How Do You Mate

I’m unsure.

While I was growing-up and into my early 20’s the message communicated to me was: You’re attractive. You’ll have lots of men find you attractive. “You could get any man alive for one night.” said a friend’s mom. And she was being quite serious. And she was a rather sophisticated woman. …But…then they’d admonish me to wait for love. And marriage. “What you want is the man who loves you!”

Yes. Aww! How ideal!

*eye-roll*

My ex-husband claims up and down and backwards and forwards that he’s loved me since we first started dating. But he’s my ex-husband for a good reason. *laugh* …How a man could sleep with six other women while we were first together and still love me is…complex. Right? *eye-roll*

No, I mean…his love wasn’t that deep. That’s all. Not his romantic love. But he’s never fallen for anyone else. …And he’s it. He’s the only man alive who’s ever really experienced me as a romantic partner in a real way at all. Crushes and brief online romances (that may or may not have been deep) are so shaky I don’t count them as full-fledged partnerships.

I have no idea what love songs are about from experience. From personal experience with the living, at least. …I can imagine what they’re talking about but not relate it to anything I’ve experienced.

And really, I’m not photogenic. And the more bad pictures I take and the more rejection and disappointment I’ve experienced the worse my photos are. Some videos of me on Instagram are close to accurate… I think I can factually say that I’m beautiful. …But whatever. …Oh, and also: I’m really not an idiot or a bitch either. Sorry.

Anyway, how in the world do you people mate?

Seriously.

I do not get your mating rituals. I suspect that they irritate me and make me feel like I’m dying inside. Truly, I’m…either totally lost…or they repulse me and I just can’t bring myself to do them with any seriousness. They make me feel like shooting myself in the face if I comprehend them correctly… Not that I ever would.

…When I was a teenager into my 20’s men would stop and compliment me. Demonstratively. …But they were old men. Relatively older men. Men who’d be dead or in their 80’s+ by now. …I highly suspect I would not have had a miserable life (aside from my kids) if I’d been born earlier. …And really, even if there’s been a wild shift…mating shouldn’t be so ugly for me. I shouldn’t feel like almost every man alive is a silly little mean girl in drag. Pretending to be his father. Pretending to be his grandfather. What destroyed you all? What sort of man am I supposed to be to fix you all and make you do what? Behave? Do you all need spankings from me? I’d give them. …But you’d cry. You’d feel loved and sorry…but it’s not going to lead to me being your wife. Maybe your honorary mommy. But not your wife.

…I can’t think that I’m objectively not pretty to younger generations. …So…what gives? Do you all just secretly want me to be your mother and/or grandmother? Great grandmother?! I’m only 38. Not 102. Not 85. Or even 60. Or even 52.

*eye-roll*

How do you all do your mating ritual? *smile* I’ve been trying to grasp it for over 25 years and I’m baffled. Gobsmacked.

Really though…do men ask women out? I mean, I know they do. I’ve been asked out. But…it’s never practical. Or it’s so morose. Like, at a club once a guy tried to make-out with me. …But the way he did it was sloppy and scary instead of assertive and sexy. We didn’t do anything because the minute I was myself he got scared and felt bad and made assumptions that I was in a relationship and then ran off. (I wasn’t) …How do you all get around to actually having sex? Do you just? Is it just dull? All about “getting off?” But, I mean, do you even really get off? How?! How in the world do you get off when you’re so flimsy in your feelings? Or so unenthusiastic and morose to start with? So pushy or controlling or distant? So cold and narcissistic? …Narcissists are passionate but actually terrible in bed for anything other than a paltry, pathetic, quick, vomit-between-the-sheets.

Are women always the aggressors? Is that what I don’t get? Is that the current reality? …I ask that because my ex-husband has always says that that’s what he’d experience with literally every woman except for me. And they all seemed to feel that they were being normal.

Am I too old to talk about this with you? …I thought you wanted parents who talked openly about sex, Boomers? *wave* *eye-roll* …And recall: I’m 38. …I’m 38. It’s very confusing to know what you all expect and…live. I’m always ganged-up on if my father was born in 1894. And…guys…I’m really only 38. If most of you want me to treat you like backward, arrogant, conceited and unaware children I can. Is that what you all want?

…But anyways…getting back to my ex-husband:

…Like…he’d just show-up at a woman’s apartment or arrange a meeting and then they’d literally do the rest of the work. So to speak. What gives?

“In my experience men are always the instigators!” said a woman in her 60’s to me. Was her definition of “instigator” rather loose? What constitutes instigation? Him just showing-up?!?

“If I recall…you instigated everything!” said a woman to my ex. He swore she’d actually forced herself on him when they were both drunk.

Like…if you just lay there does he touch you? No? There’s something different than the past about that. I can almost promise you that. …I really hope men still actually instigate sex sometimes. Like…is that a myth nowadays? With most women. (Not me and maybe a minority of other women) ???

“We’re heading for androgyny!” proclaimed one of my professors at Messiah College proudly. Happily. In 2007.

So basically you all want people like me to be extinct? People with a clear gender? Or what? What is it that’s going on?

*smile*

Happy Thursday, sexy-sex-havers. Have fun walking around naked to get any attention, and rubbing up on each other like two sad, lonely and desperate gay men…living on a desolate island off the coast of Ireland? In the 1700’s? If that’s how you all do it. My kids will find love. Men and women will exist. …Because I’m determined to help them find actual happiness. If only I’d had a real parent or two. Then what? …Michael was dead. So was Lem.