dating adventures

The adventures continue…

Today my heart wanted to burst out of my body after I called the neighbor to see about meeting up today for drinks. She said she was excited for it… and I could hear it in her voice.

Ive got an hour to go before giving her a call and heading to her apartment, beer in hand. Im terrified and excited at the same time. I haven’t felt it all this strongly in a very very long time. Perhaps not since the first date with The Ex.

I did however go on the date with the woman from okcupid last night. She was nice, we had a good time talking.. but again no desire. and again shes a foot shorter than me. Soon I will probably have to figure out how to negotiate the first date into friends conversation.

For now Im excited about tonight. And I am excited about school. I think I will get so much out of this semester and working with the director. I feel more confidence and hope. He can see a bit of who I am in my last collection and I can see it to. A strength to come from.

Theres a few negatives gnawing at me in the background, but I am trying not to get carried away with them. I am trying to have some respect for myself, to not chase after people whatever place theyve had in my life, to not morph me into the listening convenience object they want.

rejection and butterflies in a cold haze

I realize that its always hard for me to take rejection, or the fade of communication – the passive rejection. No matter the situation.

The more I reflected on the outing with the guy yesterday the more reasons I found that would mean a romantic relationship couldnt work. The height for one… however much I hate being someone who has physical standards, because I tend to think I am very open to different folks. Well someone over a foot shorter than me is just too hard. Its fine as friends, I’ve had friends that much shorter than me. But a lover, I end up feeling like a giant and much more awkward and conscious of my body.

Yet when he sent me a message asking how i thought our mini date went. I said I had fun and would be up for meeting up again if he was. Since then I have heard nothing. Which maybe is his way of communicating that it wouldn’t work for him either and he didnt know how to say it.

I guess I wanted to see him again in hopes that it could be a friendship. just maybe?

A reminder that standards are ok. Or knowing what will and wont work for you is ok. Its ok for me to want that excitement of a fluttering heart and a churning stomach around a new date…

Perhaps his brief attention helped give me a bit more confidence for running into my neighbor again.

My neighbors number is burning a hole in my pocket. I wanted to wait until this afternoon and then send her a message asking about having a drink on her next day off. When I saw her last night she just happened to be carrying a copy of Borderlands by Gloria Anzaldua… Which only makes my nerdy heart crush even more.

I am trying to be gutsy and suave even as I am still in the haze of this cold. And as always happens with the bigger butterflies, bigger insecurities.

sick sabotage

Its hard not believe that fate/someone/etc, is trying to tell me something.

The first time I have planned on dates, two first dates in a weekend and a spoken word event with some of my favorite sexy writers, I get sick. Last time I tried was the beginning of October

Yesterday I was so deathly ill I could barely get out of bed. I waited until 2pm to tell her it was off, I was still faintly hoping I would feel ok enough to go.

Todays supposed to be spoken word with the guy I’ve been talking to. He has offered to come bring me tea. So perhaps he will wind up coming over here to see me in my sickly glory. Im not sure what I think about that. Sweet for sure, but that big of a gesture so soon after talking? Makes me worry about co-dependent qualities…

Im still sick and not about to travel into the city in the evening.

What a weekend of disappointment. I was so excited for this big hoorah for my last weekend before class starts.

It does feel like the worlds against me dating. Maybe life will wind up surprising me.

An Update: Life does give some surprises. The woman I mentioned, she sent a sweet feel better text today. The guy, he picked me up for a bit and we drove around while he took pictures. Something where we could meet but it would be easy on me. He is cute and funny but so much shorter than me that I feel like I giant.

Then as he dropped me off I saw the girl in my building thats been making me swoon. I jumped for it and wound up with her number.. and she offered sundays or tuesday as her days off when she hangs around napping so I should come over for a drink. Though I know the least about her, she makes my heart jump the most..

This feels like some parallel universe for me. I have never in my life been talking to flirting/planning dates with 3 people at once. I am completely monogomous. And typically its only one person of potential interest at a time. I guess I am trying to keep my doors open, my mind and heart open. For now it means going on introductory dates with a few people at once.

femininity and shame in a queer context

All these thoughts this morning, pleasant, and painful, and disappointing are making me think of femininity.

I think about the fight for femininity. Yes I see it as a fight, a fight to express whatever inner type of femininity lays within you. And a fight to be taken seriously while expressing it.

Perhaps more than anything this is why I fall for trans women more often than trans men. Its the complexity of femininity.

The wide array of what it can look like, and feel like and be like for different people. I want a world of a multiplicity of femininities without shaming.

It does beg the question, if we didnt have to fight to express real femininity, what would it look like? What would it be like if it didnt matter how we adorned ourselves, we would still be taken seriously, still be thought of as intellegent and complex beings?

This is not just about women, trans or cis. But about everyone. About our comfort in expressing femininity, or for many men, trans or cis, about feeling the need to run from it.

I also think about an honest negotiation of the time we put into our femininity. If the act of being feminine was perceived differently perhaps we would balance the time we put into it differently. Where the things we do to ourselves to express femininity are actively choosen, not the obsession of looking in the mirror and trying to fit a certain image.

I am thinking again and again about being a femme who doesnt shave. How much it rattles people. That seeing me they assume I shave, that I spend that time. I have digested each new piece of femmeness as I’ve gone. For now deciding what to wear and putting on make up is the most I can commit to. I used to save make up for rare occasions, but now its a routine I enjoy most days.

Besides other feminist arguments for not shaving, which have been said many times before me, the time and upkeep for it is unmanageable for me.

Although I have been disappointed with the femme conference before. Or simply not that interested in the workshops they have to offer. I get a glimpse of the range of femininity, including all ranges of gender. i can see my own place in that spectrum if only for a moment.

For me part of beauty, part of attraction is when I see those unique elements of femininity and masculinity being worn in a way so specifically you. And maybe I want someone else who can see that beauty. Rather than becoming focused on one imaginary image of who it is they desire.

rape, acknowledgement and body shame

I read, Why I talk about Rape and her referenced article, my rapist friended me on facebook.

It made me think of my own story. How it isnt as simple as I make it seem sometimes. How I have felt sexually taken advantage of in different ways. Or how I didnt have a voice to consent to things most of my life.

Most of all I am hung up on her recounting of the conversation with her rapist. About his apology, his confusion at what was happening, his uncertainty that it was non-consensual. There is something so depressing yet satisfying about that.

Its hard to see that he may have been well intentioned, but wasnt raised to really understand consent or what no means or how to relate to women sexually. It makes me sad in so many ways. But yet it also feels like relief that it wasnt a sustaining characteristic that he changed that he tried to understand and tried to apologize.

I am remembering my own conversation with my brother. The denial, the blame on my parents, the still obvious anger at me. If anything now, years later I can look at that and know that those were all signs that it did happen. I didnt make it up, he wouldnt have reacted that way if I had. But there was no attempt at apology, or to clarify events, or to understand that he didn’t know what consent was.

Anger is the best proof I have. At the least I am thankful that my father sees it. He sees the anger as denial as proof that something happened. His recent statement after my brothers last and perhaps final out burst to my dad was that he was going to set up someone to deal with his will, to split things how they needed to be split. “because you don’t need to deal with that anger”

An acknowledgement, a powerful one. When I first tried to come out about it 8 years ago my dad told me, “well you’ll have to deal with him eventually when we die”. Odd that it always seems to be framed around death. some unifying event.

Its all hanging heavy around me today. An IM conversation with this one guy has left me in a bit of a haze of body shame and uncertainty. Worrying what self love and consent mean in the context of this other person. I do not want to feel voiceless. I thought a black trans man who specifically said he wanted to date queer women would have less stringent standards of femininity.

dating, creativity, and the inner coach.

I was reading a blog this morning about developing an inner coach. Ones that encourages our creative work, that reminds us its ok to be uncomfortable or in pain, and that is our cheerleader whether its emotional, interpersonal, or creative goals.

I did a bit of freewrite this morning, before reading this. My coach came out. I have been feeling so weird and torn about talking to these two people from the dating site. I was making too many leaps in judgement. I was over analyzing. I was being pessimistic before I even met them.

So I took a step back and breathed and reminded myself that I dont know what love will look like for me. I have made mistakes, I have coupled with the wrong people (or simply avoided it all), and my attractions have been all over the gender and race map. So who is to say?

What sustains me with people is when I can see their excitement and commitment to something, whatever that may be for them. Thats where my attraction grows, when I see that over and over. Its made me crush on unavailable classmates…

Right now they both seem like amazing and interesting people. Though one tends to play the flirting cryptic card a bit more. And theyre both queer in very different ways.

So I am relaxing a bit more. I will meet both of them this weekend. The first time I have ever had friday and saturday night dates in a row with different people! I am just focusing on going with an open mind and an open heart, or open enough to give the chance of letting someone in.

I have also just been thinking more about my creativity and the ways I express it, and things that inspire me. Being calmer about the dating is helping it unfold more. After watching Miss Representation and a few other things, I keep thinking about writing fairy tales. Of untraditional stories, or heroines without happily ever afters but endings of well this is better or i can do this. or something.

This dark, strange, and unusual childhood is what seems to drive me. I am waiting to see my design instructors face next week when I tell him my inspiration is daddy’s little princess – childhood rape – the sickeningly sweet femininity. Its what keeps swimming in my head.

Maybe its whats left of how I need to work through my own past. Ive done counseling, Ive gotten through much of my disassociation, flash backs and self harm urges. But its still there needing a bigger voice, perhaps.

Reflections on MissRepresentation

I had forgotten about MissRepresentation and not followed up on local screenings. But a friend found and forwarded a link to the full film.

Its wrung me raw. I just finished crying through the last 10 minutes, and I cried for the first 5 minutes.

Its left me thinking about my own goals and the place I may have in creating images of beauty for women. I know I have more to reflect and think on that piece.

But most of all I am thinking about their messages about how emotionally repressed boys are. How they have no role models, if they don’t see it in their fathers, of emotional maturity of how to view and treat women as complex humans. How they really start forming the ways they interact with women/girls around age 5-7.

And it terrifies me for my nephew. I worry about what if he just becomes another abusive male in my family line.. How I have no role in his life. How he is being raised by my abusive and emotionally stunted brother and his wife who I can only guess goes along with him and hasnt found her own voice. That he wont even have my father as another potential male role model. Who’s imperfect but is trying to find ways to improve with honesty.

What is he going to learn about women. about being a man, a human being? It scares me so much. And I feel such a loss that I don’t get to be a part of his childhood.

It does seem odd that a movie about women and girls I come away with mostly thoughts about boys and men. This is a tender subject for me and easily triggered, its not a huge surprise.

entering online dating drama again?

Im so weird when it comes to dating. I have been trying to re-brainwash myself for a while now, but it doesnt always work. and certainly not in isolation.

all of a sudden theres a few people on okcupid I am communicating with. one is more communicative and seems to be very similar to me personality wise. but I am pretty sure theres no attraction there for me, yet I find it easier to be forward.
The other two have communicated less with each email so I know less about who they are. I feel more insecurities and awkwardness in my writing because their profile pictures did make my heart briefly flutter.

Im doing my best to follow through with these people, so see where it goes. to not let my pessimism win out. because, hopefully, even if dating doesnt work perhaps I can wind up with a friend or two.

Its confusing for me. The people I am the most intrigued by or interested in I have the hardest time pursuing. yet those that I am not as interested I tend to pursue more forcefully. I can feel myself turning on the dominant pursuing side of me with the person I am least attracted to. sigh.

Maybe the new piece this time around it that I am pushing to meet up to reaffirm that there is not attraction before emails and fantasies get carried. Because I dont want to go too far down the path of dating and ruin chances of a friendship like I did the last person on okcupid.

I think my inner clock of sexual need is just clicking at a faster rate right now, which is rare. Im trying not to self sabotage any potential out there (online or in person) with my own sense of nihilism… wish me luck with that one.

slapped with truth

some times I just need to be slapped around with the truth before I get it. I knew my importance to my friend had been waning. I had mostly given up, but after being convinced by someone it must be a misunderstanding it must be just their way to cope with a tough last semester. I tried again.

And it was a reminder. right right you dont want to make space in your life for me. im a fall back. or someone you can socialize with at school. we live 5 minutes apart and have had a month off school, but theres no time for me. I get it. my status has dropped. but then it happens with many people. my place in their life disappears quickly.

The trueness of my good friends words, of her perspective on my and her problem… high self esteem low social esteem. It echos in me.

I always expect this to happen, even when I hope it wont. Ive been ok being alone, even if I get a bit lonesome. Even though yesterdays consult appointment reminded me how rarely I get touched. And I am struck with a piece of premonition that I might shed cathartic tears while being tattooed. Sometimes it happens, and I have that feeling.

After spending most of break rushing from one project to the next to keep my mind occupied it now seems about slowing down and remembering simple pleasures. Last night I walked home from the shop in the rain thinking of home and smiling. Today the sun is out and I am about to sit back read while the sun seeps in through my windows.

responsibility and femme tattoos

Im about to take my femme-ness to another level.

I just went in, consulted with an artist and made an appointment to get lace tattooed on my body. Lace, thats right. Obviously when you’re thinking about me its more than that, like the flower it’s based on is an endangered flower in the northwest. The flower that I was first taught the preciousness of beauty and nature and how we cant own it, just appreciate it.

And the shoulder line will appear to be hand stitched to my shoulder, honoring my sewing side of me.

Right now my responsibility voice is acting up. Telling me how I shouldn’t spend the money for this that its wrong. That I should be saving this money for other things, for future things. But I get tired of making the responsible choices all the time.

I always weigh my options and choose the responsible one and I just want to occasionally let my self go on impulse. Even if its an impulse I have been planning for a year. And I have been diligently putting off the tattoo urge for 2 years now.

I have until 8pm tonight to go back and put my deposit down, I didnt have the cash on me as I wasnt sure if it would happen this quick. Enough time to wrestle with my head, and then go get them the money anyway.