Tuesday, July 8, 2014

You Must Be This Tall to Ride


There’s this:
“Even when a girl rejects your advances, she KNOWS that you desire her.  That’s hot.  It arouses her physically and psychologically.” – Above the Game, a “pickup artist” guide

And this:
“Men are notoriously bad at reading women’s minds and body language.  Don’t think that you’re any different.  From now on you must ASSUME that she is attracted to you and wants to be ravished.  It’s a difference in mindset that makes champs champs and chumps chumps.” – Above the Game, a “pickup artist” guide

And then there’s this:
“He told police he raped, choked and fatally stabbed the girl when she rejected his advances as they drank at the abandoned 18-acre site on a hillside overlooking Waterbury.” – Associated Press

And this:
“Man Hurls Glass in Woman’s Face After She Ignored Him in City Bar” - London24

And this:
“Suspect commits deadly shooting after reportedly being rejected by woman in Detroit gas station” – WJBK FoxDetroit


In a recent post, I made reference to the DJ who covered my friend’s wedding.   He approached me, invaded my personal space, got annoyed when rebuffed, and watched me all night.  His interest was noted by the bride’s dad, who made sure to give him a good stare down every time he tried to linger at our table (as if the DJ wasn't his own biggest cockblock to begin with, but thanks Dez).  The situation has been bothering me.  I've been thinking about it a bit more.  A good friend suggested that in the future I accept the "compliment" by saying thank you and moving on.  I'm grateful my friend gave me the opportunity to reflect more on the situation, although perhaps in unexpected ways. 

I don't think my friend was trying to be at all disrespectful when he suggested I let the DJ's behavior slide and take it as a compliment.  If anything, he was trying to be helpful in a way that could assist me in letting it go while not wasting emotional energy on the situation. And maybe it seems perplexing that disrespect could be used to describe his comments at all, perhaps unaware or naive fits the statement (not the person) better.  His comments prompted me to think on a larger scale in regard to the messages people receive about what is and is not acceptable in terms of advances and statements of interest.  I find it unlikely any of my current friends, male or not, would genuinely suggest that anyone, women included, should feel complimented by all people, men included, who hit on them. Instead, I suspect they would indicate that it is perfectly ok to reject their advances.  I wonder, though, how much of this is due to the friends I have versus the larger social perspective.  The idea that someone should be flattered or complimented by someone else taking an interest in them regardless of the intention behind the interaction is shortsighted, dangerous, and unfortunately pervasive in US society as reflected in the statements listed above.  It's like the dog telling the fire-hydrant to be grateful it's the first one on the block.

My friend also suggested that men are often thinking simply of a sexual encounter in these instances, and most, when rejected, will move on.  And again, I wonder, how is that a compliment?  Guy: "She'll do." "Hey, you have a really classic look, I feel like I know you." Girl: "Not interested." Guy: "Too hard, need something easier, Feminist Bitch" (moves on down the line) "Hey, you have a really classic look..." So, women should feel complimented that men think they're worth having sex with, and yet, if you aren't interested or are too difficult to persuade they'll just happily move on to someone else?  Really?  Like women are carnival rides?  Women who set boundaries around sex are not "feminist bitches," and the notion that men get to be indignant about those boundaries and label women is unacceptable.  No one is entitled to sex, and women are not required to fulfill men's absurd, narrow, entitled requests.  It's one thing to approach someone and be frank that you want to have sex.  Just fucking ask.  Introduce yourself, get the other person's name, and then state your question (this is a quick way to get “enthusiastic consent” a brilliant concept).  Depending on where you're at, this could go very well or very poorly.  Choose wisely.  Why waste time on pretense when it's obvious that is all your conversation is?  Sex for the sake of sex is fine. Some people should have more, some less, some probably not at all. Otherwise, build a nice foundation; have a genuine discussion about something, get to know the other person slightly, and then ask.  Do not, however, pull the DJ-esq bullshit involving horrible lines and an overbearing entitlement to the woman as your property as soon as you see her.  I think that is what really gets me about the DJ; the entitlement and he insulted my intelligence.  If you have to insidiously persuade, scam, or otherwise bend the other person's will to have sex, that's a problem.  The DJ was clearly following the used car salesman’s book to hooking up.  There was nothing he could have said based on his initial presentation that would have prompted me to consent to anything.

After reflecting on the DJ situation, I realized many men, possibly including my friend, have probably never been in a situation where any kind of engagement (positive like a smile or negative like "get away from me") has been taken as both immense interest in the other person and permission for anything and everything.  I've worked with enough sex offenders to know the Above the Game pickup artist information by heart.  Always assuming that all women are attracted to you and therefore "want to be ravished" is not what "makes champs champs and chumps chumps." When followed, that assumption makes felons felons and non-felons felons...guaranteed.  The positive response is seen as an open invitation, the negative response is seen as a challenge to be dominated. 

Am I overly cautious in situations like the DJ, yes...and no.  My excessive caution has served me well in some ways, although not perfectly.  Can I step outside of my rigid interpersonal defenses in regard to come-ones and see that not all men are skeezy douchebags?  Yes, I know a number of respectful, highly attractive men.  I even trust a couple of them.  Yet, when I have attempted to be more flexible and use the socially prescribed, polite "thank you, moving on" cues, I have been reminded in the worst ways that my actions only account for some of the outcome.

For example, last year I was assaulted in the middle of a crowded bar.  I was in the company of my partner and four good friends.  The guy who assaulted me was one of the bar owners.  He seemed to be on good terms with a friend, so I let my caution dial back while letting some of his attitude and comments about my "hot boots and red nails" slide...I'm not big on public drama.  Definitely one of the worst choices I've ever made. Also, I was in a large group of people and felt safe, as I had every right to...however idealistically misguided.  The night progressed, so did his blood alcohol content and his obnoxiousness.  Luckily, our table only fit five people so the space limited our interaction somewhat.  It wasn't until near the end of the night that I started setting boundaries and making "back off" cues.  As I was getting ready to leave, and my partner left to pay the tab, the guy restrained me from behind, groped me, rubbed himself against me, kissed the side of my head leaving copious amounts of spit behind, and made a comment about what I "wanted" sexually, as if he had it on good authority and it involved him. Stunned, horrified, and struck with fear, it ended when my partner scrambled back across the room after seeing my horrified face and literally pried him off of me.  I nearly wrecked my car driving home on account of dry-heaves, uncontrollable shivering, and anxiety.  I threw my boots away the second I pulled into my driveway, and I have another pair I haven't worn since then.  I had a painful bruise where he gripped my upper arm.  And I had one of the most difficult, terrifying, and humanity affirming conversations of my life with the friend who knew the guy…after I went back and forth for a couple of days before finally deciding to talk with him.  Gratefully, my fears were unwarranted and my indecision was unnecessary regarding our discussion as my friend responded in the most supportive way (definitely one of the best decisions in the situation). 

The next few months proceeded with a mixture of high anxiety, and a constant fluctuation between insomnia and nightmares.  Perhaps worst of all, it briefly affected my clinical work, an unforeseen impact.  I did what I needed to in order to regain balance and a sense of safety but it took time.  I felt the need to do it rather quietly without any attention or further discussion.  I also had to process my role in the situation.  Coming to terms with the fact that I was physically powerless in that moment and completely froze without defending myself was painful...even though I was physically not a match for the guy.  After all, I've trained in self-defense with two high level black-belt women over a period of years here and there, and I was in a fairly crowded bar, surely I could have drawn a bit more attention.  Could I have made other choices? Absolutely. Would it have made a difference? Maybe.  In that situation, I was damned either way, I think (although I wish I had screamed "GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME" so I didn't [irrationally] feel so much like a failure and at fault).  Was any of his behavior, even upon initial greeting, a compliment? No, not even close.  Did I feel “aroused”?  Only so far as I simultaneously wanted to cause him grievous bodily harm and burn all of my flesh off.  Given this experience, there was no way the DJ was getting a pass, especially when I was basically traveling alone and in a barely familiar location.  That rigidity doesn't make me a feminist bitch; I don't need to justify myself in choosing the people I spend time with socially or sexually.  

I have no objections to flirting with people or sharing genuine compliments with someone.  I do my fair share of both, and I find them fun as well as important in maintenance of social skills and relationships. And, social situations can be really challenging- even more so when it comes to possible sexual interest.  The salient difference in the situation with the DJ versus other encounters was the intent and attitude behind the interaction.  There was nothing respectful or genuine in his presentation, tone, choice of words, or physical proximity.  He made it clear I was an object to be had and nothing more.  There is absolutely nothing complimentary about being a dehumanized, targeted object.  Nothing.  Despite this, socially it is still considered unacceptable or rude for women to react with almost anything but politeness and gratitude when shown male attention (take it as a compliment).  This is especially true if you are not exactly attractive by social standards.  Also, it can be dangerous for women to respond with anything but positivity in some situations.  Violence in general is unacceptable; the levels of violence against women on account of being women are unfathomable.

(I will add a caveat regarding BDSM preferences that fall into dehumanizing people etc. by stating that when these behaviors are explicitly consensual I think the discussion changes almost entirely.  There are a great many highly intelligent and often well-educated people who enjoy BDSM while still having immensely healthy relationships. Objectification propelled by entitlement and a disregard for women is the focus here.)

The bar incident is a more overt example of the issues women face in regard to advances by men.  The DJ did not physically assault me, but the subtlety of his actions does not belie the impact or the social implications.  When you are a generally nice person with good social skills, nice manners, and respect for people, it's difficult to envision a) that other people are not the same in similar situations and b) that responding in a nice, polite way would lead to increasingly worse outcomes.  Striking a balance between being friendly with new people and making it clear friendly is not an open invitation is difficult.  Failing to recognize and therefore tacitly sanctioning the instances where the message is clear but simply ignored compounds the situation; that is something that can be changed.  A tall order, but necessary for the benefit and safety of all riders...   

Monday, June 9, 2014

Psychological Family vs. Biological Family

I performed a good friend's wedding this weekend.  Given my views on relationships and my rather dour view of wedding culture in the United States, it was an interesting experience.  I'm glad that I did it.  I was happy to support my friend and her new partner.  He gets the stamp of approval for being nerdy enough to hold a conversation about comics, Star Wars, and Star Trek.  He is also quite skilled in the area of stage magic which is always a plus.  The only questionable characteristic to be found is his preference for Tom Waits.  In many people, this would be a fatal character flaw...the magic is impressive enough to counteract it though.  And there's the whole thing about my friend loving him and stuff.

Weddings are typically nauseating affairs full of conspicuous consumption and over involvement.  The delusions people harbor regarding "dream weddings" are considerable and terrifying...typically.  This weekend was quite lovely, mostly relaxed, and genuinely meaningful.  In short, refreshing.  There was some expected drama including crying family and at least one guest, and a father of the bride MIA after spending the night out with the groom, his wedding party, and lots of Irish whiskey.  Also, the skeezy DJ invading my personal space while using the line, "You have such a classic look, I feel like I know you" on me as we waited for the bridal party to get into place was fascinating and insulting all at once.  I will never get aggressive, tactless passes, especially when they insult my intelligence.  I sure as hell wouldn't go for one either.  

The best thing about the weekend was getting to spend time with people important to me.  My friend, "MJ", and her family are part of my "psychological family" (as opposed to biological).  This distinction between psychological and biological family can be incredibly helpful in reconciling the notion that sometimes our biological family is not what we deserve, not something we can count on, or is simply insufficient in supporting us in the ways we need.  After my family lost our home in a fire, I basically lived with MJ.  A few months later when my mom was diagnosed with cancer, they were all there when I needed them.  I could crash on their foldout sofa (undoubtedly the most comfortable place I have ever slept).  MJ and I would have bonfires in the backyard, play badminton, listen to classic rock, and generally amuse ourselves with extreme sarcasm.  Her parents, Jackie and Dez, are a second set of parents to me.  They are both hippies and a ton of fun.  

Dez and I get along very well having bonded over his excellent collection of sci-fi/fantasy novels and musical taste.  I remember walking down to MJ's room the first time I visited her house and seeing a shelf of paperbacks over the stairs including the original Shannara series.  When I spoke to Dez about them, he was shocked I had already read many of his favorite series.  As I followed that up by commenting on his Boston, Fleetwood Mac, and Clapton albums after quoting Simon and Garfunkel and The Beatles,  I was officially designated MJ's coolest friend ever.  Then, when I used (and properly defined) "wain" in a game of Scrabble I was declared "Daughter #4", a role I will continue to gladly fulfill.  Dez speaks three languages, is incredibly well read, and probably one of the only truckers with a radio preset to NPR.  He has an interesting life story I might chronicle at a later date.  Jackie is a sweet, kind person with a sarcastic sense of humor.  She was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis before MJ and I became friends, and we've all watched as it has progressed.  Despite this, she stays active and maintains her sense of humor.  Dez and Jackie have been married for 42 years, a nice example of a loving and enduring relationship. 

My biological family is great in many respects, especially now that we are all adults.  Growing up, things were a mess emotionally, psychologically, financially, and physically.  I am glad, however, that I have the support of many people in different ways including my psychological family members.  Weddings seem to help me remember this.   



 

                     

Saturday, May 10, 2014

Musical Carl Rogers

First, observing a wisp of a woman with a cane in her 80s openly mock a set of self-absorbed college girls as they pondered deep questions about life, frat boys in boat shoes, and their venti half-caff soy lattes heavy on the foam in an elevator is definitely one of the funniest things I've ever seen.  That happened yesterday, and it was excellent.

Second, thunder and lightning.  I love them.  More please, Weather.  Seriously, so cool looking and such a turn on.  If weather phenomena were cars, thunder and lightning would be a '55 Porsche Speedster.  Snow and sleet, however, are a Yugo at best, or maybe a Corvette (i.e. ugly, overrated, and preferred by complete assholes with poor taste who think they know how to drive).  
         
Third, self-care.  So important.  Music can be very helpful in fostering a sense of energy and restoration.  It can also be a good gauge of the need for self-care.  My psychological state is surprisingly easy to identify depending on the music I choose to listen to.  Oldies (50s and 60s only) are for any time; it's hard to be sad when you're listening to oldies...unless you start thinking about the horribly sexist and racist nature of a good majority of the songs and the social/cultural/political climate in which the were produced.  If you can embrace that, though, it's just great music.  

If I am angry, upset, or generally excited about something, it typically comes down to Cheap Trick, The Who, Asia, Kansas or hair metal.  Something shrieky (Mili! gasp!) or full of strong vocals with hard driving guitar gets me every time (Ah, Roger).  Contemplation leads to folk rock and "classical music", although I strongly prefer the romantic era (strings and horns = automatic contentment).

When I'm in a funk or feeling buried there's a pretty specific progression.  This week it started with Abby Road (Golden Slumbers on), then Boston (Don't Look Back), eventually I moved to early Rush (oh no), and it continues with The Allman Brothers.  What better wallow-collect your thoughts- figure out your life-jam music is there than The Allman Bros?  Musical Carl Rogers if there ever was.  How does that make you feel?  Like blue sky?  Better than rain?  Like not wasting time no more?   

       



       

Friday, May 2, 2014

Emotional Rip Tide

I have a long history of nearly drowning to death starting as a young child, about 5, through age 16 when I nearly drown off the coast during a trip to Costa Rica.  When I was approximately 5-years-old, I visited my uncle at his country club (don't get too excited, it was in western Wyoming...).  I was curious about a vent near the bottom of the pool and I decided to investigate.  I forgot/didn't realize you can't just breathe underwater and it takes time to return to the surface.  My uncle jumped in a saved me.  I was choking and gasping on the pool deck with random strangers looking on.  My uncle asked if I was okay.  I nodded, he grabbed me by my wrist and ankle and threw me back into the pool.  After that I can recall at least four other instances of almost drowning.  Once in a natural pool in a stream, twice at public pools, and then in Costa Rica.  I'm fairly stubborn.  I think many people would have given swimming up after the first few times.  Ironically, I don't have a fear of swimming in the water, but I'm fairly positive I am going to die trapped in a car that careens off of a bridge into water (or so I imagine every time I have to cross the Mississippi or the Missouri).  It's fairly good exposure therapy to have to drive across a bridge at least four times a day.

Something more challenging is drowning on dry land in a swirl of life.  A colleague calls distress "living in pain without a voice".  It has been a long time since I've been in a position to compare physical drowning with psychological drowning.  The emotional experience and the corresponding physical experience is quite the same.  Struggling with fear and pain while being unable to say or possibly do anything is a visceral part of being pulled under.  There is also a deep sense of loneliness and helplessness which is further contrasted by a realization that death is a distinct possibility.  The existentialists would encourage taking this realization into account and using it to create meaning in life.

Each time I've nearly drowned I recognized what was happening while being aware of the experience.  I can tell I've been caught by an emotional rip tide, and I am being pulled further and further away from the shore. The more I fight, the worse it gets.  Distress.  Sometimes it is the struggle itself that causes the most harm. The trick is choosing between letting yourself slip under or allowing yourself to be carried a little further out in order to escape the current and return to shore.  I think perhaps I have been treading water too long...time for action.  


            

Friday, April 18, 2014

Top Hat Transcription: Groceries

This is literally what happens in my life when you forget the grocery list at home and ask Top Hat to transcribe it and send it by email.  It also shows that no matter the situation, there is nothing that will make lettuce even remotely interesting.  It's a good thing he specified bread the bakery item, not the band.  I already have two of their albums...




Thursday, March 20, 2014

Adrift

She reflected on a previous conversation about the many bridges situated across from her office as she gazed at them with distracted comprehension.  She had likened the bridges to life, growth, and relationships.  At the time, they were a meaningful and illuminating metaphor for so many things, including hope.  A total of five bridges; 1.5 intended for pedestrians, the rest assisting the daily hustle of cars and trucks across the river.  The river flowed beneath them all, seemingly indifferent to the mad rush occurring above.  The river knew what it was doing.  It had a direction, a way of getting there, and its own timeline.  And yet, it was a facade of glass with gentle ripples as it flowed along, all the while masking the tumult and fury of the undercurrent.  Certainly, a more befitting metaphor for the times then the exposed, unyielding bridges.  With apt irony, Neil Young brought her attention back to her desk-- the stack of papers to grade, the journal articles to read, notes to write, emails to send.  The reality of the desk and its obligations evaded her generally good sense of reason and duty.  Instead, she shifted her eyes and mind back to the window, the river...just drifting.          

Friday, March 7, 2014

A Wunnerful Weekend: Inconceivable Chess

In an effort to regain a sense of life, humor, and fun, my good friend, Em' and I decided we needed a night of rakish behavior last Saturday.  It involved a makeover for Em'; apparently the last time someone did her makeup she "looked like a hooker" with a bad spray tan (as if there is any other kind...spray tans that is).  Then, we moved onto oysters, milk stout, dinner, tequila, inconceivable chess*, tequila, an oldies and hair metal sing-a-long in my living room, and tequila.  Life, humor, and fun were present in abundance, as were rakishness and Luke Skywalker.

* Inconceivable Chess:

Inconceivable chess is the result of Rita's imagination, b.a.c., and desire to see people in silly hats.  The rules for this game are flexible but should really be written on a flashcard used to study for a written prelim exam stating Roger's notion of the importance of counselor attitude.  As you'll notice in the accompanying photos, it is important to use a durable if not unbreakable chess set in inconceivable chess.  This set happens to be missing both the board and one white knight; perfect!  Enter my canvass board, and the first official inconceivable chess rule:
  • All players must have at least two, but no more than three, "special character" chesspersons, and all players must have the same number of special character pieces.  Special character pieces, however, are not fairy chess pieces and have no special moves.  
I replaced my missing knight with a Jedi Knight, well technically he's just a rebel at this point, but he isn't such a bad pilot himself...I switched out a pawn for a tiny goat.  Em' used a ceramic....rooster....as her king, and a ninja as a pawn.  We chose from the random found objects I keep on my mantle.


The other rules of engagement:
  • Play should be accompanied by classic surf rock or champagne music (note: it is ill-advised to try and watch the LWS when playing Inconceivable Chess as the LWS will a) hypnotize you b) remind you of your grandmother and c) reinforce the fact that LW was the most adorable old man ever which leads to point a) in a vicious wunnerful cycle of accordions, batons, and dancers)
  • Any player who loses a piece must take one drink, unless they lost the piece to a special character which results in two drinks.  Any play who loses a special character piece must take three drinks. 
  • Any player who is in check must wear the Tiger hat (or any other appropriately humiliating and awesome head garment).
  • Any time players are mismatched in skill/knowledge (quickly established by asking each to explain basics like en passant, castling, and promoting pawns) the more advanced player must be drinking a higher-proof to level the playing field.
Incidentally, I had to convince Em' throughout the game that en passant, castling, and promoting pawns were real, and so by default this rule was instituted as my beverage was 80 proof, and hers was only 30.  Regardless, Em' tried to commit regicide within the first 6 moves by putting herself in check and was subsequently forced to wear the Tiger hat until adequately shamed.



 The game proceeded like this:




 Ultimately, luck on Em's part (and 12 ounces of very tasty unadulterated reposado) led to this:

Checkmate...
I did, however, slay Em' outright in the sing-a-long/dance-a-long post chess game.  I have no photographic or videographic proof to display regarding the singing and dancing, but I standby my knowledge of both oldies (50s and 60s) and hair metal.  I can also do the twist while properly lip syncing.

We're gonna twist and twist and twist until we tear the house down....