Dalliance

This is going to be one of those posts where I give advice that I shouldn’t have to give.

Piece of Advice #1: If you are not divorced, DO NOT TELL PEOPLE THAT YOU ARE DIVORCED.

I kid you not, I have had this happen to me twofold. And I get it, the incidence of divorce in my little corner of the world is extraordinarily high-MOST LIKELY because young twenty-somethings are advised from a very powerful organization that shall not be named to get married right after they exit high school (girls) or after they complete an honorable full-time mission (boys and girls if they want to).

So, they do it.

And so, 3-4 years later, a lot of them get divorced. It’s a sad, hard fact that I find rather discouraging, but so is life.

I have encountered two individuals whose reality this illustrates. And for the record, I have nothing against dating divorced men. I get it-we all have pasts and we’re all moving forward trying to find happiness for ourselves. But I DO have a lot of objections to dating a man who has not finalized his divorce, thus making him STILL MARRIED.

Guys, at the very least, I feel that if you’re going to start dating after you leave your marital relationship, you should at least be transparent about the status of the marriage so that your prospective future romantic interest can make an informed decision on whether or not to date you.

I thought that this was common sense, but apparently, I could not be more wrong.

Piece of Advice #2: DO NOT PLAY WITH PEOPLE’S BODIES, EMOTIONS, OR TIME.

The most recent not-divorced-liar-pants that I encountered played with all three.

You see, he and I have history. We liked each other in high school. But for some reason, or many, he didn’t do much about it, as I was “probably interested in someone else.”

Fast-forward a few years, and we reconnect. Thanks to Facebook, I knew that he’d been married. So I asked him point-blank about the status of his divorce, and he responded in the affirmative, that he was a single person. Nothing for me to worry about, or so I thought.

He took me on a handful of dates over the course of the past couple months, and we had a great time. He made out with me, brought me wine, took my hands in his, and told me that he wants me to be his future.

He said some rather frustrating things, too, such as “I don’t want you to wear leggings in public, because people will look at your butt” or “Be a good girl” when I was out with friends. Being possessive, as if we were in a relationship that he wasn’t willing to commit to.

He didn’t make time for me, and I didn’t pressure him to. I’m a “cool girl.”

I saw him once a week at first, and even less after that. But he’d send me gushy messages about how badly he misses me and wanted to “cuddle me for 27 hours” in addition to other pathetic nonsense. He always “wanted to see me super soon.”

So me, thinking that he and I were dating, would decline other offers from perfectly suitable gentlemen, and sit my ass on my couch, waiting patiently for him to show up, and sometimes, he never did.

But alas, the gushy text messages and rather suggestive Snapchats persisted, and my frustration multiplied.

Until yesterday, when I woke up to the realization that he had blocked my text messages, as well as my Snapchat account.

That’s right, folks. I have been ghosted.

Now, I can’t get a message through to him, thanks to his immature handling of the termination of our situationship, but I have some words to say, and they simply must get out, so here they are:

Dear Non-divorced Bachelor,

I have spent most, if not all, of my dating life feeling like a toy. Feeling taken advantage of. I’ve been assaulted, exploited, lied to, and hurt more times than you can count on your fingers. And you have only added to that number. How is it that some people are capable of earning someone’s affection and then slapping them in the face with it shortly thereafter? It’s a level of cruelty and selfishness that I will never truly understand.

If you didn’t feel the things you said you felt for me, then why did you say them?

If you did feel the things you felt for me, but then stopped, why didn’t you tell me?

It’s not fair to leave me to guess what it was that made you cut me off. Because I take the things that I say and feel, and the things that others say and feel, seriously. I foolishly trusted you.

But, thanks to you, I am left to speculate.

Was I too clingy? Was I not attractive? Did you get what you wanted from me, and now I have nothing left to offer? Were you just bored with the game you started with me, and are seeking out a new opponent?

Because that’s the way I see dating relationships now-they’re nothing but a game. You can’t trust the one you’re up against; don’t get too close, don’t give too much away. Make sure you’re always the one who cares less, or triumph will never belong to you.

And, in the case that you get bored, just go find yourself a new one. There are plenty of opponents eager to play.

But as for me? I’m done playing now.

 

M.

 

 

On Love

I run the risk of making myself out to be a bitter, petty spectacle, but hey-that beats dealing with feelings in a self-destructive manner. If this doesn’t work, my plan B is to consume a lot of cadbury eggs and then poke at my chubby self in the mirror for an hour.

(side note: Easter has way better candy options than Valentine’s day. Mini Cadbury Eggs > those Sweetheart candies.)

(side note to the side note: the aforementioned side note is not a plug for one holiday over another. All holidays are created equal. But the ones that feature Cadbury Mini Eggs are slightly more equal.)

Contrary to popular belief, I actually love Valentine’s Day, despite my lack of a “significant other.” I hate when people are like “We shouldn’t need holidays to make sure our loved ones feel loved! We should make them feel that way every day!” Frankly, we (I’m speaking for the general public) don’t have time or the funds EVERY DAY to wake our loved ones to heart-shaped pancakes and present them with thoughtful cards that we totally didn’t just barely scribble on in the car before thrusting it in our loved one’s face. We knew it was a Special Day, okay? Our handwriting is always that shaky and illegible. You know what? I’ll just read it to you.

My point is, Valentine’s Day is fun. It’s a day we can plan ahead for (but probably won’t) and take time out of our hellish schedules to really connect with our significant others and remind them that we love them even though we are so busy and so tired all of the time from being adults 24/7. It’s unifying and comforting-knowing that millions of couples are displaying their affection for their loved ones at the same time because there’s always room for more affection. It’s beautiful and cheesy and mushy and gushy and pathetic and I LOVE IT.

No, I’ve never had a “Valentine.” I’ve just coincidentally never been in a relationship on February 14th over the past 22 years of my life. What of it?

And no, I’m not even the slightest bit sad, bitter, or petty about it. I’M NOT, STOP GIVING ME THAT LOOK.

I mean, I’ll admit-I did my share of comparing my single life to the coupled individuals roaming the mall, arm-in-arm, as I loitered around solitarily, hoping to find a little something to treat mah-self today. Luckily for my wallet, I didn’t find anything. I must admit, for just a moment, I felt a bit sad-recognizing that all these couples were compiled of individuals that have found somebody that (presumably) understands them and loves them and is willing to work through each others’ problems and differences and I applaud that! Because it’s not easy to do. My record of tolerating a boyfriend is like 6 months sooooo I’m not saying I’m a quitter, but if the shoe fits?

Anyway, I’m not one of those bitterly single people who are going to spend their evening wallowing with a bottle of wine and a chick flick tonight. (But if you are-more power to ya! You be the best wallower you can be. Wallowing feels GOOD.) I’m really comfortable with being by myself. And I acknowledge that human relationships just haven’t been a priority for me up to this point in my life. I have so many priorities that I can’t possibly squeeze any more in! And for that, I must suffer the consequences-which include a lame Valentine’s Day.

Reading back through this post, I have no idea what my point was, and you probably don’t either. All I know is that I was feeling a little melancholy on my way home from the mall earlier but that is no longer the case. I’m off to eat some Mini Cadbury Eggs.

Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all.

M.

 

 

 

 

Irascibility

I thought I was over my self-proclaimed “angry feminist” phase. Boy was I wrong.

I am a sucker for a good podcast, and I scrolled upon one this morning featuring the topic of feminism, which naturally peaked my interest. The discussion participants included a male host, and a male political science professor at a notoriously problematic university (I won’t name names, but this particular university can’t make it into the Big 12 due to their some fundamental, problematic issues in the way they run their institution). You can listen to this podcast for yourself here.

Anywho, I was expecting this professor to advocate for feminism, and to support the progression of gender equality within society. You can probably guess from the title of this post that this was not the case. This political science professor spent his allotted interview time defending traditional gender roles. The take-away message he presented was that perhaps some of the things that feminists have (and will) accomplish are categorically good things, but come at a devastating cost to society.

Professor Bigot’s argument was that yes, women should obtain Bachelor’s degrees, in agreement with the counsel provided by the leaders of his church. However, if women choose to continue on to develop themselves academically, they are delaying childbirth, and neglecting to fulfill their divine roles in the home, even if they have no desire to become a housewife. He feels that a woman should spend the “prime of her life” reproducing and raising the resulting offspring. Ring, ring, the 1950’s called. They want their societal norms back.

He then later in the interview expressed that if it were his daughter that had a more “brainy” predisposition, he would support her in cultivating her fullest potential(presumably after she’d taken full advantage of her child-baring years).

This professor, full of contradictions, argued that one of the many problems with feminism is that feminists view women who choose to be housewives as inferior, and this makes housewives feel unfulfilled and consequently unhappy with their decision to become housewives in the first place. To the contrary, the feminism that I’ve come to advocates a woman’s right to choose for herself what her life will look like, whether that be a life of motherhood and domesticity, or that of scholarly study and professional development, or anything in between.

Because this man obviously knows what the female experience is like, he explained that women who devote their prime years to academia and professional spheres tend to experience a crisis at age 30 because they did not devote themselves to motherhood when they had the chance.

However, I have plenty of anecdotal evidence to suggest that perhaps it’s the ones who did not pursue their interests because they felt obligated to give up what they really wanted out of their lives to set aside their desires and dreams to adhere to traditional gender roles. Multiple women that I know personally have shared with me that once they become empty nesters, they feel a sort of crisis in which their primary role as a mother has been fulfilled, and she is presented with this newfound free time in which she begins to contemplate the “what if’s” and feel remorse for not choosing an alternate path.

That, my friends, is my worst nightmare.

Now, let me make one thing VERY clear. I have no objections to a woman who willingly chooses to abide by traditional gender roles, so long as it is a conscious choice, made after years of serious contemplation. Additionally, I am the biggest advocate of education for all genders. This is an issue that I am extremely passionate about, perhaps due in part to growing up in a community where traditionalism was emphasized, and nonconformity was regarded as disobedience.

I have not been this upset in well over a year about the issue of gender roles, but this podcast tore open some wounds that I thought I’d partially mended.

I guess what it comes down to is the issue of control and power. I refuse to allow anyone, especially men, impose their myopic worldviews and values on the lives of women. Men of this type seem to think that they are entitled to control the opposite sex, and that their opinion on what women should be doing with their lives is somehow significant.

If you think about it, societal norms were implemented by men, and for men. I’m no history expert, but I am not aware of an active form of consent to traditional gender roles by women. Nobody asked us what we want for ourselves, they told us. And that makes me physically ill.

I will not be controlled by anything or anyone. The only thing dictating my life is my own cognitions. Women, what you want out of your life matters. In fact, what you want out of life should be your priority. We only get one shot at life, and there is simply no time for regret.

My views on feminism can be summed in one simple statement: Everyone deserves to live authentically and everyone else should mind their own damn business.

Enough with the pressure to conform to some silly, arbitrary role. This burning anger I’m experiencing this morning has revamped my drive for accomplishing my academic and career goals, none of which include any kind of adherence to a “predisposed” role that some have decided is a one-size-fits-all, but in reality has no consideration for individual differences.

I typed this entire post with shaking hands and burning cheeks, and my first draft had a much more colorful vocabulary, which I have censored for the children.

I know I’ve beat a dead horse here, but until society eases up on dictating peoples’ life decisions, I will not be at peace.

Down With The Norm, indeed.

M.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Feline

“No Scrubs” by TLC came out 17 years ago, and boys are still hanging out the passenger side of his best friend’s ride, trying to holler at me.

In the past three days, I have noticed an upsurge in the frequency at which this phenomenon has been occurring. Whether I be trotting into my apartment from a night out with friends, into the grocery store to buy ingredients that I will attempt to use later in a meal that will certainly not turn out as planned, or simply embarking on a leisurely stroll, dudes with muscle cars feel the need to “holler” at me.

Rap music blaring, base bumping, and the unmistakable vibrato of a young adult male simultaneously make me jump and look over my shoulder on a too-frequent basis.

I shared my frustration with this cat-calling nonsense on Facebook the other day, as mature twenty-somethings do, and was even more annoyed by the responses I received.

The direct status I posted reads:

“Dear men,

Whenever you’re faced with the decision of whether or not to yell “nice ass” out your car window at a human woman, pick no. Every time.”

Sassy, a bit condescending, and moderately funny. My typical flavor.

And also a direct reaction to an experience I had just previously had, late at night, when I was walking from the sidewalk to my apartment, by myself.

One commenter pleaded, “But what if she has a nice ass?”

Great question, sir! And I thank you for asking. If she does indeed have a nice ass, notice! Glance at it as you drive by. We as humans are sexual beings. You can even fantasize about her ass in your mind if you want to! But for goodness sake, do NOT slow your speed, roll down your window, and shout at her when she is in a solitary state in the caliginous night. You will undoubtedly frighten her and leave residual paranoia until the sun rises the next morning.

Another (male) commenter asked, “Can I yell it at guy?”

This is a toughie. I am obviously not a guy, so I don’t feel qualified to offer a legitimate answer to this question. From my perspective, being shouted at, even if it is a “compliment” can be startling, if unexpected. In fact, I have lived my adult life with a tiny pink bottle of mace in my purse, just waiting to be used in the inevitable situation in which I no longer feel safe. But I don’t think guys typically emerge from their homes with a constant fear instilled in them by their parents that they could be assaulted while innocently walking the streets at any time.

Well, white, cisgender, straight guys, anyway.

In sum, I’d say don’t do it, regardless of the sex of the person you are hypothetically “hollering” at, just to stay on the safe side.

And my favorite comment, also made by a dude: “I would be flattered.”

Flattered, you say? In the exact context in which I experienced it? Late, late at night, as a 110-pound woman with next to no muscle mass, no company, and no mechanism of defense? As you’re walking maybe a few yards’ distance from your car to your residence with the intention of coming home and going to bed without being involuntarily degraded, objectified, and sexualized by a stranger driving by in his vehicle? You would be flattered?

“Nice ass!”

Flattered.

I can assure you, being cat-called summons a whirlwind of emotions within my little body, but “flattered” is certainly not one of them.

What do you guys get out of doing this? Is it to impress your buddies in the passenger seat? Is it because you feel like you’ll get something out of it? Get a rise out of us? Get our number? What? WHAT IS IT?

Sigh.

I have been fuming over this for the past few days, and my therapist has advised me to write out my feelings so that I can stop dwelling on them. I’ve done that, taken my Melatonin supplements, and now my nice ass will drift into a dreamy slumber.

Goodnight,

 

M.

 

 

Xenophobia

The Meninists are at it again.

Meninists

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe that this post was intended to be empowering to women. However, in my calm, objective opinion, it is just another instance in which sexism confines people to prescribed parameters that have no logical basis in reality.

Allow me to elaborate.

As my Sociology of Gender professor so articulately stated, “The only job men can do that women can’t do is be sperm donors, and the only job women can do that men can’t do is be milk and egg donors.” This is obviously due to a concrete, biological difference between the sexes. *Keep in mind that some people are androgynous*

In terms of occupation, everything else SHOULD BE free game.

I am honestly baffled by the fact that it’s 2016 and we as a society still struggle with sexism.

Women shouldn’t have to “prove” that we can do what men can do. Women can (and do) become CEO’s, politicians, truck drivers, construction workers, and every other stereotypically male profession that you can think of, and they are successful at their chosen profession.

Likewise, men shouldn’t feel repelled from selecting traditionally female professions. Men are also breaking into “female spheres” and becoming nurses, secretaries, teachers-you get the idea.

Let’s address the second part of the quote: “women were created to do everything a man CAN’T do.” Aside from making babies, what exactly is it that men can’t do? Clarify this for me, meninists! You’re confusing my inferiorly feminine brain.

Additionally, this part of the quote conveys the message to me that women are simply here to attend to the non-manly things that men are above doing (i.e. childcare, housework, DISHES) which reinforces traditional gender roles, which I dismiss completely.

One of my favorite parts of this entire thing is the claim that “women are losing their uniqueness.” Ah, yes, because we women are all uniquely the same.

In terms of personality traits, there are more differences BETWEEN women and BETWEEN men than there are between men and women. Does that make sense? If not, you can read the results of an empirical study published by the American Psychological Association here. So what exactly is our basis for determining what men can’t do and women can’t do?

In conclusion, this quote is a beautiful illustration of just how confining sexism is to males, females, and everyone in between. Women were created to do whatever the hell they want, just like men were.

As a feminist, my goal is not to prove that I can do what men can do. I know that already-I am a completely capable, articulate, strong person who happens to be a woman. My goal is to accomplish what I intrinsically value, despite the confining attitudes of meninists, traditionalists, and the like.

That’s all I got for you for right now.

M.

 

 

 

 

Ontogeny

Please excuse my extended absence from the blogging world as my time, energy, and soul have been completely consumed by collegiate education and self-discovery over the course of the past quarter-year.

I am a Psychology major, and even though I have no intention of working in this field, I feel that my studies have facilitated a complete shift in the framework of my worldview of humankind, in addition to the pace and style in which I conduct my day-to-day life.

I am a new person.

Okay, perhaps not a NEW person. I am still definitely myself, idiosyncrasies and all. But something clicked within me and created a (hopefully) permanent change in my outlook on life, and how I want to live it.

Perhaps the most impactful thing I learned all semester was a concept coined by Carl Rogers, a humanistic psychologist. He calls it “existential living.”

Existential living can be summarized by living in the “here and now.” This requires being fully present, both mentally and physically, in every moment and every environment you are placed in, which, as you can imagine, can prove exceptionally difficult to do when you have six upper-division level courses constantly competing for your attention, among other things like, I dunno, men? Facebook? Grey’s Anatomy? Philosophical podcasts?

I am guilty as charged for my preoccupation with the future, which I feel has robbed me of having meaningful experiences in the present. My former self never made time for actual experiences, other people, or simply stopping to smell the roses every now and then. Fortunately, a series of interrelated events and individuals have yanked me back from the future, and I am much more open to experience, flexible, and, dare I say it, relaxed.

I’ve learned a thing or two ever since this lightbulb went off in my little head. Let’s list them off, for organizational purposes.

  1. You don’t have to protect yourself from everyone. My previous self was so concerned about my own endeavors that I put relationships with other people on the back-burner. I had such tunnel vision that I had convinced myself that I didn’t need anyone else until I’d maxed out to my fullest potential. In retrospect, I admit that I was making excuses for my self-induced isolation as a defense mechanism. However, my newfound understanding of the human psyche has convinced me that people aren’t meant to go through any part of life alone. Attempting to do so can make you crazy, but, then again, so can people. It’s all about balance.
  2. More often than not, there is no definite answer. This concept terrifies me to this day, but I’m becoming more and more comfortable with it. The reason why I do not intend to work in the field of Psychology is due to the fact that there are so few, if any, definite answers as to why people behave the way they do, and, as I mentioned earlier, I don’t like that one bit. I’ve decided to focus my energy on the biological sciences, which are arguably significantly more concrete than theories attempting to account for human behavior. Take Freud, for example. The guy was a total nut case, and any theory I can draft up pertaining to psychological phenomena is just as valid as his were.
  3.  I can’t be good at everything. I suffer from chronic perfectionism. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Poor M, what a curse, to HAVE to be perfect at everything. Cry me a river.” Where’s your empathy, folks? Claiming perfectionism is not intended to draw attention to my accomplishments. It’s a symptom of anxiety, and it has claimed more years of my life than I would like to admit. Anyway, the reason I include this in my “Life Lessons Learned Spring 2016 Greatest Hits” is because, for the first time in my life, I faced the possibility of failing a class. As it turns out, I am no statistician, and I don’t play one on TV. In all honesty, I exhausted my mental resources in the fight for a satisfactory grade in my Statistics course, and no matter how hard I tried, I was incapable of earning an A in this class. My previous self would have been devastated, my self-esteem shattered. I got a B. My current self thanks the heavens that I passed the class, and has severed the tie between my grades and my own perception of self-worth and competence.
  4. There is no rush. I plowed through my undergraduate degree. This December, I’ll be receiving my diploma at the ripe age of 21, just three years after graduating high school. While I am extremely proud of this accomplishment, a part of me wishes that I’d allowed myself to enjoy the journey a little bit more, and perhaps I could have achieved a higher level of authenticity and security in what I want to become. Besides, I have the rest of my life to go to graduate school, and then work until I can retire in the next 50 years or so and live happily ever after with an obscene amount of dogs at my side.
  5. Breathe. This one was probably the most beneficial to my physiological health. I am a frequent panic-attack victim, however, despite this semester being my heaviest course load, I experienced minimal panic-attacks, and my heart thanks me, due to my newfound ability to control my own stress levels. Rather than allow myself to activate full freak-out mode, I am now able to withdraw from the stressful stimulus, recompose myself, align my Chakras, and return to the task at hand as a much more composed and serene individual.

I’m sure that I’ve learned numerous other lessons over the past four months, but for some reason, we as a species are comfortable with the number 5. Besides, I’m sure that you all are tired of hearing my enlightened self express how enlightened I am.

Anyway, I exited this semester more sane than I entered it, which is refreshing, because I only have a week to recuperate before I dive into the summer semester.

I don’t know who I am without academia.

Onward, ever onward.

M.

 

Magistral

Being a female doesn't always mean that you have to fit into a pre-set role of femininityI am frustrated. I am frustrated because people think it’s their job to police others’ femininity or masculinity.

It’s like, we’ve all been prescribed a quota-a level of femininity or masculinity, that we are required to meet, and if we don’t, other people are entitled to confront us about our shortcomings, so that we may make adjustments.

I, like each of you, have been socialized into performing my gender by means of behavior, dress, grooming, etc., and I happen to feel secure in conducting myself in a feminine manner, which falls in line with society’s expectations of the way I’m supposed to behave and interact with others. However, this is not the case for a lot of individuals.

I have a very dear friend whose significant other has been exceedingly critical about what he perceives is a lack of femininity. Consequently, she has been adjusting her appearance and behavior in order to please him.

I find this disheartening, because I really admire this friend of mine for her ability to be herself un-apologetically, and regardless of what anyone else might think. And I like the person she is.

Men are also prescribed a very rigid list of traits to obtain in ordered to be considered as adequately masculine. For both genders, and any gender in between, the societal expectations to behave a certain way are very constraining to individuals.

Real men are buff, real women have curves; men can be scruffy, women should be void of all body hair; aggression is acceptable for men, but women should remain passive; men must be diligent breadwinners while their wives maintain their households.Being feminine is a personal choice, and should never be decided by society

You get the idea-there’s a lot of rules to remember. And if you choose to disregard some, or take on characteristics of the other gender, your femininity or masculinity is called into question.

Managing to conform into a functional member of society while simultaneously developing an individual identity can be dizzying, and quite the balancing act.

There’s no wrong way to be a woman, and no wrong way to be a man. I just wish that society would allow us to perform our genders in an authentic fashion, rather than jumping through hoops in order to meet the expectations that have been prescribed to us before even our grandparents were born.

Imagine if these hegemonic masculinities and emphasized femininities didn’t exist-I think that we all would have turned out vastly different.

M.