Living with D and her mom has had some interesting effects in my life. Namely, I drink much less and watch way more awful prime-time television. In fact, I spent an hour of my life watching The Bachelorette (and basically breaking every promise I’ve ever made about never watching such shit TV), and yelling at the screen… or the moron gracing it. Seriously, this show is an absolute disaster and their consistent use of grammar as some weird, shallow metaphor was enough to make me repeatedly slap myself in the forehead. I may have brain damage. Bad reality television gave me brain damage. I always said that shit was dangerous. PROOF!
Anyway, in my own life, I like to think I am far wiser than this dentist-turned-reality-hooker-slash-romantic-retard woman… but we have no evidence of such superiority so I don’t really know. I’m still whatevering with the Libra. I say whatevering because
I’m trying to be normal and patient and not scare him away I know better than to force some sort of weird name on it just so it makes more sense when I talk about him to my friends, who absolutely love the guy… which is a first.*
My girlfriends hate the guys I date. And the guys I date never take much of an interest in them which normally is not only irritating but offensive… especially since I take such great pride in friends liking me. I’m a nice girl, I will buy you a drink and chat you up about your weird job or ugly shoes. It’s part of the role. But the guys I date just tell me my friends are “scary” or “party too hard.” The Libra has been a long time favorite with them- a fact that make him all the more appealing.
There’s a theory about this, one that I heard recently and completely buy into… It says that your friends’ opinions of a significant other are more important generally than your family’s. This is due to the sheer fact that you choose your friends as some sort of reflection of yourself and your beliefs. Your family, God bless ’em, you just sort of got put with. What my family would think of him, who knows. That’s a bridge I’ll cross when (if) I get there, but my friends being such big fans is reassuring… Given my history of “I think this might be a bad choice but I’ll test it out and figure it out the hard way,” my friends remind me that I’m making a smart (ish?) decision here. I’m not blindly throwing myself into the wind, I’m not trying to force life or change someone. I’m accepting it, rolling with it, crossing my fingers with the confidence that I know what I want and for the most part- who he is.
I’m growing up. Impressed? You should be.
In unrelated news, a woman in Sacramento MICROWAVED HER BABY GIRL. Like she was popcorn. The baby, obviously, died. The simple existence of such fucking crazies makes me question my desire to reproduce. Hell, even marry. You never fucking know. Like, did that baby’s daddy recognize that homegirl was literally out of her tree? She cooked a child. And then lied. And then the cops found the pacifier in the microwave and questioned her and she spewed some bullshit about being a schizo.
The world is scary place. It’s a good thing I’ve got good friends.
*Disclaimer: The Libra knows about this blog. Whether or not he dislikes himself enough to spend time reading it, I don’t know… But it’s one of those “welcome to my crazy brain” situations. We’re trying to tone down the crazy*
Thanks, Hollywood. If The Bachelor and Rock of Love (full disclosure: I was an avid watcher of RoL) didn’t put the final nails in the coffin of hope-for-emotional-health, you seem to being your damnedest to finish us off.
Ashton Kutcher and Natalie Portman (why won’t she just go away?!) are in a new movie called No Strings Attached- essentially about two ridiculously good looking, succesful friends who begin to sleep together under the guise of Friends with Benefits, which is just a longer name for a bootycall. I admit, Ashton Kutcher is pretty hot, and I highly doubt my ability to turn him down if he ever prompted me- which I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t, and I don’t know any man who would look at Miss Portman (even if she is knocked up) and say, “I’d really rather not.” But that is not the point of me writing any of this.
The point is that Friends with Benefits (FWB) is buuuuulllshit, and partially responsible for perpetuating this inability we are plagued with regarding commitment. I’m not going to go see that movie… 1: because it is not part of the Twilight Saga. 2: Because I am not donating money to movies that make me angry. And 3: I do not need to watch a predictable chick-flick to remind me that I am romantically doomed.
It’s easy to say that you are just “looking for a good time,” or “expressing yourself,” but in reality, you’re making decisions that are going to cripple you in the future when you actually are faced with someone you genuinely care for. I know of NOBODY who has participated in the booty-call system without one part of the couple becoming attached and consequently let down. Everything in life takes practice, and that includes caring about people and being a good partner. If all you know is sex with no strings attached, you won’t know how to function if you ever get butterflies looking at someone… I digress, though.
Further- isn’t sex better when you, oh, I don’t know, care about the person?? Why volunteer for mediocre sex that you don’t even get free dinner with? It’s demeaning, and it’s dangerous and it’s setting an awful precedent. Most frightening- it’s completely common and acceptable.
Sex is a fundamentally emotional thing. Why that is, I don’t know and I don’t care. But when you strip it down to nothing but penetration and friction, you strip yourself down to just a bunch of bones and nerve-endings in a bag of flesh (wow, I should write erotic stuff). The physical aspect counts, but the romantic connection is the most crucial part of the whole scenario. Our generation, especially the women, have become experts at participating in sex without letting your heart get involved. (This is why D recently told me the way I viewed dating was “ancient.”) And movies like this make it look glamorous, and fun and completely without consequence- which it absolutely isn’t.
I am an active participant in a lot of my generation’s stupid habits. I go to the bars and put myself on the “meat market.” I spend money waxing parts of my body that see the light of day only in the shower. I wear shoes that will give me arthritis, and I spend outrageous amounts of money on them. I put my life on display for strangers on facebook and obligingly stare at my cell-phone for 6 hours a day completely at the mercy of others. I can’t do the bootycall thing, though. I either don’t have the self-confidence to strip for a stranger, or I just have too much dignity to strip for a stranger; it’s all perception I guess.
But I am so fed up with everything on television and online telling me that I’m prude. Trust me, I’m not… but compared to the average 20-something girl in Orange County, I’m beginning to feel like Mother freakin’ Theresa, which is absurd. So we can go ahead and add this new movie to the “list of things I loudly boycott that nobody else understands.” (Also on this list: socks, El Pollo Loco, Hybrid cars, and recycling).
*Additional note: I write things like this and I think maybe I’ve finally lost my mind. I’m really tired, so it’s possible that this didn’t make sense. In essence I’m just sad that all my dreams of fairy-tale futures that Hollywood once made plenty of money perpetuating have eroded into this beast of sexuality without any sensuality. Also- I’m celibate. So maybe I’m just jealous.*
update: just heard that No Strings Attached is the TOP movie in the country. America is actively trying to become less intelligent apparently