Kissing and Telling: A Comical Jaunt Down the Road of Boyfriends Past

I like to temper my political rantings with something a little more frivolous, so I thought I would take a look at my dating record with some of the weirdest, cheesiest (literally for one ungraceful fellow) and neurotic bastards to ever walk the streets. I can't say that I have dated a ton of guys, but the majority of them have been freakish at best. The worst (best) ones never having a second date, but left me with plenty of comedic material to choke a large farm animal (which a couple of them were.) The odd part is, I don't find very many people attractive, it's a curious problem to have. I tend to like a guy with some unique or pronounced physical feature. It could be anything really, like crazy hair or a very prominent eyebrow ridge, like a neanderthal (I really like this and have no idea why. It must be a holdover from my ancestral past.) Other than that, it all lies in the personality aspects. Attraction for me is 99% mental, which I think is hard for some to grasp. Any 2 people can hump like animals in the zoo instinctively, but it's that mental connection that sets humans apart. The elusive "mind fuck" is a lot harder to achieve, than a quick orgasm (probably faked on the woman's part) in the stall of a nightclub bathroom. One thing I can proudly proclaim is that I have never used men to validate my existence or some wavering self-esteem issue. Anyone I chose to spend my time with, intimately, merited it on some level.

But where to start this egregious gravy train of depravity? There were so many deliciously bad dates and crazy guys. Let's start with the line cook from one of the shitty restaurants I worked at. We'll call him "Sh-rian." We were work friends for a quite a while before we ever went out. He had a girlfriend (who hated me) I had a boyfriend and so on. They eventually broke up the same time my boyfriend and I took a break, so he finally asked me out. At work, he was seemingly normal, but Rule Number 1 of the restaurant biz, nobody that works there is normal. This proved undeniably true as time went on. It wasn't bad at first, he was funny, nice, and could hold a conversation, but he couldn't kiss for anything, something I was willing, but shouldn't have overlooked. It's too good an indicator of compatibility. He was going to college full-time, so he wasn't going to stay a lowly line cook forever. But that all changed the night we decided to play a seemingly innocent game of Trivial Pursuit in his parents basement. Being my usual charming self, I engaged in a little pre-game trash talk about how I was going to kick his ass at this game, which he quickly refuted with a resounding and zealous "Yeah right," with an apparent air of smugness that would later come back to disgrace him. (Now at this point, I feel I must interject something, as I said he was going to college whilst working as a line cook, with all of the other line cooks having that as their main profession. So I think he thought a little highly of himself, thinking he was better than every else at the restaurant. He also was one of those guys that because he got straight B's in high school thought he was smarter than every one else too. He had big fish in a little pond syndrome. Complete pseudo-intellectual.) Anyway, I proceeded to kick his ass as promised and he was clearly emasculated and just plain pissed. I have never been one to let someone win, it's just not in my nature. I do have an animalistic competitive streak that's hard to quell. Anyway, he pretty much begged for a rematch, to which I could not refuse, it was too pitiful or something. So we played again, and again I started winning. At this point I made a conscious, albeit, ridiculous decision to throw the game. I was going to start answering the questions incorrectly, but somehow what I thought were incorrect guesses turned out to be the right answers and I widened the gap even more. The board game stars were just aligned against him from the jump. It became very tense and uncomfortable. I just wanted to stop, but he wouldn't relent. So I just won as fast as I could, so we could do something else. After it seemed like he was just as relieved as I, but ahh, no. For the next 3 nights in a row he made me play Trivial Pursuit with him. And I kid you not, I beat him every single time, even when I was trying to throw the game. Finally, mercifully, he wanted to play something else. He challenged me to a game of pool, which I knew I sucked at. I really am bad, there's no denying that, and I was playing badly. He was winning the entire time and his whole demeanor changed. Smiling, laughing, practically giddy and wholly cavalier. But then, when he only had 2 balls left, the 5 ball and that self-righteous little asshole the 8 ball. He missed the 5 shot and accidentally sunk the 8 ball instead, making me the incredulous winner by default. Well, that was pretty much it for me and "Sh-rian." He broke it off soon after. I knew it was coming, that couldn't be good for such an insecure guy's ego. At least I get to say that someone once broke up with me over losing (repeatedly) at Trivial Pursuit (an apropos title for our relationship.) But it is the, I'm sure, lovely ladies that followed that I feel bad for because Trivial Pursuit wasn't the only thing he was bad at.

Moving right along, let's take a look at someone I am only going to call "The Virgin." Yes, that's right. He was 28 and honestly, very good looking. He looked like an asexual Jim Morrison. But God, was this kid messed up. He lived in his mom's basement for starter's, smoked a lot of weed, which at one point when I said I couldn't be his girlfriend, he said he would give it up for me. (That is romantic. Fuck.) He had the emotional capacity of a rutabaga, and maybe that's even giving him too much credit. He was addicted to video games and had a weekly standing appointment to play D & D. But I mean really when you live in your mom's basement and have a part-time job folding girl's jeans on the night shift at Holister Co. because your vacuous stares would scare customers away, what else could you possibly be into? I should have known better, when I met him at Macomb "Mall," where he pretended to work at American Eagle just to talk to me. He once left me this crazy voicemail, where he used a computerized voice changer to pretend he was the St. Clair Shores Public Library message service telling me I was going to be in big trouble if I didn't return my severely overdue library book. What the fuck? (For the record, I have never been to the SCP Library.) Whenever we would even get slightly amorous, even when he initiated it, he would end up recoiling in terror. Yeah, needless to say, that didn't last too long. Oh, and he wore a lot of scarves.

Then there was the absolute worst/funniest date, maybe in the history of dates. This guy; let's call him "Sh-ominic" was a bouncer at restaurant who liked to suck on moist, limp stogies. He was completely bald with a shitty black goatee that really rounded out his dented melon-like head. I am pretty sure he had man-boobs and slightly smelled. Now, you may be asking yourself, why would a fine, upstanding gal, like myself, go out with such an obvious, cretinous douche bag? Long story short, my boyfriend had just broken up with me which left me really depressed and I would pretty much do anything to repress that literal aching in my chest for any extended period of time. So I reluctantly agreed to go on a date with this ape-man (which I feel kind of bad saying because I really like apes.) He told me to dress up because we were going to some fancy restaurant, that I can't quite recall now. Anyway, right before I was going to leave to meet him there, he tells me that he couldn't pick up his check for some odd reason and if it was all right if we went to some place more low-key (low-key=cheap.) Honestly, I didn't even care in the first place where we went, or even if he showed up at that point, so I said sure, wherever is fine, but I didn't have time to change so off to Applebee's I went, terribly overdressed. But he didn't have to worry because his idea of dressing up was baggy carpenter jeans and an ill-fitting sheer baby blue polo (that I would hear all about later) stretched over his beer gut. The evening was off to an auspicious start. At first it wasn't so incredibly horrendous, I can hold a conversation with just about anyone, but as the night wore on, and more and more light beer got drained down his gullet, he kept interrupting the conversation to check some arbitrary sports score on the bar T.V. or to let out some sort of primal grunt when a player missed a basket. In between grunts and "Hold on a second's" he did manage to reveal that he likes to smoke opium laced joints and coach peewee football. Simultaneously? Perhaps. Then at one point when he was eating his hot ham and liquid cheese sandwich or heart attack between bread, he squished his sandwich just so, that the stream of molten cheese shot out onto his very classy polo shirt. He flew off the handle, cursing himself repeatedly for being so clumsy and such a slob. He was desperately trying to get the stain out for what seemed like hours, continually getting more irate. "I got this shirt at Structure, this was a really expensive shirt. [$29.95?] I can't believe I did this. This is so embarrassing. God, I'm an idiot. I really like this shirt..." and so on. I wanted to leave so badly. Finally, after I scarfed my Honey-Glazed Chicken as fast as I could possibly swallow, we left. We got out to the parking lot, where he then asked me if I have ever ridden in a Jeep Wrangler before. And I was so impressed. A Jeep Wrangler, oh fuck, a car with plastic windows, that is exciting. You are one fine hunk of man, with your cheese stain, Jeep Wrangler and troglodyte mentality. But the ride in the Jeep would prove to be the most rewarding part of the evening. We started to talk inevitably about past relationships where I said "I guess I am confused about relationships at this point. I don't know what I want anymore," or something to that affect. Then came the part that made the entire disaster of night worthwhile. He, in all earnest, asked me the following question; "So do you think you might be a lesbian?" Under normal circumstances I would have tried not laugh, but it was too hilarious and I lost all control, I just laughed viscerally right in his face. Yet he seemed completely unfazed by this. In my head I was thinking, "After tonight, I just may be heading in that direction." After that, I asked him to take me back to my car and I ran out of the Jeep Wrangler so fast without so much as a handshake. But on the bright side, at least the sandwich got off. Needless to say, I never took his calls again, but a few months later, my friend and I were out and saw him working the door at the restaurant he bounced at. I intentionally crossed the street to avoid him, but alas, he spotted me. Later that night I received a string of phone calls from him, which went on throughout the weekend. Finally on Sunday night, I answered the phone, after like the 15th call. All he says is "Bitch" in this hardly audible voice and then hangs up. I laughed for like an hour. I didn't think this guy could get any funnier, and yet he showed me up again.

There have been a few others, not quite as insanely ridiculous as "Sh-ominic," but still noteworthy. There was "Sh-max" who was an all right guy, forgiving the fully acoustic serenade of Led Zeppelin's "Over the Hills and Far Away" he intently sang to me, but when we started making out in his room, he said he had to tell me something. Oh no, no good can come of this. He then drops this little gem, "I just wanted to let you know that my 'size' might not be as big as you are used to." What the fuck?!? Who says that? How would he know anyway? I pretended to be nauseous, (maybe I wasn't pretending) just so I could get the fuck out of there. Then there was "Mark McGrath." I don't remember his real name, but he looked just like the lead singer of the shitty band Sugar Ray. When I found out his favorite movie was "How High" after quite possibly the longest belch I have ever witnessed, I knew it could never be. I distinctly recall driving somewhere when a creepy, scraggly guy in the molester van next to me held up a home-made sign, that he obviously uses often, that said "I like your tits." At least he was succinct. Or the valet parking attendant that just stepped out of an 80's cop drama with his full blond beard and gold-hoop earring who asked me where he knew me from. I had never seen him before, but he kept persisting until he finally exclaimed: "I know where I know you from. Don't you work at Stiletto's?" With so many fucking weirdos out there, it still amazes me that I ever found any normal ones. This handful of head cases were just the tip of the psycho iceberg, but they were definitely the most horribly memorable. At least I can still have a few laughs at their expense. So here's to you neurotic ex-boyfriends.

The Anatomy of Oppression

I have been thinking a lot lately about Proposition 8 in California, mainly because it has been splashed all over the headlines, but also because there have been many documentary films on the subject playing on Demand. It has become a hot-button issue, particularly because you would think a progressive, democratic-voting state like California, home to what many consider a LGBT flagship city to be a little more empathetic to the plight of gay marriage (or at least not care enough to vote against it.) It seems strange, but sort of expected that "marriage advocacy groups" from other states would even care what California does with their laws and their people, but it seems that they had gotten their point across. Now with the possibility of overturning the law for good looming ahead, things could get even stickier. I can't see the groups that advocated Prop 8 in the first place just giving in. And if the thousands of abhorrent comments after the Yahoo! News articles on the subject are any indicator, it's going to be a long road to forge.

I guess I am not sure why public opinion is so unfavorable to the thought of gay marriage. Four other states have already passed it without too much fanfare. The fact that Prop 8 did pass in California (even though it should have easily been defeated) leads me to believe there was some other driving force behind the bill. In the movie "8: The Mormon Proposition" it reports that the LDS Church spent around 22 million dollars to get Prop 8 passed in California, mostly from donations from their parishioners. 22 million dollars. Let that sink in a little. Over the course of just under a year, they managed to raise 22 million dollars, all in the name of disenfranchisement. This wasn't 22 million dollars to build a new school, feed starving peoples of third world countries, start community outreach programs for at risk youths, or money to build a homeless shelter, this was purely money to take a fundamental constitutional right away from tens of thousands of people. To me, that's sick. 22 million dollars that could have went to helping the impoverished went to preventing the happiness of those whom they've never even met. To be honest, I think Jesus would have been disappointed.

Besides the money issue, there is that whole "hate" thing. By now allowing gay marriage in all 50 states, not just California it breeds a hatred and contempt for the LGBT community. It implies that that "Yes we put up with your sinful ways because this is America and we have all that freedom crap, blah, blah, blah, but we, deep down, don't agree with what you're doing and think there should be limits to your excess." To me that's the nicest message it sends, I think to others who already want to see being gay as "wrong" or a "blasphemous choice" then I think it tells that it is okay to hate this entire group of people because they are different and that difference may just rub off on you! Sometimes when I am feeling low about the state of affairs in the U.S., I like to think about one of Freud's defense mechanisms. A little gem called Reaction Formation. "In psychoanalytic theory, reaction formation is a defensive process in which anxiety-producing or unacceptable emotions and impulses are mastered by exaggeration (hypertrophy) of the directly opposing tendency." So basically when someone, has a subconscious emotional response to a stimuli that the person (due to religion or upbringing) or society may deem unacceptable, they tend to go overboard in thinking the exact opposite. For example, if a person, let's say a right wing Republican, often speaks out against a certain cause, again and again, lets say gay marriage, some, let's say one with half a brain, might say that he is using reaction formation as a defense mechanism to cover-up his latent homosexual tendencies, let's say Senator Larry Craig. I thought it was just me who seemed to notice the disproportionate number of closeted gay Republicans in the U.S. congress until they finally made a documentary on it; "Outrage." The stupid part is, I don't think people would care as much if they were just honest from jump street. It's the lying and the hypocrisy that makes me angry. Who cares if they are LGBT, if they do a good job as our representative? It's the same with gays in the military. Why do I care what someone, who is doing an extremely dangerous job to protect all of us whiny Americans back home, (that I would personally never even consider) does in their free time? I don't care if they like to corn hole endangered species in their spare time, as long as that means I don't have to go and fight. (Besides the whole, it's okay to kill civilians as part of my job, but having sex with a man, now that's disgusting!)

Another interesting point I would like to offer is the minority groups that are against gay marriage. I find this incredibly hard to swallow. African Americans, Native Americans, Mexicans, immigrants, and women were all disenfranchised at one point or another in our American history and still are to varying degrees today. Even though we have made important (albeit seemingly obvious) strides to correct these oppressive forces, like Emancipation, Suffrage, Women's Liberation and the Civil Rights Movement, it seems like we are going 2 steps back sometimes. It's like none of the monumental occasions ever even happened; ancient history. We should feel some brother/sisterhood with the LGBT movement, for without people like them that stood up for our rights not so long ago, I would not have the right to vote and would still have to take orders from my husband in order to be a "good little wife." African American marriages weren't recognized by the U.S. at one time too, slaves didn't need to marry, they were commodities like cattle or tobacco. But deep down we knew this repugnant view wasn't right, there is no way any human being should be treated like this, so unforgivably mistreated. At another high point in American history, interracial marriage wasn't allowed. We look back on that now and see how ridiculous that was. So I find it hard to see why any minority group wouldn't side with allowing gay marriage. They have been there, stood in that exact same spot before them, but yet why can't they see? Are they honestly that naive to think that somehow their struggle doesn't parallel their own? Are the too steeped in blind faith and literal interpretations of select parts of the Bible? Are they just being duped by the age-old white male power structure that even after all these years still seems to rule the country? Or is it something more visceral? Some sort of subconscious need to oppress another group, as they have been oppressed. An involuntary need to feel like they are on the inside looking out now, a twisted Stockholm Syndrome, where the oppressed emulates the oppressor. It is unnerving to me to think that old stodgy white males still have a certain power over us, they control the largest corporations, the banks, the government, not that much seems to have changed. Every now and again they throw us a little scrap to keep us just complacent enough not to up rise.

Marriage between any 2 human beings is a fundamental right. A popular vote can't take away a fundamental right. I think we should start an initiative that says all people with tattoos are not allowed to marry because they have desecrated the body that God gave them and are no longer worthy of the sacrament of marriage. Once that passes with all the money we throw at it we can start making all kinds of judgemental, arbitrary laws. Prop 8 should have been overturned no matter what, even if the judge is gay, that doesn't mean Prop 8 was ever constitutional. When a Republican appointed by George W. Bush to be Solicitor General says Proposition 8 is unconstitutional, that should make people take notice. Here is a man not letting his emotional feelings about gay marriage, whatever they may be, or his political party's, get in the way of the law. Being gay is not wrong, or sinful, or anything really. It shouldn't define a person, but with so much degradation and hate, it is doing just that. Being gay is not a sickness, a contagious disease, or a choice. Gay people are actually born that way. Many scientific studies have been done on this hypothesis and there have been some conclusive findings. It comes down to the levels of prenatal hormones in the womb during brain development in the fetus. They found statistically significant hormone level differences in those of gay males versus straight males. The AMA, APA and AASW all find that sexual orientation is not a treatable medical condition, it is just an individual variation, just like blue eyes or brown hair. Gay and lesbian sex has been going on for thousands of years. I laugh every time some high-brow asshole says he is going to a symposium. It does occur in the animal kingdom as well. One notable species; the bonobos often have male on male and female on female sex, as well as free for all orgies to pass the time (mainly in captivity.) So it is not unnatural or even a new concept, but gay marriage isn't about sex. It's about love. Why can't 2 people that love each other make an official, state-recognized commitment? Why do they have to settle for those bullshit "civil unions?" Those are just ludicrous. You can't take our word "marriage," but we'll throw you a bone to get you off our backs, here, have a civil union. People sure do have some audacity to go around telling others what they can and can't do, especially those same people who believe in a "smaller government."

Religion has a big part to play in all of this. For as much good as religion, like helping the needy, comforting the weary, or giving some kind of spiritual guidance to reformed inmates, they do equally as much or more detriment to society in the long run. The teachings of Jesus were very good in theory, just like Karl Marx and Communism, but in practice, it loses something in translation. People can too easily convolute and twist the lessons around to fit their own indulgent and often nefarious purposes. Religions tend to harbor archaic and often dangerous attitudes about "outsiders," even though that's exactly the kind of thing that Jesus preached against and was to a certain degree. I tend not to trust huge corporations whose only interest is to bilk money out of me. I sometimes like to think about the people at the top of these huge corporate heaps. Do they actually believe the shit they are peddling or do they just sit in their mahogany lined offices and laugh?
I hope that soon, the LGBT community will enjoy all the rights that are given to all other Americans. And if the politicians up in Washington stopped politicking for just a second, maybe they could follow their moral compass, and do what they know in their hearts and by law is right.

An Overwhelming Love

Sometimes I just can't exactly explain how much I love you. Sometimes these waves just wash over me, not just my mind, but my whole body. I feel this intense emotion, I guess which can only be described as mind-blowing love. There is a literal sensation that sweeps across my entire body, muscles contract, my eyes narrow, my extremities actually tingle and my jaw clenches. It is really strange. I have to wonder if anyone else experiences this. The funny part is, that half the time it is when you aren't even around. I can just listen to a song, maybe one I've never even heard before and my mind just reels. I get this flood of images, emotions, memories, fantasies about our life together, all at once. Things I used to feel, things I still feel, and things I want to experience with you. It's sort of like a climax that was pushed a little too long. It feels amazing, but it hurts a little too. Sometimes it is simply too much. Especially sitting alone somewhere, only with my swirling thoughts to comfort me. For me, who never seems to be at a loss for words, I can always come up with something to say, a way to describe, but it is increasingly difficult to articulate how much exactly I love you. It is so much more than love, it's an admiration, respect, caring, longing, loathing, jealous, pining, devotion, lusting, completely encompassing emotional whirlwind, that this laundry list of words could never accurately describe. It is the kind of love that just makes you want to squeeze someone forever. I don't know why, but when I am feeling this particular way, which always comes on suddenly and unexpectedly, the only thing I can think to do is squeeze you as hard as I can. I have no idea why I equate this fantastically crushing emotional cocktail with squeezing, but for some odd reason, I do. It somehow, in my subconscience, must be transfering all those things I can't articulate to you verbally through a nonsensical physical act. I wonder if you ever feel that way about me, this overwhelming sense of something you just can't quite finger. I thought the mundane quality of our day-to-day lives somehow diminished our sense of intense romantic love, but when this emotional downpour rains over me, it reminds me that our first few months of falling in love, those first few minutes, seconds even, are all still there, emblazoned in my mind and heart forever, waiting to be felt again, whenever my subconscience decides necessary.