending time with a few of these fab men and women. I had been to McFadden's before for various kickball events, but never on a weekend. I knew its rep as a college bar, due to its proximity to GW and Georgetown, but had yet to experience the establishment in its full raucous glory.

Those who know me are familiar with my ability to get down. Despite 10 years of ballet & jazz training I'm not much of a dancer. But I do know how to drink, and always relish the opportunity to let off some steam by kicking back a few adult beverages on a weekend. Problem is, I can't drink as much as I used to. Over the past several years my tolerance has taken a nose-dive, and now several beverages leave me feeling sluggish and looking tired and worn out. But that never seems to keep me from trying. Normally, I limit such activity to dives and the occasional upscale hotel bar. Atmospheres that are relatively chill, where you can hold a conversation with the person standing next to you without have to talk directly into their ear. Places where there is room to stand and a bouncer isn't constantly chasing you away from the only patch of open space. And most notably, places where people do not dance on the bar and offer their fellow patrons the opportunity to vote on their hotness.

This my friends, was a truly terrifying spectacle. At some point into the night, a dozen or so young ladies climbed up on to the bar and starting shaking their stuff for the crowd. Ho, hum, I thought. Nothing special here. But then came the judging process where the crowd seemed to be voting on which of the specimens before them was the "best" or "hottest" or whatever. To be honest, it was extremely loud in there, so it was hard to understand exactly what was going on. But young ladies were bumping and grinding with invisible partners for all to see, while drunk 20-something men ogled and cat-called.

Now, if that makes them happy, it's their business and not mine. But my maternal, sensible side was aghast and sadden by what it saw. Where's the line between liberated self-acceptance/pride over one's body and shameless exploitation? The topic is debated every time a new pop tartlet climbs the charts or some aspect of stripper culture seeps into the mainstream. If men have long gotten off by seeing young ladies flaunt their nubile young bodies, does dancing on a bar for the honor of being the hottest lady in McFadden's conform to that sexist dynamic? Or are the women the ones in control? Are they calling the shots, inverting centuries-old paradigms of gender politics? These are not new questions, and sadly, the confluence of pop culture and the way people live their every day lives continues to obscure the answer. I do know that when I saw one woman in particular, she of an extremely hot little body, writhing on the bar with her tube top dangerously close to sliding off her body, I wanted to reach up and wrap my sweater around her.

Again, bumping and grinding on a bar is a personal choice, and I do not begrudge these women the opportunity to do whatever makes them happy. Just because it's not for me, doesn't mean it's wrong or bad. But it certainly raises quite a few questions. More so than one's typical Saturday night activities, that's for sure.

So anyway. Between the hot lady contest, the 20 minute long wait for drinks (which included watching the bartenders pound Miller Lights), the pounding sound system, and being stepped on repeatedly, it was time to call it a night. I found an ATM in the lobby of a chic hotel nearby, hailed a cab, and found my way home. In short, I was happy to have spent time with the crew, but I don't know how much longer I can go on frequenting such establishments