He Kinda Makes Me Happy When He’s Not With That Other Woman

Discuss.

Nice Girls and Nice Guys Finish Middle (Class)

Before we get into nice discussion about nice girls and nice guys, I want you to go watch this video.

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(I mean it. I’m not even going to be nice about it. Go watch and then come right back.  I’ll wait for you. I might even slip into something more comfortable.)


(that space was you, watching the video. Thank you. I love it when you do what I tell you.)

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I don’t know the context for this scene. I don’t have a lot of grounding in the series but based on this - and Joan, omg Joan is My People –  I suspect I would love it.

What I do know is this: there are some angry women on Mad Men.

Betty Draper, for example, our rampant pigeon shooter, is the (very nice) poster girl for nice girl rage.

I know some nice girls are nodding their heads, right now.

I mean, we know this story: about how women bite their tongues and their carrot sticks to keep it all in check. How we, historically, have made nice and played small. How an angry woman is a spectre. How ‘hysteria’ and ‘bitch’, liberally or even hypothetically applied, can shut us up.

“I don’t want him to think I’m a bitch.”

We’re nice because anger is dangerous. So we file down our nails and with it our edges and dull our teeth and nibble at the edges of directly expressed emotion and, let’s be honest, life.

We’re the nice women. We’re doing The Right Thing at the right time in the right way and probably wearing the right shoes while we’re doing it. Nicely.

And I have no doubt that a lot of  nice women are holding it together publicly and then shrieking at their kids at home.

I submit to you that the ‘nice girl’ is confined, constrained, and angry – and really, not so ‘nice’ at all.

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Nice means “pleasant, agreeable, satisfactory.”

Originally, though, nice meant ‘not to cut’ which became ‘not to know’ which became ‘ignorant’ which transformed into ‘foolish’ or ‘silly’ which became what we’ve got now:  pleasant, agreeable, satisfactory.

Who aspires to this?

Nice is a social strategy and its tactics are quiet, smiling, obeisance, sacrifice, agreement, gifts, doing favours, ingratiation.

Nice is a bribe. Nice is a way to be un-noticed while raging inside at being un-noticeable.

Nice is a way to gain the trust of someone who has no business trusting you. In fact, in The Gift of Fear, Gary de Becker includes the ‘niceness’ ploy as a pre-indicator of violence.

Nice is patting your irritable kid on the head and kissing your philandering husband and then going outside to kill some birds.

Because a victim, especially a nice one,  is the most dangerous creature on earth.

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All of this is what nice means, but what nice does not mean – and what we often conflate it with – is “innately good.”

So that’s nice, and The Nice Girl.

What about The Nice Guy?

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Nice guys. I’ve ended things with guys and had them reply, see? this is what happens to the nice guy.

And – perhaps like a lot of women – I let them think that.

Because I was being nice.

Women do this a lot. We tell guys ‘you’re such a nice guy’ when really what we mean is I would go out with you, but:

  • you’re creeping me out
  • your house is filthy which scares me and god forbid we live like that
  • your conversation is beige
  • you don’t surprise me
  • I’m smarter than you
  • you’re not bringing it in the bedroom
  • you’re aimless and I’d have to carry this thing
  • I’m worried that I’ll have to do all the work in this relationship
  • I think that all this sweetness is an act to cover up the fact that you’re flaky and once you’ve ‘got’ me, you won’t really be there for me
  • you’re not that great of a kisser
  • you’re too much work
  • you want to eat my soul
  • I know that this sweet stuff is a front. You don’t want to be nice to me – you want to own me
  • you lack initiative
  • you’re not intellectually challenging
  • I would have to unlock you
  • I see the future and it is me shopping for your family at Christmas while you watch TV
  • I can see what you want and it is too much

When I do this – when I spare the guy’s feelings to avoid a scene and just agree that yes, the problem is that he is too nice – I perpetuate the nice guy myth.

That nice guys finish last. That the good guy never gets the girl.

Which leaves a lot of men running around, wounded, thinking that ‘nice’ is a problem – and it is, but not for the reasons they think – that must be cured. The cure, they think – or dating gurus are quick to reassure them – is to be a jerk, or a pick up artist, or just plain not nice to women.

Any PUA will tell you that women don’t like nice guys or that good guys who are ‘too nice’ to women won’t be successful with women.

Not true.

It is weak, ineffectual, closeted control-freak guys that repel women (and people, more generally). Nice isn’t the problem.

Or maybe it is.

Here’s my PSA: just like The Nice Girl, The Nice Guy isn’t really nice.

Often nice is a social strategy. Nice is a mask worn by scared, creepy, angry, bribing, entitled, controlling people.

Nice covers a lot of anger.

This is what I know about  nice guys, and why I’m suspicious of them:

Because in life, nice guys are not getting what they want, and they’re mad, and they’ll be mad at me, too when I don’t toe the line (and I won’t). The worse a guy’s character, the nicer he’ll try to act.

But I’m too nice to tell a man these ugly truths.

And so flourishes the urban myth that nice guys finish last (with women) – if they get to finish, at all.

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Just like the Nice Girls, Nice Guys are angry.

Nice appears to be flexible but is rigid: Nice has muscled and restrained herself, intently and vigorously, into compliance with everyone else’s expectations and so your failure to do the same – for her, for the world – enrages her.

And I’m okay with anger – anger is fuel and anger can be hot and oh, the righteous fires that anger will light.

But repressed anger is stasis. Repressed anger is vindictive, passive-aggressive, and insidious. Repressed anger is dangerous.

The truth is this: repressed anger is the shadow of Nice. Anger, denied, trails Nice everywhere, in every light.

Here’s another truth:

The Good Guy does get the girl.

But Good Guys aren’t necessarily nice. In fact, all the man and women I know, respect, love or want to love are most definitely not nice.

Nice: pleasant, agreeable, satisfactory, deceptive, dangerous.

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My point: nice guys are not nice, meaning ‘innately good’.

Nice is just the angle they’re working to get what they want. And when they don’t get what they want, they blame nice, and strip away nice and show the world who they really are.

And who they are is who the women in their lives - who lied and told them they were niceknew they were, all along.

I have some ‘bad boys’ in my life – but they’re not really bad boys. Instead, they’re men who are at home in their skin and their masculinity, sexuality, aggression, vulnerability, heart, darkness, light – and don’t need to camouflage any of it with a layer of nice.  I know that if I ever turned one of these men down, sexually or romantically, they’d never lash out at me. These guys – these men – would never call me a bitch or even a bad word (unless…well, never mind).

But the so-called nice guys? They’re nice until you don’t want ‘em or you don’t give them what they want. And then they call you a bitch or a tease or a slut.

Nice.

on coffee, masculinity, and the joys of being friends with boys

Z: hi

Kelly: hi. how was your day?

Z:  ball busting

Kelly: what happened?

Z: well I had a great time today having coffee with this beautiful woman…she had this low-cut top on that had me drooling. But when I dropped her off she refused to kiss me

Kelly: what a bitch! you should drop her and never talk to her again

Z: I wanted to kiss her

Kelly: I understand. Here’s what I don’t understand: men. Maybe. Do you think I ‘get’ men? As in, understand them?

Z: No you don’t

Kelly: Explain

Z: in my view… you have this view of men that is somehow not grounded in reality… they constantly disappoint you by being typical men and acting as men do…that tells me that you don’t really understand their make up

Kelly: mmmmmmmmmmmm. good insight. I’ve specifically decided to throw out my fantasies, and just deal with people, as they are, for real. That’s been really rewarding, so far… So tell me about a man’s makeup

Z: A man’s makeup is that we are basically fuck-ups…

Kelly: what?!

Z: We dont have any depth or tolerance for pain. We see everything in terms of… “will I get fucked?” We are not emotional creatures so an onslaught of emotion from a woman has us running for the hills or joining the foreign legion.

Kelly: That sounds like true lies. Like a cartoon of masculinity, babe. How do you explain fatherhood? Or friendship? We’re friends and I’m not fucking you. You give me emotional support, and love, and advice, and ask nothing, so you’re deeper than what you just described. And I have driven you batty with emotional demands at times, and you’re still here. Not in the foreign legion, or in the hills, even though you’re not getting fucked.

Wait…I’m checking my purse for your cojones.

Nope.

Nothing. You must still have them. Or maybe you left them at the coffee shop.

Z: I am talking in generalities. After that it boils down to the individual

Kelly: it always does, for sure. This man/woman business is kind of bullshit. The issue is more temperament than gender. If I were dating women instead of men, I’d still have the same Issues. I’d find women who retreated from my emotional needs just like I’m SUPERB at finding men who do that, too.

Z: You have wanted more from men than they are capable of delivering

Kelly: OH YES. So very true babe. You were one of those, but you know I love you anyway.

Z: You don’t love me

Kelly: WHAT? do you really think that? You mean the world to me. I reference things you say, in my own head. You’re part of me

Z: Really

Kelly: Really. I talk about you, and the things you’ve taught me

Z: What do you say’?

Kelly: To myself or to other people? To myself: you’re one of the voices in my head now. Part of my decision making process. To other people: you’re my rock.

I’m so lucky. I have you. I have ___ and ___, too. Although I’m a woman who apparently doesn’t understand men romantically, my life overflows with male friendship. I have three amazing men in my corner, absolutely and unwaveringly. Offering friendship. Asking nothing of me except to just be me. And showing up, consistently. It is almost better than a boyfriend.

Unfortunately no one is having sex with me.

*le sigh*

Z: I’ll have sex with you.

Kelly: No you won’t, but thanks for the offer. Hey, babe, can I write about this conversation? About your fucked up definition of masculinity?

Z: Yes. But end it with the fact that you decided to have sex with me out of pity…

Kelly: Nope. No pity sex for you baby. You get hot lovin’ or nothing…so let’s err on the side of nothing.

Z: lol. love ya babes

Kelly: me too. And thanks for the coffee.

Talk is Not Intimacy. The Tyranny of Words.

I am not a morning person. To me, the wee hours are like The Bad Ex: unpleasant, defensive, and best avoided.

And yet by sheer force of will and habit and the tyranny of children wee’er than the hours, I rise early.

Like 5.30 am early. The ugly early.

And lo, he said, ‘let there be caffeine’.

So I’m always astonished when my sister or a friend says something like “but I’m not a morning person like you are…”

My head swivels around, exorcist-style, to locate this saintly ‘you’. When I realize I am that you, I inevitably have a whatchutalkingaboutWillis? moment.

(I had the same reaction when my sister told me “…but I don’t enjoy dating the way you do…“)

My point (and there is one):

I’m working against my body’s impetus.

My natural inclination is to stay up late(ish) and get up around 8ish. My most productive working hours are 9-11 in the morning and 9-11 at night.

BUT.

That’s not how my life works. My kids wake at inhumane hours and five days a week there are bells that ring and expectations of attendance accompany those sounds. The other two days there are expectations of waffles or pancakes.

So I just get up, drink lots of coffee, and try to make it all knit together while eagerly anticipating the future when my children become surly teenagers who resent the sound of my breath and my presence but sleep past 7am.

Or can pour milk in their cereal unassisted.

MIRACLES. HEAVEN. SLEEP.

I digress.

Now, just as I work against my body’s natural inclination with (lack of) sleep, I do this in The Interpersonal Thing, too.

I say: I’m a talker. Words are my foreplay. Talk to me, baby.

While this is true, it is not the whole story. Often, I’m silencing one of my languages at the expense of the other.

Body is quiet so words can speak.

I remember when I realized this: it was just after I realized I was In Love, probably for the first time. We were swimming in each other. Our physical boundaries were porous. While we had astonishing, wide-ranging conversations  and enjoyed a profound intellectual tension and communion, we were connected by touch and presence and being more than with words.

At the time, I had two room-mates. One day, I came skipping into the living room and landed on the sofa, right between them. They both shifted away from me so that our bubbles remained intact.

Another time, my bestest guy friend (my first boyfriend) from high school was visiting us. He was sitting on the sofa and I sat beside him, thigh-to-thigh and leaned into him. He stiffened.

Neither of these things were calculated. They were instinctual: I was so used to being right up close with someone – my new love – that I forgot in most relationships closeness is brokered with words rather than bodies.

I remember that stiffness, the moving away, the distance, and the chatter – and I treasure relationships where spaces contract and breach is welcome.

Like with my children, to whom intimacy is touch.

Which is not to say that we don’t talk. Of course we talk. We talk a lot. My eldest daughter, Sophie, is almost six, and she tells me that her favourite part of the day is our talking-time. We read stories together and I tuck the girls into their beds in their rooms. I sit with Lola, the little one (she’s three) and we talk while I rub her back and hold her close.

Then I get into bed with Sophie, wrap my arms around her and press her cheek to mine, and we talk while I stroke her hair. She tells me every detail of her life and all the things she’s thinking about and all the dramas in class and daycare and of course Hannah Montana, who has a talking horse.

And she always sighs and says, Mama, I love our talks.

I love our talks, too.

But more is being said than could ever be told with words alone.

I’m acutely conscious that right now, in this shimmering, evancescent, temporary moment, I have my children’s permission to touch them, kiss them, cuddle them, hold them, be with them, close to them.

And that is intensely precious to me on so many levels.

Our physical bond is the foil to my overwhelmingly word-centric world. Most of the time I privilege verbs over body – so much so that I’ll despair over a man who can’t seem to connect with me with words even if he’s telling me sweet things with his actions, his body, his daily presence and unremitting tenderness. I’ll assume he’s not verbally and emotionally fluent because I’ve unlearned his language.

My language.

And I know when I started locking down my physicality and unleashing my language.

The tween years.

The exact moment when I started becoming conscious that my body could – and was – sending messages was the moment I started restraining it.

Started fencing off space.

Started closing down emotional, physical signals.

Stopped being affectionate with adults and even same-age friends.

Stopped touching people.

Started talking on the phone. For HOURS.

This is no coincidence. I know this with my body and when I’m not careful, my tongue thinks for me:

I wish we could just fuck and get it over with so I wouldn’t be so tongue-tied and shy.

Now. I do understand that some tsk-tsk-ing might be in order. I’m not necessarily advocating sex as an ice-breaker (mostly. maybe).

But what this accidental truth tells me is that intimacy is not just words.

Words are sometimes a fence, fencing, sparring, defence.

Body is my first language. We have our physical selves, our hunger for touch, and our ability to effectively communicate needs, wants and desires long before we come into words. (Just ask an infant or her exhausted parent.)

All of this is to say that naturally I’m a late-riser and a body-talker. Yet I bow to the demands of my life and get my ass out of bed early so I can talk (and write) pretty all day.

So when I read this,  astonishment, horror, recognition:

Historically, women’s sexuality and intellect have never been integrated. Women’s bodies were controlled, and their sexuality was constrained, in order to avoid their corrupting impact on men’s virtue. Femininity, associated with purity, sacrifice and frailty, was a characteristic of the morally successful woman. Her evil twin, the succubus (whore, slut, concubine, witch) was the earthy sensual, and frankly lusty woman who had traded respectability for sexual exuberance. Vigorous sexuality was the exclusive domain of men. Women have continuously sought to disentangle themselves from the patriarchal split between virtue and lust, and are still fighting this injustice. When we privilege speech and underplay the body, we collude in keeping women confined. - Esther Perel, Mating in Captivity (emphasis mine)

And that is why I write about sex.

my sexy friend made me celibate. sort of.

The Latin Quarter. Friday night. My friend Joanie is holding court. She knows people. She’s having an mmm-hmmm hot conversation with the guy behind the bar. He looks like a kid but I’m pretty sure he owns the joint. She’s in her fifties and he’s fascinated.

I’m fascinated. She can salsa. She can hold a man’s gaze and say something utterly innocuous and make it sizzle. She’s sultry.

The woman can flirt. If I wrote down the things she says, you’d say what? There’s nothing innately smoky in that sentence.

It’s not what she says. It is how she says it. She says it hot.

So whenever we get together, we speak a mutual language: men.

We like ‘em.

LOTS.

She discovered Plenty of Fish. She announced that she was holding auditions for the role of “boyfriend”. There was a flurry of dating. Lots of dating.

If I’d had a blog then…oh the stories we’d tell.

So when she told me she’d decided to be celibate, I was incredulous. I had to get her to define the term because I was sure we were using it differently.

When you say you’re celibate, what does that mean?

She explained.

Yeah, it pretty much means “not having sex.”

Stunned. STUNNED, I tell you.

I’m not sure I’ve ever known anyone who was celibate.

I’ve known people who weren’t getting laid, but that was never by choice. I have had many conversations about sex, but until then, I’d never had one with a sexy adult who said they’d decided not to have sex.

So…why? What’s that all about? What’s that like? And why, again?

She was exhausted and disappointed with the dating scene. All this energy, activity, heat-seeking action, and very little connection. Holding space for a partner. Yearning, scanning, searching, mingling, chirping, chattering.

She said it was bit hamster-on-a-wheel: a lot of activity, with very little traction or direction.

So she thought she’d opt out. For a bit. Until she got her bearings.

Or until someone inspired her to change her mind.

I’ll admit it: I was not sold.

I was, however, curious.

Joanie is juicy. What was it like for this delicious creature, built for lovin’, to be solo and sexless?

Joanie said that she found it quieted the noise in her head – the noise that she was so accustomed to hearing that she didn’t even hear it, any more.

Until it was quiet. And then it was really quiet.

When she took sex – and not just sex, but Looking For Love – off the table, she started noticing and connecting with the people around her. In the moment. Just to connect. Not to angle, anticipate, interpret, discern, or decode.

She said that when she was ‘in the market’, she’d go to a party and scan the room, trying to figure out who was with whom, who was looking, who was looking at her. And that informed who she talked to and how she talked to them.

It was all agenda. It was all seeking. It was more noise than signal.

And when she decided ‘no more sex for you!’ (to herself), the noise…subsided.

Now, when she went to a party, she was at the party, not in her head. She was with you, not wondering about your orientation or availability.

She just enjoyed herself, in the moment, instead of engineering future imaginary moments.

That blew my mind. Turn down the volume? Be here, now?

Wow.

But I wasn’t giving up sex or maybe A Great Big Love for inner peace.

Screw inner peace.

(I feel very peaceful after sex, for example.)

Right now, I’m digging me some inner peace.

I don’t know if I’m going to claim the word ‘celibate’ because it seems so dried out and well, unsexy, to me – and I doubt I have much of a commitment to the word or the course of action.

I’m not abstaining from fucking so much as avoiding fuckwittery (mine, mostly). I’ve decided I’m not allowed to be in a Grown-Up Relationship until I’m ready to grow up.

So something’s shifted in me in the last three months. I’m not having sex. I’m not collecting men.  But I am pretty damn happy.

And it’s not just me who noticed. At our recent sex toy party (strangely good timing, don’t you think?), my friend’s husband told his wife that I looked “really happy.” My daughter’s daycare leader wondered if I have “a really good man in your life, because you look so…happy.” My sister told me that she’s noticed that I seem really relaxed and…wait for it…happy.

And my friend Joanie was right: the noise was overwhelming but I was so used to it that I couldn’t hear it.

Now, suddenly, I hear all kinds of things that I ignored, before.

Like what the men – and women and children – in my life are really saying to me. And what they mean to me.

And trust me, it’s juicy.

butterflies are a drug and I’m in rehab

Inevitably I fly high into romance on the wings of butterflies.

Yet I plot – and make – cautious exits well-marked by righteousness and reason. I watch, wait, evaluate and think my way through break-ups.

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Butterflies.

I question butterflies. I like them. They don’t happen to me a lot. What’s that all about?

Romance novels and chick flicks and Disney movies and even Isabel Allende (I just made fervent  sign of the cross over my literate, magic-loving heart and any time I mention her name, you should do the same) make it seem like love is lightning bolt.

Or a flock of butterflies.

- Which is why, when they happen to me, I get very stupid. I hook into a myth that tells me This Is IT.

- Which is also why – beyond the obvious sexism of the cruder versions –  I had a profoundly emotional reaction to the Seduction Community. I felt like PUAs were teaching men how to game the myth – and that this was wildly unfair. Society makes good and sure most women get socialized into thinking that butterflies are a precursor to The Big Love That Was Meant To Be – and to embrace them. Then PUAs come along and tell guys how to induce the butterflies, to hook into the myth – and therefore the romanticized decision-making that accompanies the invoking of that myth – without actually delivering the outcome the myth promises. So women making decisions based on romance and myth and butterflies are malleable – and easily screwed*, both by PUAs and our own stories.

- Because they are our own stories. Women write them, tell them, buy them.

So. Back to butterflies. In my most recent romance – with a very sweet man I actually called “my boyfriend” (very rare occurrence) AND introduced to my friends (very, very rare occurrence) –  we both worried that we lacked butterflies.

What did that mean? What did it our future hold if the beginning lacked butterflies? We certainly didn’t lack for hot sex (oh yeah),  great conversation and easy company. But the stomach-flips? Nope.

Let’s flip that.

When we were little, my sister was a word-scrambler. At Disneyland, she saw the monorail, and shrieked “Look, look the runamail!”

She got excited by butterflies and called them “flutterbys”.

Maybe that’s just about right.

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Last year was My Year of Unavailable Men.

I know, I know. They’re all toxic and commitment phobic.

I’m not buying that. Most of us – men and women – fall in love and get married** at some point in our lives, which suggests to me that most of us – men and women – get to a wanting-love place and find a person with whom to share that place.

I don’t think the problem is men. I think the problem is my screening process and the fact that I was trying to force my reality to match fantasy.

Fantasy is good. Excellent. Delicious.

It  is simply not a great place from which to launch life-altering decisions.

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The fantasy:

the one. meant to be. predestined. love at first sight. butterflies.

that attraction means something more than “I’m attracted to you”

The white hot truth:

There is no soul mate. I know, this is particularly hard news to take because you are longing for The One 24-7. But, guess what, The One is The One because you say he/she is. And that’s way more liberating and empowering than anything preordained or supposedly destined.

Choice. Chosen. Decided, deciding, every day.

Selection.

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A word that keeps coming up in my hypnotherapy sessions is selection. I’m actually more passive than active with romantic selection (hence: not the right kinds of men). I often reward persistence. I have been moved by the force of another’s (apparent) desire for me. I have valued The Relationship and The Relationship Products instead of weighing the worth of the person in front of me. I have made decisions based on emotion. I almost always enter into romance hastily, and on pure emotion. I have made decisions based on potential. I have bought a LOT of fixer-uppers and then, once, fully moved in and committed to the renovation, realized: I can’t live like this.

I have lied to myself. I have spent a lot of time wishing and a-hoping and a-praying that something wasn’t true.

Like my Very Bad Lying Man.

On our first date, he said and signalled things that were food to a hungry soul. He showed he was attracted to me. He made me laugh. He was clear from the drop that he knew what he wanted and what he wanted was me. He walked me to my car and noticed my headlights weren’t bright enough and said he’d help me switch them out for shinier ones. Who doesn’t want more shine? He kissed me passionately and well. He called me to make sure I arrived home safely. I felt desired, respected and protected.

Heady stuff.

And that sweet stuff, even for the decidedly unsweet person, is easy to do (and fake) on a first date: a few well-chosen words, touches on the arm and the small of the back, holding doors open, offer to help solve a problem, a steamy kiss, a quick and caring call.

Butterflies.

*******

“I want something, and you’re here” is not selection.

And so I return to  my sister’s childhood wisdom and name butterflies for what they are: pretty, fleeting, flitting flutterbys.

Clean closets are my revolution.

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*Please note that I don’t have any issue with the carnal connotation of “screwing”. Really and truly. In fact, I like that sort of thing. I just don’t like when we lie and trick and bullshit our way into people’s affections and elicit implicit expectations in order to get laid.

**using “married” and “marriage” as a short-hand for deep, loving, intimate committed relationship. Marriage can be a symptom of such a thing or a condition thereof. But not always.

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this note is part of a series outlining the story of the Very Bad Lying Man, a few months after the fact:

December 2009. The thin line – cleavage, even – between vulnerability as strength and just out-and-out stupidity.

Here are the breadcrumbs. Bits of the Very Bad Lying Man fell into these posts while the un-love story was happening:

August 2009. Vacation. Day 1. I am THAT Scene in When Harry Met Sally, but It Is Real. And Better.

August 2009. On Being a Needy Girlfriend and What IT SHOULD Teach You

August 2009. When Tough Love Turns Poetic. In a blood, guts, and broken-ego kinda way.

September 2009. On Harm, Healing, Ceilings and How Absent Apologies are the Pits – The Sorry Series, #1

September 2009. How To Receive an Apology. How To Accept an Apology. How To Forgive. Or Maybe Not. – The Sorry Series, #4

December 2009. ask and ye shall…well just ask, anyways.

January 2010. I am the female Bluebeard of suburban Vancouver and I am running out of closet space.

February 2010. Love is a Compass.

February 2010. sexifesto

March 2010. butterflies are a drug and I’m in rehab

March 2010. hearsay brilliance: “Only go when the light is green”

turns out I do NOT hate the ENTIRE Seduction Community, After All

Yo. I’m a fragile flower. Rejection is my nemesis.

And because of that, I’m softening up to sections of the Seduction Community.

(Also: cleavage. Dating gurus are not all teaching “How To Bed as Many Naive Twenty-Five Year Olds as Possible Through the Judicious Use of Insults”. I could be a little more sensitive to the differences and nuances and lines that cut across the “how to date better/improve your social skills” field.)

This week I read David DeAngelo’s “Double Your Dating” and was shocked – SHOCKED, I TELL YOU – to discover that it was useful and I liked it.

Sure, there were bits  that irritated me – more on that, in another piece to follow – but I put myself in the shoes of his target audience and grew a little respect. Even gratitude.

DO NOT TELL ANYONE.

Because, as I mentioned, I’m a fragile, rejection-averse flower. I go on a lot of dates but I have no recollection of EVER asking a man out (unless we were, you know, married) or initiating a first kiss. I have been turned down for sex three times in my life.

So of course when I read detailed instructions on how to approach women and escalate a new relationship it seems a bit foreign to me.

It IS foreign to me – because someone else always handles it.

So maybe I should be glad that there are men teaching other men how to handle this with ease and grace (and that there are men willing to learn this, thereby making things more comfortable for me).

Because if I had to handle this I’d be paying for sex and growing old with cats.

__________________

I’m Not Picking on Pick-Up Artists. Much.

Interview with A Former Pick-Up Artist

wherein I take a (temporary) break from bitching about Pick-Up Artists

What Do Jean-Jacques Rousseau, The Seduction Community, and The New York Times Have in Common? Don’t Worry, I’ll Tell You

I’m Not Picking On Pick-Up Artists. Much.

I can’t remember how I learned about the “Seduction Community” or “pick up artists”, but I do remember my reaction…

If even just 10% of the guys out there who had trouble getting chicks the way they want read this site, and made use of the materials, understood the attitudes, etc., not only would they significantly improve their lives and the lives of the chicks they interact with, they’d also cause a “shift” in many chicks on this side of the world to realize they must improve themselves (lose weight, get better attitudes, stop playing games) in order to have a better chance to get a quality male. Because most guys, once they know this stuff, raise the standard they are willing to accept from chicks, and disregard chicks that aren’t up to par.  That means goodbye teases, bitches, fatties, psychos, and manipulators.  Bye bye.  Hello stable, secure, good-looking, nice chicks who aim to please REAL MEN in their lives.

..and that quiet, decorous, rational reaction was,

WHAT THE FUCK?

If you get past the part where the author is just doing the Lord’s work, y’all – trying to get women of the world “to realize they must improve themselves (lose weight, get better attitudes, stop playing games) in order to have a better chance to get a quality male” – then this screed might be a touch inflammatory to those of us on the double-X side of the fence.

(Gawd, I kinda hope it upsets a lot of you on the XY side of the fence, too.)

(side note: I find the “stop playing games” part wildly amusing and ironic.)

I mean, where to start, exactly? With the contempt he shows women – especially women who don’t conform to his vision of beauty?

(Because what’s the point of women, really, if we aren’t pretty, thin, heterosexual, docile and infected with the disease-to-please?)

Nah. That’s not really unique to a pick-up artist. That’s our society, writ large.

(I think this is why it takes women thirty-five years to even start to unlearn this stuff. Because it is everywhere.)

Let’s talk about the intent of a pick up artist (or at least, the intent of this particular site’s authors):

The overall point is that, outside of arrangements like marriage, only 20% of the men lay 80% of the women.  You either want to be in the that 20% or not.  And, unless you’re already a natural at it, you’ll need to learn what it takes to get you there.  That’s what this web site is for.

1. I would really like to see the research supporting this fact.

2. So now we’ve got two things. Blatant misogyny, idealization of a narrow sliver of female humanity, and a naked urge to have sex with as many of the pre-approved (HBs or “hot babes” or “hot bitches”), socially-acceptable ones as possible.

3. Again, this is not new or unique to the Seduction Community.

So although all of this upsets me wildly, I’ve written lots of papers pulling apart the dynamic of sexism and this is just part-and-parcel of living in our society. It is ugly. I hate it. But isn’t novel and these guys didn’t invent it.

What these guys did invent – or at least name and practice and preach – is The Neg:

Imagine a guy comes along and says “nice nails. are they real??” she will have to concede, “no. acrylic.” and he says (like he didn’t notice it was a put down “oh. (pause) well I guess they still LOOK good.” Then he turns his back to her. What does this do to her? Well, he didn’t treat her like shit and INSULT her. He complimented her but the result was to target her insecurity…

You didn’t take her shit. OH, and when she asked you for a beer, you said, ” no. I don’t buy girls drinks. but you can buy ME one”. You are qualifying HER now. If she buys you a beer, this is symbolic of her RESPECT for you…

A NEG HIT is a qualifier. The girl is FAILING to meet your high expectations. It’s not an insult, just a judgement call on your part. The better looking the girl, the more aggressive you must be with using neg hits. A 10 can get 3 neg hits up front, while an 8 only 1 or 2 over a longer time. You CAN go overboard if they think you are BETTER than them You can drop the self-esteem right from under them (just like most 10s do to guys) and this isn’t good. You have to get as close to the breaking point as you can without crossing the line. Once you have gotten her RIGHT THERE, you can start appreciating things about her (NEVER LOOKS). There is a mutual RESPECT now. Something most guys never get from the girl.

This is how you remove a bitch shield. 3 neg hits oughta do it within 2 or 3 minutes of neutral chat. Once it is down, you can from a mutual respect place, seduce her.”

(That is from Mystery – the dude with the show on VH1.)

So this is the kind of advice that makes me deeply unhappy with the world we live in. Insulting a person – sort of – until they respect you. Making her insecure so she’ll want to prove her worth, sexually.

But you know what? Putting myself in the shoes of both the man and the woman, here, I’d say this probably works.

know it works. Let’s say we call the ‘neg’ a backhanded compliment.  I don’t hang out in bars or have acrylic nails, so this particular scenario might be about ten years too young for me, but BIG SECRET: I actually love that kind of stuff. I like a guy who is cocky but funny and not afraid to say something unexpected – and who doesn’t make me feel responsible for entertaining him by looking at me with puppy dog eyes while his tail wags expectantly.

I like self-possessed. I like witty. I like a guy who doesn’t kiss my ass unless asked. I don’t, however, like disrespect or a deliberate attempt to structure our interactions so that you’ve got the upper hand and I’ve got to earn your attention.

(I will note, however, that while this stuff might work, initially, these techniques are kind of like a resume and an interview in a job search: they get you in the door. Once you’ve got the job, and want to keep the job, and do the job well, an entirely different set of skills are required.)

All of this is to say that I, personally, like “cocky but funny” – and cocky and funny is pretty much the Pick Up Artist’s playbook.

Now, since I realized this and read up on it, whenever I encounter a guy running cocky-but-funny on me, I wonder about it.

I once asked a guy – a witty Brit – who had cocky-but-funny all nailed down, if he’d ever heard of the seduction community or read The Game.

Looooooooooooooooooooong pause.

“No.”

Yeahfuckingright.

~

Now, to be fair, what I just quoted is the absolute worst of the community, but it is also what ranks highest in searches (thanks, Google!) and so, presumably, is some of the most popular, “authoritative” (and we all know my issues with that word) stuff available.

Still – as Brad Bollenbach wrote about his experience with pick up (he’s not okay with the rampant misogyny in the community, either) - in the Seduction Community, as in pretty much every sphere of life, Sturgeon’s Law applies: 90% of everything is crap.

The mainstream pick up community is pretty fucking awful, in my opinion. But if you dig in, you’ll find all kinds of examples of people engaging with human interaction, psychology, dating, and ethics in really interesting, intelligent and soulful ways.

~

So, when I started learning about The Seduction Community and techniques practised by pick up artists, I had pretty strong and intensely negative feelings about it.

Truth is, though, I recognized these techniques.

I have looked at a man, smiled wide, and said, “That shirt looks awful. I don’t like it at all. You don’t look hot and it doesn’t make me want to kiss you. Not even a little bit.” And then kissed him.

I say things just to surprise. I absolutely wear hot shoes or big bold jewelry and people do talk to me about it and that’s probably the point. I set hurdles for you to clear so it will be clear to me whether or not you’re interested in me. I understand that my appearance is telegraphing a message. I tell a story with my body language. My mission in life is to make you laugh because when you laugh, you’re comfortable, and when you’re comfortable, you like me, and of course I want you to like me. I hope you like me.

And with all of that, I’m essentially doing what PUAs teach their acolytes. I just don’t name them or think much about them. They’re instinct. For me. Because I’m a woman and a flirt.

holyshitnewsflash: PUAs are teaching men how to be attractive to women using the techniques usually employed by …women.

Is this true?

I googled it. Apparently it is common knowledge in the Seduction Community that the teachers derived their techniques by modeling women.

Implicitly, they’re acknowledging that women control the initial game.

So the techniques I’m having a reaction to – that I think are manipulative and gross and sexist and exploitative – come from women.

In the Seduction Community, men learn how to attract women by observing how women attract men and then use those same techniques on women so that men can attract women.

And women – like me – get all pissy about it and say that’s manipulative, exploitative, controlling. And dude, that’s my territory. Getoffamylawn.

You know those shells that fold inside themselves? We’ve just gone fractal.

~

Still, we can’t get away from the misogyny. In addition to the negs – which, to be fair, not all PUAs endorse – we’ve got a whole lot of talk about punishment:

Have your rules. Tell the chick – and they’re always chicks, unless they’re HBs – the rules, and punish her if she violates them. Take your attention away. Slight her. Stand her up. Drop her.

Because women don’t already have enough rules to follow or enough people telling us how to behave. Now we need some guy in a bar or a bookstore or a coffeeshop dominating us in exchange for a $4 latte and some truly high-priced male validation.

This kind of  ”punishing” the “target” – the practice and the language itself - is common to both The Seduction Community and heterosexual pornography, and the overlap, I argue, is no coincidence.

Ask Sam Benjamin.

Sam Benjamin is a self-professed “Ivy League Pornographer” who wrote a piece called “Shoot: The Education and Evolution of a Pornographer“ in which he compared his experiences shooting mainstream heterosexual porn and gay porn.

Sam Benjamin is heterosexual; shooting heterosexual porn turned him on; but he had to quit because it was just so damn awful. Despite his best intentions, the heterosexual porn he was shooting was about punishing women. So he quit.

And then he was broke and asked for his job back. It had been filled but there was a spot available filming gay porn – was he interested? Initially, he was hesitant and even a little intimidated, but to his surprise he found that

gay porn was so goddamn simple that it approached a type of Zen beauty. I mean, this was guys taking on guys, in every shape and form imaginable, for the most part in good humor and absent-minded lust. They may have stuck to roles of “tops” and “bottoms,” but in the dressing room, we all seemed equals, on the same team…

… I’m saddened to think that the only path to the absence of hostility and anger in porn is to remove women from the equation. It doesn’t bode well, especially for a world in which men and women must continue to co-exist. In the first half of my porn-life, I lived inside of a world where it almost seemed like an entire gender was being denigrated, like that was the whole point—where very young women were choked and slapped and written-on with lipstick, simply for the crime, it seemed, of being a woman. You should have slept with me, seemed to be the unspoken message. Now see what I have to do to you.

I think Sam Benjamin is on to something.

You should have slept with me, seemed to be the unspoken message. Now see what I have to do to you.

Let’s think about this: according to Neil Strauss, as many as 70% of the guys who start studying the art of pick up are just geeky guys who aren’t very comfortable – or successful – with women. They’re not getting laid and they’re not happy.

You should have slept with me, seemed to be the unspoken message. Now see what I have to do to you.

I’m repeating this point for a reason. Maybe some of the misogyny in the pick up community is the result of a whole lot of guys working through their collective resentment that pussy isn’t tap-water.

You know what?

Women do this too.

We get frustrated when we’re not getting what we want. I know you know what you’ll hear on this party-line: There are no available heterosexual men. They’re all taken, married, gay, dating teenagers, or playing Warcraft. Or, if you do manage to find one to date, he’s probably an inexpressive, emotionally-repressed, sex-crazed, commitment-phobe who not-so-secretly wishes you looked more like Megan Fox and less like, well, you. They all do.

It is the drumbeat that underlines girls-night-out conversations.

But that’s not sisterhood. That’s misandry.

~

Dirty secret: We – the sistas – and I’m talking ONLY about myself and my real-life friends and sisters here, not The Feminist Community with which I express my affiliation but cannot Speak For – often construct our “independence” and don’t-need-a-man-ness (even though most of us are married and are now, or have been, completely financially dependant on a man) and divine feminine connection with each other on the back of man-bashing.

No, you’re awesome, honey. He just can’t see it. He’s a bastard. They all are. That’s why we’re so awesome. Thank goodness for girlfriends. Otherwise we’d have to rely on them.

~

If that kind of talk is a two-martini girl-bonding Friday night for me, why am I so shocked when I encounter misogyny in the Seduction Community?

This kind of misogny and misandry – the kind that collapses The Other into a caricature – is a burlesque. We parody and mock The Other in order to defuse the power they have over us.

Because sexuality, and sexual love, is primal, spiritual stuff. It is dangerous and divine. We can harm or heal each other, and most often, we do both.

So, in heterosexual, binary-gendered, conventional world – which is to say, my suburban milieu – groups of heterosexual women get together to bitch about men so that men are less threatening to our hearts and heads. Groups of men get together to figure out a way to manage women so that women are less threatening to their heads and hearts. And then we all go home and drunk-dial our exes.

~

In a way, what the Seduction Community is doing is no different than say, The Cult of Sex and The City. (And it is a cult. I believe, I believe.) We’re all trying to understand each other while getting the upper hand so we can get what we want and not get hurt.

So maybe the dehumanizing – the misogyny and misandry – by both camps of both camps is the same thing. Maybe.

Or maybe it is not the same thing.

Misogyny scares me and for good reason. It has very real social consequences: rape, assault, abuse, inegalitarian and spirit-snuffing romantic entanglements, The Beauty Myth, and $0.72 on the dollar.

So a group of men getting together to scheme about how to make women do their bidding while referring to them as targets and valuing them exclusively in terms of their attractiveness: yeah, that’s pretty fucking terrifying.

Still, there are two parts here:

The social. The Seduction Community both reflects and reifies the misogyny of our culture. In other words, that shit comes from somewhere. The Seduction Community’s (sometimes) fucked-up attitudes about women come from our society’s fucked-up attitudes about women.

The personal. Some smart but socially awkward guys just want to find a way to connect with women, get confident in their company, and maybe even get a girlfriend. And that – well that’s pretty damn sweet.

________________

this 2,700+ words is about a third of the essay. There’s way more and I’ll post the rest this week.

And please play nice in the comments. Pretend we’re all at a raucous, liquored-up dinner party at my house. It is fun, and we can get real and we can get tawdry, but we’re not talking shit about each other. Criticism? Yes, absolutely, and YES PLEASE. Hating? No.

Let’s go.

xo.

Being On Fire Ignites All the Rooms In Your Lifehouse

hen Kelly
Clear Chat History
10:04amStephen
I am feeling slutty
10:20amKelly
me too
it is a chronic thing
welcome to the club
lol
was it the porn shirt?
I would totally LOVE to take credit for it
10:21amStephen
well I think it is the anticipation of wearing it
10:21amKelly
excellent. it has magical powers!
10:21amStephen
clearly
though my head constantly flirting with me is boosting my ego no end
10:23amKelly
omg
that is the best line ever.
Hold on while I cut and paste and plagiarize it
10:24amStephen
lol
10:24amKelly
you don’t mean your actual head
you mean the head master, yes?
either way, awesome
10:24amStephen
you know I mean my headteacher and not my physical head
yes
10:24amKelly
too funny
we don’t call headmasters head masters in canada
so it took me a second
10:24amStephen
he’s called the headteacher
10:25amKelly
we call them “principals”
10:25amStephen
headmaster is very old fashioned and refers only to men
10:25amKelly
are you going to have wild unruly sex with him?
10:25amStephen
no
10:25amKelly
prude
10:25amStephen
he has a bf
10:25amKelly
ah
morals
pesky things, those
10:25amStephen
who is also a friend of mine
10:25amKelly
yep
you are in the no-fuck zone
10:26amStephen
which is fine and the harmless flirting is great fun
“Doing a good job of looking hot in those jeans Mr Kelly”
10:31amKelly
oh. again.
stealing that.
taking out the “MR”
It is now mine
he’s flirting with ME too
what a slut
10:31amStephen
Take it
10:31amKelly
I’m sorry for his boyfriend
hahahahaha
10:31amStephen
he called me into his office one day because someone told him off for lfirting
and he said
Do I really flirt with you?
and I said yes
and he said well it must be unconcious but you are so my type
10:32amKelly
too funny
I think we’re all too ramped up and cautious about workplace flirting
it is no big deal
it is human
as long as it is welcome and not creepy
10:32amStephen
it is very flattering
10:33amKelly
yes!
I work mostly with men.
I encourage the flirt
then whenever I want something, I get it
I tap into their deep sense of chivalry and need to please women
10:33amStephen
It’s Steve’s way of saying he likes me
10:33amKelly
yes!
me too.
I would flirt with a rock
and often do
lol
10:34amStephen
and he’s so charming
you just get sucked in
10:34amKelly
see, this just sounds delicious!
yay, happy workplace
that’s just good for MORALE lol
10:34amStephen
he’s one of those very sexy types – not attractive – but the sexyness you get from someone who knows what they are doing and are absolutely passionate about
10:34amKelly
oh.
10:34amStephen
it
10:34amKelly
I love that.
that’s deeply hot.
10:35amStephen
and it’s vbery easy to be i his company
10:35amKelly
and so…you feel slutty?
or is that unrelated?
lol
10:36amStephen
no they are related
deeply and truly
like twins
he’s made me feel hot
10:36amKelly
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
that cannot be appreciated enough
that’s beautiful
10:36amStephen
yes it is
10:37amKelly
now take that I feel hottishness and sally forth
in your porn shirt
10:37amStephen
which is why I love my new boss and the wonderful school he has created
10:37amKelly
yes!
10:37amStephen
and thank fuck I got headhunted
and was taken out of my old school
10:37amKelly
passion transcends the little arenas of our lives
if your passionate in one area it leaks over into the others
since I embraced my writerlyness I am a man-magnet
it is related
being on fire is HOT
10:38amStephen
and I am on fire
10:38amKelly
yes you are baby!
10:38amStephen
it’s amazing
10:38amKelly
amazing and juicy and generative
so good for the soul
10:39amStephen
I have been invited to do something at a major educational technology conference in central London
for two days
10:39amKelly
wow!
congratulations mr. hot stuff
10:39amStephen
which inlcudes £1k of resources for my school
and next term I will be delivering traingning to parents in all the local schools on internet safety
10:40amKelly
I’m impressed
what fun

 

hen Kelly
Clear Chat History
10:04amStephen
I am feeling slutty
10:20amKelly
me too
it is a chronic thing
welcome to the club
lol
was it the porn shirt?
I would totally LOVE to take credit for it
10:21amStephen
well I think it is the anticipation of wearing it
10:21amKelly
excellent. it has magical powers!
10:21amStephen
clearly
though my head constantly flirting with me is boosting my ego no end
10:23amKelly
omg
that is the best line ever.
Hold on while I cut and paste and plagiarize it
10:24amStephen
lol
10:24amKelly
you don’t mean your actual head
you mean the head master, yes?
either way, awesome
10:24amStephen
you know I mean my headteacher and not my physical head
yes
10:24amKelly
too funny
we don’t call headmasters head masters in canada
so it took me a second
10:24amStephen
he’s called the headteacher
10:25amKelly
we call them “principals”
10:25amStephen
headmaster is very old fashioned and refers only to men
10:25amKelly
are you going to have wild unruly sex with him?
10:25amStephen
no
10:25amKelly
prude
10:25amStephen
he has a bf
10:25amKelly
ah
morals
pesky things, those
10:25amStephen
who is also a friend of mine
10:25amKelly
yep
you are in the no-fuck zone
10:26amStephen
which is fine and the harmless flirting is great fun
“Doing a good job of looking hot in those jeans Mr Kelly”
10:31amKelly
oh. again.
stealing that.
taking out the “MR”
It is now mine
he’s flirting with ME too
what a slut
10:31amStephen
Take it
10:31amKelly
I’m sorry for his boyfriend
hahahahaha
10:31amStephen
he called me into his office one day because someone told him off for lfirting
and he said
Do I really flirt with you?
and I said yes
and he said well it must be unconcious but you are so my type
10:32amKelly
too funny
I think we’re all too ramped up and cautious about workplace flirting
it is no big deal
it is human
as long as it is welcome and not creepy
10:32amStephen
it is very flattering
10:33amKelly
yes!
I work mostly with men.
I encourage the flirt
then whenever I want something, I get it
I tap into their deep sense of chivalry and need to please women
10:33amStephen
It’s Steve’s way of saying he likes me
10:33amKelly
yes!
me too.
I would flirt with a rock
and often do
lol
10:34amStephen
and he’s so charming
you just get sucked in
10:34amKelly
see, this just sounds delicious!
yay, happy workplace
that’s just good for MORALE lol
10:34amStephen
he’s one of those very sexy types – not attractive – but the sexyness you get from someone who knows what they are doing and are absolutely passionate about
10:34amKelly
oh.
10:34amStephen
it
10:34amKelly
I love that.
that’s deeply hot.
10:35amStephen
and it’s vbery easy to be i his company
10:35amKelly
and so…you feel slutty?
or is that unrelated?
lol
10:36amStephen
no they are related
deeply and truly
like twins
he’s made me feel hot
10:36amKelly
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
that cannot be appreciated enough
that’s beautiful
10:36amStephen
yes it is
10:37amKelly
now take that I feel hottishness and sally forth
in your porn shirt
10:37amStephen
which is why I love my new boss and the wonderful school he has created
10:37amKelly
yes!
10:37amStephen
and thank fuck I got headhunted
and was taken out of my old school
10:37amKelly
passion transcends the little arenas of our lives
if your passionate in one area it leaks over into the others
since I embraced my writerlyness I am a man-magnet
it is related
being on fire is HOT
10:38amStephen
and I am on fire
10:38amKelly
yes you are baby!
10:38amStephen
it’s amazing
10:38amKelly
amazing and juicy and generative
so good for the soul
10:39amStephen
I have been invited to do something at a major educational technology conference in central London
for two days
10:39amKelly
wow!
congratulations mr. hot stuff
10:39amStephen
which inlcudes £1k of resources for my school
and next term I will be delivering traingning to parents in all the local schools on internet safety
10:40amKelly
I’m impressed
what fun

 

 

hen Kelly
Clear Chat History
10:04amStephen
I am feeling slutty
10:20amKelly
me too
it is a chronic thing
welcome to the club
lol
was it the porn shirt?
I would totally LOVE to take credit for it
10:21amStephen
well I think it is the anticipation of wearing it
10:21amKelly
excellent. it has magical powers!
10:21amStephen
clearly
though my head constantly flirting with me is boosting my ego no end
10:23amKelly
omg
that is the best line ever.
Hold on while I cut and paste and plagiarize it
10:24amStephen
lol
10:24amKelly
you don’t mean your actual head
you mean the head master, yes?
either way, awesome
10:24amStephen
you know I mean my headteacher and not my physical head
yes
10:24amKelly
too funny
we don’t call headmasters head masters in canada
so it took me a second
10:24amStephen
he’s called the headteacher
10:25amKelly
we call them “principals”
10:25amStephen
headmaster is very old fashioned and refers only to men
10:25amKelly
are you going to have wild unruly sex with him?
10:25amStephen
no
10:25amKelly
prude
10:25amStephen
he has a bf
10:25amKelly
ah
morals
pesky things, those
10:25amStephen
who is also a friend of mine
10:25amKelly
yep
you are in the no-fuck zone
10:26amStephen
which is fine and the harmless flirting is great fun
“Doing a good job of looking hot in those jeans Mr Kelly”
10:31amKelly
oh. again.
stealing that.
taking out the “MR”
It is now mine
he’s flirting with ME too
what a slut
10:31amStephen
Take it
10:31amKelly
I’m sorry for his boyfriend
hahahahaha
10:31amStephen
he called me into his office one day because someone told him off for lfirting
and he said
Do I really flirt with you?
and I said yes
and he said well it must be unconcious but you are so my type
10:32amKelly
too funny
I think we’re all too ramped up and cautious about workplace flirting
it is no big deal
it is human
as long as it is welcome and not creepy
10:32amStephen
it is very flattering
10:33amKelly
yes!
I work mostly with men.
I encourage the flirt
then whenever I want something, I get it
I tap into their deep sense of chivalry and need to please women
10:33amStephen
It’s Steve’s way of saying he likes me
10:33amKelly
yes!
me too.
I would flirt with a rock
and often do
lol
10:34amStephen
and he’s so charming
you just get sucked in
10:34amKelly
see, this just sounds delicious!
yay, happy workplace
that’s just good for MORALE lol
10:34amStephen
he’s one of those very sexy types – not attractive – but the sexyness you get from someone who knows what they are doing and are absolutely passionate about
10:34amKelly
oh.
10:34amStephen
it
10:34amKelly
I love that.
that’s deeply hot.
10:35amStephen
and it’s vbery easy to be i his company
10:35amKelly
and so…you feel slutty?
or is that unrelated?
lol
10:36amStephen
no they are related
deeply and truly
like twins
he’s made me feel hot
10:36amKelly
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
that cannot be appreciated enough
that’s beautiful
10:36amStephen
yes it is
10:37amKelly
now take that I feel hottishness and sally forth
in your porn shirt
10:37amStephen
which is why I love my new boss and the wonderful school he has created
10:37amKelly
yes!
10:37amStephen
and thank fuck I got headhunted
and was taken out of my old school
10:37amKelly
passion transcends the little arenas of our lives
if your passionate in one area it leaks over into the others
since I embraced my writerlyness I am a man-magnet
it is related
being on fire is HOT
10:38amStephen
and I am on fire
10:38amKelly
yes you are baby!
10:38amStephen
it’s amazing
10:38amKelly
amazing and juicy and generative
so good for the soul
10:39amStephen
I have been invited to do something at a major educational technology conference in central London
for two days
10:39amKelly
wow!
congratulations mr. hot stuff
10:39amStephen
which inlcudes £1k of resources for my school
and next term I will be delivering traingning to parents in all the local schools on internet safety
10:40amKelly
I’m impressed
what fun

 

hen Kelly
Clear Chat History
10:04amStephen
I am feeling slutty
10:20amKelly
me too
it is a chronic thing
welcome to the club
lol
was it the porn shirt?
I would totally LOVE to take credit for it
10:21amStephen
well I think it is the anticipation of wearing it
10:21amKelly
excellent. it has magical powers!
10:21amStephen
clearly
though my head constantly flirting with me is boosting my ego no end
10:23amKelly
omg
that is the best line ever.
Hold on while I cut and paste and plagiarize it
10:24amStephen
lol
10:24amKelly
you don’t mean your actual head
you mean the head master, yes?
either way, awesome
10:24amStephen
you know I mean my headteacher and not my physical head
yes
10:24amKelly
too funny
we don’t call headmasters head masters in canada
so it took me a second
10:24amStephen
he’s called the headteacher
10:25amKelly
we call them “principals”
10:25amStephen
headmaster is very old fashioned and refers only to men
10:25amKelly
are you going to have wild unruly sex with him?
10:25amStephen
no
10:25amKelly
prude
10:25amStephen
he has a bf
10:25amKelly
ah
morals
pesky things, those
10:25amStephen
who is also a friend of mine
10:25amKelly
yep
you are in the no-fuck zone
10:26amStephen
which is fine and the harmless flirting is great fun
“Doing a good job of looking hot in those jeans Mr Kelly”
10:31amKelly
oh. again.
stealing that.
taking out the “MR”
It is now mine
he’s flirting with ME too
what a slut
10:31amStephen
Take it
10:31amKelly
I’m sorry for his boyfriend
hahahahaha
10:31amStephen
he called me into his office one day because someone told him off for lfirting
and he said
Do I really flirt with you?
and I said yes
and he said well it must be unconcious but you are so my type
10:32amKelly
too funny
I think we’re all too ramped up and cautious about workplace flirting
it is no big deal
it is human
as long as it is welcome and not creepy
10:32amStephen
it is very flattering
10:33amKelly
yes!
I work mostly with men.
I encourage the flirt
then whenever I want something, I get it
I tap into their deep sense of chivalry and need to please women
10:33amStephen
It’s Steve’s way of saying he likes me
10:33amKelly
yes!
me too.
I would flirt with a rock
and often do
lol
10:34amStephen
and he’s so charming
you just get sucked in
10:34amKelly
see, this just sounds delicious!
yay, happy workplace
that’s just good for MORALE lol
10:34amStephen
he’s one of those very sexy types – not attractive – but the sexyness you get from someone who knows what they are doing and are absolutely passionate about
10:34amKelly
oh.
10:34amStephen
it
10:34amKelly
I love that.
that’s deeply hot.
10:35amStephen
and it’s vbery easy to be i his company
10:35amKelly
and so…you feel slutty?
or is that unrelated?
lol
10:36amStephen
no they are related
deeply and truly
like twins
he’s made me feel hot
10:36amKelly
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
that cannot be appreciated enough
that’s beautiful
10:36amStephen
yes it is
10:37amKelly
now take that I feel hottishness and sally forth
in your porn shirt
10:37amStephen
which is why I love my new boss and the wonderful school he has created
10:37amKelly
yes!
10:37amStephen
and thank fuck I got headhunted
and was taken out of my old school
10:37amKelly
passion transcends the little arenas of our lives
if your passionate in one area it leaks over into the others
since I embraced my writerlyness I am a man-magnet
it is related
being on fire is HOT
10:38amStephen
and I am on fire
10:38amKelly
yes you are baby!
10:38amStephen
it’s amazing
10:38amKelly
amazing and juicy and generative
so good for the soul
10:39amStephen
I have been invited to do something at a major educational technology conference in central London
for two days
10:39amKelly
wow!
congratulations mr. hot stuff
10:39amStephen
which inlcudes £1k of resources for my school
and next term I will be delivering traingning to parents in all the local schools on internet safety
10:40amKelly
I’m impressed
what fun

Mr. Anonymous: I am feeling slutty

Kelly: was it the porn shirt? I would totally LOVE to take credit for it

Mr. Anonymous: well I think it is the anticipation of wearing it

Kelly: excellent. it has magical powers!

Mr. Anonymous: clearly. though my head constantly flirting with me is boosting my ego no end

Kelly: that is the best line ever. Hold on while I cut and paste and plagiarize it

Mr. Anonymous: you know I mean my headteacher and not my physical head, yes?

Kelly: we don’t call headmasters head masters in Canada so it took me a moment

Mr. Anonymous: he’s called the headteacher

Kelly: we call them “principals”

Mr. Anonymous: headmaster is very old fashioned and refers only to men

Kelly: are you going to have wild unruly sex with him?

Mr. Anonymous: no

Kelly: prude

Mr. Anonymous: he has a bf

Kelly: ah. morals. pesky things, those

Mr. Anonymous: who is also a friend of mine

Kelly: yep, you are in the no-sexing zone

Mr. Anonymous: which is fine and the harmless flirting is great fun:

“Doing a good job of looking hot in those jeans, Mr. Anonymous”

Kelly: oh. again. stealing that. Taking out the “Mr.” and “Anonymous” and inserting “Kelly”. It is now mine. He IS promiscuous. He’s flirting with ME too

Mr. Anonymous: he called me into his office one day because someone told him off for flirting and he said “Do I really flirt with you?” and I said “yes”. and he said “well it must be unconcious but you are so my type”

Kelly: I think we’re all too ramped up and cautious about workplace flirting. Flirting is not the same thing as sexual harassment. Flirting is no big deal. It is human. ‘Course that’s only as long as it is welcome and not creepy

Mr. Anonymous: it is very flattering

Kelly: yes!

Mr. Anonymous: It’s his way of saying he likes me

Kelly: yes! me, too. I would flirt with a rock and often do

Mr. Anonymous:  and he’s so charming. you just get sucked in

Kelly: see, this just sounds delicious! yay, happy workplace. that’s just good for morale

Mr. Anonymous: he’s one of those very sexy types – not attractive – but the sexiness you get from someone who knows what they are doing and are absolutely passionate about

Kelly: I love that. that’s deeply hot.

Mr. Anonymous: and it’s very easy to be in his company

Kelly: and so…you feel slutty? or is that unrelated?

Mr. Anonymous: they are related. deeply and truly. like twins. he’s made me feel hot

Kelly: mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. that cannot be appreciated enough. that’s gratifying.

Mr. Anonymous: yes it is

Mr. Anonymous: which is why I love my new boss and the wonderful school he has created

Kelly: yes! passion transcends and transforms all arenas of our lives. if you’re passionate in one area it leaks over into all of the others. ever since I embraced my writerliness I am a man-magnet. it is related. being on fire is HOT

Mr. Anonymous: and I am on fire

Kelly: yes you are baby!

Mr. Anonymous: it’s amazing

Kelly: amazing and juicy and generative. so good for the soul. Now take that I-feel-hottishness and sally forth. in your porn shirt.

_____________________

some names have been changed to protect the morally suspect. nobody else’s boyfriend or relationship was harmed in the making of this post. the porn shirt is mostly a joke unless of course you want to buy it.

 

On Risk, Relationships and GD Patriarchy. A Polemic.

I am a risk-taker in relationships. In addition to being a risk-taker, I’m doggedly committed and don’t give up on a teetering romance until I’m well and truly and certainly done with it. As a result, my friends, family – and, I’m sure, more than one potential suitor – sigh and shudder and worry and are not-so-secretly convinced that I put myself on the line because I’m lonely, fat, a single mom and therefore should be lacking in self-esteem due to my apparent unfuckability (oh, if only y’all knew) and desperation for the security of a relationship.

They would be wrong. I’ve always been a risk taker: fat, skinny, younger, older, before and after kids, always. I take risks because I know I can handle it. I’m resilient. I have faith in myself. Even if I get my heart broken, even if I’m stung by love’s yellow jackets and swell up and take to bed for three days to nurse my hives, cracked heart, fractured ego and assorted existential wounds, I’ll come out of it okay. I usually learn something, too. I stretch. I grow. I expand my emotional range. I go wide and deep. I love.

This, I submit, is the opposite of low self-esteem and desperation.

But, I admit, I’m breaking the rules. It is not always comfortable. It is not always easy. And so far, I don’t have the happy ending to point at, chant “see, nya, nya, I told you so”, and then legitimately launch polemics against tepid dating and soulless relationships and the patriarchy.

So I break the rules. I own myself and my feelings and act on them. I try to connect and I call when I feel the need to do that, which can be a lot. I think that is as it should be. When you like someone, you want to talk to him. I don’t wait around or corral myself into a good girl box of chocolates hoping a man will choose me. When I like a man, he knows it. When I love him, he’s lucky. That sounds like empowerment, and it is, and sometimes I say things that feel honest and powerful to me but which are interpreted vastly differently by the people who live outside my head. Things like this: I need a man. I am lonely. Arguably, being honest about those things does not makes me pathetic or weak. In fact, I think the opposite narrative, the one that says “I don’t need a man, I want one” is ridiculously boring and weak. I get it, but it is not compelling. It goes like this: you can pay your bills. You’re doing fine. You have hobbies and friends and a cat and if you died tomorrow, you’d be satisfied that you lived a good life.

Those things are sort of true for me, too, except that I don’t have a cat. I like my upholstered goods on the unshredded side. And even with the ability to take care of myself quite competently for the rest of my life without male assistance, I still need a man, and the fact that I am marginally solvent and reasonably capable in most adult matters means that I can be shameless about expressing my needs. Admitting to needs – requiring companionship and savouring love and partnership – does not diminish me. So there, nya nya, I told you so (again. Am I undermining my credibility as an adult?).

I need a romantic, significant, long-lasting relationship. I think most people do. Relationships – friendly, romantic, platonic, passionate, familial – are the juice and the juju that a growing life demands. Being one half of a passionate partnership presents challenges and struggles and magic and love and I need that. I need to give that and exchange that and grow in that. And I’ll risk the lectures about how I should be an independent woman (I am! and it is not all self-sufficient sunshine and egalitarian roses!) to say so. Because the risk is worth the reward.

So fuck risk-managing potential relationships. I’m frustrated with that and this is the core of my exasperation with dating and the our boring cultural discourses about dating: one of the axis that it turns on is a glib, therapized, risk-managing approach to relationships. And yes, my darling reader, you ARE so prescient. I do have thoughts on the matter and I would love to share them:

  1. I highly doubt that everyone out there who is dating has gone to therapy and explored the issues and done the work. Actually, I don’t DOUBT it, I know it. Most of us speak therapy but we haven’t really been therapized.
  2. All the risk management and red-flagging paradoxically creates risk. Every step is a mine-field of meaning. Codes are being signalled and transgressed. Everything becomes a Big Freaking Deal. Relationships halt based on a poorly timed phone call. As proof, I offer you my recent, deep, and time-consuming research on the after-sex call. This is what I did: I googled ‘after sex call‘ and the results cracked my lid and my brain made a brief, panicked, screaming run around the living room. There are more than 80 million pages advising you when to call, when not to call, what it means when he calls on Sunday (you’re girlfriend material), Monday (he’d like to sleep with you again but you’re not relationship material), or Friday (you’re a booty call). Let me repeat it: EIGHTY MILLION pages of results on this issue.

  3. The patriarchy. Oh, the patriarchy. The sexism. The double-standards. The give-a-cookie, get-a-ring theory of dating.
  4. The dating rules. OMG, The Rules.
  5. #3 and #4 are in fact the same thing and my brain is now making crop-circles in the dining room. Which is tough to do because despite what you’ve heard about Vancouverites, BC and our main agricultural export, not all of us grow grass in the dining room.

Let’s talk about The Rules, which is not just a way of talking about the stupid rules of dating but an actual book that articulates them in 35 (!!!) easy-to-remember points (!!!!) by Ellen Fein and Sherrie Schneider.Or let’s not. I’m sure you know them and all their evil, anti-feminist clones like He’s Just Not That Into You, Steve Harvey’s Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man (which uses cookies as a metaphor for sex and advises women to dole them out sparingly, and not at all in the first three months) and, most recently, Be a Hepburn in a Hilton World by Jordan Christy. All of them essentially advise the same thing: don’t put out, don’t call, don’t require much, and maybe, if you’re lucky and you wait around quietly looking pretty, he’ll marry you. In short, don’t be you.

So that is what is supposed to guarantee me the Happy Ending. The Wedding (which incidentally, I don’t even want. Marriage: yes. Wedding: no). The Husband.

But what kind of husband would I land with those rules? What kind of relationship and marriage would that be?

The answer to this not-so-rhetorical question is this: not the kind I want.

In Canada, you can marry anyone you want, as long as you’re only marrying one adult person at a time. This, in the world according to Kelly, is as it should be. So I have no issues with marriage. If gay and lesbian and straight people and everyone who identifies themselves in between or outside of those categories can marry, then I too can marry in good conscience because I’m not accessing a privilege allowed only to those who accidentally, luckily, have sexualities deemed socially acceptable. So, yay, Canada. Yay, marriage.

If I am to marry – and I hope that I do – I would want to marry a man who thinks like that, too. And I highly motherfucking doubt that a man who thinks like that would

  • be ‘caught’ by The Rules;
  • require a woman to play by The Rules;
  • get off on the chase;
  • like it when a woman doles out sex like the forbidden cookie, to be earned with virtuous, chivalrous behaviour and a mainly no-sex diet;
  • think I’m an unmarriageable slut for expressing my sexuality and acting on my desires;
  • interpret my ability to be real and raw and vulnerable as desperate and unappealing;
  • be reeled in through a prescribed course of intense manipulation;
  • need to be manipulated to feel valued; and
  • insist that I contain my needs for connection and companionship with him.

Because that would mean that he’s wired like a wannabe patriarch. And this is would be a problem for me because how I feel about fucking the patriarchy (pro) is wildly different than my feelings about fucking the patriarch (con).

So, sadly, dating is still a gender-trap. And, paradoxically, even as dating is a dangerous trap, it is so gd safe. We talk about dysfunction and reflexively screen out anyone lacking a career or a physique that will pass muster with friends and family and who doesn’t call by Wednesday. We’re risk-managing ourselves out of hypothetical heartbreak but into one-bedroom apartments and solo-Christmases.

Recently, someone said to me “…but I never enjoyed dating the way you do.” And I was stunned. I embrace the risks that relationships entail but I hate dating. I like people, I adore men, I like meeting people and connecting and getting excited about seeing the world (and even myself) through their eyes, but dating and me – well we are not in love and never will be. It is too coded. Too mined with gendered expectations and signals and social assumptions. Too uncertain. So, yes, with one side of my mouth I bemoan the rules of engagement while with the other I freely kiss and confess that I adore being wooed. It is a very, very good thing when someone showers me with attention and affection and never makes me wonder: Do I call? Do I not call? Is he just not that into me if he doesn’t call? What does it mean if I call? To me? To him?

And that’s it. That’s the dichotomous, insane space we live in. As women, we’re supposed to be empowered and beyond The Rules. As naked, vulnerable, brave and needy people, we need to connect and be adored (or at least I do). And the dating manuals that make me crazy live in precisely that crazy-making space: they directly address the need to be feel adored by prescribing formulas for discerning adoration while in the same breath and with lipstick-slicked, barbed kisses they re-inscribe a pointed, confining, prescriptive cultural narrative about gender roles and heterosexual relationships.

About women, that narrative says this: Women should wait. Women should let men take the lead. Women should not be demanding or difficult or insist on getting their needs met by their male partners. Women should contain their sexuality. Women should be tricksters. Women should not expect anything other than the social outlines of a contractual relationship. Women who do all of these things will be rewarded with a ring. Being single is a prison you can earn your way out of with good behaviour and yes, your man is your Warden.

About men, that narrative says this: Men are hunters. Men do not have emotional needs or require friendship from their partners and if they do, they should never admit it and definitely not call before three days have elapsed because that is just unattractive. Showing you like a woman will scare her off. Don’t care for her, conquer her, because, after all, men have an inherent need to conquer women and the world. Men don’t like themselves so they cannot like women who show them that they like them. A man should marry the woman who likes him the least. A man values a woman who restrains her desires with him, because that means she’ll restrain her desires with other men, too. Men don’t know themselves so have to be tricked into getting what is good for them. Men can be tricked. Men should be tricked. Men are dumb.

How is that for seductive? After you get past the pre-marital, tedious process of risk-management and encoding gendered, patriarchal assumptions, the two of you will ideally end up in a soulless, mostly sexless marriage of convenience where the man takes out the garbage and mows the lawn and the woman flutters around doing sexy domestic things like cleaning the toilet and keeps her mouth shut except when she’s yelling at the kids. Excellent. Fantastic. I’m in.

Confession: Until this year, year thirty-sex, I never really dated. Every significant relationship I have ever had evolved out of ‘hanging out’: out of spending time together, having wide-ranging, unconstrained, passionate hours-long conversations in which we solved the political and social dilemmas of the day, doing things together, with other people, and together, until we were just, organically, a couple or some sort of watershed sexual/romantic/conversational moment occurred that articulated our ecstatic commitment to couple-y-ness.

I suspect that this dynamic is a function of youth and university. I suspect that this is even what universities are for: campuses are covert, middle-class marriage markets. Mostly middle-class families offload their kids there and after four or five years and those kids emerge as qualified adults ready to earn, baby, earn and are likely, hopefully involved with now-degreed, pedigreed, marriageable partners who also have reasonable career prospects and are probably from other middle-class families. Who needs a matchmaker or an arranged marriage if you can send your kids to college?

During the university years, young adults are installed in crappy, overpopulated apartments on a campus with several thousand mostly-single people in the same age bracket, and all of them have lots of free time and (temporarily) very little money. It is a recipe for social interaction that is based on conversation and connection and ideas, and if you’re lucky enough to be surrounded by uberliberal, progressive, smart, thinking people, then the very structures of relationships get talked about, questioned and negotiated. Then, if you’re really lucky, you end up in a Relationship with a man who thinks about these things too, and is willing to go there with you and wonder about The Rules, and fuck the Rules, and just be, and figure out how to be, together. Yessssssssss.

I spent most of my twenties in University. Naturally, I ended up in a Relationship – bizarrely, with a very socially conventional (and very good) man – and spent most of my thirties having babies. Then we split. Now I have a job, kids, a rigid and unbending schedule that requires me to see the inside of 5am every weekday, a cosmic void where babysitters should be, and no classmates or (adult) house-mates with single friends with whom to hang out and eventually fall in love. So now I have to date, marshal time to date, organize an infrastructure that allows for dating, search out appropriate people to date, all of which I do, sometimes ecstatically, sometimes begrudgingly. To me, the logistics and the safe, gendered discourses of dating are the antithesis of sexy. I miss my flophouse university days. I miss organic relationships.

Relationships are conversations. Relationships are messages sent and received and returned. Relationships are primal, biological, electric, evolutionary, revolutionary. Relationships are generative. Relationships are transcendent and divine. Relationships are magic. Relationships are worth the risk.

Too bad that as a grown-ass adult you have to date to find one.

___________

note: I originally posted this piece in September 2009 but I was missing it, lots, so I called it back. It loves me, too.