Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/guide/.
Don't just sit there angry and ranting, do something constructive.
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your elected officials.
Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with that word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (Not because of their definition.)
Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Smart girls ain’t easy to love and they’re above playing games
And they’d rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won’t understand her and she won’t die young
She’ll probably just wither away
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don’t know her won’t like her and those who do
Sometimes won’t know how to take her
She’s rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she’s always right
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Life(?) of Trillian
Single/Zero
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Back off on the iGuy email, fellas. Sheesh. I don’t expect anything from anyone. I have never expected perfection from anyone. Men or women. I was talking about a manufactured iGuy. And if we’re making a mate, why not make him perfect for our individual tastes, just like we make our iPods perfect for our individual tastes? Just a bit of wistful daydreaming. M’kay? Everybody all clear on that? No more email on the subject, m’kay? You guys might want to do a little thinking about your quick on the trigger defensive reflexes. And, I said I am very aware for every iGuy there is an iGirl. You guys can just go off and program your own perfect iGirl. And we’ll all live happily ever after. Or whatever.
Besides, obviously the iGuy I described is not perfect. He’s lacking some crucial aspects. A sincere desire to watch Cary Grant and Gregory Peck movies with me. A deep philosophical understanding of abstract expressionism, particularly prewar German abstract expressionism. The ability and desire to stay up all night talking about nothing in particular. Genuine love, respect and concern for my cat. And all other animals. His own interests, ideas and viewpoints.
Right. So. No iGuys on the market yet. (Hurry up, Apple, I’m lonely and desperate.) So I’m still trolling for dates online.
It’s time for
There are two best of the worsts this week. A toss up as to how low I’ll go to meet a man.
Bachelor number one wrote me a succinct and correctly spelled email. “I would like to meet you in person. We’ll make a good couple. We’re both tall. ” No. I have not omitted any details. That was the entire email. He apparently believes we’ll make a good couple because we’re both tall. Okay. I mean, I guess, sure, why not? There are probably people in very successful relationships which are based on as little as that, so, let’s take a look at his profile.
No photo.
You know my revised rule. No photo, no communication from me. Not because I care about his looks but because so far in every case the no photo posted men with whom I’ve communicated have very suspicious holes in their stories. Holes which include wedding rings, criminal records or a real estate license and a great buy on a piece of hot property. Further adding to the mystery of Mr. Tall X is an otherwise completely barren “not specified” profile.
About him:
Height: 6’5”
Body type: Not Specified
Hair color: Not Specified
Ethnicity: Not Specified
Looks: Not Specified
Education: Not Specified
Occupation: Not Specified
Income: Not specified
I speak: Not specified
Religion: Not Specified
Relationship status: Not Specified
Children: Not Specified
Wants children: Not Specified
Smoking: Not Specified
Drinking: Not Specified
What he wants in a woman:
Distance: Not Specified
Height: 6’0” to 6’6”
Body type: Not Specified
Hair color: Not Specified
Ethnicity: Not Specified
Education: Not Specified
Occupation: Not Specified
Income: Not Specified
Languages(s): Not Specified
Religion: Not Specified
Relationship status: Not Specified
Children: Not Specified
Wants children: Not Specified
Smoking: Not Specified
Drinking: Not Specified
Distance: Not Specified
Height: Not Specified
Body type: Not Specified
Hair color: Not Specified
Ethnicity: Not Specified
Yes. He took the time to complete the height portions on his profile and didn’t specify anything else about himself or who he wants to date. Should I see his lack of profile detail not as suspicious, baffling, lazy or arrogant, but as intriguing, mysterious and curious? Not as boring or unmotivated, but as a blank canvas waiting for me to bring him to life? I know absolutely nothing about this man except he says he’s 6’5” tall. My brother’s 6’5” tall. I know a lot about him. I wouldn’t want to date him. So maybe knowing nothing about Mr. Tall X is actually a good thing. Maybe in person he’s an enthused conversationalist with a great sense of humor and scintillating ideas, profound thoughts and fascinating stories. Should I pull him from the delete pile and give him a chance?
Bachelor number two: This week’s batch offered a lot of “mature” men. Again. Frustration over this situation led me to give in and consider a few of the way out of my age range guys. There was one, several years my senior, who, well, at first I thought: Maybe. I mean, never say never, try the opposite and all that, right? But further investigation of his profile turned me off big time. Starting with his screen name: Mr. Right. Ugh. Double ugh-a-chino. There are a ton of Mr. Rights on dating sites. These guys go online to find dates and seriously have the ego, audacity and self unawareness to call themselves (some form) of Mr. Right. Without fail a peek at any Mr. Right’s profile indicates an enormous ego, a lot of detail about his physical attributes and those of the women he wants to date. Maybe that’s some women's’ idea of Mr. Right, but not mine. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m being too picky or too sensitive. Maybe I’m not seeing a great catch when he’s right there on my screen.
His email to me was, you know, nice. Ish. Flattering, I suppose.
“Wow! You’re incredible! What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this? (guys, this “pun” on that tired cliché is a cliché itself, so don’t use it. We hear it in more than half the email we get from men. It’s not clever, unique or funny. But in the interest of seeing every man as a potential date, I kept reading.) Your (sic) to (sic) intelligent and funny to be alone. You need me in your life! (Yep, this guy’s in sales. Probably automotive. “You need this car. What do I have to do to put you in this car today?” “You need me in your life! What do I have to do to put you in my bed today?” And for the record, I’m not alone. I have lots of great family and friends. Single, yes. Alone, no.) I can tell your (sic) adventerous (sic) and passionate (Really? You can tell I’m passionate by my profile? Huh. Funny, there’s nothing to indicate I’m passionate on my profile. No one else ever mentions passionate after looking at my profile. I used to be passionate but not any more. Maybe you’re incredibly perceptive or psychic but I kind of doubt it so let’s assume you’re projecting your desired traits onto me or making huge presumptions and are using your used car selling tactics on me.) Those are two qualities I respect and need in a woman. (Cha ching, right on the first count: Projecting. Already trying to make me what he wants me to be. Calm down, Trill, give the guy a chance, you’re in no position to judge, keep reading.) I am looking for a woman to share romantic getaways with.(sic) I haven’t been interested in long term committment (sic) but now if I find the Miss Right with long term potential I’m finally ready to think about settling down . (“if I find Miss Right...I’m finally ready to think about settling down?” Yeah, you sound real committed to that idea. And, at your age? If you’re really healthy you’ve got maybe 30 years, tops, to devote to a committed relationship. I realize I’m no Spring chicken but our definitions of long term are very different.And aw, gee, what a shame, too. Think of all those girls who won’t get a piece of Mr. Right. I’d really hate to deprive the world of, well, you.) You have many of the qualities I want in a woman. Intelligence, humor, gorgeous smile, passion, (again with the passion? Must be the Cialis talking) and thoughtful. Maybe your (sic) Miss Right! Email me soon because I don’t want to waste time when we could be together. (Translation: I’m getting ready to retire and I’m soon going to need someone to take care of me. You’re young and professionally employed so you’ve got the physical and financial abilities to take care of me.) Don’t let my age get in the way of a very good time. Everyone thinks I’m at least 10 years younger than I am. I don’t look or act my age. (Not exactly a ringing endorsement on your maturity level, there buddy, but I’ll cut you slack and take it in the spirit in which it was intended.) We’ve got a lot going for us and we’ve haven’t even met yet! Think how great it could be in person and email me so we can start having fun.” (oh brother. I mean. Okay. He’s enthused! And upbeat! And trying to make a good impression!)
Okay. I thought: No. No way. And then I thought, well, maybe. He seems to be interested in me. He thinks we’ve got a lot going for us. Do the opposite. So what if he’s gearing up for retirement? I’m not exactly making it big with men my age or even a few years older than me. Sure, I’d really like a financial partner to share building a home and nest egg for our retirement years - together, but you know, hey, chances are I’ll be a spinster or widowed and spend my final years alone anyway. The end result could be the same so since these older men are so interested in me maybe I should explore the option. I’m trying really hard to convince myself this is a good idea. Normally in the delete pile, but maybe I should give him a try.
Height: 6’1”
Body type: Athletic
Hair color: Light Brown
Ethnicity: Latin / Hispanic, Native American, White / Caucasian
Looks: Attractive (and yes, by his photo, for a guy his age he is attractive. And what is the recipe for his attractiveness, you ask? He goes on to provide a very detailed description of his ethnic heritage.)
Education: Bachelors/4-Year Degree
Occupation: Professional/Manager/Supervisor, Sales/Marketing
Income: $100,000 TO $149,999
I speak: English
Religion: Christian - Other, Attend Services Weekly
Relationship status: Single
Children: No
Wants children: No
Smoking: Never
Drinking: Occasionally
Looking for: Dating / Long-term Potential
With a: 26 to 40 -year-old women (only interested in women many years his junior. Letch.)
Distance: within 100 of Chicago
Height: 5’2” to 6’0”
Body type: Slender, Athletic, Average
Hair color: Any
Ethnicity: Doesn't Matter
Education: Bachelors/4-Year Degree to PhD / Doctoral
Occupation: Any
Income: $100,000 TO $250,000+ (That eliminates me...)
Languages(s): English
Religion: Catholic, Christian - Other, Doesn't Matter
Relationship status: Any
Children: No
Wants children: No
Smoking: Never
Drinking: Occasionally
So there we have it. A tall guy about whom I know nothing and an old guy about whom I know way too much. This weeks Creeps of the Week. What ever is a girl to do? How to choose? Maybe if I’m lucky I can finagle dates with both of them! Oh, dare I dream such a wicked and wonderful scenario?
Tuesday, October 25, 2005 How My iPod Ruined My Life
or, Enabling Social Awkwardness: The Paradigm of the iPod and its Effect on Society
or, iPod and the Single Girl
or, How I Learned to Stop Talking and Love the iPod
Since I moved to the new ‘hood I’m more comfortable using my iPod as I walk to and from work. Low volume, still very aware of the noises and people around me, but, a little background music for the walk.
I love music. We know this. I love all kinds of music. iPods were made for people like me. (Thanks, Steve.) Well. They were made for music loving people like me.
But there’s a down side.
iPods put those of us music lovers who are afflicted with social awkwardness or shyness at risk of digging ourselves deeper into our issue laden graves. Particularly those of us with “eclectic” taste in music.
The iPod is enabling us.
Huh? Enabling you? Trill, are you seriously blaming the iPod for your social ineptitude, shyness and general stupidity?
No. Of course not. Those are pre-existing conditions.
But. As much as I love (yes, love) my iPod a few recent incidents have made me realize I’m in an unhealthy relationship with my iPod.
I love the iPod.
It tolerates me.
It has no choice. If any inanimate manufactured object can take on a “personality,” the iPod is it. The minute a person’s music collection is loaded onto an iPod, that iPod becomes unique. Born, if you will. Well. More like cloned.
We humans start out the relationship with our iPods as the dominant one in the relationship. The one in control. Our music on the iPod. The iPod has no choice but to play the music we want to hear.
The term “doing our bidding” is a little too anthropomorphized for my comfort. (anthropodmorphized?) Give me a little credit, I believe iPods have “personalities” but I’m not totally weird about it.
Though lately I’ve become uncomfortable watching a few scenes in 2001: A Space Odyssey. When HAL admonishes Dave I cast my iPod, docked and charging across the room, furtive and then respectfully humbled glances. Just to be safe. You know. Just in case...I for one am not taking any chances. I’ll go peacefully. Happily.
I’m hoping the Steves will eventually put an iGuy on the market and my man troubles will be resolved. I figure a good word from my iPod couldn’t hurt my chances with one of the better iGuys.*
The thing is with iPods, though, after a short while we become emotionally attached to the iPod. (Yes, even void of emotion me.) And that’s the precise moment we hand over control in the relationship. And that’s when a good relationship can go very bad.
Control is a very powerful thing. And iPods are very, very, very good at control. It’s not anything they do, nothing they provoke. It’s just them. Their very existence invokes needs in their owners. If we’re not listening to our iPods we know where it is.
Always in the back of our minds, in our thoughts, we plan our iPod time like lovers. And sometimes, like lovers in a secret tryst, the danger of an inappropriate iPod listening is titillating. We’ll don the headphones in the office for just a few songs, really, just a few songs, that’s all, hoping we don’t get caught. The fear of getting caught makes the tryst even more intoxicating. One leads to another, and another. It’s a very torrid affair. We lose control, we are slaves to the desire for just one more, one more song, one more secret encounter.
But one more is never enough. Never. Enough. We crave more. We need more. We try to rationalize with ourselves, make excuses...everyone does it...it’s not hurting anyone...we’re in love...
And when we get caught, and we always get caught because it’s never just a few songs, we’re at first appropriately embarrassed. We vow to be more cautious, more discreet.
But we know it’s waiting for us. We know it can take us places. Deep, faraway, mystical places. Secret shared places between the earbuds. Just you and the iPod. It’s as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. And even though you know sometimes it’s inappropriate, wrong, even, you long for the intimacy of that secret shared place. The place your iPod takes you.
Ahem.
And this is why iPods can be a real problem for music lovers. And an even bigger problem for music lovers who already have socialization problems.
One of the great things about iPods is the ability to create playlists or live on the edge with shuffle. Some people, people into control and manipulation, obsessive compulsive types, dominant personalities, like playlist mode. Playlists make them feel like they’re in control. They compile the lists, push the buttons, call the shots and always know what to expect from their iPod.
Not me. I’m a shuffle kind of girl. I’m very submissive. Passive, even. And yet a little on the edge. Thrill seeking. Willing to take risks. Adventurous. Trusting.
I am very open about the fact that I have given control to the iPod. I don’t care. I’m a willing participant. I want it this way. I never really was cut out for the whole dom thing. I’m too easy going. Too go with the flow. Too unconcerned about having control. I spend my days and a lot of my personal time making difficult or at least thoughtful decisions. I like not having to make decisions with my music, too.
Oh sure, ultimately I’m the one who loads the songs on the Pod, so ultimately I’m “in control” of the songs I hear. But, I have a very large music collection. Let’s just say there are thousands of songs on my iPod. Let’s just say my 40G is almost full and there’s nothing on there but music and some Podcasts. Let’s leave it at that.
Among those thousands of songs are a few surprise tracks. Okay, a lot of surprise tracks. Seriously. Don’t ask me how the trance mix of Relax got on my iPod. I am not now, nor have I ever been, a Frankie Goes to Hollywood fan. There is not one other Frankie Goes to Hollywood song on my iPod (or at least not that I’m aware...) and I have no recollection of loading it. A) Where the swut did I find a swutting trance mix of Relax, and B) why the swut don’t I remember it? Just what’s being transmitted through those earbuds? Subliminal mind control messages? ”download the trance mix of Relax...relax...trance...download...relax..iPod says Relax” (yikes, that’s a little too real sounding for my comfort)
Right. The problem with iPods for those of us with socialization problems is that the iPod offers us an escape from “the real world.” Maybe you’re not shy or socially awkward. So you won’t understand why this is a problem. I’ll try to explain it to you.
Shy people constantly battle with themselves. Nearly every conversation, and frequently every movement, requires an internal pep talk of some sort. That's why I sometimes say stupid or seemingly inappropriate things. The pep talk and internal dialog required for me to engage my mouth is so involved that before I realize what's being said words are coming out of my mouth. In my mind I'm still arguing with myself about what, if anything, to say.
iPods have become so normal and accepted that no one on the street or in shops looks twice or, more importantly, approaches someone listening to an iPod.
Okay, yes, there are exceptions. And these exceptions can be good.
For people who are not hiding from society in their iPod.
I have been approached by people needing directions, and I’ve seen one live pick-up. Cute girl standing in line at the grocery listening to her Pod minding her own business. Cute guy tries to catch her eye. He succeeds. He smiles. She smiles and removes one ear bud. He says, “Is that the U2 Pod?” She says, “yes, see?” and holds up the Pod for him to see. A lengthy discussion of Pods, U2, concerts and Jason at the Apple Store ensues. My turn came in line so I missed the rest of the conversation. But I am quite certain it ended in an exchange of phone numbers. Great for them. The iPod brought them together. I hope they’ll be happy together. Better living through Apple.
Back to the downside of iPodding. Having a normal and socially acceptable barrier to communication with strangers is the answer to the most fervent prayer to the most supreme deity a shy person could ever hope to have granted. Blessed respite from social interaction!
Walkmen never completely caught on - at least not the way iPods have. Walkmen were just sort of there, popular with the younger set, a source of contention with parents and teachers. iPods are already ubiquitous. Everyone has one or wants one. (If you don’t you will.) Walking around with buds stuck in ears tethered to a small, unseen source, is normal. Barring oneself off from the noise of the outside world is now normal.
I cannot tell you the enormous relief this is to shy people. Really. I have no words to describe the relief. Which is, of course, a serious warning sign.
Hiding from the world is not exactly a smart thing for shy people to do. We need to be out there pushing ourselves, making ourselves talk to people, go places, do things our shyness prevents (or at least poses an obstacle for) us from doing. I know this. I have been very aware of this potential bad side effect of iPodding since I first donned the buds. It really is my own little world in there. Which is exactly why I would never, ever allow myself to don the buds in my old neighborhood. Not. Safe. But now, I mean, my walk to work and around my neighborhood is relatively safe. You know, for a large urban area. Put it this way: It’s as safe as it gets inside the city limits. Which isn’t actually saying much but, well, it’s a zillion times more safe than my old ‘hood.
Right. So the only real danger of listening to the Pod on low volume is that I’ll take steps backwards in my ongoing war with shyness. And this is a huge danger for me. I’ve spent my lifetime trying to win this war. I’ve made progress. But. There are daily skirmishes to be fought and probably several full blown battles to be won before I can claim victory. I know this. So I should not allow myself this comfy little isolated place in the midst of society. I shouldn’t allow myself this sanctuary.
Here are two good reasons why.
I have a lot of music on my iPod. Very diverse and eclectic music. (see above, trance Relax) Some good, some bad. (see above, trance Relax) Some interesting, some stupid. (see above, trance Relax). I also subscribe to Podcasts. Again, a very diverse and eclectic range of topics. Ahem. I strongly adhere to a “what’s on the iPod, stays on the iPod” code of file disclosure. No one needs to know what’s really on there. It’s between you and your iPod.
So when I’m leaving work late and the CEO of my company happens to be on the elevator and I have no choice but to board the elevator or risk looking like I didn’t want to ride the elevator with the CEO, and he says, “That’s a neat iPod case. What are you listening to?” and I look him straight in the eye and blurt, Shake the Dope Out before thinking about what I’m saying or to whom I’m saying it because in my “oh swut it’s the CEO and we’re alone on the elevator and it’s late at night and he’s engaging me in conversation and is taking an interest in my interests like a good CEO and I can’t possibly tell him I’m listening to the Warlocks Shake the Dope Out but suddenly I can’t think of one other song ever recorded or the fact that now might be a good time to discuss that new marketing Podcast I’ve been listening to lately” panic I get nervous and words are coming out of my mouth which I didn’t intend to say and would never say if I weren’t tired, shy and nervous. But all I hear in my head is Shake the Dope Out
I’m thinking about the scintillating report on changing demographs in consumer electronics and what it will mean to advertising, but do I utter one word about it? NOooooooooo, I don't. Instead I hear myself say, Shake the Dope Out to our CEO.
Because I am not only tired, shy and nervous, I am doomed to fail by my own stupidity. I tried to redeem myself by then bringing up the topic of Podcasts, “har har, no, actually I just listened to an interesting Podcast on the changing demograph of consumer electronics. It’s a pretty good Podcast, weekly updates. I can send you the link...” but I lost him at Shake the Dope Out. I'm guessing our CEO is not a fan of the Warlocks. He had written me off and was hoping to get off that elevator as quickly as possible. So much for my bid at Senior VP.
Okay. So I didn’t really want that job anyway. However. I would like to have a relationship with a man. That would be really nice. Really, really nice.
But this affair with my iPod could be a problem. I’m not used to men noticing me. At least in that special way. I walk around hoping no one notices me. Because that’s better than having someone notice how ugly I am. It’s less humiliating for me. That scarlet D (umped) on my chest is bad enough, calls enough unwanted attention and jokes. I strive to just blend in and go completely unnoticed.
That’s not to say I don’t notice men. I do. I notice a lot of men. I try to not notice them because it just leads to more frustration and loneliness. (loud omnipotent voice over, “Yes, Trillian, he is very good looking. Sardonic smile, sexy swagger, intelligent but inviting look in the eyes tinged with a slight roguishness, yes, Trillian, yes, he is absolutely the sort of guy you like. The sort of guy you need. But the Universe deems it not to be. When will you ever learn? We’re teasing you. Sheesh. You fall for this every time. Even we’re bored with your reaction to these guys. I mean, do you honestly think you have a chance? No! You don’t! Bwa ha ha ha...”) But still. I notice them. I avoid eye contact at all costs, though. It’s more of a wistful notice from afar sort of thing. So don’t worry if you’re a good looking guy with a sardonic smile, sexy swagger, intelligent but inviting look in the eyes tinged with a slight roguishness. I won’t put you in an awkward situation.
So there I was walking home from work. Rainy evening. I’m standing on a corner waiting for the light to change. I notice a guy crossing the street from my right.
Sardonic smile: Check.
Sexy swagger: Check, check, CHECK!
As he approaches the corner where I’m standing, he flashes a brief smile. Nothing serious, not a “hey, baby” smile. Just a “you worked late tonight, too, gosh, it’s really coming down isn’t it” smile.
Intelligent but inviting look in the eyes tinged with a slight roguishness: Check.
I give him a, “Yeah, late night in the office, quite a storm here, but I don’t mind it’s kind of nice” smile. I see his lips moving. Oh swut, he’s talking to me but between the guy on the Apple News Podcast and the rain hitting my umbrella I can’t hear him. I fumble to take out an ear bud as I say, “I’m sorry, pardon me?” but the light changed and he’s hitting the crosswalk. Curses! Foiled again!
Well.
I mean.
Not so much foiled again as, huh, there he goes. He was probably only asking directions or if I knew what time it was. Just as well. Because the words that would come out of my mouth in response to whatever he said would undoubtedly be stupid, bad or in every way wrong. So really, just as well.
But. From my few paces behind him I can’t help but notice that sexy swagger. Even in the pouring rain. And how the rain is making a few tousled curls spring to life around his collar adding to his roguishness. I go out of my way to not catch up to him even though he’s walking kind of slow. So slow that his sexy swagger is suffering because of the diminished speed. And I’m all but standing still in an effort to stay several paces behind him. I fiddle with my ear buds as I walk. The light on the next corner is turning yellow. I’m hoping he’ll make a dash for it. He doesn’t. There’s no way to avoid catching up to him at the corner. I do, but leave lots of space between us. I continue to fiddle with my ear bud. I hear a voice say, “I switched to the headphone model, stays in place better when walking.” I realize he’s talking to me. Oh swut. But. It doesn’t mean anything. Rainy night. The only two people out. Obviously both coming from work. I mean, he’s just making polite conversation. So I smile.
And then I hear someone say, “Lately it won’t stay in when I move around. It’s always been a bit too big for me but lately I can’t find a good position for it no matter how much I fiddle with it.” I have no idea who said that but she sounded a lot like me.
His smile faded from congenial sardonicism to an implied: “really, lady, I was just being polite, I don’t need your life story tinged with Benny Hillish innuendo.” Awkward silence. Me holding the ear bud. The Podcast apparently ends. Because out from the ear bud blares the unmistakable opening to Ain’t Talkin’ ‘Bout Love. Okay. Really. Universe, could you give me a break and strike me with lightening? Now. Please. I realize you’re having great fun at my expense but seriously, enough’s enough.
I rush to fumble and lower the volume.
As he walks off across the street.
I wait for the light to turn red, then green and deem it safe to continue on my way.
This is why iPods are dangerous for people like me. In the wrong hands these things are lethal. Yes, they provide a nice sanctuary from the world, and that’s good. Because a few more of these incidents and that iPod world will be the only one I’ve got.
* (“Better” iGuy meaning an iGuy who wakes me with kisses and a sardonic smile and says, It’s a great day for shoe shopping, Trill. (playfully poking, nudging, prodding, goading to seduction) I’ve got mimosas and carrot cake for you. And don’t you dare even think about calories and fat grams. I hate skinny women. Blech. You know how much I love your curves. Those hips are going to carry our babies someday. So just make yourself even more comfortable while I feed you carrot cake with lots of gooey frosting. I made a large pitcher of mimosas so drink up, sweetheart. Then, when you’re ready, I’m going to take you shoe shopping. As many pairs as you want, Trill. Try on as many pairs of black shoes as you want. Buy all of them. You can never have enough black shoes. Oh, and let’s visit your make-up artist friend. I know how you two love to try out hundreds of shades of lip color. Oh, and isn’t your sister’s birthday next week? We should spend some time finding her a nice gift. Then we’ll take a ride to the orchard and pick apples and have hot cider and play with kittens and buy a lovely handcrafted item. After that we’ll take a long drive on back roads and stop at a woodsy secluded picturesque stream where we’ll explore some of those dreams you’ve been having. Time to try them out in real life, (grrrrrooowl, har har) Then, exhilarated and even more in love we’ll head to the Bryan Ferry show. Surprise! I’ve got front row center seats for the sold out small venue acoustic show! Yay! You can ogle him all you want because I am secure in my manufactured masculinity. Fragile ego is not in my circuitry. I am secure in the knowledge that your zest and lust for Bryan will play out well for me later, at home, you and me, alone together....But first, before that, when we get home you can try on all your new shoes and email your friends and tell them about your shoes and the kittens and Bryan Ferry. Oh and you might want to give your mum a ring, too. Meanwhile I’ll prepare a bath.You’ve been working so hard lately. You give and do so much for everyone else. I respect and appreciate that about you. Today you need and deserve a break, a day all about you, you, you. Yeah. iGuy’s not going to hit the market any time soon, but when he does, watch out human guys. If an iPod can take on it’s owner’s personality, iGuys are going to be swutting incredible. And yes, I know, iGirls will be great, too. I can't wait for The Future.)
Monday, October 24, 2005 If Only I Could Wimp Out and Suckle Something
I don’t earn a lot of money. I’m not at poverty level and I’m better off than a lot of people. People in the second and third worlds, for instance. But I’m poor enough that I cannot afford a car and affiliated expenses. I am poor enough that any unpredicted expense completely whacks my monthly budget and leaves me counting pennies. Okay. Yes. My compartment is in a high rent neighborhood. Yes. When I moved I knew I was biting off a huge hunk of expense in the housing portion of my budget. On the other hand: I can walk or ride my bike to work netting a monthly savings of $75 (or $100 if the CTA successfully implements its plan to raise fares to $2.) My heat and air conditioning are included in my rent netting $100 - $400 monthly savings. And, I live in the smallest, cheapest place there is in the building and in the ‘hood. So it’s not as if I’m shelling out loads of money for a luxury apartment.
Right. Okay. Expenses. Income. Problems.
My salary is not competitive. I knew that when I took the job. Not only does my company lower wages than most other companies, it’s also “old school” in that women earn less than men in same or similar jobs. This is an open and undebated fact. We all know it happens in most companies. Most of the women here regularly fight and argue the cause. But we also somewhat respect the fact that it’s out in the open and not denied or hidden. We’re not saying that excuses the deplorable behavior, but, better to fight the devil you know than the one you can’t see.
I didn’t expect to stay here as long as I have. I didn’t want to stay here as long as I have for a lot of reasons. Salary was actually lower on the list of reasons until lately. Why is my uncompetitive rate of pay not first on my list of reasons for leaving this job? Because other factors are far more disgruntling than my low income. Really. If that doesn’t tell you a lot about my (needs a new nickname) boss...
Right. Low income. I am: The working poor. I can keep a roof over my head and feed myself and my cat. I budget in a little (meagre) amount each month in my retirement fund. If I have a “good” month unexpected expense-wise I can treat myself to a dinner out or pair of shoes on sale. I haven’t had a “good” month for long time.
However. There are “perks” to my job. I can get on just about any guest list to any event in the city. I am heavily courted by a lot of vendors. I could eliminate my food expense almost completely if I accepted every lunch and cocktail event I am invited to attend. Unfortunately it’s not really my style to accept lunch and cocktail invites from vendors I have no intention of using. My personal code of ethics prevents me from even considering throwing my title and “status” around for my own personal gain, even if it’s “just lunch.” There really is no such thing as a free lunch. A lot of people would see this aspect of my job as glamorous and exciting and very cool. Free stuff! Woo hoo! Many companies actually "factor" this into salaries. Did you hear me say there’s no such thing as a free lunch? Fortunately, but all too slowly, this sort of thing is increasingly scrutinized. I'm pleased about this, "kick-backs" have never sat well with me. Call them whatever you want, but it's still a form of bribary and I take a dim view of it.
But. My company has always provided exceptional benefits. Great health insurance. Full dental and optical coverage. Full short and long disability income coverage. Full family leave income coverage. A terrific 401K plan. Accrued vacation and sick days above the national two week average.
So, you know, low pay but some nice benefits. I know what those benefits are worth. I know what they’d cost me if I had to pay for them on my own.
I know this because every year for the past three years our benefits have been “revised.” Meaning: Less coverage, more out of pocket expenses.
This year we’ve been informed as of January 1 our dental coverage is being eliminated. Our vision coverage is being cut in half. Short term disability leave time is being reduced and both short and long term disability will be paid at 60% instead of 100%. And instead of several health insurance options, we now have two. Two plans which we have to pay a lump sum deductible out of our pockets before we have coverage. Our company is generously going to “pay” half of the lump sum deductible up front for us so we have insurance coverage. That is, providing we agree to a payroll deduction (pre tax!) to re-pay our generous company. They’re not “paying” half the lump sum, they’re loaning us half the money and we have to come up with the other half.
Okay. I know I shouldn’t complain about health care costs because at least I have some form of health insurance. I know. Really. I know. It could be worse.
But. Today, a week after we were informed about the cut in our benefits, we were told our annual pay increases would be low this year. They’re already swutting below the rate of inflation - why insult us with a 1% or 2% pay increase? Why not tell us along with our benefits being cut we’re not getting a raise this year, either?
What I really loved about this whole thing was the benefit administrator's spin on our “revised” health benefit options.
She told us we “need to rethink our definition of health insurance. It’s no longer about treating a health issue, but about preventing one from happening.”
Oh yeah? Okay then, it’s time to rethink your definition of salary. It’s no longer about giving your employees a fair rate of pay and group benefits to keep those hard working loyal employees healthy and alive, but about paying them competitive wages on which they can actually house, feed, clothe and medicate themselves.
Woe to the poor employee who is diagnosed with a terminal illness. Not only will they have to pay their medical expenses (because unless it’s a “routine” visit to the doctor, it’s not covered. And there’s nothing “routine” about any terminal illness, and prescriptions are only covered if they’re “in formula” meaning: very basic, and there’s nothing formulaic about prescriptions for terminal illnesses), if they become unable to work they’ll have to make ends meet on 60% of their salary. Which probably won’t even cover their medical expenses. They get the bonus insult of: It’s too late for you. We’re all about prevention. Too bad you didn’t prevent that cancer from killing you because now you have to pay for your medical care and live on a reduced income. You’ll need to rethink your definition of life. It’s no longer about trying to enjoy what time you have left and being comfortable in these last days, but about feeling guilty and helpless and worried about your health and finances.
I know. I know. This is the reality a lot of people have had for years. I realize this. I realize I’ve been very, very fortunate to have good health insurance and benefits.
But.
Now that my benefits are being drastically cut and my pay is not going to increase I’m spending many hours per week at a job which is sucking the life out of me and is giving me very little in return.
Perhaps I need to redefine my idea of work. It’s not about 10 -12 hour days doing the jobs which used to be handled by three people, but about saying swut you to anything not in my job description and anything more than 7.75 hours per day. Since the perception is that women are “crap” anyway, why not give them what they expect?
Shame I don’t have the option of wimping out and suckling something. Because I’m a woman and therefore crap, apparently. What year is this? Good riddance, French. Bastard.
Did I say that out loud?
Yes. Yes I did. Not as well as Nancy Vonk. But I said it out loud and proud.
The unfortunate thing is that he was only publicly, less crudely saying what many men in many professions say behind closed doors.
(I love his statement about Ms. Vonk's remarks, "Trial by blog is a sad innovation..." Probably best he "resigned" because that lack of embracing The Future and particularly blogs is exactly part of the huge problem in The Biz. New Media is no longer new. Blogs are not exactly innovative anymore. This is 2005, right? And if you're sitting there wondering why I'm going on about this you might want to take a look around your own place of employment. If French's attitude isn't evident somewhere in the ranks, you're probably not looking hard enough or are being held down by The Man or at least a "wellness coordinator.")
I’m not going off on a feminazi rant. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t...
My company’s redefinition of health insurance is going to affect everyone, male and female.
But there issome good news.
Female oral contraceptives will now be covered under our prescription plan. Birth control pills are now considered routine preventive maintenance. French and his ilk should be happy or threatened by that: The company is going to pay for us to childproof our ovaries. And yes, this is a welcome acknowledgement that birth control responsibility and expense typically falls on the shoulders of women. And when it fails the responsibility of suckling something falls on our shoulders, too. I welcome this long overdue recognition of these facts.
However. I can’t help but see the big picture on this issue. Which is much more cynical. The insurance companies are masters of spin. But unfortunately in our case they’re trying to spin the spinners who create their spin. And it’s not fooling me.
The cost of oral contraceptives is minimal compared to the cost of a healthy “normal” pregnancy and child birth (and subsequent 18 years of health care for that child). It’s in the insurance company’s (and subsequently my company’s) best financial interest to keep us women child free.
Paranoid you say? Well. Cynical and jaded, yes. Paranoid, no. Because the insurance company rep and our company’s newly appointed “Wellness Coordinator” went into a lengthy conversation about how this is such a coup for women and all the “positive health effects” of birth control pills. (Did you know it clears acne? Helps depression? Really! It’s not just for preventing pregnancy anymore! I think a lot of the guys were jealous. By the end of the oral contraceptive pep rally they wanted to get in on this, too! After all, it’s covered on our insurance!) I’m not kidding. 15 minutes of our benefits session, a room filled with women and men, from extremely diverse personal backgrounds, who work together every day, was spent discussing all the great positive health benefits of oral contraceptives.
Yes. We were given a hard sell on birth control. At work. The men were encouraged to talk to their wives about utilizing this great new oral contraceptive plan covered by our newly redefined health insurance plan. There were a few people who left the room. Good Pope fearing Catholics. Furious women. Gay men. The rest of just sat there in disbelief. Particularly on the heels of French’s comments the women in the room were flinching and disturbed over the hard sell on oral contraceptives. (he’d not yet “resigned” at the time of our benefits session and for several days his “women are crap” and “wimp out and suckle something” comments were the topic of most office conversations)
I can laugh about it on some levels. Birth control is not an issue for me right now. Though according to the insurance company and “wellness coordinator” I should be taking oral contraceptives for all the other "positive" health benefits. And they’re covered on our health plan now! Keep in mind this advice is coming from the same person who revamped our vending area to contain healthy vending options. New healthier vending options like a ham on white sandwich, tins of Hormel chili, muffins, tamales and sausage, pepperoni pizza and coughupalattebucks bottles of caffechocomuchofattachino. I’m not in the “wellness coordinator” business so I’m really in no position to judge. But. Let’s just say I’m a bit confused by the wellness advice being given to us because it flies in the face of years of medical research and, um, well, conventional wisdom. I will not be at all surprised if they begin dispensing medications, oral contraceptives anyway, in our vending machines. Right next to the cigarette machine. Apparently I need to redefine my idea of wellness.
Wavy blurry dream screen cut to my annual review. "Well, Trillian, you've done a great job again this year. We couldn't have done it without your creative genius, professional can-do attitude, terrific relationships with the clients, your eagerness to do a good job and willingness to work long hours in the pursuit of those efforts. There's just one thing. The Wellness Coordinator has made a few notes on your review. In looking at your date of birth we've calculated that you are a woman of child bearing age. Apparently you have not taken advantage of the oral contraceptive program we're offering. This is a great benefit, Trillian. We strongly encourage our employees to utilize this benefit. We think once you use the program you'll agree it's really a terrific benefit to both your career and you personally. I mean, really, Trillian, you weren't seriously thinking you'd have children anyway, were you? I've never seen you as the type to wimp out and suckle something so what's the big deal? I mean, really, when was the last time you had sex? You haven't even had a serious date in years. But that's no reason to not take oral contraceptives. They clear up acne and prevent depression. I know you have very nice clear skin, but when you see how little pay increase you're getting this year you're going to be depressed. Just go on the pill like a good girl. We're giving them to you free for a reason, you know."
Back in the benefits session...
I stayed in the session thinking there would be some punch line at the end of the session. A “ha ha, just kidding! We have no business telling you how to run your ovaries!” But that never happened. This is for real.
Yes. I went to a "Learn About The Company Benefit Changes" session and got a side of social engineering with my sexual and motherhood issues.
So I Must. Find. Another. Job. Now. Right now. Today. This second. I just want to do my job and earn a paycheck commensurate with my work and skills. I don't want to think about my reproduction issues, I don't want my work "wellness coordinator" or senior executives thinking about my reproduction issues.
French and men who think like him: Be afraid. Be very afraid. Our company is doing all it can to prevent us gals from breeding and wimping out and suckling something. And our new redefined ideas of health insurance will mean that we’ll need a lot more money to cover our health expenses. So we’ll be even more motivated to fight for equal pay and higher level jobs.
There’s an opening at WPP. The smartest move they can make is hire a woman. French's departure leaves a big, vocal, unprofessional gap in their upper ranks. And you know how us women are crap.
Here’s my opening gambit for the job: I have years of experience, nothing to suckle and free oral contraceptives to ensure I stay suckling free thus providing all the advantages a man has to offer except a penis. However that doesn’t mean I can’t be a dick. I’ve learned a lot in my years of work experience. I've observed "the best" in the biz, watched them become more wealthy while actually doing less, honed my skills in their likeness and now I'm ready to put those skills to use. No wimping out and suckling something for me.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005 Trillian,
I’ve met some really great guys online. They’re out there, Trill. Among all the jerks, liars, booty callers, married men, superficial idiots, geeks and losers, there are some really great guys.I started online dating around the same time you did. I met a lot of jerks but also a lot of nice guys. I kept trying and finally found Mr. Right. So you should keep trying, too. You’re just having really bad luck. Maybe your search criteria is too narrow. Or maybe Chicago is full of jerks, liars, booty callers, married men, superficial idiots, geeks and losers. Is it really that bad? Maybe you should try to meet a great guy from somewhere else and move there.
CattyRemarkable
Thanks, Catty. I’m glad you’re having such great success. Good luck and happy future to you and Mr. Right. I’ve done the long distance relationship thing. Two words: Never again. Well. Never say never and all that. But. Still. I’m not exactly eager to willingly allow myself to pursue a man I can only see once or twice a month at best. I endured it for a long time because I was soooo in love and could endure anything for our future together. In the end I endured a lot of lonely time missing him and ended up with nothing more than a lifetime of lonely time missing him. I'm not exactly eager to get nothing but a broken heart and air miles out of another relationship.
But I will keep trying. I’m just licking my wounds (literally) and sitting back and letting the men approach me, sift through those date candidates and if there’s any honest potential maybe then I’ll try, try again.
The bigger issue you mentioned is my dating demograph. Is it really that bad? Well. It’s not good... I really hate to generalize and paint the entire male population of Chicagoland with an unflattering color of paint, but...
I have encountered a very high number of jerks, liars, booty callers, married men, superficial idiots, geeks and losers. And so have a lot of other women I’ve met who are trying to meet men in Chicagoland. And a lot of men in Indiana who apparently believe they are essentially Chicagoans. It’s “so bad” that there’s an underground network of women behind the scenes on online dating sites who circulate the profiles of the jerks, liars, booty callers, married men, superficial idiots, geeks and losers they’ve met online and dated to warn the rest of of women about the offending jerks, liars, booty callers, married men, superficial idiots, geeks and losers. I assumed this happens everywhere, women looking out for each other and all that. But maybe not. Maybe Chicagoland really is “that bad” that us womenfolk have to band together and form an underground alliance to protect each other from the jerks, liars, booty callers, married men, superficial idiots, geeks and losers roaming the online dating sites in our zip codes.
I was operating under the assumption jerks, liars, booty callers, married men, superficial idiots, geeks and losers came with online dating territory no matter what the zip code. Maybe not. Maybe online dating is not entirely to blame. Maybe it really is a location issue. Two of my worst dates to date - Creepy Perfume Guy and Crash - were not met online but they were Chicagoans. Maybe the male population of Chicagoland is heavily saturated with jerks, liars, booty callers, married men, superficial idiots, geeks and losers.
Oh. And, if we’re taking the online dating factor out of the equation and just looking at the datable pool of men in Chicago we’ll need to factor in the gay male population of Chicago and subtract a high number of men from the available hetero dating pool population.
Right. So. Subtract the gay men and jerks, liars, booty callers, married men, superficial idiots, geeks and losers from the Chicago dating pool and what do you get? Maybe a few elusive men. Guys, if you are not gay or a jerk, liar, booty caller, married, superficial idiot, geek and loser and you’re between the ages of 30 - 50 and looking for a meaningful, long term relationship or marriage, pack your bags and move to Chicago because I know a ton of really great women who would like to meet you. (yes, really, intelligent, employed, sane, funny and yes, pretty women in those age ranges. I look at these women and think, “Okay, if she can’t find a good guy or have decent dates there’s no hope for me. These women are great catches. Really. There’s nothing “wrong” with them except, maybe, their location.)
My definition of loser: One who is one, some or all of the following: a user, a physical or verbal abuser, an addict, a controller, a manipulator, arrogant, vain, lazy, unaware, violent, overly aggressive, disrespectful, rude, or unable to articulate anything about himself or the sort of person he wants to meet.
Wade through the email I get from men via online dating sites, eliminate men who fall in the above categories and that usually leaves about one man per week with any glimmer of hope for enough common ground to even bother meeting in person.
This is not me being picky about what I want in a man. You’re going to have to trust me on this issue. I am not being picky. I am being honest with myself and the men. They frequently put me in the position of having to be picky for them. There has to be some common ground between us, something about his traits and mine, a mutual agreement on what we’re looking for in dating and a potential relationship to even consider meeting in person. Based on their email and profile most of these men don’t want to date me. I am not what they say they’re looking for in a date or woman in general. And yet they send me email.
Guys, seriously, read my swutting profile. Read yours. Realize we’re not meant to be together before you email me. Yes. That age thing is still driving me nuts. But. There are other issues as well. Be aware of yourself. Read. You don’t even have to be perceptive. Just take what we post on our profiles as the truth. If we’re not what you say you want in a woman, or if you're not what we want, don’t email us. Move on to the next profile of a woman, find one who fits your criteria and who lists your traits as desirable and spend your time and dating energy on her.
This is supposed to be about cultivating a relationship. The great thing about online dating is being able to eliminate the incompatibles without having to date or even talk to them. Are men so desperate they’ll email any and every woman they see online no matter what she says she wants in a man and relationship?
I’ve been assuming it’s arrogance and ego which drive men to email a woman far out of their search criteria. I assumed these men are thinking the woman will be so impressed with him they’ll forget all about what they thought they wanted in a man and relationship just for a chance to meet this guy.
But maybe not. Maybe these are desperate men blindly emailing every woman they see online. Wow. Guys. I mean. Wow. I hope for your sake that’s not the case. Maybe you’re a jerk, liar, booty caller, married man, superficial idiot, geek and loser. If so, you might want to work on that/those issue(s) and maybe you won’t be so desperate.
Oh sure, I am a desperate woman. I admit this. I need a husband, badly. Now. My financial situation isn’t getting better, our society is still based on two incomes and I need the financial benefits of marriage and two incomes. Soon. Now. (One more time with feeling, this isn’t gold digging. He doesn’t have to be wealthy. He merely needs a job which enables him to contribute to the household finances.)
Okay. Not a great mindset for finding love and Mr. Right and all that. But. Remember. I’m no longer trying to find love and Mr. Right and all that. I had The Closest I’ll Get to Mr. Right, I’ve experienced real love. It didn’t work out for me. It made me an emotionally void mess of a human being. We’ve covered this ground. I’m not saying my situation is ideal or even good. But. I am very aware of who and how I am and I am very honest about it. I know what I need and I spell it out for men. And yet, still, I am barraged with email from men who a) do not fit any of the criteria I spell out on my profile, b) list criteria on their profiles which I do not possess, and c) are looking for something I clearly say I do not want.
Is it really that bad? Well. I’m not sure. Maybe it’s me. Maybe my perspective is so skewed I’m in no position to accurately observe and report. So you be the judge. The 50 First Date chart only covers what happens on an actual date. I haven’t said much about what goes on before I even get to an actual face to face meeting with a man. (heavy sigh) Maybe it’s me. Really. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I am too picky. Maybe I’m not giving great guys a chance. Maybe I’m losing out on some great dating opportunities.
Want to help me decide if I’m being too picky? I’ll present to you a guy who I would put in the discard pile because it appears to me we’re not meant for each other let alone meant to ever meet face to face. I’ll give you my profile information and exactly what he gives me in terms of information about himself. I put a lot of men in the discard pile. I’ll choose the one with the most possibility of overlooked potential. Yes. I’ll give you the best of the worst matches. I won’t use his actual screen name. You tell me if I should return his email/wink/smile
And so, I present to you,
Okay. This guy sent me a very, very long detailed email. He thinks we’re perfect for each other. I read the mail before I checked out his profile. His email of introduction told me how he’s been trying to find me for years, “even before my divorce I knew I wanted you.” Uh, okay...if I were picky I would have stopped reading and hit delete right there. Right? Apparently his marriage was bad and he was fantasizing about “me.” Which doesn’t warm me to the guy - he wasn’t even divorced and he was already thinking about who he “really” wanted. Okay. I haven’t been in a bad marriage, or any marriage, so maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to judge him on this point. Still. The whole fantasizing about me during his marriage thing is too swutting gross and evil for me. I feel like a homewrecker and I haven't even seen the guy's online dating profile years after his divorce. Why would he want to make me feel like The Other Woman in his failed marriage when he hasn't even met me? Maybe that's me being too picky...It's one thing to have an idea of the type of person with whom you want to share your life, a fantasy mate of sorts. It's another to be already sharing your life with one woman and fantasizing about sharing it with another.
He goes on to detail how funny and intelligent I seem and how he can’t stop looking at my beautiful smile and eyes. Hey, we’ve got a hot one, here! But then he spends the rest of the email telling me how much he hates sarcasm and cynicism and that physical beauty is very important in a healthy relationship.
Okay. You haven’t read my profile. But. I think we can all agree it’s safe to assume it’s a bit sarcastic with cynical undertones. But to give the guy benefit of the doubt in the perception area, I spell out the fact that I am sarcastic right there in my profile. "Sarcastic, sometimes dark sense of humor." Dude, you hate sarcasm and I state very clearly in my profile that I am sarcastic. Why would he not Next! me after discovering I’m sarcastic? Please, someone, I’m begging you, please explain this to me.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and if he finds me attractive that’s great, lucky me. But, somehow I doubt a guy who can only find the most basic features of smile and eyes beautiful will be wowed by my less than attractive appearance. Maybe I’m wrong about this. But. I’m thinking if he found me attractive enough to have a “healthy relationship” he would have mentioned something other than my smile and eyes. Maybe not. Maybe he’s a smile and eyes guy. After all, he thinks his best feature is his butt.
Let’s talk about his criteria. He’s 44 and wants an 18 - 30-year-old woman. We can all connect the dots about what those numbers say about him. Hey, whatever, good luck with that. I'm not judging his cliche hot young babe with older man complex. But. Here’s the weird part. (at least to me, again, someone please explain this to me) I am not an 18 - 30-year-old woman. I am younger than him, but not in his desired age range. Since I am not in his desired age range why would he waste any time with me?
And, why would he risk offending me by contacting me when I am not in his desired age range? The message I get from this is: "I’m not having a lot of luck with the 18 - 30-year-olds right now and I saw your profile and you seem desperate so I could date you until I find an 18 - 30-year-old who wants to date me." Am I way off base with that assumption? Is it my sensitivity and lack of self esteem kicking in or would most other over 30 women feel “concerned” about dating and possibly ending up liking a guy who clearly states he wants an 18 - 30-year-old woman? The vision I get is one of us out on dates with him ogling every 18 - 30-year-old petite blonde he sees. Maybe that's me being insecure. But. The reason I'm insecure is because he swutting says he's interested in 18 - 30-year-old women! I believe him. I'm trusting him to be honest. And therefore I'm working on the assumption he wants an 18 - 30-year-old woman.
Right. Okay. Next. He’s a “cigar afficionado.” I state NO WAY on the smoking portion of my profile. Clear up the confusion for me, please. He smokes. I don’t. I state I do not want to date a smoker. So why would he contact me? Maybe he’s thinking he wants to quit and I’m so spectacular he’ll quit for me. Okay. Maybe. But he doesn’t drink alcohol. And states he does not want his partner to drink alcohol. I state that I drink alcohol. Is he assuming I’ll think he’s so great I’ll give up alcohol for him? Why would he assume that?
Next. He wants a woman who is blonde and between 5’0” and 5’7”. Sure, I have blonde highlights, but I am a brunette. I have photos posted which show me as a brunette. I list my height as 5’11”. I realize many men lie about their height. Add a few inches thinking no one will ever notice. Guys. We notice all your lies about “height.” Okay? Deal with what you’ve been given, accept it and move on with the rest of your life. So maybe guys assume since they lie about their height women do, too. Most of us do not. I am 4” taller than the tallest woman he wants to date. Why is he contacting me? Why Universe, why?
And let's just say he's open to the idea of a taller woman. Again: Why would he contact me?
I state that I live in Chicago. The site calculates we live 76 miles apart from each other. He says he works long hours, doesn’t like to travel, is a homebody and likes to relax at home. Okay, that’s cool. I totally understand. Sometimes I want to go home and go straight to bed. I get it. I really do. But what I don’t get is why he’d even consider looking at profiles of women who live more than 10 miles away from him. Profiles of women who state they like to travel to far away places. Profiles of women who state they do not have a car and prefer to meet men within the confines of the city limits. Help me understand. Is the assumption that he’s so fantastic I’ll be eager to schlep 76 miles to his beloved house in Indiana to “relax” and be a homebody with him? And more confusing to me: Why would he pursue a woman who states she loves to travel and lists several very far away places she wants to visit when he states that he’s seen all of the world he wants to see? Northwest Indiana is not a far away place for me. It is not on my list of places I want to visit.
What would make him think a guy like him and a girl like me are a perfect match for each other? What am I not understanding? He thinks we’re a great match. I think we’re two people whose paths should never cross. Me: Nonsmoking, travel loving, alcohol drinking, motorcycle fearing, tall, brunette sarcastic cat person. (okay, to be fair, he didn’t know I fear motorcycles) Him: Cigar smoking, travel hating, non alcohol drinking, Harley riding, petite blonde loving, sarcasm hating dog person. Seems obvious to me we’re not a match made anywhere other than Hell.
But before I hit the delete key I’m offering him up for review because he’s so darned convinced we’re perfect for each other that I feel like I must not understand something. I might be missing out on the dating opportunity of a lifetime by deleting him. You, Universe, you tell me what you think about the possibility of the two of us dating. Tell me what I don’t understand. Help me see what he sees. Explain to me why I should take the time to communicate with this guy or even go on a date with him. And yes, he is the best of the worst this week.
Some of his profile: (a few items deleted to protect his identity)
I am a: 44 yr old man
located in: ****, Indiana (50+ miles from me)
looking for: 18 to 30-year old woman
within 9999 miles of ******, Indiana (seriously, this homebody, travel hating guy states he's interested in women 9,999 miles of his beloved home)
relationships: Divorced
ethnicity: White / Caucasian
height: 6’ 1” (180.3 cms)
About me and who I'd like to date I’m looking for the right woman to have a family with. I want children with the right woman. She is 18 - 30 years old, slim, petite and preferably blond and blue eyed. She must love dogs.
My appearance
best feature: Butt
Interests
for fun: I work long hours so I like to relax at home. I’ve seen all of the world I want to see and do not like traveling. I am a homebody. For fun I like to play with my dogs. You must love dogs if you want to date me. You must also like motorcycles. I have a Harley and like to ride it.
favorite hot spots: I am a homebody. I don’t drink and I don’t like hot spots.
favorite things: My dogs. My Harley. My job. My house.
last read: DaVnici (sic) Code.
Lifestyle
exercise habits: Exercise 3-4 times per week
daily diet: Meat and potatoes
smoke: Cigar aficionado
drink: I don’t drink
job: Sales
for fun: I work long hours so I like to relax at home. I’ve seen all of the world I want to see and do not like traveling. I am a homebody. For fun I like to play with my dogs. You must love dogs if you want to date me. I do not want to raise someone elses (sic) children or deal with someone elses (sic) problems. If your (sic) divorced or have children I don’t want to date you. If you do not have children you should know I am open to the idea of a family and would like to have children. Thats (sic) why it’s good I’ve seen all I want to see in the world and I am happy to stay home all the time with my children. (His children? We don’t even have any yet and they’re already his children? There's no I in parenthood, buddy.)
income: $75,001 to $100,000
my place: Live with pets
have kids: None
want kids: Undecided (I know. He's undecided about having children but wants 2)
how many: 2
pets:
I have: Dogs
Background/Values
faith: Christian / Catholic
education: Bachelors degree
politics: Conservative
About My Date
hair: Blond
eyes: Blue, Green
height: 5’ 0” (173.0 cms) to 5’ 7” (211.0 cms)
body type: Slender
languages: English
ethnicity: White / Caucasian, Asian
faith: Christian
education: High school, Some college, Associates degree, Bachelors degree, Graduate degree, PhD / Post Doctoral
job: Any
income: Any
smoke: No Way, Occasionally, Daily
drink: I don’t drink alcohol
relationships: Never married (Oh sure, it's okay for him to be divorced but the woman he dates must not have any marital history. Okay. Maybe that's an instance of me being too picky. Does that double standard bother anyone other than me?)
have kids: No
want kids: Undecided
turn-ons: Long hair, Skinny dipping, Dancing, Boldness / Assertiveness, Candlelight
turn-offs: Boldness / Assertiveness, Dancing, Flirting, Public displays of affection, Sarcasm
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Thanks for all the hair (and other) advice.
Sooooooo, the deed is done.
I hate it. My friend hates it. HWNMNBS would hate it. (Not that his opinion of my current hair, or, well, current anything, should matter, just using it as a point of reference, a sort of control factor in the haircut experiment.)
My sister loves it. People at work love it. The guy at 7-11 loves it.
I suspect The Truth lies somewhere in the middle.
Everyone, including me, gives the color two enthusiastic thumbs up.
She really outdid herself in the highlight to lowlight ratio this time. Not too blonde, not too dark, excellent midtones and exceptional depth and shine. No one could ask for more or better in the color department.
The love/hate debate is surrounding the style and cut.
Why I Hate My New Haircut by Tricia McMillian
I hate my new haircut because it looks like a Friends/Rachel from 1995.
I am not now, nor have I ever been, a fan of Friends.
I am not now, nor have I ever been, a Jennifer Anniston wannabe.
I have no feelings, sexual or otherwise, toward Brad Pitt.
I do not now, nor have I ever, longed to sport a 10 years out of date hair style.
The irony here being that the whole point of this new haircut thing was to quickly and relatively inexpensively freshen up my look. Not make me look 10 years past a use-by date on a hairstyle which was a stupid quickly expired trend in the first place.
I feel like everyone’s pointing at my hair and laughing. “Great color, but someone should clue her in on the hair style. Wearing a Rachel isn’t going to bring the show back into production. The cast moved on, so should she. Sheesh. Friends fans. Pathetic.”
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
This is going to seem like a sort of girly post. And it is. Sorry guys. But. Actually. If you’d be so kind...I could use your advice, too.
Women and men have very, very different opinions about hair. Men almost unanimously dig chicks with long hair. Men dig chicks with long hair because they don’t have to take care of it. They don’t have to fuss with it. Wash it, get it dry, style it and somehow magically manage to make it stay looking fresh and styled in every weather condition and element, natural and otherwise, but not sprayed and sticky, of course. Men want to run their fingers through long hair. This is apparently very sexy to them. I have absolutely no clue why men want to do this but, hey, whatever guys. Knock yourselves out.
But these same men will become uptight, irritated and frustrated when they have to endure the waiting time required while the woman with the locks styles and maintains that hair he loves so much.
Guys: Very few of us have wash and go hair. The longer we grow our hair, the more upkeep and styling it requires. And the more time it takes to care for and style it. This seems obvious to me: More hair = more prep time. I’m thinking it’s a direct correlation.
Maybe it’s because most women are very good at multitasking every aspect of their lives. Maybe this has created high (read: unrealistic) expectations in men. Maybe women have become so good at just managing their lives that no one, including us, realizes just how much time and effort we actually put into what we do.
I have very long hair. Too long. It’s part poverty, part laziness, part ambivalence and part uncertainty.
I’m not opposed to cutting my hair. I’m not one of those: Never! No way! Get those scissors away from me! girls. I’m just: too broke to afford regular trimmings an actual hair style requires; too busy/lazy to get to the stylist more than a few times a year; too ambivalent about what my hair looks like; and too uncertain of what sort of look I want my hair style to convey.
So I just leave it long with some layers and highlights and let it rest at that. If I spend a lot of time “doing” my hair it looks, you know, pretty good. If it’s just a normal day it might look okay and it might look not so okay. Whatever. Who cares? The gay guys in the office? The style mavens down in sales? See where I’m going here? I work 12 hours a day. If I’m meeting with clients or something, you know, important, yes, I spend the time (lots of time) to “do” my hair. On regular days my time (over an hour) is better spent working or, dare I dream, sleeping.
Yes guys. Over an hour. And I’m pretty quick and adept at “doing” my hair. Other long haired women take longer than that to “do” their hair. Yes. Really.
It’s basic physics. Wet hair takes a certain amount of time to dry. If we’re using a hair dryer you can set up a formula on the per inch dry time. You have to factor in the thickness of the hair in question, the molecular density of the hair shafts. Be sure to factor in any products we may use such as conditioner, styling gel/lotion/mousse, anti-friz serum and/or shine boost. Those will all increase drying time. Hopefully they’ll shave off a few minutes of styling time, though, so, you know, it’s worth it. And lastly, factor in the grand and wattage of the hair dryer.
The next formula you’ll need to set up involves the styling time. There are as many variables to this equation as there are women. Curling iron, straightening iron, hot rollers, velcro rollers, or some combination of those styling aids will be called into acton. I’m in the middle of the maintenance scale. Not low maintenance but not high maintenance. Right smack in the middle. And I have been known to use a straightening iron, a curling iron, hot rollers and velcro rollers over the course of one styling session. Yes. Really. Because I have long, thick hair.
This is what I’m saying, guys. You cannot possibly understand what happens behind that bathroom door before we appear with our “casual, easy flowing” hair.
Left on its own, just washed and, well, just washed and towel dried, most of us with long hair would end up with either this look or this look (girl on the right. My hair does this with nothing but a hair dryer. For a little style change I could do this Or maybe this if I get my brush tangled while I blow dry. I know. Lucky me! Every day can be the ‘80s!) I think most of us can agree that none of these are exactly alluring or, well, you know, man bait hair. (Though for some reason Marcia never had a problem getting dates...)
I’m craving a more rock n’ roll look, something between this revamped Pat Benatar and the ferock standard Chrissie Hynde. But I have, you know, a day job. And I’ve never been able to fully carry off the whole heroin chic look. The closest I can realistically come to that look at this point in my life, you know, the point where there’s a very thin line between stylish and looking like a ridiculous and pathetic fool trying to be young, is this. But I don’t actually look like her. My hair would do that, quite easily in fact. But she’s gorgeous. She could pull off any hair style. I’m not, you know, gorgeous. I can’t pull off just any old hairstyle. Note how even this, erm, severe and starched style is well, I mean it is what it is, but, on any old woman, a non model, non pretty woman, this do would be even odder, funnier and severe. And I don’t actually walk around with a wind machine and crew of stylists all the time so, you know, carrying off something like this could be problematic for someone like me.
So keep all that in mind when I present the following question to the Universe: What the swut should I do with my hair?
I’m sick of it, I want something new, a new style a different look, heck any style or look would be a huge improvement on the, well, erm, um, lack of style or look I currently sport.
Chop it all off? Well. Yes. I could do that. I am not afraid. But. I am broke and busy and not able to get monthly trims to keep a short cut short. And looking the way it’s supposed to.
And I’m not pretty enough for short hair. Long hair provides an instant distraction from the rest of me. Long hair gives me a place to hide my ugly features. Long hair gives people a place to divert their eye contact so they don’t have to look me in the eyes. And my hair is the only physical man bait I have. Because on a good day, when I have the time to “do” my hair, it’s, you know, man bait for men who have a hair thing. HWNMNBS was forever fiddling with my hair. He liked me best in some windy place with my hair all over my face. He’d recreate that look indoors by flopping it in my face. This gave him something better to look at than, well, my face, no doubt, but, hey, it worked for a while, right? It's not a coincidence that he dumped me after I cut off several inches of hair. I cut it because it was dry and it was time to cut it, have a little style and start growing out some fresher looking length so it would look nice, new and shiny for the wedding. This is something else guys don't understand. Long hair needs to be cut, several inches cut, now and then. Otherwise it ends up looking old and dull and, well, not so enticing. I didn't cut it short short in anticipation of the wedding, I left enough to have enough re-grown in time for the wedding, it was still at my shoulders. But, there was less to flop in my face. Less to hide behind. Less hair, more me = broken engagement, no marriage, no man. I learn lessons from life. This is one of them. He cites me cutting my hair as one of the reasons he dumped me. I've kept my hair long since then. Not because I think it will woo him back to me, but because he confirmed what I knew was true: Men like long hair on women. They don't give a swut about all the reasons why it's a time consuming pain to take care of, they just like long hair.
Looking back on how much he liked me when I was in the wind or with my hair flopped on my face, maybe I should rethink the portable wind machine.
Think anyone in the office would notice? Or mind? I could rig up a fan, it would need to have a large battery pack because it needs to be a large fan. Right. I could rig up a fan on a push cart, maybe one of those luggage trolley things. Turn the fan to face me and push it along ahead of me everywhere I go. Then I’d have that wind blown feature hiding sexy look all the time. Like this guy. (I know. He's super cute. Going to grow into a handsome man. Shame about the hair. Maybe by the time he's old enough to vote he'll have done something with the hair.)
I know. I know. With everything going on in the world, heck with all that’s wrong in my own life, the last thing I should be devoting a second of thought to is my hair. You’re right. But I did warn you this is a girly post.
Sort of.
I have a theory. I first started pondering this after 9/11. I noticed peoples’ interests went one of two routes: Either non stop all things terrorism and government or, all things basic.
Like a new hair style. Or new coat.
After last December’s tsunami a blog which is usually political and, you know, kind of in your face with the rants about government and certain administrations, started contemplating the various types of tulip bulbs available online and which would be best for their garden.
I’m noticing more of this switcharoo in blog posting after Katrina and now the Asian earthquake.
One could dismiss it as denial. One could also dismiss it as complacency. One could dismiss it as arrogance. One could dismiss it as stupidity.
But.
I think it’s about control. This is not “happening” to complacent, arrogant, stupid people succumbing to denial. My hair style “crisis” came about the day Katrina hit. It’s been festering for a while. The whole clothes and image thing have been on my mind more than usual. Which is kind of weird for me. I was devoting more time than usual to finding a hair style when it occurred to me: This is about control. There is chaos and scary stuff happening, stuff beyond anyone’s control. It’s not that I’m shallow and don’t care about the victims. It’s strangely, exactly the opposite. I care too much. It’s information overload. I’m upset and feeling extremely helpless and insignificant in my abilities to be of any real help to anyone involved in these catastrophes. I pace around the compartment, fidget in the office, trying to get caught up in my normal life, work and all that, but the tragedy and horror going on in the world around me finds a way into most of my thoughts.
Diversion. Control. I need a diversion and control over something. Voila! hair style hobby on high volume. New and profound interest in something insignificant. Something which will over a consuming diversion and yet still allow quick and rewarding results and ultimately: Control.
Which is my own stupidity and irony because here I am feeling completely out of control over something which I have ultimate control. My hair.
What to do, what to do? Decisions, decisions. I need to do something. I know that much. I need change. Change is good. I need change I can control. Control is good.
What the swut am I going to do with my hair? People are dying, thousands of people are dying or having a really crappy time of things and I need to figure out what to do with my hair!
Thursday, October 06, 2005 Women, the Internet and You: A Refresher Course.
Apparently a lot of men don’t want to actually meet women. Oh sure, they claim to want to meet women, maybe even make noise about wanting a relationship. They might even have a clear idea about the sort of woman they’d like to meet and with whom they’d like a relationship. If they were to actually want either of those things, that is.
Guys, this is it. This is the information you’ve been wanting to have. I’m not breaking any female code of silence here. This is stuff we (women) want you to know about online dating. Some of us are getting frustrated with the woeful male behavior we have hurled at us via online dating sites.
This is difficult, you know, not easy, for us to tell you this stuff because the men in question are seemingly okay-ish guys. We suspect the intentions were not what they seemed. But then again at first online introduction we can only take what is given as it is, well, given. And it’s frequently given badly. Sometimes we give a chance knowing, perhaps sensing, the guy in question didn’t mean to come off they way he came off in his letter of introduction or profile. But usually we ignore him. Because we’ve been burned one too many times and we’re not giving or taking any more chances.
I’m not talking about the men to whom you may think I’m referring. So keep reading. The arrogant, egotistical, shallow lookin’ for a quick lay jerks are what they are. They know what they are. We know what they are. They know who they are. We know who they are. So there’s no real enlightenment required on either side of the chromosomes on these issues. I’m not talking about those guys.
No, the guys who are frustrating us, often offending us and completely turning us off are the ones who are seemingly completely unaware of what they’re doing. They attempt to woo and wow us with their wit or sensitivity.
Guys. You may honestly be sensitive and witty in real life. But most of you fail miserably when attempting to do this in an introduction email or profile. You apparently try to read a lot into our profiles and (Universe help us, the way we “look” in our photo) and apparently construct your version of our personalities. You then write what you think your version of us would want to hear. Much credit to you for reading our profiles and giving it thought and effort. Really.
This is why it’s difficult for us. You are trying. You really are. And we do appreciate that you are willing to put real effort into this. We really do appreciate that about you. We know in there somewhere is a swell guy. But you’re trying either too hard or too weirdly.
You’re not impressing us.
You’re creeping us out, annoying us and often insulting us.
Men. Please. Read this. I come in peace seeking only understanding. Please. I’m begging you, please read this. Hear me. Believe me. Please. Save yourselves. Save us. The entire future of the human race could depend on this.
First things first.
You obviously bother to read our profiles because you mention specifics gleaned from our profiles. That’s good! That’s a very good thing! Where this all goes wrong is when you don’t pay attention to what we say we want in a man.
I list a very specific age range for the men I’d like to meet. Most women do. Our reasons are as varied as our personalities. But. One thing is universal among all of us: We list specific age ranges for very real, specific reasons. If you are younger or older than the range we list, please, please do not take this personally. You may think we’re perfect for you and that you’re perfect for us.
You’re wrong. I, and every woman I know or talk to about this is in complete agreement on this issue. If we bother to list specific ages we want to meet men within that range. Period. End of story. If you are not in that range, thanks for stopping by, good luck and have a nice life.
Do not waste any of your time with us.
“Yeah, but I’m just a year older than what she wants and I know she’d really like me if she’d give me a chance.”
Dude. Listen to yourself. You don’t even know this woman. You’ve never met her. Don’t make presumptions. And more importantly, realize how arrogant and swutting stupid you look by contacting a woman who specifically states she is interested in men who are not your age. Who the swut are you to think you’re so marvellous and perfect for her that your age won’t matter? Or worse, as it often seems, assume she won’t even notice you’re well outside her desired age range. Or worse than that, lie about your age.
This is a woman you’ve never met! How dare you take her stated desires in a man at any way other than presented? Seriously guys, this is really offensive to women. And the offense factor increases proportionally with each year over or under her stated desired age range.
At first I thought it was just me attracting every 52 year+ man on dating sites. You know, something about my profile or photo sending out a just a few years away from senior citizens discount vibe. I made a few offhand remarks about this to a few women and discovered they, too, have this same issue.
And on the other side of this issue, and with almost the exact frequency, are the 18 - 21 year old boys showing interest. Uh, dudes, you’re cute and everything but no. Just. No. There are plenty of women out there who have a Mrs. Robinson attitude. Lots of women older than you are very up for a toy boy or even a potentially serious relationship with a younger man. Please. Guys. Please find these women and keep your attention and emails to them. Just because some women 10 or more years older are interested in you doesn’t mean every woman is. If you’re not in our age range don’t presume we’re up for anything you’ll give us.
“I am very mature for my age, yet also young and eager to learn from your experiences.” This is a line written to me from a 20 year old boy. Apparently he needs someone to buy him beer. It’s not going to be me. I suspect he thought he was being romantic or, well, something. I’m not really sure what. But it came across as stupid, immature and offensive to me. My take on that sentence? “I’m not old enough to buy booze, I’m a virgin sick of jerking off but I don’t want to get bogged down in a relationship with a girl my own age. Besides, I’m not even sure I know what to do so I’m hoping that since you’re an old slut with lots of experience you’ll teach me what to do so I can use it on younger girls I want to date once I’m old enough to drink and go to clubs.” There were other factors in his profile which confirmed that conclusion, but it was all there in his opening line to me.
Unless a woman states she wants to date younger men, don’t waste your time and ours. Especially since most of us state the type of relationship we want. Very few women want or at least seek a serious relationship with a man 10 or more years younger or older than us.
Yes. Sometimes it happens and sometimes those relationships work really well. But the women who are up for trying it will list that in their desired age range. Stick to those women. Leave the rest of us alone. Don’t make offensive and egotistical presumptions about yourselves and us.
And no! The false humble opening gambit of, “I realize I’m out of your desired age range but I think you’re great and I couldn’t let this opportunity pass without taking a chance...”
Yes, you could. You could have respected my statements on my profile and said to yourself, “Oops, well, I’m not what she’s looking for in a man. Her loss. Good luck. Onto the next one.” If we wanted to meet men older or younger than us we wouldn’t be using online dating sites. We’d be hanging out at AARP conventions or frat houses.
Why is this such an issue? Because it happens a swutting lot. And because one of the great things about online dating, one of the main reasons a lot of people are turning to them is because you can list your specific desires in a date. It automatically gives us some control over the people we meet. The entire industry is based on being able to list specific search criteria. Top among that criteria, right after gender, is age!
Swut guys, please. Think about this a minute.
You’re making a mockery of the whole purpose of this thing. It may seem like a candy store filled with wonderful treats just waiting to be sampled, but it’s not. We are real women. We have jobs and interests and families and friends and lives. If we list specific criteria then it’s a safe bet we have a pretty good handle on what sort of guy with whom we’d like to share those lives. And that’s why we’re using online dating. We can set specific criteria. If we wanted any guy, any guy at all, we wouldn’t set any specific criteria or we’d go t a pick up bar. We know where they are and how to use them. But we’re dating on swutting line for crying out loud! Clearly we are looking for at least a few certain traits and are having difficulty meeting him “out there.” Conventional methods have failed us so we’re using an option which allows us to narrow our criteria and search for men who fall into those categories.
If you’re not what we say we want, leave us alone. Many of you seem like otherwise okay guys. That makes us feel like bad people for not responding to you because you’re out of our age range. It makes us feel guilty. You put us in a very awkward spot. We have two choices: Not respond at all, ignore you, or, respond trying to gently rebuff you. We sit there trying to find a polite way to say, “You’re too swutting old/young for me, you seem like a nice guy but I’m trying to focus on a certain aged man. I’m trying to have some control in my dates.” At first I replied with: “Sorry, really I am, but you’re just not at the place in life I want my dates to be.” This got me a lot of hate mail and accusations of being shallow, stupid, blind and a bitch. Yeah guys, that’ll get you a date. Not. Calling a woman shallow, stupid, blind or a bitch will never persuade her to date you. This will not help your cause or that of the way women perceive men. You’re not only insulting, annoying and angering women, you’re bringing down the entire male team. If these were isolated incidents or incidents which only happen to me I wouldn’t even mention this. Because I incite a lot of weird behavior in people. But. This exact thing happens to every woman I’ve talked to about online dating. A lot.
You may want someone like her, she might meet your criteria. But that's only half the equation. This is a partnership. You have to be mutually compatible. If you don’t meet her criteria, you are not mutually compatible. Approaching a woman online who states specific criteria which you do not have is a very, very selfish and arrogant act. Which speaks more about you than your profile or email ever will. This is why most of us eventually learn to simply ignore and delete your emails or winks or interests or whatever you send us.
Rejection really sucks guys, I know, believe me, I know. But there’s an easy way to avoid it: Don’t approach women who specifically state they are looking for someone who is not you. This is the beauty of online dating! Embrace it! It can eliminate a lot of rejection from your life! If she wants a 35-38 year old non smoking college graduate who lives within 25 miles of her zip code and you’re a 53 year old smoking high school drop out 800 miles away from her, don't swutting email her! Don’t put her in the awkward position of having to ignore or rebuff you, and don’t put yourself in a position to be rejected! Swut, guys, what is so difficult to understand about this?
Right.
Okay.
Now.
The whole opening email thing.
Let’s assume you meet all the basic criteria a woman posts on her profile. Great! Good for you! Oh boy, she could be The One! Woohoo! She seems really cool. She seems intelligent. She seems like the sort of girl you should try really hard to impress.
Scratch of record.
Don’t try to impress her by being suave, cool, witty or any number of things you think will impress her. Be yourself, man, just be yourself. Most women can spot a phony anything a mile away. What really impresses us is honesty, humility and integrity. Translation: Be you. Even if you are uncertain of who you are, that uncertainty is you. It’s okay, really. The more I learn about myself the less I know and the more confused I become. Sure, admitting that makes me vulnerable and well, it makes me look a little unstable. But. That’s who I am. That’s me. Anyone who dates me is going to have to deal with that. They should be very aware of this right up front. I, and most other women, appreciate and respect vulnerability. We are not looking for perfection. We’re looking for a real, decent, honest human being. Be yourself. Please.
Maybe she mentions she likes Douglas Adams in her profile. From this offhand mention on a list of her favorite authors you think: Wow. Intelligent, funny, well read and a sci-fi geek! Holy mother of Spock this is the girl for me! You start fantasizing about her in a Leia costume and planning trips to GalactiCON.
Wait a minute, there Darth, easy boy. Did she say she is a sci-fi geek? No? You just presumed she's a sci-fi geek because of the Douglas Adams thing? Ah. Well. See. That’s where you made your first mistake.
Your second mistake was writing an email littered with H2G2 quotes. Your third mistake was thinking this was a clever, witty and wise thing to do.
Think about it. You’re trying to get to know this woman. And hopefully she’ll want to get to know you. You fit her search criteria so you’re off to a good start. The basics are covered, anyway. You’re ahead of the game, man! You've got ins a lot of other guys don't have!! So why would you borrow quotes from some other guy? Another guy who is a dead author?
The old adage is true, guys, be yourself. Please. Be yourself. If things go well we want to get to know you. We want to know how you think. We want to know what you like. Anyone can quote, well, anyone. We’ve read the books or seen the movies. We’ve read or heard the quotes straight from the source. We don’t really need to hear them regurgitated from you. At least not in your email of introduction.
Please. Give us some small insight as to what you're about. Not the whole unabridged biography, just a few key points which tell us enough about you to pique our interest. If you are a sci-fi geek and want a sci-fi geek gurl, you know, good for you. You might want to let her know that right up front. Probably best that you do. But don’t beat her over the head with it. You’ll come across very one dimensional and well, a little boring. There’s probably more to you (I hope, for your sake) than sci-fi. Don’t pigeon hole yourself into a one dimensional niche.
But please don’t try to be “funny.” Or worse, “witty.” Oh Universe help me, the allegedly “witty” emails I’ve received. Arrgh. Shudder. Arrgh. Did I say a gagging aaccck? And oh swut, worse, it’s more evil cousin, droll. Droll is not a good thing. I have no idea how this rumor began. Droll is annoying and irritating and affected. Get it? Droll = bad.
“Huh?” you ask, looking at me with a confused look. “I thought women like a sense of humor in a man. I’m confused, Trill.”
Okay. Look. Here’s the thing. Women like to laugh. It turns us on. Big time. Yes. This is why we find Drew Carey sexy. Yes. We really do. He’s naturally a funny guy. Witty, even.
But.
Your introduction email should not be an attempt at an open mic night monologue.
I’m guessing Drew Carey and Jerry Seinfeld don’t go around trying to impress the girl of their dreams with opening lines and attempts at humor. Maybe they do, but I kind of doubt it. When they’re hitting on a girl for a roll in the sack, yes, they probably fling one liners at her faster than she can swallow the couple of drinks they buy for her. But when they’re first trying to get to know a woman they think they’ll really like, and want her to know them, they’re going to be honest and open and keep the comedy to a minimum.
This is someone with whom they’re hopefully going to share a lot of life. Even though they’re funny guys, make a living being funny, there’s a lot more to them than making people laugh. And besides, this isn’t work, it’s a date. And, don’t forget, these are trained professionals. They know how and when to use humor. Do not try this at home!
Understand what I’m getting at here? Humor is very, very important. But. Not everything in life is funny. And we want a guy who knows when to be funny, when we need comic relief, and when a joke is utterly inappropriate. It’s called: Being sensitive. It’s called: Perception. It's called: Maturity.
And humor is such a subjective thing. Think about the times in your life when you’ve had a good laugh with someone. It was probably with a good friend or family member, someone you know well or, someone with whom you’ve had a shared experience. (A miserable session at a professional conference, for instance. A weird presentation at a gallery. A beautiful fireworks display.) A shared joint experience with someone who sees it the way you do forms a bond - even a small one - and can set the tone for humor. Until you’ve got something, some shared experience, some basis of understanding between each other, tread easy and carefully with humor.
You haven’t had the pleasure of face to face interaction. Hopefully, if things go well you can speak on the phone or go on a date. It will be at that point you can get a feel for the chemistry or at least the sort of dynamic there is between you. Until then you’re flying blind on her sense of humor. She probably possesses one, maybe even a really good one. But sense of humor is a very tricky thing. She may state she’s sarcastic, but be careful. Sarcasm is subjective. And can very easily be mis-read when it’s written instead of spoken. Voice inflection in sarcasm is often the crucial difference between funny and hurtful. If you’re not a naturally sarcastic person an email of introduction to a potential date is not the place to give it a try.
In the introductory email go easy on the humor. Whether using your own or borrowing someone else’s. You can make a self effacing dig, but never, ever, under any circumstance should you attempt to make a funny remark about something in her profile. You do not know this woman so you do not know what her sensitivity level is over particular issues.
Personal rant in 3-2-1: On my pre-financial partner, no emotion required profiles, I stated I was seeking a long term relationship/marriage and that I would like to have children.
I stopped counting how many “humorous” remarks I received about my biological clock. Remarks from men hoping to date me. Hundreds of biological clock "jokes."
Guys: There is nothing humorous about making a dig at a woman’s age or her desire to have children. Especially in an email of introduction hoping to swutting date said woman.
I have no idea how this rumor got started among men. I have suspicions a comedy club or two in Northwest Indiana is to blame. But. Again. The people you see at comedy clubs are being paid to perform. They are at the very least more professional comedians than you are. And they are not attempting to meet and date women with their jokes about women. Trust me on this one, guys. I’m not a lot of things, but, I am a woman. And one thing I know for sure is that women do not like complete strangers making jokes about our biological clocks. Especially from men! Swutting MEN of all people. What the swut do you know about female reproduction cycles and the emotions they do or do not create in women?
Leave the biological clock jokes to the women or save them for poker night with the guys. Really. I mean it. It will not impress a woman. It will insult and anger her. Not only are you making a joke about something very important to her, you are insinuating that she’s old and “time’s running out” and “she better hurry up” and that she’s desperate. All of that may in fact be true, but all the more reason why you should not be making jokes about it. Especially to a woman you hope to date! As a potential partner we expect and need you to respect this aspect of the condition female. Swut, guys, we’re potentially the mothers of your children. Think about this. You shouldn’t find humor in biological clocks.
Again, if it were just me receiving a staggering amount of “humor” regarding a biological clock I’d dismiss it. But I am not alone. This is another common concern and complaint among women using online dating sites. There is apparently a large portion of the male population who are under the wrong impression about biological clocks and humor. Think about what you’re saying and to whom you’re saying it, guys.
Do you want to date a woman or use her as the butt of your jokes?
I have a pretty good sense of humor about myself. I really do. I try not to take myself too seriously and I’m the first one to make a joke about myself. And not in a lack of confidence and low self esteem kind of way. I really find myself to be a stupid idiot worthy of a joke on many occasions. I can and do laugh at myself. My life and I are a rich source of material. Again, just like a lot of other women. Nothing terribly unique or special there. Most of us are totally okay with our friends and family laughing at us or making jokes about us. We’ll often laugh loudest at the jokes. But. When it comes to our partners there’s a thin, fuzzy and very different okay to joke line than there is with other people. If we care about a man we want to impress him because we want him to like us and, well, sorry about this phrase, “please him.” If he’s making us the butt of his jokes on a daily basis it turns from humor to criticism. It turns from having a laugh to undermining our confidence. It turns from laughing with us to mocking at us. It’s a form of bullying behavior which is the source of emotional abuse in a lot relationships. “I was kidding, sheesh, can’t you take a joke?” Well, no, not when the jokes are coming from a partner and are mean, critical, hurtful and constant. No one should "take" jokes like that.
Do you really want to set this tone right from the start in your email of introduction?
No? Then don’t. There will be a time and a place for you to make jokes with us. It’ll be okay and funny. We'll both laugh.
Yes? There’s nothing I or anyone other than a trained therapist can do for you.
Right.
So. You fit her listed criteria. You aren’t glomming onto one aspect of her profile and creating an entire lifestyle around it. You’re capable of being yourself. You know to be careful with original humor when you’re first getting to know a woman. You respect her hope for children (or lack thereof) and wouldn’t dream of making jokes about biological clocks to her.
Whew. You’re one in a million, buster. I want to meet you. So do a lot of other women.
“But wait, Trill. If I’m so swell, why didn’t she return my email?” You’re asking.
I can’t answer for her. She has her reasons and probably didn’t want to hurt your feelings when the reasons were, well, it’s not you, it’s her. Please take this as a thoughtful gesture on her part. If she responded with a rebuff would you be happier? Probably not. Some things really are best left unsaid.
Let a few weeks pass. If you’re still interested, re-visit her profile. If you really, honestly, truly fit her search criteria and you really, honestly, truly believe you two might hit it off together (and by really, honestly, truly I mean: You have put aside your ego and desire for sex long enough to assess what you know about her and your personality and how you might relate to each other in an actual dating situation with your ego and desire for sex left at home that night), go ahead and send her another brief, and I do mean brief email.
Brief meaning: A few sentences at most. Brief meaning you in no way offend or insult her. Brief meaning you do not ask her why she didn’t respond to your first email. Brief meaning you are merely saying hi again, hoping her search is going well and that you’re still searching, too, and hi again. Period. Maybe she’ll give you another look. Maybe she’ll reconsider because you are a polite, honest, humble guy. And maybe she won’t. Maybe she meant her lack of response the first time. It’s now time to move on, man. Sorry and everything, but really, move on. Do not send another email. Period. There is no need to call her names, fling accusations at her, or, well, scare her with crazy rants about women and her attitude.
And this, guys, is the number one complaint I and other women have about online dating behavior.
Sending us hate mail because we didn’t respond to you or because we rejected your opening email does not endear you to us. I assume you think, “She doesn’t want me anyway, I’ll never see her, so I’ve got nothing to lose by sending her a nasty email telling her exactly what I think of her and women like her. Horrible names and insults included.”
Think about this mindset for a moment.
Okay. Did you assess the hostility behind that mindset? The immaturity? The reasons why most women would block you and also forward the email to the site administrator as abusive?
If you didn’t, you should.
This might be a reason why you are single and not having very good luck with online dating.
Very few women actually want to be involved in any way with a hostile, immature, defensive, rude man. Or at least they don’t set out to be involved with these men. We often end up with these men but it’s not an intentional goal we set for ourselves.
Maybe instead of trying to find a date you might want to consider some personal development classes. Chances are they’ll help you in your professional life, too. Just take some time off to work on your anger management style. Learn how to take criticism and rejection as a way to learn and grow as a person rather than a call for defensive bullying behavior.
Do you want a reputation as a rude, bullying, defensive, angry, scary man?
Well then, keep on sending those alarming emails.
Because here’s a secret a lot of guys probably suspect anyway: Women talk. We hear things. We ask other women their opinions. We’re not just hooking up with men on online dating sites. We’re joining talents and forces with other women on the sites. We’re networking. We’re talking to each other about our experiences, good and bad. And when there’s a bad experience we’re very protective of each other. We don’t want someone else to fall victim to a dating site jerk so we warn the other girls.
Ganging up on you? Well. Maybe.
But if you’re not behaving badly, we’re not ganging up on you. You have no reason to worry or feel defensive. We’ll probably refer you to another woman we think you might like. Everyone wins.
There’s a microcosm of networking going on behind the scenes of online dating sites. There’s a “we’re all in this together, let’s try to combine forces for good, alone we’re single, together we’ve at least got allies” attitude which can be good for all of us.
Well. Good for all of us except those who are rude, offensive, bullying, defensive, angry, scary men.
