...since all the shit I was blogging about before happened.
In those 6 months, I managed to dump the single father who went to jail and gave me the biggest HIV scare of my life (which, by the way, was just a scare....I tested negative at my 6 month test), then I got laid off, and in a shocking move, left Colorado to return to my family in South Carolina.
It was weird.
It's still kind of weird.
I promised Laurie I'd be blogging a lot, but of course, I haven't been. The last 6 months have been kind of dark. I'm finally coming out of it.
I've also been blogging once a week at the esteemed Donnybrook Writing Academy. Oh yeah. I'm big-time now.
Hopefully, I'll return to my little corner of the interweb soon, but for now I must go research lyrics to very old Christmas songs (long story...it's a work thing).
Basically...if you just stumbled upon this blog, ignore almost everything posted before it...or at least you could ignore the posts about how I thought I was diseased and I was dating a guy in jail. Cause I snapped out of it...it just took me a month or three.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Friday, May 18, 2007
Losing Sleep and maybe a whole lot more.
Trust is a big thing. We all know this. Some people trust easily, some don't. I usually fall into the don't category, but this time I trusted someone right away and it's kind of bitten me in the ass. We'll see how bad the consequences are, but I probably won't know for about 6 months...when I can get tested for HIV.
So I had the condom talk with my new man-friend about a month ago. During the process of that conversation I told him that my usual M.O. is to require condoms for 3 months and then both of us get tested and we can have sex without them. It's a rule that's worked well for me in the past. He told me he hadn't had sex since he was with his son's mom...which was 3 years ago. I asked him how/why he would go so long and he told me he was involved in a long-distance relationship for a while and they never had sex. I told him since it had been more than long enough for symptoms to show up if he had anything and since STI screenings are so expensive, that all I would ask of him is an HIV test. He agreed.
Then I became really irresponsible. I've felt guilty about this for the last several weeks.
The night before he went to jail I was so worried about him that I just wanted to feel close to him. I know it sounds stupid. But I knew he didn't like condoms (although he did agree to use them) and I wanted to feel him. Really feel him. Without the latex barrier. So we did it. Then he got back and we had unprotected sex a few more times (that's the funny thing about condoms...once you stop using them, it's hard to go back). But I trusted him, so I wasn't worried.
Then last night he told me that he had in fact had sex with people after Joey's mom. He had sex with men. I reacted badly. I know how hard it was for him...a straight-identifying man...to tell me (or anyone) that. I should've been re-assuring before I launched into a paranoid lecture about sexual health. He said he used condoms 100% of the time...funny how he insists on using them with men but doesn't want to use them with me.
It was a totally straight reaction. I don't usually give those. I wish that I'd played the whole thing better and been mindful of his feelings instead of thinking only of myself. I apologized for being insensitive. But the thing is, him having sex with other men increases his risk factor...not cause AIDS is a gay disease, but just because of the nature of anal sex. And my having unprotected sex with him increases my risk factor.
I couldn't sleep last night and I'm still worried. I'm worried for myself. I'm hurt that he didn't trust me to handle the truth (even though he knows I've had sexual relationships with women). I'm angry that he flat out lied to me about being with people since Joey's mom...even when I questioned him incredlously. And I'm annoyed that he's still resistant to getting tested. That's how people spread disease: they're too scared to find out the truth.
He's not respecting himself and he's not respecting me.
The thing that's the most frustrating is that I really don't care who he's had sex with. I have absolutely no problem dating someone who has had sex with men...or even relationships with men. It doesn't bother me. What bothers me is that I made a bad choice based on what I thought was the truth and turned out to be a lie.
The first time I went to the gynecologist to get birth control she gave me a lecture about condoms. I told her that I had only been with Ron and that he'd been tested and that we were monogamous. She said, "It doesn't matter what he says or how much you trust him. Men lie. You need to make sure you're always protected."
At 19, I thought she sounded like a bitter old woman. Turns out she was right. I should've been protecting myself.
So I had the condom talk with my new man-friend about a month ago. During the process of that conversation I told him that my usual M.O. is to require condoms for 3 months and then both of us get tested and we can have sex without them. It's a rule that's worked well for me in the past. He told me he hadn't had sex since he was with his son's mom...which was 3 years ago. I asked him how/why he would go so long and he told me he was involved in a long-distance relationship for a while and they never had sex. I told him since it had been more than long enough for symptoms to show up if he had anything and since STI screenings are so expensive, that all I would ask of him is an HIV test. He agreed.
Then I became really irresponsible. I've felt guilty about this for the last several weeks.
The night before he went to jail I was so worried about him that I just wanted to feel close to him. I know it sounds stupid. But I knew he didn't like condoms (although he did agree to use them) and I wanted to feel him. Really feel him. Without the latex barrier. So we did it. Then he got back and we had unprotected sex a few more times (that's the funny thing about condoms...once you stop using them, it's hard to go back). But I trusted him, so I wasn't worried.
Then last night he told me that he had in fact had sex with people after Joey's mom. He had sex with men. I reacted badly. I know how hard it was for him...a straight-identifying man...to tell me (or anyone) that. I should've been re-assuring before I launched into a paranoid lecture about sexual health. He said he used condoms 100% of the time...funny how he insists on using them with men but doesn't want to use them with me.
It was a totally straight reaction. I don't usually give those. I wish that I'd played the whole thing better and been mindful of his feelings instead of thinking only of myself. I apologized for being insensitive. But the thing is, him having sex with other men increases his risk factor...not cause AIDS is a gay disease, but just because of the nature of anal sex. And my having unprotected sex with him increases my risk factor.
I couldn't sleep last night and I'm still worried. I'm worried for myself. I'm hurt that he didn't trust me to handle the truth (even though he knows I've had sexual relationships with women). I'm angry that he flat out lied to me about being with people since Joey's mom...even when I questioned him incredlously. And I'm annoyed that he's still resistant to getting tested. That's how people spread disease: they're too scared to find out the truth.
He's not respecting himself and he's not respecting me.
The thing that's the most frustrating is that I really don't care who he's had sex with. I have absolutely no problem dating someone who has had sex with men...or even relationships with men. It doesn't bother me. What bothers me is that I made a bad choice based on what I thought was the truth and turned out to be a lie.
The first time I went to the gynecologist to get birth control she gave me a lecture about condoms. I told her that I had only been with Ron and that he'd been tested and that we were monogamous. She said, "It doesn't matter what he says or how much you trust him. Men lie. You need to make sure you're always protected."
At 19, I thought she sounded like a bitter old woman. Turns out she was right. I should've been protecting myself.
Friday, April 20, 2007
I Finally Got a Boyfriend and Now He's in Jail
Ok, so I don't know if he's really my boyfriend. I have issues with labels and I generally avoid that conversation so he and I haven't had it. But, to quote Buffy when Angel asks if Spike is her boyfriend: in my heart he is.
You see, I met Nathan a little over a month ago. I wasn't sure at first what my feelings towards him were. In fact, I didn't anticipate seeing him again after we met. But he invited me to a movie and I accepted.
The first date started off, as most first dates do, with a fairly high level of awkwardness. I had no idea what I was doing with this person: this person who lives in the suburbs and has a 5-year old. He works a part-time job, doesn't have a car and didn't finish college. While none of these factors were deal-breakers, I knew that he isn't the kind of guy I normally date and I wasn't sure if I was comfortable dating someone with a child. It just seemed like an extra complication, especially since I'm bad at the dating game when there's only one other person involved.
But once the awkwardness dissipated and we really started talking, I realized I felt totally at ease with him and it had been a long time since I'd had that with anyone. We spent about 3 hours together before heading to the movie and by the time we found our seats in the dark theater, I was silently pleading with the fates that he'd take my hand. And he did.
Due to the fact that neither of has transportation of our own, he has his son 5 nights a week, and we live kind of far apart we've only been able to see each other a few times a week. But even that has been nice. Through our daily conversations I've gotten to know him fairly well and we've grown close. Very close. I've met his son, he's met some of my friends, and I've grown accustomed to waking up in his arms...something I've never been particularly comfortable with in past relationships.
The second weekend we spent together he explained to me that he had a pending court date to sort out some child support issues. The issue being that he owes the state $1000 dollars in past due child support that he stopped paying when he became the primary care-taker for his son. But since the mother was still collecting, he owes money to the state. I'm not going to debate the injustice in this situation because it seems fairly clear. Anyhow, he told me that he was supposed to come up with 300 dollars by his court date or he would probably have to go to jail for the weekend. He said what he's seen in the past is that the person who owes money gets a 90 day sentence with 87 days deferred, so he expected to go to jail for the weekend and potentially go back for longer if there were future problems.
He came up the night before his court date and stayed with me so he wouldn't be stuck at home alone worrying about things he can't change. This has all been really stressful for him and he's been pretty depressed. It's hard to see him hurt like that.
Friday morning, I gave him a hug and a kiss and wished him luck, thinking that the worst it could be he'd be in jail for the weekend. I was wrong.
At a little before noon on Friday I got a text message that said "31 days". I responded, freaking out, but couldnt' get in touch with him. Then I got a phone call from a number I didn't recognize, which turned out to be Jeremy, Nathan's best friend. Jeremy didn't know any more than I did, having recieved the same text message I got. Except he got another text...one with my phone number in it. So he called me, hoping I knew something, but when I didn't know anything he promised to keep me in the loop. He's done that. The next day I got a text saying Nathan wanted me to call his mom and giving me her number.
So I called and she gave me information about visitation cause he wants to see me. I called the sherriff's department to try and get more info and they told me it takes a few days for the visitor's list to get approved. So basically, now I'm just waiting. I can't see him and I can't talk to him. And even when I get to see him we won't be able to touch, cause we'll be separated by glass...just like in the movies.
This whole situation has made me realize how much I really care about him. I'm not mopey because I don't get to see him (although that's definitely a factor); I'm mopey cause I'm so worried and there's absolutely nothing I can do. He's probably going to lose his job, maybe his apartment...and if things get worse, maybe his son. And I'm worried about his son, because how do you explain to a 5-year old that Daddy's away for a month. He was stressed before, but it's going to be worse after being away for a month. Cause when he gets back he won't have any money at all even though he didn't have much before. But at least he could pay his rent then.
Before he went to jail I at least had the comfort of knowing I could support him, but now I can only support him from afar. And while I'm sure it helps him to know I'm here, I really wish I could do more.
And I wish I'd told him how much he means to me before he went to jail. Now I just have to hope that he knows.
This would be so much easier if he'd held up a 7-11 and I could just walk away and chalk it up to my bad taste in men. But this isn't his fault. He's in jail because he tried to do the best thing he could for his son. He's one of the best people I know and he's stuck in a cell for a month because the state has decided it's a crime to be poor.
And I'm stuck for a month worrying.
Sigh...
You see, I met Nathan a little over a month ago. I wasn't sure at first what my feelings towards him were. In fact, I didn't anticipate seeing him again after we met. But he invited me to a movie and I accepted.
The first date started off, as most first dates do, with a fairly high level of awkwardness. I had no idea what I was doing with this person: this person who lives in the suburbs and has a 5-year old. He works a part-time job, doesn't have a car and didn't finish college. While none of these factors were deal-breakers, I knew that he isn't the kind of guy I normally date and I wasn't sure if I was comfortable dating someone with a child. It just seemed like an extra complication, especially since I'm bad at the dating game when there's only one other person involved.
But once the awkwardness dissipated and we really started talking, I realized I felt totally at ease with him and it had been a long time since I'd had that with anyone. We spent about 3 hours together before heading to the movie and by the time we found our seats in the dark theater, I was silently pleading with the fates that he'd take my hand. And he did.
Due to the fact that neither of has transportation of our own, he has his son 5 nights a week, and we live kind of far apart we've only been able to see each other a few times a week. But even that has been nice. Through our daily conversations I've gotten to know him fairly well and we've grown close. Very close. I've met his son, he's met some of my friends, and I've grown accustomed to waking up in his arms...something I've never been particularly comfortable with in past relationships.
The second weekend we spent together he explained to me that he had a pending court date to sort out some child support issues. The issue being that he owes the state $1000 dollars in past due child support that he stopped paying when he became the primary care-taker for his son. But since the mother was still collecting, he owes money to the state. I'm not going to debate the injustice in this situation because it seems fairly clear. Anyhow, he told me that he was supposed to come up with 300 dollars by his court date or he would probably have to go to jail for the weekend. He said what he's seen in the past is that the person who owes money gets a 90 day sentence with 87 days deferred, so he expected to go to jail for the weekend and potentially go back for longer if there were future problems.
He came up the night before his court date and stayed with me so he wouldn't be stuck at home alone worrying about things he can't change. This has all been really stressful for him and he's been pretty depressed. It's hard to see him hurt like that.
Friday morning, I gave him a hug and a kiss and wished him luck, thinking that the worst it could be he'd be in jail for the weekend. I was wrong.
At a little before noon on Friday I got a text message that said "31 days". I responded, freaking out, but couldnt' get in touch with him. Then I got a phone call from a number I didn't recognize, which turned out to be Jeremy, Nathan's best friend. Jeremy didn't know any more than I did, having recieved the same text message I got. Except he got another text...one with my phone number in it. So he called me, hoping I knew something, but when I didn't know anything he promised to keep me in the loop. He's done that. The next day I got a text saying Nathan wanted me to call his mom and giving me her number.
So I called and she gave me information about visitation cause he wants to see me. I called the sherriff's department to try and get more info and they told me it takes a few days for the visitor's list to get approved. So basically, now I'm just waiting. I can't see him and I can't talk to him. And even when I get to see him we won't be able to touch, cause we'll be separated by glass...just like in the movies.
This whole situation has made me realize how much I really care about him. I'm not mopey because I don't get to see him (although that's definitely a factor); I'm mopey cause I'm so worried and there's absolutely nothing I can do. He's probably going to lose his job, maybe his apartment...and if things get worse, maybe his son. And I'm worried about his son, because how do you explain to a 5-year old that Daddy's away for a month. He was stressed before, but it's going to be worse after being away for a month. Cause when he gets back he won't have any money at all even though he didn't have much before. But at least he could pay his rent then.
Before he went to jail I at least had the comfort of knowing I could support him, but now I can only support him from afar. And while I'm sure it helps him to know I'm here, I really wish I could do more.
And I wish I'd told him how much he means to me before he went to jail. Now I just have to hope that he knows.
This would be so much easier if he'd held up a 7-11 and I could just walk away and chalk it up to my bad taste in men. But this isn't his fault. He's in jail because he tried to do the best thing he could for his son. He's one of the best people I know and he's stuck in a cell for a month because the state has decided it's a crime to be poor.
And I'm stuck for a month worrying.
Sigh...
Thursday, April 5, 2007
The Calm After the Storm...or Why I've Been a Lazy Fucktard with this Blog
After a few tumultuous months, I took a deep breath and everything calmed down.
No really. I let it all go and realized how much easier life is when I'm not overanalyzing it all the time.
Although analyzing helps some things. And I guess I've still been analyzing, but I haven't been pushing so hard. That applies both to pushing myself and pushing others.
So I've got lots to write about it. Here are a few exciting blog posts that should arrive soon:
Me and My Parents: How good intentions still fuck up your kids
Chris Won't Call Me Back: Why I'm Re-evaluating all my friendships
How to Not Feel Like a Loser When Your Oldest Friend Gets a Full Ride to Harvard
and
Boys: Not So Icky and Confusing After All
I don't know what order these will go in, but I'll get them all written. Then Laurie, the only one who reads my blog, will be up to date on what's been going on since her boyfriend stopped returning my phone calls.
No really. I let it all go and realized how much easier life is when I'm not overanalyzing it all the time.
Although analyzing helps some things. And I guess I've still been analyzing, but I haven't been pushing so hard. That applies both to pushing myself and pushing others.
So I've got lots to write about it. Here are a few exciting blog posts that should arrive soon:
Me and My Parents: How good intentions still fuck up your kids
Chris Won't Call Me Back: Why I'm Re-evaluating all my friendships
How to Not Feel Like a Loser When Your Oldest Friend Gets a Full Ride to Harvard
and
Boys: Not So Icky and Confusing After All
I don't know what order these will go in, but I'll get them all written. Then Laurie, the only one who reads my blog, will be up to date on what's been going on since her boyfriend stopped returning my phone calls.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Breaking All "The Rules"
The first known incident of my incredible ability to self-sabotage was in the 8th grade. Josh Peterson, one of the most popular guys in school was my science lab partner that year. We got to know each other and, in true Colleen fashion, I developed a raging crush on him and was in constant fear that he would notice because I'm not so good at hiding these things. A girl in one of our classes asked me one day if I liked Josh and I said "No, of course not. We're just friends" with as much egg-head self-righteousness as I could muster. He asked me a few days later why I didn't have a boyfriend and, trying to play it cool, I told him that I hadn't found anyone good enough. When he asked me what my standard was I told him it was perfection. Lame, I know, but I was 14. In 10th grade he moved to Charlotte and on his last day of school he gave me a hug and asked if I would miss him. I said, "Of course I'll miss you, we're friends, right?" To which he responded "Yeah. Friends. I wish we could've been more, but I wasn't perfect."
Yes, I'm still upset that I didn't date the popular guy in 8th grade.
I bring up this story to illustrate a point. I'm confusing, but not on purpose. You see, I'm incapable of concealing that I have a crush on someone, but if I'm cornered by the person in question I will inevitably deny everything. Why? Because on the inside, I'm still a nerd in love with the class stud. Sure, I've developed a little more confidence since then, but I'm constantly saying dumb things in an attempt to hide my feelings.
Por ejemplo...
Last week while I was out with The David we were sitting at my apartment and he mentioned that his neck was sore. Because I love to give massages and I was eager to touch him I reached over to rub his neck. When he said "If you keep going I'm never going to leave", I said, "Don't worry, I'll kick you out when I'm done with you." Now, I was, of course, kidding. But I knew I'd probably been looking at him all googly eyed since he kissed me so I figured I should tone down my enthusiasm a bit. I expected a laugh. He didn't laugh. He didn't even comment. In fact, all conversation stopped. Usually when that happens I feel the need to express my interest after a move like that, but I figured since I like the guy and my verbal diarrhea could only get worse from there, I should just give up. So I did.
But then there was the calling thing. When he left I told him to call if he wanted to go out again and he told me to do the same. Do the same. The problem with that was that during my post-first-kiss bliss if I had called when I wanted to see him again I would've had to call as soon as he left. And even I know that's inappropriate.
Luckily, it's been almost a week now and I think I handled things well. I sent him an email the day after the date to tell him I had a good time. He responded and said he wanted to get together soon. So I called him today to see if he wanted to get together this week. I had to leave a message. I hate that. I am horrible on voicemail. We talked for a while trying to find a night that would work...which turned out to be problematic because he's working out of town two nights and then he's going out of town Friday. He asked if we can do next week and I said that was fine. I figure I must have scored some not-a-naggy girl points by letting him off the hook. And he did call me back so I figure he wasn't just postponing because he doesn't want to see me.
So all systems are go. I haven't fucked up anything and he seems to be at least mildly interested in seeing me again.
After the last blog I managed to calm down a lot about the whole situation, which is probably why I was able to act rationally about the whole thing.
Dating is complicated all on its own, but my dating dilemmas tend to be more annoying because while I have rather progressive views of relationships now, I did grow up reading "The Rules". This means that while I don't have an ideological problem calling a guy to ask him out, I hear my mother's voice in my head saying that I can't let him know I'm interested. And after a first date that involved a lot of making out and what my mother would call "heavy petting" (actually, my mother wouldn't know what to call the things I often do on first dates)I hear the voice of an old teacher of mine saying "no one's going to buy the cow if you're giving the milk out for free."
Although I don't like comparing myself to a cow and I'm certainly not on the market in the sense that they're referring to in "The Rules" i.e. prostitution...uh..i mean marriage..., these things still worry me sometimes.
You know why? Because some guys...yes...even the ones who say they don't like girls who play games...expect girls to play the games. I've mentioned this to some of my girlfriends before and they've usually responded by saying "I know, it's annoying, but it's what we have to do."
No, ladies. It is most certainly NOT what we have to do. It's what I refuse to do. Why? Because I don't subscribe to the "Trap a Man at Any Cost" idea. I'd rather get rejected than get a second date because I succesfully denied myself what I want. I'd rather have some guy think I'm crazy than be something I'm not.
Of course this plan backfires on me all the time...hence the plethora of craigslist dates and the countless hours spent alone in my apartment feeling like a crazy cat lady. But in the long term, I think being true to myself is probably going to be more valuble than following all "The Rules".
Yes, I'm still upset that I didn't date the popular guy in 8th grade.
I bring up this story to illustrate a point. I'm confusing, but not on purpose. You see, I'm incapable of concealing that I have a crush on someone, but if I'm cornered by the person in question I will inevitably deny everything. Why? Because on the inside, I'm still a nerd in love with the class stud. Sure, I've developed a little more confidence since then, but I'm constantly saying dumb things in an attempt to hide my feelings.
Por ejemplo...
Last week while I was out with The David we were sitting at my apartment and he mentioned that his neck was sore. Because I love to give massages and I was eager to touch him I reached over to rub his neck. When he said "If you keep going I'm never going to leave", I said, "Don't worry, I'll kick you out when I'm done with you." Now, I was, of course, kidding. But I knew I'd probably been looking at him all googly eyed since he kissed me so I figured I should tone down my enthusiasm a bit. I expected a laugh. He didn't laugh. He didn't even comment. In fact, all conversation stopped. Usually when that happens I feel the need to express my interest after a move like that, but I figured since I like the guy and my verbal diarrhea could only get worse from there, I should just give up. So I did.
But then there was the calling thing. When he left I told him to call if he wanted to go out again and he told me to do the same. Do the same. The problem with that was that during my post-first-kiss bliss if I had called when I wanted to see him again I would've had to call as soon as he left. And even I know that's inappropriate.
Luckily, it's been almost a week now and I think I handled things well. I sent him an email the day after the date to tell him I had a good time. He responded and said he wanted to get together soon. So I called him today to see if he wanted to get together this week. I had to leave a message. I hate that. I am horrible on voicemail. We talked for a while trying to find a night that would work...which turned out to be problematic because he's working out of town two nights and then he's going out of town Friday. He asked if we can do next week and I said that was fine. I figure I must have scored some not-a-naggy girl points by letting him off the hook. And he did call me back so I figure he wasn't just postponing because he doesn't want to see me.
So all systems are go. I haven't fucked up anything and he seems to be at least mildly interested in seeing me again.
After the last blog I managed to calm down a lot about the whole situation, which is probably why I was able to act rationally about the whole thing.
Dating is complicated all on its own, but my dating dilemmas tend to be more annoying because while I have rather progressive views of relationships now, I did grow up reading "The Rules". This means that while I don't have an ideological problem calling a guy to ask him out, I hear my mother's voice in my head saying that I can't let him know I'm interested. And after a first date that involved a lot of making out and what my mother would call "heavy petting" (actually, my mother wouldn't know what to call the things I often do on first dates)I hear the voice of an old teacher of mine saying "no one's going to buy the cow if you're giving the milk out for free."
Although I don't like comparing myself to a cow and I'm certainly not on the market in the sense that they're referring to in "The Rules" i.e. prostitution...uh..i mean marriage..., these things still worry me sometimes.
You know why? Because some guys...yes...even the ones who say they don't like girls who play games...expect girls to play the games. I've mentioned this to some of my girlfriends before and they've usually responded by saying "I know, it's annoying, but it's what we have to do."
No, ladies. It is most certainly NOT what we have to do. It's what I refuse to do. Why? Because I don't subscribe to the "Trap a Man at Any Cost" idea. I'd rather get rejected than get a second date because I succesfully denied myself what I want. I'd rather have some guy think I'm crazy than be something I'm not.
Of course this plan backfires on me all the time...hence the plethora of craigslist dates and the countless hours spent alone in my apartment feeling like a crazy cat lady. But in the long term, I think being true to myself is probably going to be more valuble than following all "The Rules".
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
You May Think I'm 14 After Reading This.
I probably should've blogged about this last week when the saga began, but alas, I have been delinquent...so now I'm gonna have to provide some back story in order to fully communicate the confusion I'm enduring as a result of my date last night. Maybe confusion isn't the right word...well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. In fact, I decided I'm going to devote two posts to last night. One to the background, one to my confusion.
So...a little over a year ago, Tiffany, my friend since the 1st grade, met a guy at St. Mark's Coffeehouse and went on a few dates with him. I remember her calling me, excitedly, to tell me about her most recent prospect. She told me what he looked like, what he was reading, and all the things she'd learned about him that night: raised Greek Orthodox, did a stint in the military, M.A. in philosophy, makes a living by organizing labor unions. All these seemingly incongruent details woven together created a picture of a guy with whom I might actually be compatible. Of course, Tiffany was about to go out with him, so that didn't occur to me until she finished her description and said "I can't believe I'm going out with him; he's perfect for you."
They went out a few times and quickly realized that they had some irreconcilable differences. The things about him that made him totally wrong for Tiffany seemed to make him totally right for me. I even calmed her down and answered some questions she had when a few of his sexual interests shocked her. I knew after that particular conversation that things wouldn't work out for them, but it never occurred to me that I should find a way to meet him. After all, men attracted to Tiffany, generally aren't in to me. She and I are close, but we're completely different people, physically and otherwise. And most importantly, my friends are too important to me to knowingly walk in to awkward situations.
They only went on a few dates, but they kept in touch. Several months after they stopped seeing each other, Tiffany started in on me..."you have to meet this guy, Colleen, he's PERFECT for you." I brought up the attraction thing, stating that if he's attracted to 5 foot tall sorority girls then he's not going to be interested in an amazonian feminist. "But he said I wasn't his type. He's usually into taller, curvier girls,," she replied. For 6 months we debated this. I didn't want to meet him. Sure it was intriguing, but it seemed much more trouble than it could possibly be worth. In addition to my previously stated reservations, I didn't feel like putting myself in a situation where I would be comparing myself to Tiffany. I've always felt the need to compete with Tiffany (she generally doesn't instigate these things because, well she's too good for that....or maybe she doesn't see the point because she always wins), so meeting this guy, knowing that he'd been interested in Tiffany seemed like a trip to Self-pityville on the Insecurity highway. But eventually, she wore me down and I agreed to meet this guy, this "perfect" guy.
At this point I will give him a name, because at this point he became a real person as opposed to an idea in my head.
The three of us planned to meet for drinks the week after I returned from South Carolina last August. Tiffany suggested we get there early so I could have a martini and lighten up a little: I had never been so incredibly nervous in my entire life. As I was fishing a gin-soaked olive out of my glass I looked up just as an Adonis stepped into the bar. I was trying to remember the last time I'd seen anyone so beautiful when Tiffany noticed me staring and jumped up to say "David! Hey, this is Colleen." I think I made some sort of coherent introduction while trying to send Tiffany telepathic messages of gratitude. You see, if I made a list of all the physical traits I wanted in my ideal man, it would be David...right down to the curly hair and big nose. As the evening progressed, he seemed more and more ideal: we had the same favorite beer, we both recognized a Mozart concerto playing in the bar, I was even trying to get a job with an organization that works closely with his organization. We had a few drinks and he made an exit, saying it was good to meet me and we should get together again.
The evening was unique for several reasons. The most obvious being that I felt like I'd just met the male version of me. Secondly, it just felt different. I'm the kind of girl who generally pushes for what she wants...especially when it's a man. I've thrown myself into dead-end relationships time and time again because I seem to lack the ability to see that what I want isn't always what is best for me. I also have a hard time understanding how it is that I can be so happy and so sure of a good thing when the other person involved doesn't see it at all. I suppose I'm a dreamer of sorts and sometimes my fantasy life supersedes my reality. But meeting David, I felt no sense of urgency. I didn't feel a need to possess him, to be whatever he wanted me to be and do everything in my power to make him want me back. It was enough just to know someone like that existed...I suppose it gave me hope. This began my self-imposed celibacy period, or as my friends see it, the time I refused to shave my legs for months on end. After meeting David I realized that I'd been settling...I'd been compromising things that I wanted because I didn't expect to meet anyone who shared so much in common with me...I am, after all, a bit strange. I got a grip on my love life and found the courage to stay single rather than settling for someone who may be great, but still not what I want. I had felt so alone for so long, that I'd been trying to make things work when they so clearly shouldn't. And then suddenly, I met this guy, who I realized I would probably never see again, but it was enough to know that he was out there and there were probably others like him, though they may be few and far between. I was still alone in my day to day life, but I felt less alone in the world.
And for the record, I often have huge epiphanies as the result of insignificant encounters in my life...so there's no real over-dramatization of event, per se, but I often over-dramatize. So after a day or so of contemplating how meeting him affected my perspective of past and future relationships, I quit shaving, quit dating, and promptly forgot what it was that got me into such an introspective state. If I hadn't documented it all in my journal, I wouldn't have reason to give it a second thought.
But because I had documented it in my journal, which I picked up and re-read a couple weeks ago, David re-entered my thoughts. It didn't occur to me to talk to Tiffany and try to see him again or anything, I just had a few pleasant, reflective moments and then buried the journal in the bottom of a drawer.
Last week while wading through responses from one of my more ridiculous cragislist posts, this one involving my new-found love of men in drag, I opened an email from someone using the alias "David Hume". It's not uncommon for people to use fake names on email accounts when responding to craigslist ads...mine says Dagny Taggert, which is certainly one of the larger ironies in my life at present. "Oh, someone thinks they're a philosopher," I thought to myself. I read the brief email and had a strange sort of premonition before I opened the files attached to see the pictures that were sent. I felt like I might know this person. So I looked at the pictures and sure enough, it was David.
I wrote him an awkward response explaining how we had met before and he told me he had been attracted to me but assumed that I was "too sweet and nice" to be interested in the things that he is interested in: i.e. sex...very open-minded, progressive, sex. While no one has assumed that I'm "sweet and nice" in a very long time, I understood how meeting me through Tiffany could have led him to that conclusion. We exchanged a series of emails and decided to meet for drinks last night.
Again, I was nervous, but a strange hybrid of intense anxiety and inner calm. I was terrified and relaxed, paranoid and secure, cynical, but somehow optimistic. I was conflicted. I got to Williams a few minutes early, ordered a PBR and patiently (yet impatiently) waited.
David arrived shortly after and we quickly slipped into easy conversation. The positive feelings quickly took over and all my anxiety dissipated. Talking to him felt good...good like your head hitting the pillow after an 18-hour day. Good like your plane touching down at DIA after a weekend of binge drinking in Vegas.
David told me in one of his emails that he'd managed to avoid a long-term relationship for a while, and he wasn't looking to get involved in anything serious right now. As usual, I don't know what I want right now so the disclaimer didn't bother me. Lately I've been finding myself on the receiving end of un-wanted enthusiasm, so I appreciated that it was unlikely to work out that way. And I definitely appreciated the honesty. So when we reached that moment where our eyes met and neither of us were looking away, I broke the connection and stared absently at my beer. I couldn't remember which of us started staring into the other first...and I was embarrassed that it might've been me. The next time the staring thing happened, he broke away...by making some silly face, which I liked, since I tend to do the same in awkward situations.
We ended up at my house when he said "I hadn't planned on making this a late night, but do you want to find someplace to make out for a while?" The direct approach always works on me.
When he kissed me, I thought I would lose the ability to stand on my own. My mind completely shut down and all I could do was kiss him back. The world sort of went fuzzy while his lips were on mine. I'm not sure how to describe what it felt like, but it didn't feel like kissing someone for the first time.
Then, you know, stuff happened...use your imagination...but not too much of your imagination...i managed to retain a little decorum decide the world fuzziness.
When we were saying goodbye, he said "maybe we can do this again if we find time in our busy schedules." I suddenly felt conflicted again: wanting to see him again but not wanting to risk ruining the memory of such a good night, wanting to show him I was interested but not wanting him to know how interested, confident, but still insecure. So I told him to call if he wanted to get together again. He told me to do the same.
I closed the door behind him, replaying the events in my mind and trying to figure out what the hell had just happened and where the hell I should go from there.
So...a little over a year ago, Tiffany, my friend since the 1st grade, met a guy at St. Mark's Coffeehouse and went on a few dates with him. I remember her calling me, excitedly, to tell me about her most recent prospect. She told me what he looked like, what he was reading, and all the things she'd learned about him that night: raised Greek Orthodox, did a stint in the military, M.A. in philosophy, makes a living by organizing labor unions. All these seemingly incongruent details woven together created a picture of a guy with whom I might actually be compatible. Of course, Tiffany was about to go out with him, so that didn't occur to me until she finished her description and said "I can't believe I'm going out with him; he's perfect for you."
They went out a few times and quickly realized that they had some irreconcilable differences. The things about him that made him totally wrong for Tiffany seemed to make him totally right for me. I even calmed her down and answered some questions she had when a few of his sexual interests shocked her. I knew after that particular conversation that things wouldn't work out for them, but it never occurred to me that I should find a way to meet him. After all, men attracted to Tiffany, generally aren't in to me. She and I are close, but we're completely different people, physically and otherwise. And most importantly, my friends are too important to me to knowingly walk in to awkward situations.
They only went on a few dates, but they kept in touch. Several months after they stopped seeing each other, Tiffany started in on me..."you have to meet this guy, Colleen, he's PERFECT for you." I brought up the attraction thing, stating that if he's attracted to 5 foot tall sorority girls then he's not going to be interested in an amazonian feminist. "But he said I wasn't his type. He's usually into taller, curvier girls,," she replied. For 6 months we debated this. I didn't want to meet him. Sure it was intriguing, but it seemed much more trouble than it could possibly be worth. In addition to my previously stated reservations, I didn't feel like putting myself in a situation where I would be comparing myself to Tiffany. I've always felt the need to compete with Tiffany (she generally doesn't instigate these things because, well she's too good for that....or maybe she doesn't see the point because she always wins), so meeting this guy, knowing that he'd been interested in Tiffany seemed like a trip to Self-pityville on the Insecurity highway. But eventually, she wore me down and I agreed to meet this guy, this "perfect" guy.
At this point I will give him a name, because at this point he became a real person as opposed to an idea in my head.
The three of us planned to meet for drinks the week after I returned from South Carolina last August. Tiffany suggested we get there early so I could have a martini and lighten up a little: I had never been so incredibly nervous in my entire life. As I was fishing a gin-soaked olive out of my glass I looked up just as an Adonis stepped into the bar. I was trying to remember the last time I'd seen anyone so beautiful when Tiffany noticed me staring and jumped up to say "David! Hey, this is Colleen." I think I made some sort of coherent introduction while trying to send Tiffany telepathic messages of gratitude. You see, if I made a list of all the physical traits I wanted in my ideal man, it would be David...right down to the curly hair and big nose. As the evening progressed, he seemed more and more ideal: we had the same favorite beer, we both recognized a Mozart concerto playing in the bar, I was even trying to get a job with an organization that works closely with his organization. We had a few drinks and he made an exit, saying it was good to meet me and we should get together again.
The evening was unique for several reasons. The most obvious being that I felt like I'd just met the male version of me. Secondly, it just felt different. I'm the kind of girl who generally pushes for what she wants...especially when it's a man. I've thrown myself into dead-end relationships time and time again because I seem to lack the ability to see that what I want isn't always what is best for me. I also have a hard time understanding how it is that I can be so happy and so sure of a good thing when the other person involved doesn't see it at all. I suppose I'm a dreamer of sorts and sometimes my fantasy life supersedes my reality. But meeting David, I felt no sense of urgency. I didn't feel a need to possess him, to be whatever he wanted me to be and do everything in my power to make him want me back. It was enough just to know someone like that existed...I suppose it gave me hope. This began my self-imposed celibacy period, or as my friends see it, the time I refused to shave my legs for months on end. After meeting David I realized that I'd been settling...I'd been compromising things that I wanted because I didn't expect to meet anyone who shared so much in common with me...I am, after all, a bit strange. I got a grip on my love life and found the courage to stay single rather than settling for someone who may be great, but still not what I want. I had felt so alone for so long, that I'd been trying to make things work when they so clearly shouldn't. And then suddenly, I met this guy, who I realized I would probably never see again, but it was enough to know that he was out there and there were probably others like him, though they may be few and far between. I was still alone in my day to day life, but I felt less alone in the world.
And for the record, I often have huge epiphanies as the result of insignificant encounters in my life...so there's no real over-dramatization of event, per se, but I often over-dramatize. So after a day or so of contemplating how meeting him affected my perspective of past and future relationships, I quit shaving, quit dating, and promptly forgot what it was that got me into such an introspective state. If I hadn't documented it all in my journal, I wouldn't have reason to give it a second thought.
But because I had documented it in my journal, which I picked up and re-read a couple weeks ago, David re-entered my thoughts. It didn't occur to me to talk to Tiffany and try to see him again or anything, I just had a few pleasant, reflective moments and then buried the journal in the bottom of a drawer.
Last week while wading through responses from one of my more ridiculous cragislist posts, this one involving my new-found love of men in drag, I opened an email from someone using the alias "David Hume". It's not uncommon for people to use fake names on email accounts when responding to craigslist ads...mine says Dagny Taggert, which is certainly one of the larger ironies in my life at present. "Oh, someone thinks they're a philosopher," I thought to myself. I read the brief email and had a strange sort of premonition before I opened the files attached to see the pictures that were sent. I felt like I might know this person. So I looked at the pictures and sure enough, it was David.
I wrote him an awkward response explaining how we had met before and he told me he had been attracted to me but assumed that I was "too sweet and nice" to be interested in the things that he is interested in: i.e. sex...very open-minded, progressive, sex. While no one has assumed that I'm "sweet and nice" in a very long time, I understood how meeting me through Tiffany could have led him to that conclusion. We exchanged a series of emails and decided to meet for drinks last night.
Again, I was nervous, but a strange hybrid of intense anxiety and inner calm. I was terrified and relaxed, paranoid and secure, cynical, but somehow optimistic. I was conflicted. I got to Williams a few minutes early, ordered a PBR and patiently (yet impatiently) waited.
David arrived shortly after and we quickly slipped into easy conversation. The positive feelings quickly took over and all my anxiety dissipated. Talking to him felt good...good like your head hitting the pillow after an 18-hour day. Good like your plane touching down at DIA after a weekend of binge drinking in Vegas.
David told me in one of his emails that he'd managed to avoid a long-term relationship for a while, and he wasn't looking to get involved in anything serious right now. As usual, I don't know what I want right now so the disclaimer didn't bother me. Lately I've been finding myself on the receiving end of un-wanted enthusiasm, so I appreciated that it was unlikely to work out that way. And I definitely appreciated the honesty. So when we reached that moment where our eyes met and neither of us were looking away, I broke the connection and stared absently at my beer. I couldn't remember which of us started staring into the other first...and I was embarrassed that it might've been me. The next time the staring thing happened, he broke away...by making some silly face, which I liked, since I tend to do the same in awkward situations.
We ended up at my house when he said "I hadn't planned on making this a late night, but do you want to find someplace to make out for a while?" The direct approach always works on me.
When he kissed me, I thought I would lose the ability to stand on my own. My mind completely shut down and all I could do was kiss him back. The world sort of went fuzzy while his lips were on mine. I'm not sure how to describe what it felt like, but it didn't feel like kissing someone for the first time.
Then, you know, stuff happened...use your imagination...but not too much of your imagination...i managed to retain a little decorum decide the world fuzziness.
When we were saying goodbye, he said "maybe we can do this again if we find time in our busy schedules." I suddenly felt conflicted again: wanting to see him again but not wanting to risk ruining the memory of such a good night, wanting to show him I was interested but not wanting him to know how interested, confident, but still insecure. So I told him to call if he wanted to get together again. He told me to do the same.
I closed the door behind him, replaying the events in my mind and trying to figure out what the hell had just happened and where the hell I should go from there.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Blog for Choice 2007
NARAL (or the National Abortion Rights Action League for those of you not in the know) has asked all bloggers to post a blog in honor of the 34th anniversary of Roe v. Wade.
So here I am, doing it....
They're asking people to write about why they're pro-choice. Most of you will probably stop reading right now. I don't know how well I'm gonna do on this one, so that may not be a bad idea. Most people don't like my political blogs anyhow.
So...leaving all personal experiences aside, because I already wrote about that a couple weeks ago. I'm just going to tell you fine folks why I'm pro-choice.
I had a professor tell me once that I had no idea what it meant to be a feminist because I had always lived in a world with Roe. While I thought that was sort of narrow-minded, I knew what she meant. I was pro-life for a long time because I had the freedom to be...I wasn't sexually active and didn't anticipate having sex till marriage. But life isn't always so cut and dry. Choosing not to have sex doesn't mean someone won't force you. And getting married doesn't mean you should have or will want to have children. It never occurred to me that I would have an unwanted pregnancy, because I lived a pretty sheltered life and didn't have much understanding of the world around me.
But the first time I waited for my period to start after I became sexually active, I knew I was pro-choice. Men will argue that they have a right to get involved in this fight because men have children too. But that's the thing. They don't. Men may help raise children. Men may be fathers. But they do not HAVE children.
The majority of our nation's lawmakers are men, yet men will never understand how it feels to know something could be growing inside you. Something that you do not want. It's like having your body invaded. For girls who become pregnant from rape, it's like being violated all over again.
Women have been terminating pregnancies for centuries. There are herbs that induce miscarriage. There are types of massage that induce miscarriage. And yes, there's the coat hanger and/or cleaning fluid method.
We hear more about coat hangers because that's what women resort to when they're desperate. And because it's taboo to speak frankly about a woman's body and reproductive capabilities and because education in these areas is so lacking, women often become desperate.
It is my belief that abortion should be safe, legal, and rare. We should educate people about their bodies and about contraception so that it doesn't happen often. Not because I think a fetus's life is more important than a woman's, but because abortion isn't a simple decision for anyone. But it should be safe and legal so that women have a place to turn to when they cannot for whatever reason bring a child into the world.
Contrary to popular pro-life rhetoric, women don't just have abortions because they're selfish, sometimes it's the best thing to do for the woman AND her child.
I am pro-choice because I trust women to take make the right decisions for themselves and their bodies. No one knows what you're capable of but you, and no one should have a right to tell you you have to bring a life into the world because a condom broke, or you missed a pill, or some asshole didn't have the decency enough to listen when you said "No."
So here I am, doing it....
They're asking people to write about why they're pro-choice. Most of you will probably stop reading right now. I don't know how well I'm gonna do on this one, so that may not be a bad idea. Most people don't like my political blogs anyhow.
So...leaving all personal experiences aside, because I already wrote about that a couple weeks ago. I'm just going to tell you fine folks why I'm pro-choice.
I had a professor tell me once that I had no idea what it meant to be a feminist because I had always lived in a world with Roe. While I thought that was sort of narrow-minded, I knew what she meant. I was pro-life for a long time because I had the freedom to be...I wasn't sexually active and didn't anticipate having sex till marriage. But life isn't always so cut and dry. Choosing not to have sex doesn't mean someone won't force you. And getting married doesn't mean you should have or will want to have children. It never occurred to me that I would have an unwanted pregnancy, because I lived a pretty sheltered life and didn't have much understanding of the world around me.
But the first time I waited for my period to start after I became sexually active, I knew I was pro-choice. Men will argue that they have a right to get involved in this fight because men have children too. But that's the thing. They don't. Men may help raise children. Men may be fathers. But they do not HAVE children.
The majority of our nation's lawmakers are men, yet men will never understand how it feels to know something could be growing inside you. Something that you do not want. It's like having your body invaded. For girls who become pregnant from rape, it's like being violated all over again.
Women have been terminating pregnancies for centuries. There are herbs that induce miscarriage. There are types of massage that induce miscarriage. And yes, there's the coat hanger and/or cleaning fluid method.
We hear more about coat hangers because that's what women resort to when they're desperate. And because it's taboo to speak frankly about a woman's body and reproductive capabilities and because education in these areas is so lacking, women often become desperate.
It is my belief that abortion should be safe, legal, and rare. We should educate people about their bodies and about contraception so that it doesn't happen often. Not because I think a fetus's life is more important than a woman's, but because abortion isn't a simple decision for anyone. But it should be safe and legal so that women have a place to turn to when they cannot for whatever reason bring a child into the world.
Contrary to popular pro-life rhetoric, women don't just have abortions because they're selfish, sometimes it's the best thing to do for the woman AND her child.
I am pro-choice because I trust women to take make the right decisions for themselves and their bodies. No one knows what you're capable of but you, and no one should have a right to tell you you have to bring a life into the world because a condom broke, or you missed a pill, or some asshole didn't have the decency enough to listen when you said "No."
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Maybe Time Really Does Heal All Wounds
Everyone's freshman year of college is tumultuous, but I feel like Karma owes me big after the Hell I went through during my last month of my first year at Colorado Christian University.
The first semester was great. I made a few good friends instantly, which I think is fairly typical of freshman experiences. Throw a bunch of kids together who are away from home for the first time and uncertain of their futures and they'll find some way to bond. That's how I met Debbie and Andrea. Debbie lived next door and although Andrea lived off campus, for all intents and purposes she lived downstairs with her friend Kim. At the end of my first semester I moved in with Debbie and when I returned from Christmas break I found out Andrea had moved on campus and into my apartment.
I remember getting back to campus after the break and walking in to find Andrea moving in. I was really excited about what the rest of my freshman year would bring and I couldn't wait to share it with my friends. Then on January 18th, five years ago tomorrow, actually, my life changed forever. I met my first love.
Admittedly, it was a little overly intense in the beginning. Well, actually the whole relationship was a bit over the top, but that's a whole different blog. To make a very long story very short, my friends turned on me at some unknown moment. I came home from Ron's apartment one day to find Debbie and Andrea waiting in my room. They told me they'd turned me in to the powers that be (or Resident Director, in CCU speak) for spending the night with Ron.
This was confusing on a number of levels, not the least of which that I didn't know it was actually against the rules. Things had been tense between Debbie, Andrea, and me for a while. We didn't go from best of friends to mortal enemies overnight. And although I blamed them for a really long time, in hindsight, i think we were all too immature to handle the effects of growing super close to people and then growing apart soon after.
I started to become a different person fairly quickly after leaving home, but the changes weren't dramatic until after I fell in love with a guy 5 years older than me. I've spent the better part of the last 2 years letting go of all the shit that my relationship with him did to me, but I never really tried to reflect on the wounds inflicted on me by friends until now. I didn't really have to deal with it, because I just stopped seeing Debbie and Andrea.
I spent one more semester at CCU after all the drama happened. The fall of my sophomore year was probably the loneliest time of my life. I was stuck at an institution that no longer welcomed me surrounded by people who had heard a variety of rumors about my personal life. And of course, that semester I had a class with Andrea.
During the first week of class she gave me a letter she'd written apologizing for not coming to me before turning me in and for not being fair. I accepted her apology, because...well...I didn't know what else to do and I wanted to put the whole thing behind me. After that we became tentative friends.
Through myspace, that great addiction of my generation, we've kept in touch over the last year or so. Our communication doesn't extend past blog comments or the occasional message, but knowing that she's within reach has always left me feeling torn. I find myself thinking of her in these really unfair terms. I haven't been able to see past this image I have of her standing across from me in my bedroom telling me that I was making a huge mistake with Ron and that she had told on me. Being in love was so exciting and so scary and all I really wanted was to feel like I could share that with my friends and be myself, but I couldn't because of the school we were at. And then in the end, it didn't matter that I didn't tell them what was going on because they made their own assumptions.
I still don't know why they handled things the way they did and I still think they made a really selfish, insensitive decision. But we were kids. Kids do silly things sometimes.
I know Debbie is in town somewhere, but I doubt she wants anything to do with me. I know she was really hurt by my not being around very much the semester I met Ron. I don't blame her for that. I totally ditched my friends for a guy, which is never the best way to handle anything. I wish I could say that I'm sorry.
Andrea apologized in the best way she could. I was still too hurt and bitter to really express to her how much she hurt me. It wasn't just about me getting in trouble. I had never experienced betrayal like that. I hope I never do again.
Now she's in California pursuing a career in music. I wish her the best of luck, I really do. Sometimes I listen to her music on myspace and her voice brings back the good times we had. Because up until the end we had a really good time together. I think that was why it hurt so much: I was blindsided. And that's stayed with me for so long that it wasn't until recently that I realized I wasn't hurt by it anymore. Even though I told Andrea 4.5 years ago that I forgave her, I don't think I really did until just now.
I hope someday I find a way to tell her.
The first semester was great. I made a few good friends instantly, which I think is fairly typical of freshman experiences. Throw a bunch of kids together who are away from home for the first time and uncertain of their futures and they'll find some way to bond. That's how I met Debbie and Andrea. Debbie lived next door and although Andrea lived off campus, for all intents and purposes she lived downstairs with her friend Kim. At the end of my first semester I moved in with Debbie and when I returned from Christmas break I found out Andrea had moved on campus and into my apartment.
I remember getting back to campus after the break and walking in to find Andrea moving in. I was really excited about what the rest of my freshman year would bring and I couldn't wait to share it with my friends. Then on January 18th, five years ago tomorrow, actually, my life changed forever. I met my first love.
Admittedly, it was a little overly intense in the beginning. Well, actually the whole relationship was a bit over the top, but that's a whole different blog. To make a very long story very short, my friends turned on me at some unknown moment. I came home from Ron's apartment one day to find Debbie and Andrea waiting in my room. They told me they'd turned me in to the powers that be (or Resident Director, in CCU speak) for spending the night with Ron.
This was confusing on a number of levels, not the least of which that I didn't know it was actually against the rules. Things had been tense between Debbie, Andrea, and me for a while. We didn't go from best of friends to mortal enemies overnight. And although I blamed them for a really long time, in hindsight, i think we were all too immature to handle the effects of growing super close to people and then growing apart soon after.
I started to become a different person fairly quickly after leaving home, but the changes weren't dramatic until after I fell in love with a guy 5 years older than me. I've spent the better part of the last 2 years letting go of all the shit that my relationship with him did to me, but I never really tried to reflect on the wounds inflicted on me by friends until now. I didn't really have to deal with it, because I just stopped seeing Debbie and Andrea.
I spent one more semester at CCU after all the drama happened. The fall of my sophomore year was probably the loneliest time of my life. I was stuck at an institution that no longer welcomed me surrounded by people who had heard a variety of rumors about my personal life. And of course, that semester I had a class with Andrea.
During the first week of class she gave me a letter she'd written apologizing for not coming to me before turning me in and for not being fair. I accepted her apology, because...well...I didn't know what else to do and I wanted to put the whole thing behind me. After that we became tentative friends.
Through myspace, that great addiction of my generation, we've kept in touch over the last year or so. Our communication doesn't extend past blog comments or the occasional message, but knowing that she's within reach has always left me feeling torn. I find myself thinking of her in these really unfair terms. I haven't been able to see past this image I have of her standing across from me in my bedroom telling me that I was making a huge mistake with Ron and that she had told on me. Being in love was so exciting and so scary and all I really wanted was to feel like I could share that with my friends and be myself, but I couldn't because of the school we were at. And then in the end, it didn't matter that I didn't tell them what was going on because they made their own assumptions.
I still don't know why they handled things the way they did and I still think they made a really selfish, insensitive decision. But we were kids. Kids do silly things sometimes.
I know Debbie is in town somewhere, but I doubt she wants anything to do with me. I know she was really hurt by my not being around very much the semester I met Ron. I don't blame her for that. I totally ditched my friends for a guy, which is never the best way to handle anything. I wish I could say that I'm sorry.
Andrea apologized in the best way she could. I was still too hurt and bitter to really express to her how much she hurt me. It wasn't just about me getting in trouble. I had never experienced betrayal like that. I hope I never do again.
Now she's in California pursuing a career in music. I wish her the best of luck, I really do. Sometimes I listen to her music on myspace and her voice brings back the good times we had. Because up until the end we had a really good time together. I think that was why it hurt so much: I was blindsided. And that's stayed with me for so long that it wasn't until recently that I realized I wasn't hurt by it anymore. Even though I told Andrea 4.5 years ago that I forgave her, I don't think I really did until just now.
I hope someday I find a way to tell her.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Caution: This Door Swings Both Direction
One of the bloggers from Feministing did a review for Mother Jones on Jennifer Baumgardner's new book, Look Both Ways: Bisexual Politics.
The book doesn't come out till next month, but I'm already excited to read what Baumgardner has to say about the ever-controversial topic of bi-sexual women. Reading the review, I was reminded of a conversation I had with photographer extraordinaire and all-around great gal Laurie Scavo a few months back when the subject of sexual orientation came up.
My father recently posed the question to me in multiple choice format "Colleen...your sexuality...is it A. Heterosexual, B. Not Heterosexual, C. A Combination of the Two, or D. You Don't Really Know Yet." My answer was not as direct as I wish it had been. My family is not the type to engage in open, supportive dialogue about sexuality (as you can probably tell by the aforementioned question format) and I didn't particularly feel like trying to start one at the time, so I said something like "It's a complicated question. More complicated than multiple choice answers allow and I don't want to get into it with you. But I do like boys." Total cop-out. This just goes to show that despite all my girl-power rhetoric, I'm still afraid of my parents.
The truth is, there's a reason I shy away from labels. Like the great Katz once said (though in regard to gender) should I "...let them fit me for a label that only half suits me?" Sexuality is not an either/or dichotomy, it exists on a spectrum with most people falling somewhere in between the two ends. I know plenty of gay men who get drunk and make out with girls and lots of lesbians who get a 7 year itch and run off to shag a man. So the "totally gay" category may not exist. I also know plenty of straight guys who have admitted to some homo-erotic experimentation in their youth and plenty of straight girls who aren't opposed to reaching 2nd base with one of their girlfriends (granted it's often for male attention, but come on ladies...you gotta admit, it's kinda fun).
I never gave much thought to my own bi-sexual tendencies until my friend Stephanie pushed me up against the wall in an elevator and kissed me. I'd made out with girls before...even transcended the usual "drunk girl-on-girl action in a public place" barriers, once or twice at least. But that was the first time I'd ever had a sexual encounter with a woman that wasn't about anything going on around me. It was just about the two of us and what we were feeling. That night I experienced the beauty of real girl-on-girl lovin' and everything I knew about my sexual identity came crashing down around me in the arms of another woman.
I wish I'd been ready for what had happened. I'd honestly never considered anything happening between the two of us. I tend to miss what's right in front of my face and the whole situation was pretty obvious (we did meet in a women's studies class and all). The morning after our first night together I woke up so confused that I took a perfectly pleasant situation and made it awkward. That's what I'm good at: ruining the moment.
I was so insecure and so afraid of what the whole thing meant that I kept making things complicated between the two of us. She left at the end of January to go to Malta for a few months. It ended badly. The last time I saw her she came to a bar to celebrate my birthday and told me she loved me. She cried. I got angry. She left an apology on my voicemail the next day saying she's "just not good at saying goodbye". I meant to call her back but I forgot. The next time I saw her was 9 months later when she told me she'd met an English girl in Malta and had fallen in love.
There have been other girls since Stephanie, and I'm sure there will be more to come. But, she'll always be special because she was my first. Even if I fucked it up. If I start nullifying experiences cause I fucked them up then my whole life would suddenly be one big blank slate.
So, yes. Colleen likes girls. And Colleen likes boys. And Colleen likes boys who used to be girls and on occasion gets swoony for girls who used to be boys. I think this explains my adolescent fixation on Hanson.
But the word bi-sexual still pisses me off. I'm not equally attracted to men and women. I would wager to say I'm about 70% straight and 30% gay. And furthermore, I'm attracted to interesting people...whether they be male or female or some combination of the two is secondary to their personality and character. My friend Jake says that makes me special. I think it just makes me complicated.
For one thing, lesbian girls tend to distrust me because they think I'm just in a phase or following a trend or something. Straight guys either get too excited to hear about it which inevitably leads to a "Just because I like girls doesn't mean you can fuck me and my best friend at the same time" conversation. Or, they're surprisingly insecure and run away because they think I'll leave them for a girl, committing an unforgivable affront to their masculinity. It's tough. I'm only just getting used to being honest with myself, I'm still not sure how or when to be honest with other people.
I also hate that some of my friends objectify me now that they know I'm bisexual. While my closest friends love and support me for the unique being that I am, other friends...not so much. For example, New Years Eve I was at a party with a bunch of friends from My Brother's Bar. My friend Breanna was there and we had a thing once upon a time which managed to surface again for a night. We've always been cuddly with each other, largely because I am very much like a teddy bear, so we didn't think anything of sitting on each other's laps or with our arms around each other. I mean, it's not as if we were humping in the hallway or making out in the middle of the room or anything. Yet several of the men present made "I really like watchin' you two together...what's goin' on with you guys" remarks with lascivious grins plastered to their faces. I. Am. Not. A. Circus monkey.
There have also been occasions when to gain male attention, female friends of mine have gotten suddenly affectionate with me and even gone so far as to tell complete strangers that I am "into girls." Again. Not a circus monkey. And just because I'm attracted to a wide variety of people doesn't mean I'm attracted to everyone.
The situation is further complicated by the fact that being with a man and being with a woman are both really great, and completely different experiences. It's like comparing apples and oranges. Or maybe peaches and bananas is more appropriate. And now I wonder if I'll ever be satisfied with one person. Will I start to get restless after a certain amount of time in a relationship with one gender and start to miss being with the other? Will I ever be satisfied with a man again?
You see, one of the benefits of relationships with girls is that all the gender stereotyping I struggle with in relationships suddenly doesn't matter anymore. There's been this fantastic mutual respect and understanding in my romantic dealings with women that is so damn hard to find with men. I know it's possible, it's just rare. So do I date girls because it's easier to relate to them? Am I being fair to myself and my partners by doing so?
Sigh...when did this all get so confusing?
The book doesn't come out till next month, but I'm already excited to read what Baumgardner has to say about the ever-controversial topic of bi-sexual women. Reading the review, I was reminded of a conversation I had with photographer extraordinaire and all-around great gal Laurie Scavo a few months back when the subject of sexual orientation came up.
My father recently posed the question to me in multiple choice format "Colleen...your sexuality...is it A. Heterosexual, B. Not Heterosexual, C. A Combination of the Two, or D. You Don't Really Know Yet." My answer was not as direct as I wish it had been. My family is not the type to engage in open, supportive dialogue about sexuality (as you can probably tell by the aforementioned question format) and I didn't particularly feel like trying to start one at the time, so I said something like "It's a complicated question. More complicated than multiple choice answers allow and I don't want to get into it with you. But I do like boys." Total cop-out. This just goes to show that despite all my girl-power rhetoric, I'm still afraid of my parents.
The truth is, there's a reason I shy away from labels. Like the great Katz once said (though in regard to gender) should I "...let them fit me for a label that only half suits me?" Sexuality is not an either/or dichotomy, it exists on a spectrum with most people falling somewhere in between the two ends. I know plenty of gay men who get drunk and make out with girls and lots of lesbians who get a 7 year itch and run off to shag a man. So the "totally gay" category may not exist. I also know plenty of straight guys who have admitted to some homo-erotic experimentation in their youth and plenty of straight girls who aren't opposed to reaching 2nd base with one of their girlfriends (granted it's often for male attention, but come on ladies...you gotta admit, it's kinda fun).
I never gave much thought to my own bi-sexual tendencies until my friend Stephanie pushed me up against the wall in an elevator and kissed me. I'd made out with girls before...even transcended the usual "drunk girl-on-girl action in a public place" barriers, once or twice at least. But that was the first time I'd ever had a sexual encounter with a woman that wasn't about anything going on around me. It was just about the two of us and what we were feeling. That night I experienced the beauty of real girl-on-girl lovin' and everything I knew about my sexual identity came crashing down around me in the arms of another woman.
I wish I'd been ready for what had happened. I'd honestly never considered anything happening between the two of us. I tend to miss what's right in front of my face and the whole situation was pretty obvious (we did meet in a women's studies class and all). The morning after our first night together I woke up so confused that I took a perfectly pleasant situation and made it awkward. That's what I'm good at: ruining the moment.
I was so insecure and so afraid of what the whole thing meant that I kept making things complicated between the two of us. She left at the end of January to go to Malta for a few months. It ended badly. The last time I saw her she came to a bar to celebrate my birthday and told me she loved me. She cried. I got angry. She left an apology on my voicemail the next day saying she's "just not good at saying goodbye". I meant to call her back but I forgot. The next time I saw her was 9 months later when she told me she'd met an English girl in Malta and had fallen in love.
There have been other girls since Stephanie, and I'm sure there will be more to come. But, she'll always be special because she was my first. Even if I fucked it up. If I start nullifying experiences cause I fucked them up then my whole life would suddenly be one big blank slate.
So, yes. Colleen likes girls. And Colleen likes boys. And Colleen likes boys who used to be girls and on occasion gets swoony for girls who used to be boys. I think this explains my adolescent fixation on Hanson.
But the word bi-sexual still pisses me off. I'm not equally attracted to men and women. I would wager to say I'm about 70% straight and 30% gay. And furthermore, I'm attracted to interesting people...whether they be male or female or some combination of the two is secondary to their personality and character. My friend Jake says that makes me special. I think it just makes me complicated.
For one thing, lesbian girls tend to distrust me because they think I'm just in a phase or following a trend or something. Straight guys either get too excited to hear about it which inevitably leads to a "Just because I like girls doesn't mean you can fuck me and my best friend at the same time" conversation. Or, they're surprisingly insecure and run away because they think I'll leave them for a girl, committing an unforgivable affront to their masculinity. It's tough. I'm only just getting used to being honest with myself, I'm still not sure how or when to be honest with other people.
I also hate that some of my friends objectify me now that they know I'm bisexual. While my closest friends love and support me for the unique being that I am, other friends...not so much. For example, New Years Eve I was at a party with a bunch of friends from My Brother's Bar. My friend Breanna was there and we had a thing once upon a time which managed to surface again for a night. We've always been cuddly with each other, largely because I am very much like a teddy bear, so we didn't think anything of sitting on each other's laps or with our arms around each other. I mean, it's not as if we were humping in the hallway or making out in the middle of the room or anything. Yet several of the men present made "I really like watchin' you two together...what's goin' on with you guys" remarks with lascivious grins plastered to their faces. I. Am. Not. A. Circus monkey.
There have also been occasions when to gain male attention, female friends of mine have gotten suddenly affectionate with me and even gone so far as to tell complete strangers that I am "into girls." Again. Not a circus monkey. And just because I'm attracted to a wide variety of people doesn't mean I'm attracted to everyone.
The situation is further complicated by the fact that being with a man and being with a woman are both really great, and completely different experiences. It's like comparing apples and oranges. Or maybe peaches and bananas is more appropriate. And now I wonder if I'll ever be satisfied with one person. Will I start to get restless after a certain amount of time in a relationship with one gender and start to miss being with the other? Will I ever be satisfied with a man again?
You see, one of the benefits of relationships with girls is that all the gender stereotyping I struggle with in relationships suddenly doesn't matter anymore. There's been this fantastic mutual respect and understanding in my romantic dealings with women that is so damn hard to find with men. I know it's possible, it's just rare. So do I date girls because it's easier to relate to them? Am I being fair to myself and my partners by doing so?
Sigh...when did this all get so confusing?
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Why I Hate Dating (or How That D in Chemistry is Still Haunting Me)
As my friends well know, I have a disconcerting tendancy to get bored and troll craigslist personals ads. Occasionally I'll post one of my own, just to see what kind of responses I get. I posted an ad a while back hoping for something to break up the monotony of my life.
So the responses flooded in, I wrote to a few of them and now, a month later I'm still in contact with 4. One of them is moving here from Georgia in a couple months and we're keeping in touch so he has someone to show him around the city. No romantic potential. One I had lunch with a couple weeks ago and decided during the course of the meal that we should be friends. Again, no romantic potential. Guy number 3, I've been on a couple of dates with...things seem to be going well, I'm intrigued by what could come if it. The last of the remaining suitors I met last night.
After meeting #3, I honestly didn't intend to meet anyone else. I have no desire to over-complicate my life, but #4 called me over the weekend and I was drunk and chatty, so we had a fairly long conversation. It was genuinely great talking to him. He had plenty of interesting things to say and I felt like I was talking to someone who respected my opinions and treated me as an equal. So I agreed to go out with him. I decided afterwards that I should probably cancel, but alas, I forgot to do it, and having no good excuse I didn't have the heart to say no.
So we had coffee and things were going well and I wasn't particularly interested in him, but we seemed very compatible. It's not that he's unattractive, he's totally cute, I just wasn't feeling it. I didn't know if he was interested in me or even interested in a relationship, so I didn't stress about it. We closed the coffee shop and ended up sitting on my stoop talking for a couple of hours. When I got cold, I told him I needed to go inside, but if he wanted to keep hanging out he could come up.
Big. Fucking. Mistake.
As my dear Emily so eloquently put it, "I realize 'hey, do you wanna come up' means something on TV, but in real life, it usually means exactly what is said."
So we walk in the door and sit on the couch and suddenly he's kissing me, and I didn't know what to do and it'd been a while since I got any notable make-out time in, so I went along with it. This goes on for a while and I try to dissuade him and eventually things settle down and we're just sitting and talking again. When he gets up to leave he asks if I want to get together this weekend.
Ugh. The post-makeout endorphins were saying "sure, a little more of this can't hurt" but my head was saying "one more night like this and things are gonna get messy." So I say, "I'll have to check my schedule" and he leaves.
My weekends aren't particularly structured, but there are patterns I've fallen into in the last few months. Wake up Saturday, go to Fluid, go to Christy's, get drunk watching Buffy, go home. Sunday, get up for brunch with the girls, go to Christy's, back home at a reasonable hour. These are patterns I like. A lot. I don't want to give them up...not for making out with a boy. Especially one I'm not sure I really like.
And then there's #3, who I'm still not sure about (definite potential for misogynist assheadedness), but I'm interested enough to keep seeing it through.
The problem here is Chemistry. I've got it with #3, don't got it with #4, but #4 seems to think we have something...I could tell by the mushy puppy looks he gave me (which were cute and ego-boosting, I gotta tell ya....but all in all, kinda frightening)
And this is just so typical of my life for the last few years.
I'm beginning to think that most people settle. I know that sounds pretty cynical, but I really think it's true. Everyone dreams of feeling those fireworks with someone, but how often do we get that? We chalk it up to fairy tale nonsense and pick someone sensible. Someone compatible. A situation that may be good, but is never great. We sacrifice passion for companionship so that we can finish off that checklist: Married by 30. Kids by 35. Soul-less republican yuppie by 38.
So here I am, on the verge of my 24th year, craving romantic intimacy and always coming up short. How do I know I'm coming up short? Because I refuse to give up my Saturdays getting drunk and watching Buffy. Because I'd rather sit at Fluid on the weekends, talking to Christy while she works than make plans with some guy I have half-assed feelings for. Because even though I remember how great lazy Sunday mornings in the arms of your lover can be, I'd rather be shooting the shit with my girlfriends at Sam's over a plate of Chile Rellenos and Eggs.
In my heart, no, not my heart. In my soul, I know that someday I'll meet my other. Someone who really understands me. Someone who excites me enough to balance my friend life with my love life. I'm not descending into some shmoopsy-poo-there's-one-person-for-every-one rhetoric. I don't believe that. I'm sure there are lots of people with whom I could be happy.
But, I'm too young and idealistic to settle for something less than greatness. And I really hope that's something I never grow out of.
So the responses flooded in, I wrote to a few of them and now, a month later I'm still in contact with 4. One of them is moving here from Georgia in a couple months and we're keeping in touch so he has someone to show him around the city. No romantic potential. One I had lunch with a couple weeks ago and decided during the course of the meal that we should be friends. Again, no romantic potential. Guy number 3, I've been on a couple of dates with...things seem to be going well, I'm intrigued by what could come if it. The last of the remaining suitors I met last night.
After meeting #3, I honestly didn't intend to meet anyone else. I have no desire to over-complicate my life, but #4 called me over the weekend and I was drunk and chatty, so we had a fairly long conversation. It was genuinely great talking to him. He had plenty of interesting things to say and I felt like I was talking to someone who respected my opinions and treated me as an equal. So I agreed to go out with him. I decided afterwards that I should probably cancel, but alas, I forgot to do it, and having no good excuse I didn't have the heart to say no.
So we had coffee and things were going well and I wasn't particularly interested in him, but we seemed very compatible. It's not that he's unattractive, he's totally cute, I just wasn't feeling it. I didn't know if he was interested in me or even interested in a relationship, so I didn't stress about it. We closed the coffee shop and ended up sitting on my stoop talking for a couple of hours. When I got cold, I told him I needed to go inside, but if he wanted to keep hanging out he could come up.
Big. Fucking. Mistake.
As my dear Emily so eloquently put it, "I realize 'hey, do you wanna come up' means something on TV, but in real life, it usually means exactly what is said."
So we walk in the door and sit on the couch and suddenly he's kissing me, and I didn't know what to do and it'd been a while since I got any notable make-out time in, so I went along with it. This goes on for a while and I try to dissuade him and eventually things settle down and we're just sitting and talking again. When he gets up to leave he asks if I want to get together this weekend.
Ugh. The post-makeout endorphins were saying "sure, a little more of this can't hurt" but my head was saying "one more night like this and things are gonna get messy." So I say, "I'll have to check my schedule" and he leaves.
My weekends aren't particularly structured, but there are patterns I've fallen into in the last few months. Wake up Saturday, go to Fluid, go to Christy's, get drunk watching Buffy, go home. Sunday, get up for brunch with the girls, go to Christy's, back home at a reasonable hour. These are patterns I like. A lot. I don't want to give them up...not for making out with a boy. Especially one I'm not sure I really like.
And then there's #3, who I'm still not sure about (definite potential for misogynist assheadedness), but I'm interested enough to keep seeing it through.
The problem here is Chemistry. I've got it with #3, don't got it with #4, but #4 seems to think we have something...I could tell by the mushy puppy looks he gave me (which were cute and ego-boosting, I gotta tell ya....but all in all, kinda frightening)
And this is just so typical of my life for the last few years.
I'm beginning to think that most people settle. I know that sounds pretty cynical, but I really think it's true. Everyone dreams of feeling those fireworks with someone, but how often do we get that? We chalk it up to fairy tale nonsense and pick someone sensible. Someone compatible. A situation that may be good, but is never great. We sacrifice passion for companionship so that we can finish off that checklist: Married by 30. Kids by 35. Soul-less republican yuppie by 38.
So here I am, on the verge of my 24th year, craving romantic intimacy and always coming up short. How do I know I'm coming up short? Because I refuse to give up my Saturdays getting drunk and watching Buffy. Because I'd rather sit at Fluid on the weekends, talking to Christy while she works than make plans with some guy I have half-assed feelings for. Because even though I remember how great lazy Sunday mornings in the arms of your lover can be, I'd rather be shooting the shit with my girlfriends at Sam's over a plate of Chile Rellenos and Eggs.
In my heart, no, not my heart. In my soul, I know that someday I'll meet my other. Someone who really understands me. Someone who excites me enough to balance my friend life with my love life. I'm not descending into some shmoopsy-poo-there's-one-person-for-every-one rhetoric. I don't believe that. I'm sure there are lots of people with whom I could be happy.
But, I'm too young and idealistic to settle for something less than greatness. And I really hope that's something I never grow out of.
Monday, January 8, 2007
The Personal Politics of Baby Killing
Georgia has proposed an abortion ban similar to the one that was defeated by South Dakota voters in November '06. I would write out all my feelings about the bill, but I've decided to let you fine folks just read it for yourself
Aside from the outrage I felt at many of the gross misrepresentations in this piece of legislation (i.e. the idea that we KNOW life begins at conception, that abortion contradicts feminist values, and that the economy is suffering as a result of abortion), there were a few points that struck a chord with me.
Let me say first and foremost, that I question the statistics presented about post-procedure psychological trauma. I hesitate to believe these statistics due largely to the fact that no sources are cited and I doubt the framers of this legislation looked for objective studies. I have encountered many women who have had abortions and not turned into baby-hallucinating basket cases afterwards. To claim that most women suffer these kind of extreme emotional repercussions is a sweeping generalization.
And contrary to popular pro-life belief, not all women who support abortion are thrilled with the idea of heading to a clinic to terminate a pregnancy. But sometimes it happens, despite careful planning.
That's how it happened to me.
A few years ago I discovered that I was pregnant and had no where to turn. I could't tell the father: in a moment of extreme selfish ass-headedness (extreme even for him) he told me he'd rather I "take care of it" if it ever happened. Take care of it and leave him blissfully ignorant, of course. I considered telling him just for spite, but I knew it would ultimately make things harder for me so I kept it to myself. I didn't have anyone to talk to or any shoulders to cry on because I was at a point in my life where I didn't have many people to trust, and the information about my pregnancy and decision to terminate would have made several areas of my life more difficult.
I weighed my options and knew that abortion was my only realistic choice. I had no way to support myself, much less a child, and I couldn't in good conscience bring a life into the world and abandon it for someone else to take care of. So I went the only place I knew to go: my friendly, neighborhood Planned Parenthood.
Contrary to what anti-choice propaganda tells you, they were good to me there. They didn't pressure me, they gave me plenty of information to help me make my decision and they provided support for me when I had no one else in my life that I trusted.
Because my decision was my own, because I was sure of what I wanted to do and determined to do what was best for me (and what I still believe was best for my baby), I had a regret-free abortion. Do I still think about it? Yes, sometimes I do. Am I sad? A little, but only sad that I got pregnant at such a bad time.
I survived the whole scenario relatively unscathed, but I know that many are not so lucky. One of the problems with the pro-choice movement today is that we are so busy arguing that abortion must be an option for women that we neglect to see the women around us who struggle with the decision they made or are making to terminate a pregnancy.
Acknowledging that it's a painful decision is not the same thing as saying it's the wrong one. We shouldn't be afraid to help our wounded sisters, yet we've left them to find support from the pro-life movement. Where are our post-abortion support groups? Where do we go to find solidarity? Where can we talk about our feelings about abortion after we've had one? Where do we turn when emotional consequences manifest themselves? We shouldn't be forced to turn to the pro-lifers. Not to the people who will beat us down and tell us we need to be forgiven.
We need to take care of these women within our own community. We need to tell them it's ok that they terminated their pregnancies and it's ok if they don't feel strong or empowered about it. In addition, we need to be there before the abortion. No woman should ever have to go it alone like I did. No woman should have to march down clinic stairs by herself while strangers call her a murderer. We need to find a way to reach out and we need to understand that ignoring the complexity of abortion doesn't help our fight: it hurts the women who get caught in the cross-fire between the pro-choice and pro-life movements.
With the Georgia legislature proposing an abortion ban and the nation lying in wait to see what the Supreme Court will do if/when someone challenges Roe v. Wade, this is the perfect time for the pro-choice movement to be honest about the consequences of abortion while strengthening the fight to keep it safe and legal.
Aside from the outrage I felt at many of the gross misrepresentations in this piece of legislation (i.e. the idea that we KNOW life begins at conception, that abortion contradicts feminist values, and that the economy is suffering as a result of abortion), there were a few points that struck a chord with me.
Let me say first and foremost, that I question the statistics presented about post-procedure psychological trauma. I hesitate to believe these statistics due largely to the fact that no sources are cited and I doubt the framers of this legislation looked for objective studies. I have encountered many women who have had abortions and not turned into baby-hallucinating basket cases afterwards. To claim that most women suffer these kind of extreme emotional repercussions is a sweeping generalization.
And contrary to popular pro-life belief, not all women who support abortion are thrilled with the idea of heading to a clinic to terminate a pregnancy. But sometimes it happens, despite careful planning.
That's how it happened to me.
A few years ago I discovered that I was pregnant and had no where to turn. I could't tell the father: in a moment of extreme selfish ass-headedness (extreme even for him) he told me he'd rather I "take care of it" if it ever happened. Take care of it and leave him blissfully ignorant, of course. I considered telling him just for spite, but I knew it would ultimately make things harder for me so I kept it to myself. I didn't have anyone to talk to or any shoulders to cry on because I was at a point in my life where I didn't have many people to trust, and the information about my pregnancy and decision to terminate would have made several areas of my life more difficult.
I weighed my options and knew that abortion was my only realistic choice. I had no way to support myself, much less a child, and I couldn't in good conscience bring a life into the world and abandon it for someone else to take care of. So I went the only place I knew to go: my friendly, neighborhood Planned Parenthood.
Contrary to what anti-choice propaganda tells you, they were good to me there. They didn't pressure me, they gave me plenty of information to help me make my decision and they provided support for me when I had no one else in my life that I trusted.
Because my decision was my own, because I was sure of what I wanted to do and determined to do what was best for me (and what I still believe was best for my baby), I had a regret-free abortion. Do I still think about it? Yes, sometimes I do. Am I sad? A little, but only sad that I got pregnant at such a bad time.
I survived the whole scenario relatively unscathed, but I know that many are not so lucky. One of the problems with the pro-choice movement today is that we are so busy arguing that abortion must be an option for women that we neglect to see the women around us who struggle with the decision they made or are making to terminate a pregnancy.
Acknowledging that it's a painful decision is not the same thing as saying it's the wrong one. We shouldn't be afraid to help our wounded sisters, yet we've left them to find support from the pro-life movement. Where are our post-abortion support groups? Where do we go to find solidarity? Where can we talk about our feelings about abortion after we've had one? Where do we turn when emotional consequences manifest themselves? We shouldn't be forced to turn to the pro-lifers. Not to the people who will beat us down and tell us we need to be forgiven.
We need to take care of these women within our own community. We need to tell them it's ok that they terminated their pregnancies and it's ok if they don't feel strong or empowered about it. In addition, we need to be there before the abortion. No woman should ever have to go it alone like I did. No woman should have to march down clinic stairs by herself while strangers call her a murderer. We need to find a way to reach out and we need to understand that ignoring the complexity of abortion doesn't help our fight: it hurts the women who get caught in the cross-fire between the pro-choice and pro-life movements.
With the Georgia legislature proposing an abortion ban and the nation lying in wait to see what the Supreme Court will do if/when someone challenges Roe v. Wade, this is the perfect time for the pro-choice movement to be honest about the consequences of abortion while strengthening the fight to keep it safe and legal.
Saturday, January 6, 2007
The I in Community
I've been one of the lucky few in Denver who has had no reason to shovel snow in the past few weeks. I no longer own a car, which eliminates the need to shovel parking spaces or drive ways and I'm a renter, so my property manager takes care of the entry-ways to my building.
But today, for the first time all winter, I picked up a shovel to do some damage control on the rooftop of the building of my friends Christy and Sarah. Our pal Ian came along to help out with the manual labor. I'm not sure why I volunteered except that it was the right thing to do. There was a rather daunting task at hand, one that I knew would be easier for my friends if they had some help, and my only plan for the afternoon was to spend time with them.
Christy and Sarah live in a building with about 10 other condos. Everyone pays HOA dues and everyone is expected to pitch in with these types of building related chores. The problem is, everybody doesn't help: Christy and Sarah have done most of the shoveling. It might be understandable that no one else has pitched in if the girls had just taken the responsibility upon themselves when the first winter storm hit the city, but when the blizzard of '06 struck Denver, Christy and Sarah were in Tahiti. They returned to find the front steps covered in about 4 inches of snow and ice and the back parking lot barely drive-able because no one took the initiative to look out for everyone else's safety.
I made a comment today that I thought it funny that the two girls from Mississippi were the ones to get out and battle the snow accumulation to keep the roof from collapsing in on everyone. Sarah turned to me and said "It's because the girls from Mississippi are the only ones with a sense of community. And that has nothing to do with where we come from."
It got me thinking. What communities do I belong to? What responsiblity do I have to my community? What responsibility does my community have to me?
While reflecting on these questions I realized that they each have multiple answers. I belong to many communites: my apartment building, my neighborhood, my city, my state, my country, and even a larger global community.
Most people have a basic understanding of how to be a good citizen, a good neighbor, or a good friend. But how often do we live it? Do we invest energy into those around us or do we use them to energize us?
So much of what is wrong in our nation and our world could be solved with a little unity--a little community. Rather than isolating ourselves from the people who live with us, beside us, and around us, perhaps we should reach out and give a little back.
"There is no I in team" we've been told, but there is an I in community. And the truth is, to accomplish anything, we must all sacrifice and focus our energies in the same direction. We'll never achieve peace or prosperity or even a snow-less rooftop unless we each give of ourselves and stand side-by-side as a strong, unified force.
But today, for the first time all winter, I picked up a shovel to do some damage control on the rooftop of the building of my friends Christy and Sarah. Our pal Ian came along to help out with the manual labor. I'm not sure why I volunteered except that it was the right thing to do. There was a rather daunting task at hand, one that I knew would be easier for my friends if they had some help, and my only plan for the afternoon was to spend time with them.
Christy and Sarah live in a building with about 10 other condos. Everyone pays HOA dues and everyone is expected to pitch in with these types of building related chores. The problem is, everybody doesn't help: Christy and Sarah have done most of the shoveling. It might be understandable that no one else has pitched in if the girls had just taken the responsibility upon themselves when the first winter storm hit the city, but when the blizzard of '06 struck Denver, Christy and Sarah were in Tahiti. They returned to find the front steps covered in about 4 inches of snow and ice and the back parking lot barely drive-able because no one took the initiative to look out for everyone else's safety.
I made a comment today that I thought it funny that the two girls from Mississippi were the ones to get out and battle the snow accumulation to keep the roof from collapsing in on everyone. Sarah turned to me and said "It's because the girls from Mississippi are the only ones with a sense of community. And that has nothing to do with where we come from."
It got me thinking. What communities do I belong to? What responsiblity do I have to my community? What responsibility does my community have to me?
While reflecting on these questions I realized that they each have multiple answers. I belong to many communites: my apartment building, my neighborhood, my city, my state, my country, and even a larger global community.
Most people have a basic understanding of how to be a good citizen, a good neighbor, or a good friend. But how often do we live it? Do we invest energy into those around us or do we use them to energize us?
So much of what is wrong in our nation and our world could be solved with a little unity--a little community. Rather than isolating ourselves from the people who live with us, beside us, and around us, perhaps we should reach out and give a little back.
"There is no I in team" we've been told, but there is an I in community. And the truth is, to accomplish anything, we must all sacrifice and focus our energies in the same direction. We'll never achieve peace or prosperity or even a snow-less rooftop unless we each give of ourselves and stand side-by-side as a strong, unified force.
Friday, January 5, 2007
Stickin' it to the Snow Man
Since everything else gets blamed on our Commander-In-Chief, I've decided that snow must be no different.
The way I figure, Bush must have found a way to control the weather. I mean, this snow is pure EVIL. And who does evil better than our president? Just about no one....
How could he control the weather, you ask? It must have something to do with that direct line to the man upstairs he thinks he's got. I mean, the Republican Party is God's Party, yes?
Or maybe it's some kind of meteorological warfare he's testing out on us. You know...he'll see if we all go crazy and start sticking our heads in ovens and then he'll take this new technology to Iraq and use it on the poor people there. I can just hear him now, "If those folks in Denver can't handle it, what are all them A-rabs gonna do in the snow? Woo-Hoo this is gonna be a good one. They ain't afraid of the war on terror? Let's show 'em a war on climate...."
But why have the good people of Denver been chosen to test such horrific technology? Well, I was just about to get to that....
You see, folks, this is what happens when the state of Colorado elects a democratic governor. George W. Bush is punishing us for not electing the Republican Asshat who ran against Ritter. I refuse to mention his name.... On top of that, Ammendment 42 got passed, which according to one campaign commercial, did not have God's seal of approval. Just think what would've happened if Referendum I had passed! The city would be completely buried!Now, good people of Denver, what should we do about this? Should we give in and never vote for the good of all Coloradoans again? No, gentle readers! We can not give in! We must fight ice with fire.
I propose that everyone make a stand against Bush's oppressive weather conditions by doing one of the things he really really hates. That's right, folks, I'm talking about fucking.
Everyone, find a partner (or two or three or four, and so on) and get nasty today. I mean really nasty. I suggest everyone step up the kink-factor times about a thousand. Of course, if you happen to be a member of the GLBT community then Bush already thinks you're an abomination, so you're free to have any kind of sex you want...sadly, your sexual orientation alone offends him enough to do some damage to this plot of his (but of course, going a little wild wouldn't hurt anything). Everybody else...seriously...cut out that prissy upper-middle-class vanilla shit and go crazy in the bedroom (or bathroom, office, or conference table if you aren't at home)
I was going to suggest this only happen today, but now that I'm really thinking about it, we should probably go for at least a solid week. I mean, desperate times call for desperate measures, right?
Much love...
Colleen
P.S.--Don't forget to use protection. I told you to get kinky, not stupid.
The way I figure, Bush must have found a way to control the weather. I mean, this snow is pure EVIL. And who does evil better than our president? Just about no one....
How could he control the weather, you ask? It must have something to do with that direct line to the man upstairs he thinks he's got. I mean, the Republican Party is God's Party, yes?
Or maybe it's some kind of meteorological warfare he's testing out on us. You know...he'll see if we all go crazy and start sticking our heads in ovens and then he'll take this new technology to Iraq and use it on the poor people there. I can just hear him now, "If those folks in Denver can't handle it, what are all them A-rabs gonna do in the snow? Woo-Hoo this is gonna be a good one. They ain't afraid of the war on terror? Let's show 'em a war on climate...."
But why have the good people of Denver been chosen to test such horrific technology? Well, I was just about to get to that....
You see, folks, this is what happens when the state of Colorado elects a democratic governor. George W. Bush is punishing us for not electing the Republican Asshat who ran against Ritter. I refuse to mention his name.... On top of that, Ammendment 42 got passed, which according to one campaign commercial, did not have God's seal of approval. Just think what would've happened if Referendum I had passed! The city would be completely buried!Now, good people of Denver, what should we do about this? Should we give in and never vote for the good of all Coloradoans again? No, gentle readers! We can not give in! We must fight ice with fire.
I propose that everyone make a stand against Bush's oppressive weather conditions by doing one of the things he really really hates. That's right, folks, I'm talking about fucking.
Everyone, find a partner (or two or three or four, and so on) and get nasty today. I mean really nasty. I suggest everyone step up the kink-factor times about a thousand. Of course, if you happen to be a member of the GLBT community then Bush already thinks you're an abomination, so you're free to have any kind of sex you want...sadly, your sexual orientation alone offends him enough to do some damage to this plot of his (but of course, going a little wild wouldn't hurt anything). Everybody else...seriously...cut out that prissy upper-middle-class vanilla shit and go crazy in the bedroom (or bathroom, office, or conference table if you aren't at home)
I was going to suggest this only happen today, but now that I'm really thinking about it, we should probably go for at least a solid week. I mean, desperate times call for desperate measures, right?
Much love...
Colleen
P.S.--Don't forget to use protection. I told you to get kinky, not stupid.
Thursday, January 4, 2007
In The Beginning...
...Colleen created a blog. And she looked upon the blog and she saw that it was good.
But who knows if she'll actually bust into blogging or forget her username and password and never log-in again.
Only time will tell.
But who knows if she'll actually bust into blogging or forget her username and password and never log-in again.
Only time will tell.
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