Wednesday, March 31, 2010

what am i doing?
what are we all doing?
these questions surface and no answer for restitution.
it doesn't even matter the subject. 
you can apply those two questions to anything.
what am i doing enjoying this persons company when they are in a committed relationship?
what are we all doing pretending to enjoy an evening at a bar when in fact we are all lonely human beings looking for the next person to fill our void.
paul simon was WRONG. we are not rocks nor island. we are nerves carrying reverse signals to arteries...and somehow FEEL things. ISNT THAT CRAZY?
we feel things. 
i think we forget that we feel. 
if i were to take a minute with myself, sitting here at this computer at 12:17 at night, tears streaming down my face, i would realize i'm just human. 

Friday, March 26, 2010

Census Report

According to the 2000 Census (this information is almost out of date, however, so make sure to fill out your 2010 Census forms, everybody!) my neighborhood has a male to female ratio higher than that of the county at large. 1.12 to 1. Statistically, it is not a particularly young neighborhood, but that is really only due to the fact that a mere 6.4% of residents are 19 and younger (read: single people don’t have kids). Half of the population clock in between 25 and 44 and more than a quarter are between the ages of 25 and 34, quite a desirable range, if I do say so. These stats are looking pretty good for a single gal in her twenties! I read on to find that not only are the residents, young, male and single (an average household size of 1.53 versus the national average of 3.14), but smart as well! Only 8.8% of the residents didn’t finish high school, versus the 30% of the rest of the county. This information is getting increasingly exciting, but after reading a little bit further I will find that a whopping 41% of my city’s population identify as gay or bisexual men. Womp Womp.

I am constantly surrounded by young men who care how they look and what they eat, who are good to their bodies, know how to dress, can party like it’s 1999 all the time (even Tuesday nights!), who drive nice cars, who are generally outgoing and friendly and who don’t even notice me walk into a room. This is like straight girl purgatory. Every time I want to go out somewhere in the neighborhood (because one great thing about my location is how much is within walking distance), I find myself being almost uncomfortably over-looked.

I am by no means cocky about my appearance, but I know I am a relatively good-looking girl. That, along with the fact that straight men have a tendency to “check out” any female who passes them by, means I am used to a certain amount of male attention (wanted or unwanted).

I feel like I’m in the twilight zone around here. Everywhere I go I realize that no man has taken stock of my presence. This can be a liberating feeling, especially when out dancing. Who doesn’t do their best dancing when they think no one is watching (i.e. alone in your room with your favorite guilty-pleasure pop tune blasting)? Eventually, though, it gets a little frustrating. I can’t catch anyone’s eye. Gay men and straight girls make great friends to each other, but no one at this bar is looking for a friend. If there’s something gay men do more than their lesbian or straight counterparts, it’s cruise. And guaranteed, in my part of town, no one is cruising me.

If there is one thing living here is teaching me, it’s to enjoy this time as a single female. If at first these nights out in Boytown were exciting, and then rather frustrating, they must now become a reminder to continue to focus on myself. No one, male or female, has ever gotten anywhere without a whole lot of self-love. Who needs validation from the opposite (or same) sex? Well, we all do, sometimes. But more importantly I need: a) a job; b) to further my career c); to maintain good health and a fit body; d) strong friendships and familial relationships. After all that, who has time for sex and love? One day I will, but for now I’m happy to be surrounded by potential tennis partners.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Taco Salad

The prices soar in this economic crisis.
Taco salads are more and more expensive. 
An excellent taco salad takes hours, if not days, to cultivate.   

The crisp shell, acting as hollow mound to protect the goodness inside  
The shredded lettuce, giving shape and adornment 
The red of the tomatoes: somewhere between a lava and a lust
The beef…and all its scrumptious juices… 
The seducing avocado - plump and tender  - always leaves me wanting more.   

I must note, I personally forgo the cheese; most of us in today’s society are lactose intolerant…bad for the tummy.   

Patiently, I bide my time for the purrfect taco salad to come along. 
And don’t be fooled, I’m always down for new variations.
However, I like to have an understanding of where it’s coming from and who helped it along the way.   

Oh, and never forget the splash of Tabasco. 

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Battle Cry

How is it possible to be a single twenty-something and not think about doing it? With everyone, all the time. Some days I wonder if I haven’t somehow been transformed into a thirteen-year-old-boy because everyone I see turns into a potential mate. Even that possibly Autistic, but quirkily attractive cashier at CVS. Did we lock eyes for longer than the average three quarters of a second? And, more importantly, does that mean something? What it means is that I have come to accept disconnected apathy as the norm for human interaction, and any deviation from that is highly noticeable and inevitably intriguing. I make human connection multiple times a day: at the grocery store, the bank, the parking garage. We are all used to this routine. “Hi, how are you today?” “I’m good, thanks, you?” “I’m fine.” The end. A three sentence exchange that anyone could predict nearly verbatim and not once was a head lifted, a brow raised.

Everyday we ignore each other. And so it doesn’t take much to excite me or to make me feel important or even desired. The kindness of the man at the UPS store who is willing to make my copies even though the store is (at the rude insistence of his unhappy co-worker) technically closed, does not go unnoticed on my part. No, quite the opposite, in fact. It actually excites the hormone inside me that says, “maybe he’s doing it because he likes you, because he thinks you’re cute. Because you’ll walk away from the storefront into the sunset together after he’s locked up for the night…” I’m sorry, where was I?
That is exactly the problem. Any amount of human attention paid to me is magnified in my mind and translates to attraction. And when someone is attracted to me, in my desperate state of being, how can I not be totally flattered and at least a little attracted back? The problem with this logic is that attention does not equal attraction. Most of the time attention simply equals attention, but we are so used to being glossed over in our daily interactions (and probably doing our fair share of glossing too) that the attention paid to us, which should be considered average courteous behavior, seems like over-the-top interest. And in my case, romantic interest.

So here is my call to arms. Let us make sincere interest the norm. Let us truly engage those around us, to whom we are required to speak on a daily, if not mundane basis. Let every interaction better us, or move our day forward in a positive way (or even negative, as long as we are being engaged and honest). Help me bring the standard of interaction up a notch or two so that every time Steve—who always rings in my toiletry purchase with a little extra pep—looks me in the eye for longer than a full second, I don’t assume it’s because he is looking for the faces of our future children. I just can’t keep getting let down like this.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Even my booty call doesn’t show up

It's 11:31. Thursday night. The night I planned to have one of my first booty call experiences. As a novice, perhaps I am not giving my caller a fair chance. She's busy, she's getting ready, she's sleeping, she's reading… who knows. I could be so far behind the times of bootycall that, in fact, I am a grandma receiver. But still! It's almost midnight and jobless or not, this lady has things to do tomorrow! I deserve a text of some sort to say “hey whats up, I can’t fuck tonight, sorry you got your pussy waxed a day early. Maybe next time? Xx” YEAH, THAT’S RIGHT. I got my pussy waxed a day early and did not end up with the worm…or fingers. So what am I left with, you ask? A two dollar bottle of Shiraz from Trader Joe’s, tights with brown cowboy boots and my flannel nighty. I'm not willing to strip the boots till it's actually tomorrow…12 a.m.

I just googled booty call (to see if it’s one word or a hypen or just two distinct words) and came across three intriguing webpages:, “booty call” – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia, and imdb’s “Booty Call (1997).” The first expresses an ability to help you “meet your mate today!” I'm sorry, but the last time I checked, booty call meant fuck buddy. If we skip to the second website, the favored, always correct Wikipedia, it clearly states that this “telephone call is made with the sole intent of arranging a meeting for sexual acts with the person being contacted”. So no, no, no, no, no,, I do not want a partner in life. This is not JDate. This is purely “I’m horny, you’re horny….wanna fuck?” LADIES AND GENTELMEN a quick interruption: it is now midnight. I will be removing my boots and making my way to the fridge for fresh strawberries. (Yes, I live in LA. Ben and Jerry's is only acceptable once a month and I used my get out of jail free card two nights ago). The extent of which I’ll go into the third website can be seen below… it clearly states what I’m not hittin’ tonight.

Pushing the humiliation aside, the worst part is she happens to be a friend. What happens next time the good ole college crew hangs out? Will there be tension? Will we make out again and plan yet another sexcapade that amounts to nothing?

I can’t be accountable for my words or actions right now, the bottle of wine is almost empty and I am its sole devourer. I guess I shrug it off and say, "to the wind!"; no place for flakes in my house, I have a rabbit that holds a steady key to my lock! Thank god this bottle of wine only cost two dollars.

One last note: under the “See also” section for booty call (on Wikipedia) it links to “drunk dialing”. This is what I need to refrain from doing right now.

A History Lesson

Being in love with someone else’s boyfriend sucks. It sucks more when he lives 3,000 miles away, in your hometown. It makes it even worse when you realize you haven’t had a crush this intense since you were twelve and everyone had a poster of Jonathan Taylor Thomas in their locker. It adds insult to injury when you wake up in a new city with only one real friend and, strangely, no libido. It rubs salt in the wound that everywhere you go you meet men who are in relationships. But the worst part of all, the thing that makes all of the above problems seem insignificant, the predicament that places an immoveable boulder in your path of self-improvement, is that you and he are friends. The only thing more disheartening than coveting another woman’s boyfriend, is coveting your friend.

Beyond the moral dilemma, there is added the issue of day-to-day survival. In today’s uber-connected world with fuzzy lines between reality and virtual-reality, you can speak to someone in the afternoon about his plans for that evening and then see photographic evidence of it pop up on your news feed four hours later (at least you know he wasn’t lying about why he had to go!). We must now cope with our problems in our faces at all times. If he’s truly your friend, if you honestly have an existing relationship with this person, his presence, regardless of his physical distance from you, is not going anywhere.

Of course if he were just an acquaintance, a friend of a friend or a distant co-worker or classmate, he could easily disappear with the click of a button. De-friending is easy when you know you’ll barely be missed, but how do you explain such an action if he’s asking you to send pictures of your new apartment? We are all familiar, whether we’ll admit it or not, with the pulsating temptation to virtually check in on people. We check in on the objects of our affection. We check in on the objects of their affection. We check in on past objects of our affection even if we are truly unaffected by their affections anymore. And even though few of us have big enough egos to believe it, they are all checking in on us too. In short, if you delete him from your friends list simply to stop yourself from obsessing over his unattainable existence, your actions will not go unnoticed.

It is wonderful that now, no matter where you are in the world, your friends are close by. No matter how many time zones separate you, being in touch is a few keystrokes away. But what happens if your friend is the person you need desperately to avoid? Being connected with him online is like being forced to pass by your seventh grade crush everyday because he’s always at his locker when you’re headed to U.S. History. There’s no avoiding it and worst of all, it feels kind of good.

We’ve all had our fair share of guiltless crushes from far away. That guy at the coffee shop who always serves your Americano with an extra smile you assume is just for you; the one with whom you repeatedly end up on the same subway car during your morning commute. These are welcome distractions from our otherwise mundane routines. There’s a freedom we get from obsessing from a distance. It’s a safe way to direct our affection in an anonymous, non-committal environment. In essence, these crushes don’t matter because nothing will ever come of them. There is little to no interaction between you and this person and that way it can live in your imagination as big or as small as you need it. When you’re ready to move on, you can make it disappear as easily as you can switch to the Starbucks three blocks closer to work. So what happens when you need to move on, but the object of your desire is a frequently called contact in your phone? It now becomes much more difficult to extract this fantasized relationship from your imagination. This is not just a day-dreamed scenario with a barista. It is a very real relationship that exists in the very real world and it is not of the same nature as the idyllic one living in your right brain.

A friendship is hard work, even harder when you secretly wish it were something more. You are constantly trying to find the balance between full support and total honesty. And truly, what is any relationship without honesty? Herein lies your predicament. When surveying close girlfriends, the one that leans more on the side of support than honesty will tell you that since he never talks to you about his girlfriend, he must love you too he just hasn’t admit it (to himself) yet. The one leaning towards (brutal) honesty will tell you to get over it, it’s unrealistic and unhealthy and this hang-up is perhaps the cause of your mysterious loss of libido. Perhaps they are both right (about everything), but your honest friend will tell you that even if the two of you are meant to be together it sure ain’t happening anytime soon, so move on.

If this is the opinion you’ve accepted, you now have to deal head on with the fact that he is still in your life. Maybe even permanently depending on how good a friend he is. Odds are, he’s a great friend. A great person. A loyal boyfriend. Always giving you positive feedback and confidence boosts just when you need them and making you feel needed at exactly the right times. Chances are he’s doing everything right all the time. This can be looked at as the reason why he’s so hard to be around (even in a virtual world). But this can also be the reason why you can continue to be his friend: he’s easy to support. You are, by definition of your obsession, in full support of his behavior as a friend.

You’ve got half of your role as a good friend down pat. But the other half? Not as simple. How do you find a way to be honest, without spilling your guts and sending him running in the other direction? The answer is painfully simple. The only real way to cope is to continue. And, at the risk of sounding cliché, eventually, something has got to give. Either you will find a way out of love, or he will find a way in. Nothing lasts forever. After all, you don’t have any posters of JTT on your wall now, do you? You will eventually move on, and as long as you remain a true friend, you can’t lose. Be thankful that you don’t have the kind of friendship that allows you to dish about your love lives to each other. What could be more painful than hearing how well things are going for him with someone else? And if you do have that kind of friendship, be thankful it’s not you he’s complaining about to his friends.

If honesty is the other half of your friendship role, then be honest about your desire to be his friend. Give him honest advice and support. Let yourself have honest relationships with those around you so you can stop neglecting potential new friendships. Remember that once upon a time, his was a new friendship too.

So before you go suspending your online accounts because his cyber presence is too much for you to bear, try to see the bigger picture. You can’t spend your entire semester coming in late to your U.S. History class. What you can do is enjoy the view as you pass his locker, and then get ready to pay attention in class, because history is bound to repeat itself.