Updates:
1. Spine of Satan. I have this interesting condition. An extra (sixth) lumbar vertebra. Whereas the average homo sapiens has 206 bones in his/her body, I have 207. Cool, right? I'm the next phase in human evolution.
If that's the case, though, then the human race is slowly devolving. This extra bone is cracked. It was discovered when I fell down a flight of stairs at the age of sixteen. Suddenly pain like I'd never experienced radiated from a central spot just above my tailbone, and wouldn't stop (about 20% of the people who have an extra vertebra, I was told, have this series of cracks in the bone. No one knows why. About 5%, I was told further, experience pain from it. I have since concluded that I must be the extreme of all things). I wore a back brace for months. (Ugly. Oh, it was ugly. I had to wear boy's jeans because the brace eliminated my hips. I felt like Frankenstein.) I took Lortab. Nothing availed.
Of its own, however, my back began to improve. I had to stop horseback riding, which disappointed but didn't hurt me too badly, as I was a bit old for camp, which was the only place where I could indulge this favorite pasttime. I had to be careful of my movements and had restricted activities in gym class (which I didn't mind in the least). But the pain went away.
Until college, when driving the hour and a half home sitting in one position began forcing it to protest. I have since learned to pack a couple of sweatshirts and a pillow for long car trips, so that I can give it support and change sitting positions minutely. I also learned to take periodic breaks to walk around and shake it out a little.
Well, it had improved so much that I foolishly drove the eight hours back to Michigan from my sister's home last week with only one stop.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I haven't experienced this level of pain in years. I spent the weekend crippling around like a little old lady, moaning and hissing and gritting my teeth and shuffling along and gingerly easing myself into and out of chairs and sleeping with a foam pillow under my back to give it more support at night. Grr.
It's gotten to the point where I'm irritated with my body. Pain is distracting. I can't even carry files around at work. And the shadows under my eyes are no longer their normal purplish color, but actual grey.
My doctor is calling in some painkillers for me. Hopefully this phase will pass, and I will be humbly reminded that my human limitations have not evaporated.
2. Lessons Learned. I am 99% certain that my status as a single gal has been reinstated. (I love the Break-Up by Silence method. Just love it. No, wait, I hate it. C'mon, dude, it's so much easier to get rid of a loose tooth with one quick painful jerk, rather than wiggle at it like a dog worrying a bone for hours. Just get it over with and leave me without nagging questions.) I haven't heard from CB in over a week, which forced me to conclude that I wouldn't be hearing from him anytime soon. Also people in this small town who stopped talking to me while I was seeing him are now on speaking terms with me again. Yay for the grapevine wherein the subject of the gossip is the last to hear it.
It wasn't entirely his fault, just as it wasn't entirely mine. The problem with dating men who have no affiliation with faith or the church primarily concerns sexual mores: Even decent men, with good work ethics and good people ethics, have no clue what to do with a girl like me. It's not a source of anger for them, but pure bewilderment, and this strange and mythical specimen of female becomes too puzzling and too much work, especially when they find out that there's NO WAY they're going to "get any" from her, and that she's absurdly innocent in today's basely informed culture. (I'm learning, though, how not to make life more difficult for men; I've unwittingly done so several times over -- so the good thing about the failed attempt with CB is that I'm carrying away ways to avoid this sort of thing happening again, and, as I read in a truly crappy book somewhere, "All knowledge is worth having." It's going to take a few days to get over feeling a little sad about it. I liked him a lot. But the sadness will pass; it always does.)
Also, as Boss-Man says, who I am comes clearly to the forefront within a week or so, which drives them to stay or go (so far, always "go"). This is good, he says, in that what takes some people months to conclude -- that a relationship isn't going to work -- takes me no longer than two weeks, so I've never actually wasted my time on anyone.
I've concluded that I'm not very good at this casual dating thing. I'm going to continue to try it, because I see no other clear alternative, but the time, I think, has come to reexamine and readjust my priorities.
3. Getting a life. The new top priority is learning to live life to the fullest. Because historically my present has tended to be painful, and because I do not believe in living in the past, I have habitually lived in the future. However, the future has not yet arrived, and the present is the means to getting there, and if I don't live in the now, I'll never live in the future either. I am a free adult, with free choices, and great strength of will. I therefore choose (and must reenact the choice many times daily) to love my life, and to seek out those things which will enrich and enlarge it.
I've been moving in this direction anyway, only, out of force of habit, I'd been phrasing it in the negative: I will no longer do things out of self-pity (or desperation). The positive, however, is much more powerful, with many more options: I will live my life to the fullest. I've been asking myself, throughout the course of the last few days, What can I do to live to the fullest right now? The answers are often delightfully simple. Living to the fullest on a Saturday morning usually means drinking coffee and journaling on the porch, for example.
Long-term choices have yet to manifest themselves clearly; I'm not sure what I want in the next year, or ten years, etc. But I don't think I'll focus much on that. There are enough short-term choices to attend to. And somehow, making choices of a full life are rendered much easier in summer.
4. Sun Therapy. I can't get enough sunshine. After such an endless winter, and such a slow, cold spring, now that eighty degrees have finally begun to make a daily appearance, I greedily soak in all the UV and Vitamin D that I can. Two years ago I suffered a blistering case of sun poisoning, and have since eschewed the sun's direct rays, opting instead to maintain a lily-white, nineteenth-century-lady's appearance. This year, however, I have decided to get as brown as I can. Taking a tip from my sister, I have purchased various products to obtain a strategically even tan, and kicked off Monday with a bit of a sunbathe in the backyard during my lunch hour. It's amazingly therapeutic: I return to the craze of the office environment afterward with a Zen-like aura of tranquility. The slow, contented lassitude of having lain under the sun's caress while doing nothing is pleasantly slow to wear off.
5. Proceed with Caution. I don't understand the strange dearth of girls in this town who could be my friends. And I've already dated all three of this town's reasonably eligible men. Which leaves the rest: an overwhelming majority of older and/or married men...who all love me.
This is irritating on a number of fronts. The first and most significant is that I enjoy the company and conversation of men, so if I run into these gentlemen singly or in packs while I am about town, I stop to chat; but lately they've been inviting me to get-togethers and cookouts and outdoor activities like horseback riding, and I feel a strong reticence in regard to their invitations. It's not just the semi-ribald banter that we occasionally toss back and forth (and which I try to quell as wittily as possible); it's that, as far as the social events are concerned, a.) I have no idea whether or not their wives and kids would be there -- if they were, I'd be a little, but only a little, more willing to accept; I'm not going to be the single onion ring at a sausage party, if you know what I mean; but I just don't know; and b.) there is a swimming pool involved, and beer, which means bathing-suit-clad me admist drunk men, which spells disaster. No thanks. But the invitations from the single older men to do one-on-one activities like farm tours and horseback riding spell just as much disaster -- and I've reached the age now where, even if I had a female friend to bring along as a safety net, it would still be stupid, and might look even worse.
And with the afore-mentioned dearth of single women my age in town, the only potential social life I have is in these inadvisable situations.
Humph. I smile and dodge their questions as gracefully as possible, that I might still be able to chat with these gentlemen in public, although I'm becoming leery of doing even that. I don't want to encourage either idle ideas in masculine minds, or idle ideas in other heads which contain even idler tongues.
This is where I get a little annoyed with The Way Things Are, and also with CB. First of all, if I were still dating him, some of these men wouldn't be talking to me at all, thanks to the small town politics which are beginning to resemble an ant war. Second, the ones left (one of these older men is his father) would be able to talk to me within a specific context -- as CB's girlfriend -- and even though I would still refuse to be alone with them, I could hang out with them in more social situations, because I'd attend the events with CB. Third, I'd simply have more to do. CB is very much involved in the town's civic life, and there'd be a lot of work and a lot of fun stuff to be involved in, particularly in summer. (All of this is predicated on the fact that I like him; if I didn't, I wouldn't waste his time, energy, or potential emotions using him for the contingent social benefits.)
But oh well. A girl can't change The Way Things Are, nor can she force the affections of any man by any wiles (which I despise) or strength of will, however ironic it seems that, rather like cats at a dinner party who bolt straight for the one cat-hater in the room, I am simultaneously the cat lover on the sidelines thoroughly left out (when it comes to the men I'd actually consider dating), and the cat hater trying to throw off unretracted claws (when it comes to the men who are completely inappropriate) and be left in peace.
It's a funny old world.
18 comments:
Please wear sunscreen, my dear. And note the size, shape, borders, and color of any moles so that you notice difference that may occur by summer's end. /neurotic med student speak
I want to have a life too, but I can't seem to pencil it in until August 1st. *sigh*
Perhaps you will think I have a crude sense of humor, but I found the onion ring analogy surprisingly funny.
Oh don't worry, dear SG. I have no moles of note, so it won't be hard keeping an eye on them. As for sunscreen...if I'm expecting prolonged exposure to the sun, of course I'll wear it.
Yax -- hahaha. I put in that analogy on purpose. :)
Once again, I found much resonance in your post! (Which, as always, was very thought provoking.)
I have given up on casual dating, specifically for the reasons you alluded to: if the man does not share my Christian beliefs, dating comes with an expectation of physical intimacy. And I have yet to meet a man who can accept that.
Yesterday I turned down an invitation from an old friend to travel with him one weekend in Ireland. I KNOW I would spend the entirety of Saturday night fending him off. We've not seen each other in 2 years and he got quite offended that, "I don't want to see him," but the last time I did, meeting up as friends, he crawled into my bed, naked, at 5 o'clock in the morning!
Likewise, there are other male friends I have in this country that I just cannot visit on my own. :( Because to visit is to (apparently) imply something I will not give.
You are correct to be wary of the invitations from the older gentlemen: just why are they inviting you and if it's on your own, it's completely disrespectful to their wives!
I'm learning, though, how not to make life more difficult for men; I've unwittingly done so several times over
I'm quite curious about what you mean here - is there any chance you could elaborate? I'm sure I could benefit from the lessons too. :)
(Re-reading my above post and I need to clarify: "accept that" as in he WON'T be getting his expectations fulfilled if he's dating me.)
I once dated a man who announced that if a girl hadn't slept with him by the 4th date, she wasn't worth it. We ended up having a discussion/argument about this on Date 3 which of course made me very uncomfortable because I didn't even want to bring up those topics so early!
Him: "You should have told me much earlier than this that you're a virgin."
Me: "What the?! I barely know you; I'm not going to share my intimate life history!"
OMG, horrible, isn't it? And yet I had my I'm-a-virgin discussion with CB on our second "date." Initially he seemed to accept it en totale, after the shock had worn off. But he said too that he was glad I'd told him right away (which I hadn't planned to do; it just came up). I'd left his house abruptly at three a.m. the night before, despite his invitations to stay, and he said afterward, "You know, I didn't know what to think when you bolted out of here last night -- if you'd kept doing that, and I didn't know you were a virgin, I'd have given up after a couple of weeks."
Which he did anyway. Ha ha.
But -- oh -- okay, I'll go into a little more detail about the unwitting damage I have caused. It's not going to sound delicate, but whatever.
First of all, I had no idea how very different male and female sexuality is. I've heard the stuff people normally hear, of course, about guys being visually oriented, etc., which is why I try to dress in as unprovocative a fashion as I can (while still looking pretty); but I didn't know how very wired men are toward sex.
For example, if a guy and a girl are "making out," the girl can put a stop to it at any time, however into it she may be; female arousal has an on/off switch that can be flipped at a moment's notice. (This is one of the things that enables women to be good mothers, and responsive to a child's needs, however inconvenient the child's timing may be.) The guy, on the other hand (and I'm going on what my boss has told me, who, in addition to his various law degrees, also has degrees in counseling), has no such on/off switch. It's all or nothing. Male arousal is all-consuming, apparently, and while a man is under its influence nothing else exists.
So physical involvement can be really unfair to guys, particularly if the physical involvement is with girls like us who have no intention of satisfying their desires (until a certain date, of course). Which we shouldn't; I stand by my decision to remain chaste until marriage. Frustratingly, however, I've concluded that I can't indulge in any of those other pleasant pastimes that might be regarded as foreplay, if only for the guy's sake.
I keep running into how very damaging the sexual revolution was. Once I learned what it meant to be a "tease," and that I have, however innocently, been exactly that on more than one occasion, I felt horrible. And understood for the first time the social rules of the 1800s that labeled a woman who even kissed a man she wasn't married to as "loose": It wasn't so much unreasonable sexism as the recognition that men have severe limits when it comes to controlling their sex drives, and a woman who engaged in any kind of tantalizing behavior and then left the man hanging was cruel. In some respects I think these rules were in place to protect the men from their own drives, and to protect the women in their innocence from things like rape if a man "got too worked up" or "just couldn't handle himself" -- or misinterpreted her intentions.
Now, I'm in no way saying that rape is EVER justifiable -- ever. Men CAN handle themselves, and our society has done some good in expecting that of them. It has done some ill, however, in raising their levels of temptation and wearing down their resistance. Most of the guys I know are good ones, and I hate the thought of having made a good man suffer from my lack of kindness and regard for his limits of tolerance, however ignorant my reasons.
I feel like women know even less about men than they used to. Our culture seems to have adopted the idea that women should be as promiscuous as men, and men should be as restrained as women. Unfortunately the sexes aren't identical, and no amount of social conditioning can make them so.
I imagine I'll be taking some flack for the old-fashioned sensibilities in this comment. Well, I've known for many years that I've been transplanted to this era from at least a hundred years ago. And in the end, I don't care; I'd rather be cautious in how I proceed and not hurt anyone or cause anyone grief than experience this "liberation" that seems to have so many people enslaved.
P.S. Nic, what an excellent decision not to go to Ireland with your friend. Particularly given your last interesting experience with him. Nobody needs that kind of trouble -- especially when it's so blatant!
There are times when giving a little offense is the best option. Besides, him getting all miffed could have been a manipulation tactic. Way to stay strong!
Sarah-
I know your feelings and thoughts on these matters are well-thought out (you not being the sort of person to enter into things lightly); however, I think you are letting us guys off the hook waaaaay to easily.
As a man, I can say with some degree of experience that it is indeed difficult to "stop" a physical/sexual experience that has "started." It is not, however, anything close to impossible, and anyone who claims otherwise is being a baby. Or, actually, is being a "man" in the sense that our society acknowledges manhood. No, we are not blind sexual machines. We are capable of physical/sexual discernment, and frankly, thinking of us as being unable to ebb our overflowing sexual appetites only feeds the monster.
Now, I recognize that there are multiple ways this could play out and, as such, believe you have chosen correctly. By this I mean that if we (as a society) or women accept the idea that men are uncontrolled/uncontrollable sexual beings, this will manifest itself in one of two ways as I see it. Either, then, women will "give in" to the sexual aggressor, or will have nothing to do with the sexual/physical relationship at all (which, I gather, is the approach you are taking); the latter is, once accepting the founding principle, clearly the better method for assuring one does not have sex until a prescribed date.
I think, though, that this is a false dichotomy. We (men) are not either/or creatures. We are, and will remain, thinking and manipulating beings that can sense any excuse to act like a giant douchebag. I think accepting the idea that men cannot help themselves sexually merely offers a giant freepass to those men who simply don't want to control themselves.
Anyway, sorry to re-enter your life/blog on such a high horse, but so it goes I guess. Hope all is well!
Hey, Dan!
Glad to have your comment. When I mentioned anticipating objections to my thoughts, I was actually thinking about you and your lovely wife, believe it or not -- also anticipating that any objection you would have would be intelligent and thoughtful. As you can see, I anticipated correctly on both counts. :)
I do like what you have to say, and I didn't mean to imply that men are blind sexual machines, as you put it; but there are differences (even if subtle) between a male and a female approach to sex, which I hadn't been aware of before. My decision not to indulge in the physical in my future attempts at relationships stems from, not a poor view of men as little more than animals, but the wish not to make a real man's life more difficult by seeming to promise what I cannot, presently, fulfill.
I hate hurting people. And I don't use "hate" in the sense of "I hate olives" or "I hate politics"; I mean, I really, really HATE causing pain to a person I care about. Or frustration. Or even annoyance. Part of it, too, is that I know very well that my decision is highly unusual in today's society, which is bound to cause frustration inherently, and so I'm trying to balance my own choices against everyone else's, causing as little harm to each as I can.
This isn't to say that ALL physical contact is off limits; that's even a little extreme for my sensibilities; but if there's one thing I will not be, it's a tease.
And truthfully, these principles I sketched out apply primarily to a certain kind of man -- the predominant kind available here in Southwest Michigan. I know that there is a different breed of men out there (such as yourself) who exercise their free will, utilize their intelligence, respect others, and make decisions grounded in ethics and morality rather than the satiation of the body. In dating that kind of gentleman, I could relax my stance a bit. But the men I've run into lately, in my current location, don't number in that category. They tend to be extremely simple in their psychological makeup, have very little time for the abstract of any kind, and fall into a few more of the old-fashioned stereotypes such as the one I've described.
I wouldn't worry about any of this nearly as much with men of the ilk I consider friends from Grove City, to be perfectly honest. I'm finding that, although I haven't thought of it as paramount, education, or at least a personal focus on abstractions as opposed to immediacy, makes a large difference.
So yes: I concede your point that men, good men, real men, self-aware men, aren't merely driven by lust. The ones with whom I usually have contact around here, however, don't seem to think about relationships in terms of anything beyond the basics. In some ways this can be a great boon -- "basics" include not only sex, but simple principles like affection, loyalty, commitment, provision, protection; but at the same time these kinds of guys seem to be less likely to understand my commitment to chastity (mostly having never heard of it before), and out of respect for them I will not give them any more grief than I absolutely must (while holding them to standards of basic human decency).
I don't tend to tolerate douchebag behavior well (you in your way are just as critical of men as I am in mine, I see!), and the biggest thing in the world that pisses me off is when people don't take responsibility for their own actions. I'm still debating on how explicitly I ought to outline my standpoint as far as dating is concerned, because I want to avoid your scenario where my thoughtfulness is exploited; I also want to be clear that I'm no frigid Victorian.
I find our society frustrating in its lack of clarity. I'm trying to live as I've chosen to live without causing anyone harm (ironic, I think, but again, it's a funny old world).
Thanks for your input!
You know, after a little further thought, it all boils down to something even simpler:
Just as there is no excuse for a man's bad behavior, there is no excuse for mine.
While a man can reasonably be expected to exert self-control, it is, by your admission, difficult. And "difficult" -- even if just a teeny bit difficult -- is enough to motivate me to modify my behavior, because if I walk into a situation where I will knowingly cause someone discomfort, I'm being, quite simply, rude.
Depending on the man, some of the boundary lines could be dicussed. But I'll always have my eyes set on courtesy. If I'm expecting a gentleman, I ought to be a lady.
interesting discussion on men, women, sexual arousal, etc. but no one has mentioned aging. men experience their sexual peak in their 20s. then it goes down from there, even though they still make advances and force women to fend off... but a woman's sexual peak is usually in the 40s. if anecdotal evidence from my women friends are true, this is why middle-age women tend to "give in" to male advances than do women in the 20s.
of course, the sexual mores of a woman might have changed by the time she is in her 40s, which contributes to the change in her behavior. but it's a topic for another day.
Sarah,
Your recount of your experience with CB brought to the forefront of my mind a train of thought which had lain forgotten and dormant for a time: What is the importance of the levels and the types of the intelligence of each of the couple to their relationship as a whole?
I have always held (at least for as far back as I can recall) that for a relationship to succeed and, beyond that, thrive, a mutual level of respect for the other’s intellect needs to be shared. If you can’t respect your partner on an intellectual level, it seems that it would be difficult to maintain respect for them as the relationship progresses on any level. Though albeit an exceedingly hyperbolic example, how rewarding can a Lenny-George type of relationship ultimately be?
Here, though, is what I found interesting about your earlier description of CB: You mentioned that he was minimally educated (relatively speaking), but was able to “figure out” what you were saying by the context in which you spoke, and even professed to like your “big words.” This speaks to his level of intelligence and seems merely to indicate an unfamiliarity with your type of intelligence. It is entirely possible (though I hate to presuppose- this just seemed like a quintessential example) that he knows much more about the mechanics of internal combustion than do you, and it strikes me that his “cowboy” jargon may be parallely (if that’s a word) identical to your “literary” jargon: perfectly clear and descriptive to those in possession of that type of knowledge or intelligence, but as good as Greek to those who do not.
It seems, though, that significant problems may arise in communication. Though the denotation of your words may well be discerned contextually, it is their connotation that may be lost in translation. This problem is magnified when viewed through the lens of a poet. Because, as such, you choose your words with such a laser-like precision, employing some while eschewing others because they more accurately connote what you mean, much of the subtle nuance you mean to convey will, inevitably, fall by the wayside. In the long run, it seems, this is destined to become incredibly frustrating, but perhaps I’m guilty of projecting too far into the future.
In any case, I’d be interested in hearing your thoughts.
Enjoy your weekend and your burgers,
Phil
Hey, Phil!
I decided to put in a few hours at work today, in the interest of "catching up" (ha ha), and so have a bit of internet access today (I avoid it at home, more for expense reasons than any noble Thoreauvian avoidances of technological clutter).
As to your inquiry, I've been asking myself that very question for quite some time. I subscribe to the multiple intelligences theory, so I've never thought there was one kind of "smart"; and the -- hrm -- local selection in my area of the country makes it almost necessary not to be picky about the kind of smart you're after if you're going to be dating at all. As I've probably mentioned, college degrees around here are relatively rare, but you get a lot of cowboys and electricians and mechanics and farmers who are absolutely brilliant with the hands-on stuff.
But there's a noticeable problem. Even if the guy, like CB, is as intelligent in his way as I am in mine, there's still, as you said, a gap, in communication if not in companionability. And evidently compatible people really do tend to come close to each other in IQ points -- even though the IQ test is geared more toward one kind of smart.
It's something I haven't been picky about, however -- beggars can't be choosers, right? except maybe they should; there are worse things than solitude -- until my most recent trials and errors in the dating arena. I’ve noticed that, in the end, however much I don't care about a guy's kind of smart, HE seems to suffer from a sharp awareness of the differences, and to mind them terribly.
And the truth is that when I'm seeing a guy who doesn't share my kind of intelligence, I'm not really myself. I could relax a little more with CB than with other guys I've dated in the past, but even then I was kind of...obscuring myself. Adapting my speech patterns to his. Choosing smaller words (which I can't do very well -- I used the word "genre" and he was surprised, and that's a teeny baby word to me). Leaving off topics of discussion which I tend to enjoy pursuing. Doing more listening than talking.
Which the guys notice, even though I'm doing all of it in the effort to put them at ease, and I’m told it makes them feel inadequate. It's frustrating, too, even in the beginning (although it's offset by the thrills of the early stages of a relationship), not knowing exactly how to translate myself to someone who doesn't quite speak my language (thrills only get you so far). You're right about the nature of my word choice, my maniacal bent on precision, and how I make as full a use of the beautifully, delightfully enormous variety in English words to shade my speech with as many exact hues of meaning as I can. And when I know that communication is hampered by someone else's restrictions, I feel badly, and frustrated, and even more badly for feeling frustrated. One plate can't help it that its pattern doesn't match another's. But it tends to mean that they belong in different china cabinets.
I don't think there's any doubt that choosing to be with a person of a lesser/different kind of intelligence (note that I'm not saying level of education -- some of my best friends haven't completed their formal education and we're on an intellectually even plane) would be inevitably less satisfying than the ideal intellectual "match." But, given that people at a certain end of the IQ spectrum are comparatively rare, and rather scattered, I’d been operating on the assumption that while a shared kind of intelligence matters a little, it doesn’t matter all THAT much. Based, though, on what I’ve experienced from the kinds of guys I’ve attempted to date within the past year, I think I was perhaps mistaken; it does matter – to one party if not the other. And there's no denying the unmistakable joy of mutuality, and of being understood and of understanding, that occurs when I run into someone of my type of intelligence.
So...there are my thoughts. While I don’t think intelligence is the only factor that tabulates a couple’s compatibility, I think I’ve found that it’s significant. In short (I could have said this paragraphs ago), I agree with you.
Thoughts?
I hope you too enjoy your weekend, before the California weather gets too hot. Spring blinked and became summer here, where “dry heat” is a hilarious foreign concept. The summer here hasn't actually arrived until you can drink the air as soon as you step outdoors. I'm loving it, however. Beach weather. Hiking on the sand dunes. Clay beds in the creeks. Bug bites. Burgers. :)
Take care!
~Sarah
Sarah,
I think you nailed it: the fear of being tested and found inadequate is not a gender-specific apprehension, but I think its terror looms larger men. There’s a lot of validity to the axiom that, while women need to be loved, men need to be respected (I’ll back your “old-fashioned sensibilities” play: to deny the inherent differences between the sexes is just plain naïve. And who wants that anyway? Most of the things I love about women are the things that distinguish them so completely from men. Vive la difference!) and if a guy feels inadequate, he doubts his respectability in the woman’s eyes and that inferiority complex is going to fester and rankle until he ends things.
That being said, I’d hate to see you “dumb yourself down” for anyone. It seems quite the waste.
I hope your weekdays at the office are as enjoyable as your weekends at the office,
Phil
Vive la difference indeed! I find men attractive specifically because they're NOT women (in more than just physique, of course). As with most women, I have a strong need for that network of female compatriots, but there's a reason I've been roommateless three of the four years I've lived on my own -- I don't like sharing my living space with other girls. (Women tend to be territorial about the living space. Particularly the kitchen. It can get ugly.)
It's a shame about the masculine fear of inadequacy -- most times women don't notice, or if they do, they don't care, if the man they're dating isn't Mr. Perfect In All Things. Although, truthfully, perhaps men are more perceptive in their fears and what a woman doesn't think will matter in the short term will turn out to be a problem in the long.
And thanks. Being less than myself is never enjoyable.
I don't consider my experiences of the past six weeks to have been a failure; I have now tested and seen for myself that dating just anyone isn't satisfactory. Which is good: It narrows the options, and gives me a sense of direction. I like free choice, but I prefer choices that are clearer than murky.
Sarah,
Thank you so much for your answer to my question. It caused me to do a lot of thinking - because what you've put into words is something I DO know, but more intrinsically rather than explicitly.
e.g. One boyfriend often told me how "p'd off" he was that I sent him home at a certain time in the evening, after we'd been making out before that. He said he felt like a kid being sent home for being naughty and that it was cruel to him to not finish what we started.
I didn't fully comprehend that until some time after we broke up, that the actual reason he got so angry with me was because he got worked up but then couldn't see it through to completion. He told me that one night a prostitute stopped him on the way home and he gave it a lot of consideration.
You're right, women can turn on and off at the drop of a hat. We can enjoy something for a time, but when boundaries are pushed too far, or we move into territory we're not comfortable with, we stop. Our brains move on to the next thing and the feeling is gone.
It is worse with 21st century approaches to dating. Sex is now the EXPECTATION these days and for a woman to refuse to engage in that, she is called either a tease, or frigid, or both. Which means that women like you and I need to draw the hard line from the start.
For me, that means no more than light kisses. Which is of course the intention I always start out with, but I inevitably get dragged along into more, unwittingly promising more than I am able to give. So because of these experiences, I'm now at the point where my 'potential dating field' is SO narrow.
If I date a guy who's not a believer, it's not going to work because he will not understand that we can't do much more than hold hands and kiss goodnight. If I'm dating a Christian, most of them won't go along with that either. Secular/21st-century men want the 'good stuff' along with a dating relationship and I have yet to find one who is willing to give up that to spend time in my company.
Which does make me quite sad, but Jesus never said that it would be an easy life, following him. It's a sacrifice - we sacrifice male companionship for the higher values and morals that we are asked to adhere to.
And as much as I would enjoy those dates, the dinners, the romantic walks, and yes, the making out on the couch, I CAN'T, because there's nothing but trouble down that road.
Just re-reading my post: it makes it sound a little like, "Oh, if only the Bible would permit sex outside of marriage, my troubles would be over." That's NOT the case, however.
Intimacy brings attachment of the heart (it's how women are wired) and a marriage-like bond. To break that bond is even MORE destructive than a relationship breaking up in the early stages.
i.e. There is a good reason for 'waiting to be sure' (marriage) beyond what's written in the Bible.
[And an aside, thank you for sharing your story of your spine: I do hope it doesn't hurt you too much now! It's yet another thing I identify with somewhat: an accident at age 16, which seemed a fleeting life event at the time, has ongoing ramifications for the rest of my life (my legs) when I push the physical boundaries too much. ]
It sucks, doesn’t it? One of the most insidious things about the gender fallacies in our current society is that we’re told, or subtly made to feel, as women, that we SHOULD be engaging in those light, not-quite-sex behaviors, that it’s perfectly normal, and there’s nothing wrong with it, so you’re still a “good girl”; you’re an abnormal, bad or weird girl if you DON’T engage in those behaviors, because everyone does and nobody has a problem with it. It’s like it’s not even a question until the line concerning oral sex comes up. (What they don’t tell us is that it’s all, in reality, foreplay – we’re being set up for an early sexual destruction from the get-go.)
Of course it’s perfectly normal to have a healthy drive, and it was as frustrating as it was enlightening to learn why the old rules are the way they are, and why the new, liberating rules are a crock of crap. I like physical contact as much as the next person. But, like you, I have come to the conclusion that the line must be drawn early, and maintained religiously (ha ha).
One of the things I have hated and feared about this prospect is the unpleasantness of trying to explain to a guy why a peck on the cheek is all he can expect, particularly early on. But a wise man with expertise in counseling has told me that all I need to say is, “This is my boundary, and that’s not going to change,” without any apology at all. Which is kind of freeing.
And no, I completely understand – my complaint is with society, not biblical codes of conduct. Were things drastically different in a cultural sense, we wouldn’t be a.) this old and still single and thus extremely frustrated, or b.) this conflicted – and misinformed – about “how far” to go.
But I’d rather live the way I’m living. The sacrifice is worth it. And supposing, as we all innately fear, that we never marry and still stick to our religious principles about sex, it will still have been worth it. Integrity is a priceless thing to maintain.
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