In my first post I said I'd transfer journal entries from the dating site (oh no wait a sec...the social network...there, it makes me sound less dysfunctional if I cast myself as a neutral version of an attention whore, no?) I'm currently using to provide fodder for your perusal. Then I realized I don't need to regurgitate the same old stuff, I can share other reflections about the experience as a whole.
There is ample unresolved angst around the concept of intimacy in the labyrinthine maze of my mind and heart to provide plenty of reading material for some time to come. You see, I'd rather have a sexorcism where I get rid of *other* crap currently taking up space in my grey matter and pumping through my black veins than revisit the stuff I already know. Yes, I'm selfish. I'm a writer. Go figure.
You didn't think this literary relationship was all about you, did you? Oh come on now, get real. Seriously people, it takes me plus my imaginary audience to make this happen. I write to placate my inner demons and you read for whatever reasons you read. Why question it so long as it works? You like me. If you don't, go malign someone else for their moral depravity. Go on now, find yourself a better blog. Okay then, if you're still reading, buckle up baby cos it goes downhill from here.
Alrighty then, my point, and I do have one, is that I'm not dating yet using a dating site and I have very, very good reasons for this. No, I'm not going to tell you what they are right now. We have to build a little trust, honeychile. I'm deep and complicated and have no idea what I'm talking about. It takes me a while to properly wrap myself up in just the right excuses for inaction. At least I'm self-aware. That's GOT to count for something, right? I know that I'm confused. Yay for me!
Confused about what exactly? Now we're inching closer to the topic. The reason I'm not throwing myself at anyone in cyberspace is that I'm trying to figure out in my hamster ball head conditions for intimacy that work for me. Does that sound like bullshit? At this point, it's rather convoluted, so I know it comes off a bit...er, okay maybe a lot...like a bunch of horseshit. Pick any kind of shit, and that's it. What can I say? It's not done percolating in my brain.
So my half-baked theory of what I want is 'The Triumverate.' There are three conditions I think should be in place before I get to know someone IN THAT WAY. Did I mention I was immature? Perhaps it goes without saying vis a vis my highschoolish awkwardness towards the act of sex. Anyway, at this point in time, and subject to change without notice and to be further ensconced in legalese should the need arise, what I want in place before I get romantically involved with anyone is emotional safety, intellectual versatility, and physical attraction. It's my holy trinity. As in, holy shit, wouldn't it be great if we could get all three things happening at once?
These three intangible forms of connection do require another person, a man, in order to happen. Oh, and for me to get my shit together. But that's besides the point at this juncture. Instead, let's look at why those particular things are important to me. Remember, it's mostly about me. Just reminding you in case you forgot and accidentally started liking me too much. I'm glad we cleared that up. Still there? Anyone?
Emotional Safety. It means...uh...not exactly that I require constant reassurance as a function of my own neurosis...but something like that. No, no, no. That simply won't do. Let me try again. Emotional safety would be present as a quality of someone who could balance honesty with caring. So, let's say this guy comes along (this reminds me of that annoying math question about trains moving in different directions at the same time and their likely point of intersection based on present location, speed, and intended trajectory) and I desperately want to have sex with him, the first consideration would be, does he have the right stuff? [EDIT: My second question would be why do I revert to 80s song lyrics to express myself?] Basically, is he the kind of person who is capable of providing some form of aftercare in the event I experience a complete meltdown just because I can?
Why would I freak out? Oh jayzus, there's a can of worms we really don't need to explore right now, suffice to say, it could happen. Some kind of break with reality would be the untimely byproduct of not being ready for what I want. I like sex. I want sex. It doesn't mean I'm in a good headspace for it. Sure, sure, I assume custodial responsibility for my feelings, but y'know, since there would be another person in a sexual interaction, gee whiz wouldn't it be nice if they were emotionally available to the extent that they could be a good listener or a half-decent fake listener? In case of emergency or in the event that real feelings develop, it'd be most helpful if a guy could gently scrape off the barnacle which had unwittingly attached itself to him in a nondickish way.
Intellectual versatility is another biggie for me. I am [insert any and all applicable euphemisms along the lines of multifaceted]. I'm like a zombie lover. All I want is braaiiiiiins. I need someone who is smart. I want someone who has a sense of humour and isn't afraid to use it. I'm fairly comfortable with feelings of boredom but why the hell would I do that to myself? I'm choosy about with whom I want to spend my time, energy, and body and definitely enjoy a guy who can match wits with me. Not to be confused with blokes who describe themselves as 'sarcastic'. So many men on the site claim this adjective for themselves like it was a good thing. If I get the slightest whiff of veiled embitterment, oh hell no...that's going nowhere fast.
To me, someone who can flex the muscle between his ears is by definition smart and playful. This would be a guy who'd generally have an optimistic perspective and ...oh hold on...is this stretching the concept of intellectual versatility into a laundry list of desired qualities? Nah. I think all of the above characteristics would be present in a person who has a plastic cerebrum: smart and responsive. A good mind is hard to find but I must have it!
Finally, physical attraction has got to be there. It comes in last place because without the other two features, the elusive 'spark' just wouldn't exist for me. Someone can be hot, hot, hot and I would be sooo not, not, not interested if they were simply a retarded horny monkey. I have nothing against retarded horny monkeys. I grew up watching Animal Planet, afterall. It's just not the right fit for me.
The inevitable question is, what's my physical type? Well, somewhere in the bowels of my journal on my non-dating profile I provide an outline. Hey, I know I said I wasn't dating so there's no reason for me to put my list out there but consistency is not a human trait. Ideally, this fantasy lover would be someone who is taller than I am (starting at about 5'10 is nice), bigger than I am (average to muscular build so that I feel relatively small and dainty LMAO), and has shorter hair than I do (a typical short haircut to crewcut). As you may appreciate, as a fellow human being familiar with the vagaries of lust, this is by no means an exclusive list of must-haves and it's almost redundant to articulate them, but there you go.
Maybe this tirade about the triad is simply pointing out the obvious, which I'm really good at, but all of those items are absolutely required to get the juices flowing, so-to-speak. In review, I want a guy who is not an emotional dullard and could experience the full range of human emotions as well as handle my particular brand of amenable neuroticism, a guy who is so bright it hurts my eyes and makes me laugh in sheer joy of having found an intellectual playmate, and a guy who looks good to me, homina homina. No, this is not a threesome: it's one man with all that going on for him. You heard me right. I hereby petition the universe to send me this awesome representative of the male species.
In closing, I shall borrow from the wicked wit of Sir William Churchill, "I am ready to meet my Maker, but whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter." Boy, it sure would give me mental orgasms to encounter such a creature as I have described but whether he'd come out of the experience relatively unscathed is another matter altogether. It's a good thing I'm a benevolent egotist.
That's all for now, folks. Stay tuned for the next chapter from your favourite female chauvinist [given the liberal sprinkling of sexist generalizations in describing this ideal it's only right to give some appearance of attempting to exonerate myself as a preemptive reaction to possible stoning].