A Bad Man in a Bad Place

I've now watched all five seasons of Angel. I still prefer Buffy, but respect where respect is due, Angel was good. And the theme song is fucking haunting.

There. I said it. I will turn in my keys to the cool kids club now, and accept that I'm a big nerd.

Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

According to Mistress Matisse:

Catholics make the best perverts, and after that, Jews.

Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

I started this evening by proposing that I write a personal ad with the title "willing to settle." Now, instead, I am inspired. Inspired by Venus. Actually, inspired by something she said to me:

You are just coming out of your twenties and are coming into your own. Men become men in their 30's. Now, you must find a woman who is also at the same stage of life as you. A girl in her twenties is a twit, they dont know if they are coming or going. There are some exceptions but I am of the mindset that a woman closer in age to you is what you should be looking for.

A fair point.

Now, my inspiration is broader, actually, than just Venus. It's Lex and Les. It's Lauren and Alchamides. It's also my parents, married 40 years this December, and this post by Irina in New York. It's the blonde I saw on the M5 today, carrying her groceries, about whom I thought "man, it would be nice to have someone to cook for and split errands with and share with." That was unexpected. I also thought "and she looks tall enough to put her legs over my shoulders" but of course, what else was I suppose to think? It was the first time in a long time that I looked at a woman and thought "hmm, share a life?" and not just "hmm, shiny thing."

Now I realize what my problem is, what my problem was with Surfette, and where I'm going to next. My problem? I'm tired of random bar-fucks. I've had a fair number of takedowns in bars, probably my share and maybe yours too, and I realize that the problem with it is that it's like cotton candy sex. Sure, it can be fun and hot and drunken and addlebrained, but as those of you who have had them can attest, you get sick if you have too much and it makes you hyper and gets to be too much pretty quick. I crave something deeper.

And my problem with Surfette? She was a "check the box" girl - she checked the boxes of the things that I'm looking for in a woman and I thought "well hell, so this could be it." Ever meet someone and in their story you're one thing, but in yours they're another? Yeah, in Surfette's story I was the bar hookup. In mine, she was too, until I got to know her and realized she was awesome. Mistake. I knew it was a mistake when I was out there and I bought a t-shirt (at her instance) that read "what do you expect, we met at a bar" and she pointed out that I should wear it to the bar I met her at to pick up women with. Voila, our stories were too different to reconcile.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not done prowling, not completely. I'm still me. But it's exhausting and getting to be less fun as I get older. I feel like, uh... when a cow gets old and loses an eye, or its ability to be milked, the farmer takes it and puts it in a different pasture so it won't have to... fight...with the priests. No, that's not it. I feel not bored either. But I feel like something's missing in what I've been doing. It was fun and all when I was younger, but I'm not that man anymore. We learn, we change. If we didn't we'd still be pissing our diapers, and the only people I know who do that are people who pay Mistresse Matisse good money for the opportunity. We learn. We grow. Our needs change. Shiny things aren't what I need right now - I need one ultra shiny thing. Clearly, it's pretty key that in the bedroom she wants to submit, but not to anyone, but to someone worth submitting to.

It hit me tonight at around 11:30 when I was in Times Square blowing off steam after a very long and work-laden weekend. Tai Chi, a half dozen friends from college, and a handful of friends from work are all having kids. Not just getting married, they're married already. Having kids. Except TaiChi, but he's engaged, and I always thought he was slower than the rest. Which means that I'm fairly well behind. Now, it's not a race, but it IS something to think about - I don't want to be 60 when my first child is 20 if I can avoid it. But by the same token, I'm not looking to settle down just because "it's time." Tricky and complicated, no? But then, it's hard work being me.

So why am I telling you this? Because the Internet has been good to me so far, and I think that the Internet will continue to be good to me. I am looking to date. The question I pose is - can a sex blogger (or whatever category you place me in) find love and happiness? I know that it's the question we all ask ourselves. I'm asking it now too. Living in New York, balancing school and a fairly hardcore job, looking for love. I feel like so many others here, except that I have one secret weapon. And you're looking at it. Well, you probably can see it a little bit askance. It's you. You the reader. I need help. You've gotten to know the intimate side of me. Now, I admit that we bloggers all suffer from Online Personality Syndrome, but I can tell you that I've got friends who read this blog who hear no cognitive dissonance in the voice here and the voice they hear when I speak. One friend said the blog sounds "more like a writer" but otherwise is the same. This is me. I don't change myself for this place because until recently nobody knew who I was, and now that everyone who does does, I'm somehow not bothered.

Here's what I'm doing now. I'm asking for your help. I don't know what the outcome of it will be and I don't know what the mechanics will be, but I'm asking for your help. I am looking to date. Know someone who you think would like to date me? Send them my way. Have some advice on what I should do to change my life to make it more dating/settling down friendly and less bar-fucky? Bring it.

I've done internet dating, but I'd consider doing it again. I could, in fact, put up an anonymous personal ad for the "Bad Man" if you think it would help. Or write my dream-personal for what I'm looking for.

Yes, I'm aware of the Marry Blair stigma. Not going down that full-on route, I don't think. I have no idea where this is going to go. But it is, like most things I've done, an experiment. So. Hello Internet. Open to suggestions and anything else.

Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (0)

I've been swamped with work and school and life, sorry I haven't had time to post lately, I haven't even had time to go out for more than an hour a night, and usually that's to sip a club soda and go home to do more work.

So - here's a question for you, originally written in 2004.

When women go out to clubs and bars dressed in tube tops the width of a cigarette pack, are they:
A) Looking to get some action
B) Flaunting what they've got to tease men
C) Just dressing that way because they think they look good
D) Other

Question two:
Men - when you see a woman out in a club or bar dressed in a tube top the width of a cigarette pack, do you assume that they are:
A) Looking to get some action
B) Flaunting what they've got to tease you
C) Just dressing that way because they think they look good
D) Other

Kelcey wrote, in response to the original -

As a female, I would love to hear the answers, from both sides, to this question! I know for me it varies- if I'm in very good shape (yes, you can bounce quarters off my stomach at times) and I feel like it, then sometimes I'm dressed that way because I damn well feel like it and feel like flaunting it a bit. Sometimes it's because I'm looking for some action, but usually it's because that's what I felt like wearing. . . Did you put the responses, or some of them, to your question up somewhere?

Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)