Underneath my yellow skin

Tag Archives: normal

I can’t eat the sandwiches

Today, Alison from Ask A Manager wrote a post about why you need to attend your company’s holiday party even if you really, really don’t  want to. She gave advice as to how to deal with it, and it was solid as always. She makes good points, and if I worked in an actual office, I would–still not go.

Here’s why. One, the title of this post is based on another AAM post. If I remember correctly, it was about how to plan food for the office in a thoughtful manner. Someone suggested sandwiches, and someone said not everyone can eat sandwiches. Which people took great umbrage at because they thought the person was just being difficult. I think that person was being difficult, but in general, I actually cannot eat the sandwiches. Unless there is gluten-free bread.

Another tihng Alison has doen in the past is mention that most people want money for their Christmas gift (from the company). By far. Money. You would be surprised how many people push back on that because it’s not really a gift in the sense of it’s legal tender.

Look. Give. Me. Money. People are terrible at getting me gifts for more that one reason. One, I’m just a freak who is not interested in normal people things. Plus, with all my allergies, I can’t eat many things. This is related to the gift-giving thing that Alison writes about. There are many people in the comments who think that it’s the thought that counts. Well, yes, but if the thought is ‘you don’t count’, then what’s the point? Every suggestion people had, I could not use. Well, almost every. Chocolate? Has milk. cheese platter? All dairy. Cakes, cupcakes, cookies, pie? Gluten. Foodwise, I can eat meat and I can eat nuts, and I can eat fruits. So give me any or all of those.

Candles? Allergic. Soap/lotion? Same. Clothing? Also probably allergic. Well, depending on the material. Wool is bad. Feathers are bad. Synthetic is fine.

As for alcohol, I don’t drink it–and I’m allergic to alcohol, anyway. I don’t contribute to these convos because it’s so tiring, but someone defended alcohol saying people could give it away if they didn’t  want it. One, why should I have to give away a gift for me? And nothing says I’m valued like a gift I can’t use. Two, some people can’t have alcohol in the house. I can, but I would prefer not to. Three, it’s a pain in the ass to pass it on. I don’t have anyone nearby who drinks wine (which is what’s usually given away). Beer I could pass on, but it’s still something I have to do that I would prefer not to do.

So. Let’s take this to an office party. I can’t eat anything there. Miss me with asking for special food because I have read enough AAM to know that even if you ask, the chances of getting exactly what you want is slim to none. I have a Kind bar in my purse for that reason, but it’s not enough to last a whole night.

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Being normal

I can usually pass for fairly normal if I keep my comments fairly bland. I’m talking about in the gen pop.  I know I’m a weirdo, but I am always finding new ways in which I’m the outlier.

For example, there was a question on Ask A Manager today in which the letter writer (LW) had in enteraction with their colleague that left a sour taste in the LW’s mouth. The way they wrote the question made it seem like it was a matter of business jargon of their company (and they were new). Alison and most of the commenters fixated on this. Alison did address another part of the question (the colleague said he wished the LW treated their colleagues the way they did external customers. When the LW gave an admittedly terrible answer about learning about using a customer voice at business school (sigh), the colleauge said to think of them as internal customers. The LW got stuck on the term, saying they learned ‘internal stakeholders’ and replied, “I’m good, thanks.”

Which, ouch. They go on to say their boss had overheard the whole exchange and how could they make sure their boss didn’t think they were entitled? They added they had gone to college and their boss and colleauges hadn’t (as a reason they think their boss might think they’re entitled). They also said at the beginning of their letter that all their colleagues and boss had worked at the same company together prior to this job.

As I said, Alison focused on the terminology and the fact that the LW was a new person trying to school her colleagues. And the LW got excoriated in the comments. Which surprised the hell out of me.

Now, let me be clear. I don’t think the LW handled the situation well, but I had a radically different interpretation of the events. A few people touched on it in the comments, but they were ignored or shouted down.

First, I will admit that I had no idea about internal customers and internal stakeholders (which I kept thinking was ‘shareholders’ as a German commenter said in the comments–I mean that she kept thinking that, too), so the whole letter was hard to follow. But once I wrapped my head around that, this was my thoughts.

Oh, by the way, it’s amusing to me how mnay people in the comments were so quick to decry college (and higher education) while simultaneously making it very clear that they had the same degrees. But it meant nothing! It didn’t help them at all! Which is probably true for some of them, but they still made sure to mention they had the education.

Side tangent: It’s like in the letters about people getting colleagues to interview their kids for jobs. The people making these comments are so careful to point out that all they do is tell their colleagues about their kids, but their kids do everything else so it’s not that huge a leg up!

Sure. If that’s the case, then don’t do it. I mean, if it’s not really a privilege, then you can take it away with no problem, right? I’m not saying they shouldn’t give their kids a leg up. Why the hell wouldn’t you? I just hate that they’re being disingenuous about it. Same with the college thing. Oh, it doesn’t mean you’re better or that it’s worth anything–but let me be very clear that I, too, have it!

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Not quite disability and frustration because of it

One of the things that frustrates me in the RKG Discord is how people keep saying that the From games aren’t hard. This has become the new mantra: The games aren’t hard; you just have to be thoughtful when you play them.

I want to say right up front that this may be true for some people. There are people who are naturally good at these games. There is one guy in the Discord who rarely dies to a boss. He’s also nineteen or twenty with lightning-fast reflexes. I think he died to the Guardian Ape 8 times in Sekiro and that may be the most times he died to a From boss. When I was doing the plat for Bloodborne, he decided to do the DLC once and for all. The game came out when he was 12 and he could not get past Ludwig, the first boss in the DLC.

He chose the Hunter Axe in honor of me chasing the plat. He was taking notes of how and when he died as he went. They were really funny because they were like ‘guy with big head knocked me off the staircase’. Accurate and hilarious. He one-shot all the bosses in the DLC except the last one–which he two-shot. All in all, he died something like fourteen times in a brutal DLC. I probably died that many times to the first boss–or would have if I hadn’t summoned Valter (NPC) to help me out.

It was cool that he used the Hunter Axe in honor of my plat run, but it was also a bit deflating that he did it so easily with a weapon he’d never used before. And the fact that he decimated the DLC was mind-blowing to me. It turns out, though, that this was just par the fourse for him. He was a legend in the Discord for how easily he romped through all the previous games.

There are a couple other people in the Discord who are nearly as good as him at these games. Then, there are those who are very good, but not god tier. Then there are those who are decent at the games. Then, several rungs down, there is me.

I am terrible at the games. Ian and I have had this argument many times. He thinks the games are made for people like me–because I have to work to beat them. I disagree. I say that I am not the target demo because most people in my position would have given up long before I did. I don’t know why I kept going when it was so damn hard every step of the way. Probably because I’m a stubborn bitch and contrary to boot.

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Free your mind…if you can

I have talked before about how I reach the end of things and then decide that I need to move on. It’s not a good or a bad thing; it’s just the way I am. Meaning that I get bored with things if they don’t change.

I had a Taiji class today (Zoom), and we were going over a movement that is in the first section of the Solo (Long) Form. In other words, the very beginning of the my studies. It has been refined and tweaked, but I’ve been doing it for fifteen years. Back before the pandemic, I was teaching myself the left side of the Solo Form, and made it to roughly two-thirds into the third section. In other words, one-third from the end. My teacher’s teacher was tinkering with the form, and he was changing so much at that point that I decided to put it on hold until he finished.

Theoretically, I understood that it wasa living form. Theoretically, it was exciuting that he kept changing it. My teacher said that when he was taking lessons from the masters, they  were changing t on the regular and just expected people to keep up. Which, fine, but that’s not the way I work. Especially when I was trying to teach myself the left side.

Then, I became focused on the weapons and then, the pandemic hit. It’s only in the last six months or so that my teacher has been teaching us the new Solo Form. It’s mostly the same, and my brain is not remembering the differences. I’ll need my teacher to go over them with me in my private lessons, but I’m happy that A) It’s been refined and B) It’s settled, more or less.

I’ve been in a rut for the last few months, and I’ve decided to shake things up. Now, I’m focusing on refining the forms I know, but also on working on my upper body strength. I need to keep things spicy enough that I don’t get bored, but comfortabl e enough for me not to feel overwhelmed.

I have a weird way of doing that. I stick with what I know for a bit too long, and then I rush to do ten new things. I do wonder if I have ADHD or at least the traits. I tend to hyper-focus on something until i get bored, and then i move on. This is with groups, hobbies, and, sadly to say, people. Not that i need a person to be constantly evolving because I sure am not, but I do need a person to be at least open to the idea that there is more out there than they know. In other words, that they are willing to learn something.

My brother has an ex-friend who is a dedicated Republican. They became friends back when he was a Republican (in name) and worked at the same place I think. She was really rightwing and said to him straight up that the truth didn’t matter. If the Republicans said it, then she believed it. He did not know what to do with it, and he wanted to talk about it from time to time. He wanted to know why she thought that way because he could not fathom it.

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A harsh reminder

I’ve been gluten-free/dairy-free for….four years? Five? Something like that. I would not suggest you quit both dairy and gluten cold turkey in one day, but that’s just how I roll. Here’s an interesting fact about testing for celiac–you have to actually be eating gluten for six weeks in order to be tested. I asked my doctor about it years after I had gone GF. She said I had to get back on the gluten–and there was no way I was doing that. I decided that me knowing I could not eat gluten without an official diagnosis was good enough for me. To be clear, I don’t think I have celiac because–huh. Wait. I’m reading a list of symptoms and excessive diarrhea (sorry) is one of them. So are cramping and bloating.

I thought it had to be even more severe than that. Oh, there are other things that happen with celiac that doesn’t with gluten intolerance, but I don’t know which I have. More to the point, I’m not going to go back on gluten to get tested. I do fine with just avoiding gluten, so I might as well just do that.

The one restaurant on DoorDash that has GF and/or DF labeled is an Indian restaurant. Their curry is nothing to write home about, but their chicken pakora is great. And they opened another restaurant that has idli and vada, both of which are tasty. However, the last order I got caused me to sit on the toilet, on and off, for seven hours last night. I know it’s the chicken pakora, and it has to be cross-contamination. I always order two portions of it. The first day I ate it, it was a mild burn, but no big deal, so I figured it was just a trace contamination.

The second day (yesterday), however, it was a completely different story. Maybe I ate from the second container? At any rate, I felt it immediately and I was running to the bathroom every fifteen to twenty minutes. And, not to be too graphic (but I’m going to be, anyway), but I was shitting my brains out. I didn’t think I had that much excrement in me.

The last time I accidentally ate gluten was when I wasn’t paying attention at the grocery store. I bought regular macaroni rather than the gluten-free version. Then spent six hours on the toilet (on and off in fifteen minute increments).

This time, it was seven hours, but each episode wasn’t as bad as it was with the macaroni. Which, in a weird way is even more irritating. Here me out. When each episode is big, at least it’s its own thing. When it’s run to the toilet every fifteen minutes for a minute, that’s not enough time to be meaningul, but then it’s hard to get back into whatever I was doing.

The sad part is that now I can’t order from this restaurant any longer. I’m sure some people would say to call the restaurant, but nope. Trust is gone. Eevn if they reassured me that this would never happen again, I would not trust them to hold to that.

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My particular brand of neurospicy

For the first twenty years of my life, I felt like I was an alien without the manual for being human. Part of that  was because I was the kid of two immigrants who did not want to be in America. Or rather, one of them did not  want to be, and he was the king of the castle. We had very little interaction with American culture as my parents spoke Taiwanese at hom (to each other, but not to my brother and me), had only Taiwnaese friends, and did not watch any American TV. We did not go to the movies or listen to the radios. My father demanded Taiwanese food, and my brother and I wanted American food. We preferred pizza, mac and cheese, and the like.

Side note: My favorite part about church was that we went to a fast food restaurant afterwards. Usually McDonald’s or Burger King, but sometimes arby’s or Wendy’s. Then, for one glorious meal, I could eat a delicious Big Mac or a chicken parm (at BK) or a roast beef sandwich without being shamed for it.

Side note II: For decades, I thought my mother liked cole slaw and always gave her mine when we went to Kentucky Fried Chicken. Turns out she did not, but she felt she had to eat it because she did not want it to go to waste.

I did not realize that I was also just…diffreent. I didn’t think of things in the way other people did, but I didn’t know why or how to correct it. For example, other girls liked to play with dolls; I never did. I like stuffed animals because you could cuddle them and they felt squicshy and comforting. I didn’t realize until much later that this was because of my sensory issues, but I always felt better after hugging a plushie.

I also felt as if other kids were talking to each other in a language I could not undrestand. I remember going through the motions and hoping that no one would notice that I did not know what the hell I was doing. I basically shut up and didn’t say anything that would make me a target.

In addition, my father had a weird idea of what was supposed to be kept ‘secret’. The example I always give is when I was a kid, he and my mother were out playing tennis with some friends. Another woman from church called and asked for my father. I said that he was playing tennis with some friends and thought nothing of it.

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I aM hUmAn

I was talking yesterday about being able to fit in (which I can to  certain degree). And just about societal norms in general and how being the weirdo means that I’m expecing things to be suited to me. The upside to that is that I’m rarely taken by surprise when something terrible happens. I know that always being prepared for the worst-case scenario is probably not the most healthy thing in the world, but it does stop me from being as shattered as other people by things like the pandemic.

Here’s a little secret–the pandemic wasn’t terrible for me. It wasn’t great, mind, but it wasn’t terrible. I’m mostly a solitary person, anyway. The biggeset adjustment was attending Taiji classes online rather than in person. Oh, and since my medical crisis, I only attend one a week rather than three. I do want to start adding them back, but I haven’t been up for it yet.

I will say that I have been expanding my home practice quite a bit. Back when I first started taking classes, I had one a week. I could not make myself practice at home, not for love or money. That’s why I added a second class, to be honest. If I wasn’t going to practice at home, then I could at least make myself go to another class.

I can’t remember if I added the third class first or started practicing at home. I do remember that when I did start a home practice, it was only five minutes of stretches. It was sa weird that while I loved Taiji, I just could not force myself to practice at home.

It’s funny because I really had to make myself do anything related to Taiji in the beginning. It’s partly beacuse I had a horrific first experience with a teacher who was a sexual predator, a creep, and a fraud. That’s a long story that I no longer care to discuss, but it made me wary about my second go at it.

I was a brat, I’ll admit. In the beginning, I mean. I questioned everything my teacher told me, and I wasn’t always polite about it. I was raw and ready for a fight–and she was really patient with me. See, one of the issues I had with my first teacher was that he was full of shit. He had all these really lofty sentiments, but he did not live up to them. Also, he was creep. I can’t overstate this point. He creeped on his students and he was very inappropriate. He gave this big speech about how intuitive he was and how he would not touch people who did not want to be touched. Yeah, right. He touched me without permission, which as a Taiji teacher, I might have tolerated except he had JUST made a big deal about not doing that.

When someone does something that goes against what they explicitly said they were about, that’s a huge red flag. I stayed with him only because I had a good friend at the time who was so into the classes. I should have walked, but I felt protective of this friend. We had bonded over trauma, and I could not in good conscious leave him to the teacher I so clearly saw as a predator.

Until the day that the teacher as we were talking, reached over and flicked my hair behind my shoulder. My whole body recoiled in revulsion, though I kept my face perfectly still. I’m really good at that. Not reacting externally, I mean. The reason I reacted so violently (internally) is because it was so needless. At least with the  other times, it was barely excusable because it was with the intent of adjusting my posture during a movement/position. In this case, it was purely something you did to flirt with someone, and it felt so invas-ive.

I walked out of that class and never went back. I found out later that he was not paying taxes on the house he owned because he was claiming it was a church while he rented out rooms to his students. My friend was doing his accounting, and the others were doing various jobs for him.

In addition, he was dating a student. He was in his mid-to-late forties, and she was 27. Not that the ages mattered, but it was really gross. He was just a gross guy in general, and I remember that when he went bonkers for the movie The Matrix. He gushed on and on about how it embodied the soul of Taiji and how it’s important to step out of ‘the matrix’.

I was rolling my eyes as he was talking. Even though I had not seen the movie, I knew the basics of it–and it was hard to believe it was that deep. Also, it was easy for him to say that it was important to be outside society (above it, I think he said) and not get involved with politics and such.

I wanted to punch him in the face. “Politics” is often a code word for social issues that don’t affect me when people like him say it. He was acting like he was above it all, which, again, easy for him as a white straight man.

I found out later that he started dating someone from a Caribbean island and started smuggling drugs into the  States fraom said island. It did not surprise me in the least. Also, that ex-friend started teaching his own classes and dating a student in his class. That wasn’t why we stopped being friends, but it certainly did not help. He was following in the footsteps of his mentor/teacher, and I was not here for it.

In addtion, he wasn’t even a good teacher. The mentor, I mean. I was in a basic class, and in the year I studied with him, he did not teach us more than half the Solo Form. He claimed it was because there were new people always starting, but that didn’t make sense. I mean, yes, there were new people starting, but those of us who weren’t new were students, too.

By the way, I finally saw The Matrix many years later. It was a decent action film with hotties, Keanu, Carrie-Anne, and Laurence. At least the eye candy was filling, even if the content was very light. But then at the end of the movie, Keanu dies and Carrie-Anne kisses him to bring him back to life. I stood up in the theater I was in and loudly announced that was bullshit. My then-boyfriend pulled me back down in my seat and murmured at me to hush. Fortunately, there were only like four people in the theater, but I was so indignant.

The whole movie is about being outside the matrix and living an authentic life. It’s about resisting society and breaking all the rules. So what do they do to resolve a plot point? Dredge up the hoariest chestnut of all time and have a kiss be the answer to all the problems.

I was done with that movie, and it just underlined how much of a crock my first Taiji teacher was. No idea how I got here, but I’m done for now.

Wish I may, wish I might

When I was little, I had no dreams for the future. Mostly because I didn’t think I had one, nor did I really want to live. I just made my way through each day, hanging on until the end. Oh, wait. I had one dream. That was to be an actor. I loved to perform and would jump off the coffee table, yelling, “Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches!” as I threw my arms in the air. No idea why. But then I never saw anyone who looked like me on TV except for the extras in M*A*S*H (which I hated, by the way), so I sadly concluded that there was no place in the business for me.

I did do some theater when I was in high school and in my twenties. The latter was with Theater Mu, which was the first regional Asian American theater. It was a great experience, but the company itself had a lot of issues. I did some solo performing after that in which I wrote, directed, practiced, and performed the pieces all by myself. That was great because I like being in control. It’s funny because my most memorable one had me stripping to my undies in front of a hundred or so women, and it was exhilirating. It wasn’t prurient, mind, but a piece about finding out who you really were.

I gave up on it in my thirties. No real reason. Well, if I were to be brutally honest, gaining weight probably had something to do with it. Plus, Taiji. Once I started doing that, I did not really feel compelled to go back to performing. Now, however, I have the urge to do it again.

It was my first love, and only now do I have the confidence to do it. Hm. I was just thinking that if I want to do videos (not want, but have to because blogging is dead), then I can combine the two. Performing and video, I mean. I’ve seen people do what I would call sketch comedy for their content creation, which is interesting.

Many of the people who do it aren’t that good at it, but that doesn’t seem to matter. I’ts personality-driven, and it’s peppy perky that people seem to like–when it comes to women. With men, it’s shouting a lot. Loudly. With many hand gestures. It’s fucking annoying.

Side note: I find it discouraging that in the year of our pleasure, 2023, diversity still is not considered important for many content creators. I watch a lot of British content creators, which I like in general, but they are not exactly up on diversity. There’s a popular cooking channel that I used to be subscribed to called Sorted. But, given their stubborn refusal to have anyone but white dudes on, well, I’m done. Yes, occasionally, there’s a white woman or a man of color, but it’s so rare. One of thein staff chefs is now a man of color, but he acts like one of the lads. They have a series in which they try to cook a burger in less than ten minutes. Each guy made his best burger and they’ve invited guest chefs to do the same. They’ve had half a dozen plus the original four staff members and no women. That’s when I quit watching them completely.

Many minorities don’t like the token minority because that one minority often doesn’t feel real. I agree, but at the same time, if there isn’t even a token minority, then that means the company/people in charge aren’t even thinking about it. That’s how I feel with Sorted. They don’t even think about having diversity. Seriously. Ten dudes (all but one white) making burgers. They couldn’t think of one woman they could ask?

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What’s in a name?

Today, two of the letter I’ve read have had to do with names. Or rather, one was an update on Ask A Manager about noames while the other was about something completely diffirent, but the Slate commenters made merciless fun of the names used.  And they weren’t even that odd. One was an unusual spelling of a common name and the other was more of a last name, but it still wasn’t that strange.

There were so many comments about the names. So. Many. It really annoyed me. I will admit that I’m sensitive to names because mine is weird and has been mispronounced so many times. I have to give a friendly mnemonic for it, “Minna as in Minnesota” which really helps. It’s funny, though. My name is strange, yes, but it’s not that weird if you look at it logically. Words like dinner and winnow get the ‘inn’ part just fine. Throw an ‘M’ in the front and an ‘ah’ at the end like any other name that ends with ‘a’, and you’re good.

If you’re Taiwanese, then it’s pronounced ‘Mee-NAH’, said very rapidly. My parents call me that, so any white people who have heard them say it that way call me that, but with no tonal accents to it–which is really weird! I barely recognize it as my name.

South Asian people pronounce it more like Meh-na with no accent. Then, there are the people who for some unfathomable reason think it’s Myna, like the bird. WHich, WHAT??? That is not on. At all.

Back in the day, I would correct people. I did not want Westerners calling me anything but the first one. It was my American name, and I wanted people to learn it. It’s not really that hard though it’s not a name you hear often. Or ever. I never could find anything with my name on it. No little license plates or key rings or anytihng else. I hated my name when I was a kid because it was so weird. Other kids made fun of it and nobody could pronounce it correctly.

I got an endless string of Minneapolis, Minnesota, Minnetonka, and every other iteration. And my favorite–Minnesota Fats. By favorite, I mean, fuck you very much. I had a teacher I adored who made a joke about ‘Winna with Minna’. It was supposed to be a positive tihng, but of course, it kicked off the kids making other rhymes with my name that weren’t as positive.

The year before this, I tried to go by a shortened version of my middle name. Not even the most popular nickname for my common middle name, but a rarely-used one. My teacher that year was great as well. He used the name I requested he call me, but I never responded because I was not used to it. I went back to my given name soon after, and I was resigned to being made fun of for the rest of my life.

Then, I went to college at St. Olaf, where every other person had a name that was some version of Kris. Chris. Kristin, Kirsten, Christian, Krissie, Kristine, Christine, and every other permutation.

I love my name now. It’s strong, distinctive, and it works well in both cultures. It is a tribute to the state in which I was born, and it’s beautiful in both languages. I don’t care so much about how it’s pronounced these days. I know who I am, so whatever. Again, it’s not MYNA like the bird, but anything else is close enough.

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Being normal

In yesterday’s post, I talked about things that unwittingly push my buttons. Or rather, wittingly, but seemingly randomly. I know what it is, though. It’s me being understanding all over the place and not getting it in return. With every subject, I am in the invisible/ignored category. With race, it’s because I’m Asian. With sexuality, it’s because I’m bi.

By the way, that’s the default term I use to define my sexuality. I chose it thirty years ago, and it’s mostly been fine for me. If I had to use a word to dsecribe all my labels, it’s ‘fine’. FINE. Everything is fine, but none of it feels good. Taiwanese American is more than fine because it’s what I am. There is little wiggle room on that. Or rather, I could just call myself American, but in this case, I do feel like the second word is needed to explain more about me.

With my sexual identity, though, I would prefer just to call myself sexual if it didn’t sound so insufferably smug. It’s like the No Labels guys when they declared that was their new group. Just, ugh. I also don’t like all the hyperspecific labels like demisexual and sapiosexual. I tend to be the latter when I’m looking for a partner, but I am also a ‘fuck ’em and go’ person. I am good at sex. I am not as good at relationships, and it’s something I don’t want to work on.

By the way, dying twice has taught me that lesson. I have flaws. We all do. I have accepted the ones I don’t want to change or am not willing to change. I am a terrible partner for many reasons (much like I would have been a terrible parent. I was very much fine with that–still am), and I do not want to put in the effort to improve because I like being alone. Me and my cat, Shadow, I mean. I like not having to answer to someone else. I like the freedom to eat cereal at three in the morning if that’s what I wanted to do.

I have seen the compromises my friends have made to be in marriages/relationships. I don’t want to make them. I think it’s because I’m so used to being the person other people want me to be in relationships that I just don’t have it in me to do that for long periods of time. It’s the same as bras. Bear with me. Apparently, a female-presenting person going without a bra is still considered unprofessional (at work) by a big portion of women. Not men, but women. Women are often the worst upholders of toxic patriarchy. There are many reasons for this and it’s not part of the post, but my point is that nope. Not doing it. Not bras and not relationships.

I like sex with men. A lot. I like sex with women. Quite a bit. Not as much, but still quite a bit. I do not like being in a romantic relationship with a man. With a woman? I’ve only had one, and that was just as problematic. This was before I realized that there weren’t only two genders, btw.

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