Your Fear of Rationality Makes Me Uncomfortable.

Is it possible that we've just gone too far? Have we invested our relationships with so much emotion that we've lost track of the purpose of dating and being with someone? What's going on here?

Like lots o' folks, I don't handle conflict particularly well, especially with the women, and more so when I'm "with" a woman. Painful as they are to face, breakups are moments of high stress, even if we're only a few dates in. However, why should it be a matter of tears or anger or recrimination or harsh words when the truth is spoken?:

Sorry, Lena, this just isn't working for me.

In the moment, I get that some emotion is right and fair. But that's why we date, to discover if there's more to "us" than a shared initial superficial attraction. When it becomes clear to one or the other things aren't working, the right/only/mandatory thing to do is to call "time" and do it in as nice a way as possible.


If you're on the receiving end of this, your job is to look beyond your emotion. When someone's being open and truthful, accept it as an act of real friendship. Only bums and losers continue on in something by pretending to themselves and others. False affection is the ultimate betrayal; another word for people like that is sociopath.

At root, this is about figuring out why we find ourselves in a place were emotion is the centre of all relationships. Look around: in boyfriend/girlfriend situations, in parent/child relationships, even at work, it's how you feel that counts. Of course, emotions are important, but should they supersede logic, intellect, practicality and clear-headedness?

I think not.

Fear, in my opinion, is the driver of all this reliance on the emotional response. We fear not ever finding the right person; we fear that the one we thought was the right person will leave; we fear how we look to the outside world. Of course, this more or less proves my point, because fear itself (in this sphere of thought) is the most irrational emotion, and allowing it to drive anything related to abstracts like relationships is the height of illogicality. We've translated fear of physical harm into fear of emotional harm - trust me, there's no bottom to our emotional pool. If you lose some emotion today, you can always turn on the spigot tomorrow.



Bottoms Up, Calm and Rational Exes.

Under the Doormat

Dating and being with someone should be as natural as breathing, shouldn't it.

Shouldn't it?

So if it's not that simple, why not, and why do we spend so much time working at it?

All successful relationships have one factor in common, which is a mutual fit of expectation and willingness.

Willingness is the lock into which we insert our expectation.

Expectation is the key we hope fits his or her willingness.

We all have a lock, and we all have a key. We're not only looking for the person with the right lock for our key, we're also hoping that person has the right key for our lock.

If you think the odds are bad for finding that person, be not discouraged. We all have the power to change our own lock and our own key. You decide whether you have one of those long, complicated, difficult to replicate keys, or whether you prefer a more simple style. Likewise your lock.

However, as with any endeavour in this universe, there is an element of luck - aka randomness - involved. You might have the most straightforward lock, and a standard (but secure) key, and still not find the one.

Not today, anyway.




Bottoms Up, Locksmiths.

The Date Horizon

Alyssa Miller

Two qualities I observe in my own brain:

1. It looks for patterns of behaviour (in women I date) that might or might not exist.

2. Its imagination leaps to long-term possibilities with women far beyond reality.

They're both manifestations of an inaccurate Date Horizon. The Date Horizon (did I just coin this?) is the natural expectation of what's reasonable from the other person given the current state of the liaison. For instance:

* After a first date, the Date Horizon can really only extend to the possibility of a second.

* After the first sex, the Date Horizon probably includes some number of future sessions. (NOTE: Or none.)

* Once the Fidelity Agreement's in place, the Date Horizon extends out by a few months.

* Marriage takes the Date Horizon at least to the natural horizon.


I imagine that we all get ahead of ourselves when we start out with someone new. Sadly, it's unrealistic and I believe ultimately destructive when the other person fails to live up to our dream (the hide!) or we actually start living in a way that's not reality-based.

So. Note to self: One step at a time. Take each date as it comes. Understand not everyone will work out. Keep a tight rein on the imagination. Watch how nice it is when the Date Horizon really does move beyond tomorrow.



Bottoms Up, Imagineers.

Zombies Can be Gay, Right?

The meager circumstances of my life might be about to change. Blogging don't pay much y'all (as they say here in the South) so I've been busily diverting my creative goo into a screenplay. It's more of a treatment, in truth, which is what I might really be needing once it's made into a movie. Called "When Worlds Collide", I've cleverly weaved a number of popular themes into one.

The covering letter (39 networks, publishers and agents so far) in part reads like this:

When Worlds Collide is a funny and heartwarming story of two zombies. Zach and Augustus are two gay zombies recently fallen in love. With TriBeCa as the backdrop, they move into a cute loft to start their lives together eating brains and doing what zombies do. But there's a hole in their life. They want a family. So, given their keen sense of community, they do what any other gay zombie family would do - they adopt! In their case, a gorgeous little Venezuelan girl, orphaned at birth. WWC follows their antics learning how to raise a normal human baby in the midst of zombie mayhem. It's a triumph of the un-dead spirit!

Yes, it's a niche tale, but it has 'Indy cult film finds mainstream audience and fame for the writer' written all over its gorgeous derriere. See you at Cannes.




Bottoms Up, Zombie Lovers.

The Anvil

Gina Bellman photo credit.

I wouldn't have believed it had I not witnessed it with my own peepers. Some things are too jarring and discordant for contemplation, but here it was in front of me: proof that women are just like men.

Let me back up. In a bizarre twist of life, I find myself involved in an activity new to me, namely car-pooling. A new guy arrived in the pool last week - I hope he showers before donning his trunks just a lame 'pool' joke there but I have to do something to keep my sanity - joining my friend and I for a joyous two x forty minute ride. Every day.

To look at him is to be impressed. He's six-three or four (around .00057 Eiffel Towers for you internationalists) and big...by which I mean he's probably 300 ellbees. He is blessed with good looks - even I can see that - somewhere between a corpulent Colin Farrell and a gone-to-seed Clooney. But his looks aren't my point (even if they're his.)

An hour-and-a-half a day sitting in a car with a bloke pretty quickly leads to a character assessment. Is he serious or flippant, calm or emotional, a doer or a dreamer? Conversation leads to conclusions. I'll tell you what this dude is; he's an anvil. He's heavy, metallic and really not much good for anything. After a week, there's a lot of silence on our drive.

So it was with interest that I observed him out on Saturday night. He likes ladies, and even went so far as to offer that he is picked-up more than he picks, which I am shocked to reveal is true. In the course of a couple of hours I saw two women approach him and flash their interest. He is like an irresistible target for rogue women cruise missiles. They all want to blow him....up.

Once again I'm faced with having to question my thinking that women are more refined than men. Nope. They want tall guys with looks. That's it.





Bottoms Up, Ironsmiths.

Overthinking: Engaging the Complication Cicuitry

Road warrior pic credit.

Wouldn't it be sweet if life was a simple progression from certainty to certainty? If at every point requiring a decision, we had a Wombatproof method by which we could choose the right path, time after time?

I say Wombatproof because I have an impeccable record of, at forks in the road, leaving the paved superhighway behind. Instead I battle on with the steep and rocky path strewn with monsters and zombies and mantraps with pointed sticks at the bottom. Very pointy sticks. The impression I have is that everyone else is able to choose the better way on more than a random basis, but what do I know? - I'm a notoriously bad judge of character.

Changing the way I approach forks in the road is a slow business. Especially with respect to ladies, a clear-cut way to move forward can be difficult to find. One could trust one's gut, of course, but clarity of communication isn't Gut's forte. When Mind gets involved, it's like the whole rest of the world gets to have an input - there's so MUCH information that can be pretzeled into a decision.

It's like there's a whole department of the brain specifically designed to complicate even the most simple thing. For instance: Should I call her back now or later? Is it too soon? Will she think me too keen? Too needy? Not needy enough?

Exhausting, isn't it. In writing this, the answer becomes clear, but I'd still like some way to disengage the Complication Circuitry. All is does is send me around in circles.





Bottoms Up, Over-Thinkers.


wombat@kissnblog.com

Submission: Do Women See It That Way?

Part of the fun of spending a whole bunch of time thinking about sex and stuff is that I can ruminate without guilt on the following:

Given that sex involves men inserting themselves into women, is this a natural act of dominance?

Does this automatically mean that women are submissive?

If sex is the natural act of an aggressor working his way through the defences of his prey, does that necessarily mean that the man has more power?

Can the power in a submissive/dominant relationship actually tilt in favour of the submissive?


A concept with which I have some familiarity is "...leading from behind." It's the deconstruction of the famous saw that "...behind every great man there is a great woman."


The real question is whether she's fucking him from behind.





Bottoms Up, Strap-Ons.


wombat@kissnblog.com

Friday Fluffer - Ink Your Pink

Jezebel, always a source of solid guidance for the modern woman, explored the world of pubic decoration recently.

They call it 'Vatooing' (as in Vaginal Tatooing) but as the article points out it's really upper pubic area decoration. UPAD isn't quite as catchy. A spirited argument exists as to whether whether the correct term is 'Vatoo' or 'Twatoo', as per here. [link] I have no skin in this game. So to speak.

Here's the original article. [link]<-----click to see. (Beware Jezebel's horribly slow servers.)



Bottoms Up, Cuntstunters!


Hat tip to the ever-on-the-leading-edge Snaf [link]