Dec 08
AndrewRelationships author, Love, Writing
Try writing about your sex life. Not the torrid details,1 but just try describing the romantic entanglements of…say the last two years. Start the beginning of the time period and describe the person you were with then. Talk about how you two spent time together, about the frustrations of your relationship (if you even called it a relationship) and the joys of spending time together. Describe the parts of his personality that turned you on, or the parts of his body (er, ahem, proceed gently). How long did it last? Is it still going on? How did you meet? In a bar, through friends, online? Who came next? How long were you alone? And when you move on to the next person, start again.
For whatever reason,2 I went through this process with my friend and the final output was a book we wrote together, to be published at the end of January. Partly the reason relationships dominated the book is because we already talked about them all the time. The first tenet of any good author is to write about what you know. And in looking back over that two year period of our lives, we discovered we had some interesting insights on the matter to share.
The history of my dating life3 has been largely a laundry list of unsuccessful relationships, and for better or worse, that theme is evident in the retelling. The whys of it I won’t even hazard an explanation, assuming you could identify common themes running across each one. Perhaps just a combination of circumstances or a natural gift for making things complicated or (I suspect) trying to fit every relationship into a standard mold. They come that way for some people, just not me.
But writing about it, and focusing on it particularly in the last six months has made me somewhat of an expert, albeit after the fact, on my own love life. It’s a weird perspective to gain, and notwithstanding the final steps of editing and proofing, probably horribly unhealthy to focus on it for such an extended time. It’s made acutely aware of my own mismanagement, past and present, and perhaps the inevitability of the outcome. I think it’s easier to blame yourself, though, because otherwise, you presume to understand the motivations of the other half.
So why did I suggest you do it too?
What struck me most in the process of fleshing out a story was that there was a story to tell. Self-expression is a strange beast, people find ways to get it out (paint, words, sculpture, humor, etc.) For me, of course, it’s putting words on the paper and hoping that in the doing so, I am conveying the context that I’m aiming for. But the act of self-reflection, explicitly expressed or not, is a useful enterprise. There’s a story there, maybe you have to make a flip book to tell it, or maybe tell it out loud, or act it out. And if your story isn’t for public consumption, don’t deny yourself the telling anyway. Find your story, for whatever it’s worth, because the trick of it is, you’ll find it’s quite valuable.
My story, well the part I’m publishing anyway, is called What Do You Say to the DJ? It will be on sale in late January. For more details, visit saytothedj.com.
1 Unless you’re into that kind of stuff it’s not a porn novel we’re aiming for here.
2 Actually for some very good reasons.
3 Since it won’t be much of a secret in about a month, I feel confident revealing some insider information here -- and if you have in any way been following this site for the last few years, you already know more about my love life than you ever need to.
Nov 09
AndrewHumor, Relationships
For some reason the ladies of the night swarm to me, much like cult members of some space invader Jesus sect. Maybe they smell my reticence like a perfume and can’t resist approach. I hear cats have that same sense of things.
Maybe though it’s a symptom of their own desperation, not mine. I’m clean, I have the airs of someone who can hold down a full time job, and maybe I give off an inadvertant whiff of vulnerable and lonely.
For whatever reason, I have always been targeted. In high school, when most of my friends were Christian, the bible guy could zero in on me like a predator hawk. Some inner sense screamed out to him “unbeliever!” in a crowd of twelve of us, most of whom did believe.
Many it’s just the uncanny intuition of someone trained to identify vulnerability and pound it into submission. The problem is I argue. With the prostelyzers, I hardly credit my own religion for anything substantive, I surely am not going to blanket accept the rhetoric of theirs. But they try until they realize I’m belligerent, cynical, and sharp. It’s just not the combination that leads to success. And for what’s it worth, the different denominations of Christianity are all one in the same to me. Baptist, Protestant, whatever. I don’t differentiate. I just blame them all.
The whores scare me. It’s not just sex and STDs. It’s worrying about being robbed. It’s about not being able to perform with a woman in bed. The anxiety of negotiating a fee keeps me up at night. I feel like I have to politely turn down their proposition even though it’s illegal and kind of disgusting. And am I gonna be shanked for exclaiming “what’s that?” when I see her lying on the bed naked for the first time?
Though if there is a distinction between whore and Baptist, I guess it would be the curiosity factor. I kind of want to take her up on the offer. I always grin from ear to ear even though I know she asks every solo guy that walks by and some groups of guys, too. I can’t help but be flattered. She approached ME.
I don’t know why I continue to be perceived as a viable target. But whether I’m on vacation or just around my block, I always kind of find myself whistling a happy tune after an encounter with a whore. But Jesus, whore or no, I won’t be taking them up on anything. Maybe they are that desperate and I’m just another schmoe walking by. But I’d like to think I give off the vibe of possibility, the air of a potential conspirator that attracts those types to me. If so, then I really don’t need any other reason than that.
Oct 21
AndrewRelationships, Society and Culture Government, Laws
The delay of Daylight Savings is another strange intervention of government that seems purposefully ineffective. Seeking to power down the nation (or the 48/50ths of us that participate in Daylight Savings) and ostensibly relieve the pressure and cost of winter utilities, the changing of clocks was pushed back another few weeks yet last year.
The result is that I get out of bed at my usual time and it’s pitch black. I need a lamp to see by (believe it or not the Blackberry screen is not much of a flashlight.) It’s neat to conceive that this, in fact, is a microcosm of what it would be like without Daylight Savings at all. If only we just accepted shorter days, turned on lights or stumbled around in the dark, all the usual things that we habituate at nighttime anyway. Is that really so tragic?
I have never been a big fan of government intervention. Government decision-making is too politicized (duh) dumbed down by corporate interests, greed and vanity and often the result of needless compromise instead of authority. I don’t doubt that some government decisions are in the best interests of the common good, even when the results seem less obviously so. But the net effect is a sustained period of darkness when we were doing just fine before the change.
It’s cliche to say “leave well enough alone” but it turns out that is how I like my government. I’m not going to further belittle the usefulness of government by dragging out the analogy because it is not without utility. But it is worth suggesting that there are any number of enacted laws that could be mitigated by common sense and don’t need a law to make the point. Seatbelt requirements are one example. Nobody would argue the efficacy of seatbelts but that you should choose not to wear one, notwithstanding the legality of it, seems perfectly reasonable.
One purpose of government is to define the common good and enforce it, but these tasks should be done responsibly. It seems like by embracing a government that micromanages our lives, we have lost sight of the responsibility that the role of government entails. Furthermore, and vastly troublesome, this type of national management has eroded our ability to self-manage and encouraged many people to defer responsibility for their personal decisions to some conglomerate entity of the United States.
The irony is that my analogy has some holes in it since it was government intervention in the first place that enacted Daylight Savings (and furthermore, it’s not mandatory that states participate,) but I think it is still a good illustration that it is not always inherently useful to require the government to govern us down to every little detail. We managed just fine with some “extra” weeks of standard time, so in the end, what exactly did we gain when Daylight Savings got extended? Perhaps, as citizens, we should ask that question more often, not just about the time change, and encourage our leaders to do the same. Perhaps next time, to do so before they rush to action and put something into law.
Oct 17
AndrewRelationships Family
At 6 a.m. in Clackamas, steps from the biggest mall in Oregon, there is only one thing open. Starbucks. Oh sure, the neighborhood seems promising. There is a Target, Payless Shoes and every chain restaurant under the sun within spitting distance of the hotel. But with the sunrise hours away (a brisk 40 degrees but nothing to this Bostonian) it’s still hours before any of the retail shops can be thoroughly investigated.
The Clackamas Promenade motto: “We’re here for you!”
The family has gathered to grieve over the loss of our matriarch. This being my family, of course, it’s not a simple affair. The siblings journeyed in from far off metropolises New York, London, Boston, Lincoln, NE. We holed up in the Monarch hotel which considering how many people are packed into one room, it was surprisingly comfortable last night (we were all exhausted from travel true, but rest assured tonight what we will lack in pure tiredness will be compensated by emotional drain and generous alcohol consumption.)
Over coffee late last night, we shared travel stories (mine: 4 phones calls to Continental, 40 minutes on the plane at the gate, 45 minutes parked on the tarmac, circled Newark twice before we landed. On the connection, we sat on the plane for 90 minutes before we finally departed. The cost benefit of idling 135 people on the tarmac for an hour and a half? Priceless. Continental still, at least today, serves food and beverage in flight at no extra charge and has passable in seat entertainment. Two Harry Potter movies to choose from.)
All things considered, and trying to keep this in perspective given the circumstances, the travel was reasonably inconvenient. The hard part perhaps is still ahead. I love my siblings but family has never been my strong suit. It’s possible that by the end of the weekend, the Monarch will have its first (we hope its first) double homicide in room 216. I will strike first.
Yes we will share laughter and tears, toothpaste and moisturizer. That’s what families do. Loss becomes a rite of passage of sorts, a ritualistic bonding exercise, a time of reflection, a celebration of living, or surprise! not dead yet. Clackamas will forever be associated with these times in our memories. It’s hard to know what we will take away from this trip, only that we will take something, possibly something from Target.
Oh, Clackamas.
Needless to say, even at 6 a.m. the Starbucks is hopping.
Oct 10
JeremyPolitics and Nation, Relationships, Society and Culture gay marriage, Kerrigan v. the state Commissioner of Public Health
Connecticut’s Supreme Court ruled today to legalize same-sex marriage in that state, joining neighboring Massachusetts and distant California. The state has an existing civil unions law, but eight couples sued on the basis that the law was inherently discriminatory and set up inequality for a minority group. Four of Connecticut’s seven supreme court justices agreed with that argument, stating that the state of Connecticut “failed to establish adequate reason to justify the statutory ban on same sex marriage.”
To give Connecticut its due, it was the first state to enact civil unions on its own, without a court-order, but stopped shy of recognizing full marriage rights. So far, all three states that have legalized gay marriage have done so through the court system and not through legislation. In Massachusetts counter-legislation has failed abysmally on a number of occasions, affirming legislators’ tacit support.
A full copy of the decision is available here (Kerrigan v. Commissioner of Public Health).
Sep 29
AndrewHumor, Relationships Humor, Smile
Is it pretentious to have a requirement for my friends that they be able to bring a smile to my face? I was thinking about this over the weekend as I was aggravated with a particular friend of mine who seemed a bit standoffish (no names now, don’t be tacky!) Quite inexplicably, I assure you.
Okay, so maybe I might have said something. Or maybe I had excessive B.O. Or an awkwardly placed whitehead. Or maybe I might have made an ill-timed suggestion about bunking down with his sister (I swear, she told me she was over 18.) Or maybe I vom’d in his planter and forgot to mention it until the flies came. Or maybe I told him that shirt made him look like Bea Arthur. Or his hair looked like a wasp’s nest. Or accidentally stuck my [censored] in his [censored] thinking I was invited but really he was trying to get the [censored] out.
I can’t say for sure but it may simply have been my own dubious entertainment value that caused tension in our relationship. Immediately thereafter I began to question the foundation of our friendship. Maybe I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. After all, a friendship that is so brittle it cracks after one (possibly exaggerated) wrangle isn’t really that much of a friendship to begin with? But for whatever reason, I felt a little put out by the cold shoulder and began to secretly plot my exit from said friendship as quickly as my two feet, four wheels or a pogo stick could carry me.
But in the midst of doubting our friendship and investigating that unexpected sore on my buttock that I could only feel and not see (I’m calling it a spider bite and that’s my story!) a strange thing occurred. We were sitting on the love seat, laying half on top of one another the way only good friends can tolerate, and it happened.
He reached across me to pick up a handful of Doritos off of my plate, smiled at me and then stuffed them en masse into his face and started to chew loudly. I laughed. Oh maybe it wasn’t funny really, but something about that moment seemed the kind of thing that only 4 beers and that warm fuzzy feeling of his thigh pressed against mine could generate. That or genuine affection.
It occurred to me then that anyone that can make me smile just for being so cute and adorably uncouth might be someone I could forgive this one time. It’s kind of like someone eating off your plate. if it’s one person, it’s endearing, for another, it’s repulsive. Then I figured maybe I should make it a requirement that all my friends be able to make me laugh. We can style a running Gong Show-like elimination through the rest of my life. Then I figured my friends wouldn’t think that was funny at all and probably be kind of resentful that I’m slapping some arbitrary requirement on them. After all, maybe I should be the one doing the entertaining?
So the next time I don’t meet the strict standards of friend and entertainer to my friends, they can just “air” Gong me and I will hang my head and disappear off the stage into affable obscurity. But if I do, I’ll have a smile on face because, let’s face it, that is kind of a funny thing to do to me.
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