Back in the mid-’90s, on Mad TV (a sketch show, like SNL), there was a series of skits called Lowered Expectations. It was a parody of dating ads, and–wow. I rewatched a bunch of them. It’s not as funny as I thought it was at the time. In fact, it’s pretty terrible. Which is too bad for me because I was predicating this post on them. But! I can still do my post without them or at least with just mentioning them in passing.
The premise was that you are a loser, but you still want to get dates. They had thousands of (poorly-made) videos of other losers, so let’s pair them up! The idea was a solid one, but unfortunately, they just relied on stereotypes and being offensive to so many different kinds of people in order to try to be funny.
Here’s my point, though. One piece of advice I used to get back when I was in my prime dating years was that as a female-shaped person, I could not afford to be too picky. You hear that a lot when you’re dating in your twenties–lower your standards because no one is perfect. And, the unspoken accompanying thought that it’s better to have any man (because it was usually aimed at het women) than to be on your own.
No one is perfect, that is true. If you are looking for someone who won’t even upset you or annoy you, you are going to be SOL. Fairy talse are just that–fairy tales. They are fantasy, not to be confused with reality. There is no happily ever after–and a relationship is hard work.
Whenever I read advice columns, the monogamy, long-term crowd is loud and proud. I have no issue with people who are monogamous, but most of them cannot fathom ethical nonmonogamy. THey are smug when a letter comes in that talks about a failed polyamorous relationship. Never mind that 90% of the letters are just about your ordinary, every day monogamous relationship woes–let’s point at the few letters from discontented polyamorous people to crow how it’s a failed type of relationship.
Let me be clear. I don’t think it’s for everyone. Hell, I don’t think it’s for most people. I do think that many people get jealous if their partners hook up with other people or have romantic relationships with other people, but a minority of people don’t.
When I was in college, I think my boyfriend was cheating on me with his ‘ex’ (long story). When I thought about it much later, I didn’t care about the being with her part–I only cared because he lied to me about it (and got me dating him on false premises. Or rather, he lied by omission). Much later, I was at a parter and chatting up a guy. We were getting along like gangbusters, and I was contemplating going home with him. Someone else casually mentioned that he had a wife, and I immediately was turned off. Had he told me himself, I might have hooked up with him, but because he was willing to lie (again, even if it was only by omission), I was out of there.
I don’t care if the person I’m having sex with is having sex with someone else. (As long as I know about it and it’s consensual, obviously.) I was dating a guy who was poly when we met. Ethical…not so much. I wasn’t, so he reluctantly agreed to be monogamous. He wasn’t happy. A few years in, he wanted to open up. I reluctantly agreed with some boundaries. We had to clear it with each other before actually going out with the other person. Fine. Whatever. I went out with two of my friends to a bar in the Mission District (in San Fran), and met the hottest guy i’d ever seen in my life. He was the bartender and looked like a young Mike Ness (Social Distortion)–which is completely my type. The bartender was even the rockabilly type. We hit it off, and he asked me out. I put in a call to my boyfriend, and he freaked the fuck out. He said I was breaking the rules, and I reluctantly turned down the bartender.
In retrospect, I should have banged the bartender, consequences be damned. My boyfriend wanted to open the relationship so HE could fuck around, not so I could. Which is very common, unfortunately–especially with dudes. He was threatened by the fact that I was extremely hot to trot for this bartender. I’m sure he envisioned me at home–oh, we lived in different states, so opening up the relationship made sense.
Rachel Maddow is my type. Any person who looks like her (of any gender) is going to get the eye from me. And, yes, Mike Ness reminds me of a rock Rachel Maddow. There was another bartender at a different bar, female, who had the same look. I was hot for her as well.
I was talking with K about this before. I don’t care about sex, but I would have difficulty if I had a partner who constantly prioritized someone else over me. Emotionally, I mean. If we’re just fuck buddies, that’s one thing. But if we’re primary partners, then I would expect more from them. But I also don’t want to give that to someone because it’s a lot of work.
At this point in my life, this is what I want. Someone who gets me on more than one level. I’m not expecting every level because that’s impossible. I’m not even expecing most levels because, well, that’s also nearly impossible. I need someone with a high intelligence and an even higher EQ. They don’t have to be equal to me, but they have to be close.
I was talking to K about how I still haven’t found a way to talk about my medical crisis without feeling weird about it. It’s not something anyone can relate to because there literally isn’t anyone who went through what I did. Survived a cardiac arrest? Sure. Survived a stroke? Also sure. Survived two cardiac arrests and a stroke in 20 minutes (not to mention walking (non-COVID-related) pneumonia)? Nope. MEDICAL PERSONNEL are telling me what a mirale I am. Without fail. The disbelief when I mention it is palpable. I can’t imagine how a layperson will react.
But, K’s right. It’s part of my history and my story. It has shaped me in ways I can’t even articulate. Dying twice (and coming back better than ever) has made a lasting impression on me. Body issues? Don’t matter. My body is boss. It got me through something that literally killed me twice without barely a scratch. The physical scars I have are from the needles they shoved into me on the regular. No heart surgery. No rehab. Just me walking out of the hospital two weeks later like I owned the place. Well, actually, I was wheeled to the front entrance and then I waddled my way into the car (but with little help!), but I walked into my house on my own accord.
I am positively arrogant about my body now. I have increased my Taiji practice and feel stronger than ever. I think I’m pretty damn cool, and anyone I date will have to be on the same page. I like spending my time alone (with Shadow, of course). Anyone I date will have to add to my general sense of well-being, which will be difficult to do.
When I was in my twenties and thirties, I approarched dating from the lacking viewpoint. Meaning, I felt I was lacking something and needed someonoe else to provide it for me. I was clingy and needy, and nothing was ever enough. I was a bad partner– I will fully admit it. It’s one reason I don’t date.
Now, I really just want someone I can chat with a bit and then fuck silly for hours. That really shouldn’t be too much to ask.