Incoherent Ramblings

Well, last night I decided I was gonna get a little fancied up.  I took off my glasses and wore contacts, did my hair up pretty good and curly.  It must have looked good because I got lots of compliments and people kept wanting to touch it.  I even put on some make up, did the smokey eye.  I had on a nice satin and lace top, some jeans that did my juicy booty some justice.  Oh hell! I even busted out some cute heels and had my pedicured toes out. I thought I looked pretty presentable.

When I got to Hunter Gatherer last night my friends all yelled my name, clapped and hooted.  HOT DAMN!  I have decided I want to be greeted in this manner at all times! I might even look into getting a guy to walk around with a boom box with my theme song belting out (like i Kentucky Fried Movie).  I was told I looked like a hot mama.  Sally and Crystal agreed, were they lesbians, they’d fuck me.  I took this as a good sign.

We progressed to Art Bar.  More compliments and hair touching. I started on the road to drunkenness helped in large part by Rhett and Stephen and various other of my mo posse.  I was talking to Mett, and I put my eyeball on a cute boy.  I told Mett he was cute, so I started giving him the eye.  You know, the make eye contact, hold it, then look away.  Repeat as necessary.  Well, later that night (after a couple of shots with the mo posse, I decided to ask the friends who were with Cute Glasses Tattoo Boy  what his name was.  They told me it was Travis, and made sure I knew he was straight. Shortly thereafter we starting chatting.  It turns out that Travis is only 24!!  OHMYGOD. Even in my drunken haze I thought. “This boy is too young, even for you”.  We chatted some, and exchanged digits.  I gave him a peck of a kiss (no tongue, people! Get your minds out of the gutter!) He took his sister home.  In the light of sobriety, albeit of the slightly hungover variety, I realized, you can not play with this boy.  He is too shy and nice, and quite possibly a virgin. I had decided to let him know I thought I was too old for him.  Luckily, he never called!! wooohoo!

Now Jill tells me this means I have to get fancy much more often.  I contend that if I am feeling frisky ( a nice word for “horny”), and I set my eyes on someone, I can usually follow through. Sometimes it’s not worth it because I am not looking to fuck someone. That could be accomplished any night of the week.  I want to actually be dating someone if I am having sex with them.  I have been known to do otherwise, but rarely. 

And of course, I don’t want to break Webb’s heart.

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Lately I have been wanting a boyfriend.  I am not the kind of girl who always has to have a boyfriend.  I really like having a boyfriend, but I don’t NEED to have one. I never have. My sister is the opposite.  she was always dating someone.  I haven’t dated someone in about 5 years.  I miss having a man to do things with.  And I don’t mean sex, well not JUST sex.  If I wanted to have sex, I am pretty sure I could have sex. 

What I really miss is the little intimacies that come with dating someone.  I miss the looks that you give each other, and the other person knows what you’re thinking.  I miss the cuddling on the sofa on days like today.  I miss the days when you lay around in bed naked all day, napping, watching tv, making love, napping some more.  I miss the pats on the butt when you pass each other.  My ex-boyfriend Bryan always patted me on the butt as a show of affection.  Once, after we had been broken up for several months, we were hanging out with a bunch of our friends and drinking.  We were playing pool, and when I walked by he patted me on the butt.  I nearly cried because I really missed that. I told him, you lost the right to do that.  He knew that I was right. 

I miss goofy nicknames for each other.  I miss buying silly little treats for each other.  I miss cooking dinner together and watching movies.  I miss going out to bars or parties but knowing that he is keeping one eye on me to make sure I am okay or that no one is makin’ any moves.    I miss kissing. I miss skinny dipping.  I miss going camping and making love outside under the stars.  I miss having conversations with men who aren’t gay, married or like a brother.  I miss watching basketball games together. I miss going to the movies and holding hands.  I miss those moments after you’ve made love where you lay there spent and tired, but laughing and talking.  I miss going on trips and laughing and singing. Those are the things I miss the most.  Of course I miss making love with someone who knows me and loves me and cares about how the experience is going to be for both of us, not just him. 

So, please don’t offer to fuck me because I say I haven’t had sex in a year.    Know that the sex isn’t what I am missing.  (Okay, I DO miss it, but I miss other things more)  Please don’t think that just because I want a boyfriend that makes me in some way weak or pitiful.  I don’t feel pitiful. I feel like I want someone to share intimate moments with.  I feel like that’s normal.  I am not going to compromise.  I am not going to go out with someone just to have some company.  I am not going to drop my panties because I am horny, and you think you have some smooth moves.

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(Originally posted 12/06, reposted because it seems pertinent to the predicament i am in once again) 

I have been thinking about this whole crazy thing called romance.  Well, not necessarily “romance”, more like mate finding.  Here in Columbia there was a recent article on dating in your 30s and how it differs from dating in your 20s, etc.  A friend of mine and I were talking also about how now, when you start dating someone, you can’t just go about it all hedonistically.  You find yourself, whether intentionally or not, thinking about this person’s long term potential.  You think about things like how he doesn’t ever want to marry or have kids.  You might be thinking he is way too into his career to be a good family man, or on the opposite end, he is too irresponsible and doesn’t have any professional goals.  When I was in my 20s I thought, wow, he’s hot.  Or, he is funny, whatever. I didn’t care if he was a waiter or a student.  I didn’t even consider if he ever wanted to get married or have kids.  Honestly, I can say, personally, I don’t really care what someone does for a living.  I would rather the person I marry be happy with what he is doing, regardless of what it is.  Would I love for him to be loving his high-powered job that offered him freedom on nights and weekends with a hefty salary and generous vacation plan? Hell yeah!  Heck, I want that for ME! 

I know that I am not the only person who thinks about these things.  I am sure men have their own set of worries when they start dating a woman: Will she be a good mom?  Will she keep giving me blow jobs after we’re married?  Can she cook?  Does she fuck like a porn star and can still teach Sunday school? You know, the important things.

Of couse we all also have qualifications for our “lovers” and “suitors”. There are certain physical and personality  characteristics that we are attracted to or that we find repulsive.  We don’t always adhere to these strictly, not all of us.  I mean, I prefer tall dark-haired men who don’t smoke. Have a I dated shorter guys? Yes.  Have any of them had light-colored hair? Sure.  Have they smoked?  Unfortunately.  But they were great guys, and I might have missed out on something if I had passed them up.  Of course nothing came of these romantic liaisons, but they were fun while they lasted.  I did do the breaking up.  I am a “breaker upper”.  I don’t like to do it either. I am a nervous wreck and in knots. It literally takes me weeks to end a relationship.  I don’t like to break up at the holidays because that seems so mean.  Then I tell them, oh, let’s only spend $20 on each other this year.  Inevitably, they don’t listen. When I was in college, and even as far back as high school, I would like a guy, like a guy then when he’d like me back, I’d get bored and start ignoring him until he went away.  That was my MO. All my friends knew it.  “Kim, just tell that boy you don’t like him anymore.”  “You need to quit ignoring him”.  Eventualy they all figured it out.  Of course I was foolish and immature.  Now I am confident enough to say, you’re a jackass or drug addict or loser or alcoholic or whatever and i don’t want to date you anymore.

I think what would make all of this much simpler is if we had a store to go to, and we could just do a little check list of qualities we wanted in our mate.  We turn the list over to a young lady or gentleman, who checks the inventory and brings you some possible choices for your mate.. 

TALL, FUNNY, EMPLOYED, SMART, LIKES KIDS AND OLD PEOPLE, NO RACIST TENDANCIES, LIKES TO DANCE, READ AND COOK, ENJOYS MOVIES, HIKING, CAMPING AND WATCHING TELEVISION, HAS NO HOMOPHOBIC INCLINATIONS, IS NOT A LIAR OR A CHEAT, OF STRONG MORAL FIBER, GOOD COMMUNICATOR (THANKS FOR THE REMINDER CURT!),  DEMOCRAT WITH SLIGHT REPUBLICAN LEANINGS WHEN DEALING WITH CRIME AND PUNISHMENT, VOTES, ENJOYS TRAVELING, LIKES BASKETBALL, ISN’T SENSITIVE TO MY SARCASTIC REMARKS, BUT IS SENSITIVE TO MY INSECURITIES AND SLIGHT JEALOUS STREAK, FINDS MY QUIRKS ENDEARING RATHER THAN ANNOYING. 

Miss Finney, here’s a sample of men who meet your qualifications.  Choose the one you like and you’re on your way to mate-hood.  Thanks for shoppign at Mate-Mart.

I know many of you are thinking, uh, Kim, this is called a dating service.  NO!  Not a dating service.  Once you make your choice, you two are stuck with each other.  So you better choose prudently!  Don’t go for the guy with the best smile, check out his credentials on that pamplet they gave you.  Just because she has big boobs, doesn’t mean she’s the one!  Read over her qualifications as a mother and wife in her brochure.  This system does remind me of when I was in high school, we all filled out these little questionnaires and then they ran our names through the computer and we got a printout of the top ten matches for you in the school.  Then we all ran around to see if they matched up.  Like, was I “Tom’s” number one match too?   

Maybe my perfect match is Justin or Matthew.  Okay, probably not.  But I could go in with my list and browse the aisles, Men could come in and check out the females available as well.  Of course we wouldn’t OWN our mates. Payment would merely be a finders fee for the company.  Kind of like a realtor.  “Hey, I am looking for a three bedroom colonial style home in the Shandon area”.  Great, let’s check our inventory.

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(Oringially posted November, 2006.  I am reposting it because of a journal question I had for my students today about girls asking guys out. I was remined of this blog.)

 This is something I have had several conversations with different people of both genders over the past few weeks.  Dating is dead.  People just don’t seem to date anymore. 

The act of courtship and wooing has disappeared.  A lot of my friends, married and dating, are together only after having “hooked up” or slept together several times, and therefore become a couple by default. 

Dating is a lost art.  Picnics in the park.  Drive in movies.  The theater.  Basketball games.  Hockey games.  Walking in the park.  Coffee.  Drinks (no, not getting drunk in a bar). Dessert.  Cooking dinner for each other.  It seems now that dating comes AFTER sex and the hook up.  We do these things once we are already intimately involved with someone.  We aren’t dating in the same way I guess.  We are still dating, just in a backwards manner.

I have several theories on why dating is dead.  One is that the sexual freedom experienced by both sexes has altered our methods of courtship.  No longer does the man feel it is necessary to take a woman to dinner, or the movies.  Heaven forbid he come up with something more creative.  I am sure florists and jewelers have taken a hit, except for the guilt flowers and jewelry.  I can’t tell you the last time I went on a genuine date.  I think it was with The Canadian.  We went for ice cream.  I hate ice cream, but I got a smoothie.  That was about two years ago. 

Theory Two.  Women are financially and socially independent these days.  It’s not like it was in the 50s when we HAD to rely on men for dates because we didn’t have our own money, or it was improper for us to go into bars and clubs unaccompanied.  We have our own independence and money so we can go where we please and buy what we please, including flowers and jewelry.  Dinner and movies. 

Theory Three.  This is a theory I did not come up with on my own.  Men have become emasculated by women.  You read about this in the media all the time. Why should they become emasculated?  Because we have OPINIONS??  Because we have JOBS??  Malarkey.  This is just a cop out to get out of footing the bill for dinner. 

Men and women have found it too easy to go out, get drunk and go home with each other.  It is much easier than dating.  Dating is HARD.  hell relationships are hard, so you know getting to one is! Keeping up your end of the conversation.  What?  HARD!  Not spilling spaghetti sauce on your white blouse.  For me, that’s REALLY hard.  Worrying about who is going to pay.  Another dilemma that has been the topic of many conversations over my lifetime.  It is much easier to get drunk, go home with someone you would actually LIKE to date and get to know better, and then you can blame your behavior on the bottle.  Or the beer goggles.

I think it’s sad that dating has fallen by the wayside, except for high school kids.  Hell, even they use the hook up method of courtship.  I would love to be wooed and courted.  Have love letters written to me.  Now all we have is drunken texting, dialing and emailing.  Not much of a trade. 

Have women made it to easy for the men because of our own physical desires?  We like sex, too.  We also like having dinner bought for us, flowers sent to us, little notes to let us know you’re thinking about us.  We can’t help it.  Even the most feminist of us still are women and more sentimental and emotional by nature.  Would it really kill you to treat us to a meal once in a while?  I mean we read magazines to learn better techniques in oral sex, bedroom maneuvers; we spend oodles of money on cute panties and sexy bras.  Does our effort not warrant some sort of reward other than a couple of quick drunken thrusts and then the inevitable pass out and snoring?  I know we women aren’t perfect.  I love to buy my man gifts.  I have spent more money on boyfriends than I care to think about.  I do it because I want to though. I want them to feel special and loved.  Is it wrong that I want that, too? I think not! 

I would put a ban on myself against drunken hook ups, but it would fruitless.  As many of us already know, dating in Columbia is dead.  I might as well get some good kissing out of it.

I guess it all goes back to my desire to meet a man like George Bailey.  I fear I will die waiting.

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