DAY 50: Planting The Flag at the Half-Way Point

Well, it's day 50. Half-way up Everest. It's cool to look back down from this point on the mountain and see the obstacles I've overcome, the distance climbed, and the changes it's brought to myself. More and more, I feel myself both letting go of and yet connecting with myself. It's a funny feeling, to be simultaneously both breaking down and rebuilding. I'm reflecting on old fears that have been faced and fixed, and recognizing new ones at the same time. At the beginning, I was (and still am) a little nervous about me not having "enough" to fill up 100 days. After going through so many breakthroughs, so early in the game, I was scared I'd have nothing else to explore, question, fix, or talk about. Kinda the same fear I have when I think about people getting to know me- that I'm like a fountain that soon runs dry. I'm realizing more and more where that fear came from, and gaining the ability to move past it. I'm realizing how silly it was to ever think I could have a limit to myself. The keys, for me, are to keep living more, always be questioning more, and not to not be afraid to do either one honestly. I was unable to do this before, because I was too scared to face myself and embrace my flaws. So while those are priceless tools, they had to be earned. And at the very least, they will definitely help me as I move forward with myself, and with my relationships.

It's part of the reason why I am letting myself talk to and meet new men. Not because I'm trying to form anything, not from any underlying motivation. It's because I have to face those fears in real situations, beyond my brain and words on paper. I bring up new men, because about three weeks ago, I met a guy at work. Normally this induces an eye-roll of a response. Not just from everyone who hears it, but from myself, saying it to myself. Because let's be honest, I work in a bar. And it's a bar that generally attracts a young clientele (22-23 range.) And there's my not-so-glowing track record with guy customers I've met, hooked up with, and/or dated. I don't know man, I mean, I'm not 23 anymore. So for the past couple of years, I've no longer viewed my job as a potential place to meet fun, attractive guys. I'll talk to them and whatever, but I'm no longer going home with any of them. This latest, though, "Johnny", happened sort of by accident. We only started talking because his friend was hitting on the other hostess, and we were both left standing there, kinda like, "Heyyy...?" It turned out to be not awkward at all. He was hilarious and super talkative, both qualities I like. So when he asked for my number, I gave it to him. And when he texted me the next morning, I replied.

I don't normally save these rando's numbers in my phone, and I do usually ignore them. For some reason, I replied to Johnny. I didn't think anything of it. I just figured, well, I had liked talking to him the night before, so why not? And for the first time in a long time, that was the real and only reason I kept talking to him. Not because I knew he wanted me (still not sure if he does), not because we flirted like crazy (we didn't, still haven't), and not because I was physically drawn to him (I don't think we even hugged good-bye; pretty sure we shook hands...if that.) It was a really unexpected, and new kind of, click. And we've talked every single day since then. It's been fun, banter, and snapshots back-and-forth of our days, but despite the sweet simplicity of it all I found it stirring up a lot of thoughts.

For one thing, it took me about a week to mention this project to him. With every other guy I've met since December 12th, I've told them about it right away. It's become a way to get out of talking to guys I'm not really interested in, sure. But more importantly, it's become a way to let me practice being upfront and honest and myself, something I lost in years of being Sexual Elena only. With Johnny, I was so surprised at how much I enjoyed talking to him in the days following when we met, that I put off mentioning anything with the number 100 in it. For the first time in a long time, I was nervous about how a guy would react. That maybe he'd stop talking to me. So what? Why the worry? Because even though he's become sort of a buddy, I'm also interested in him as more than a pal. It took me several days to get the balls, but finally, I told him. And- he was totally cool about it. It's not like it changed much between us, if anything. He wasn't ever coming on to me in a purely physical way, or insinuating he wanted to bang, or anything else.

Which, coincidentally, was another thing that left me racking my brain for answers: our lack of blatantly sexual convos. It had made me feel kind of insecure after a few days in. Like...was I being friend-zoned? I guess for so long, I derived a guy's interest from if, and only if, he was sexually/physically attracted to me. If a guy didn't want to sleep with me, I assumed he didn't like me. Not that that would make me feel badly, just was a "realistic" conclusion for myself, about how he felt. I forgot what it's like to be friends (first.) I forgot how to have patience. I forgot what life is like beyond instant gratification. I forgot what it's like to mean something to someone, because you've both taken time to really know each other, without forcing it, or knowing that ultimately all it's leading to is to sex. I forgot what it's like to genuinely enjoy a man, have a conversation with a man, without a hidden agenda or ass-tappin' crutch. No wonder I had the track record I had. With Johnny, I've had to remind myself daily not to be concerned about our conversations being just real, and just friendly. Not to get caught up in the fact that Johnny wasn't being overtly sexual at ALL with me. It doesn't mean he's not interested. And again, what does it matter if he's not anyway? At the very least, I've met someone awesome who could turn out to be a really great friend. And at the end of the day, that should always be the point of relationships. Meeting someone you not only connect with, but who you can grow from, and who can grow from you. Johnny is open with me in that way, and it's refreshing (okay, can't lie- and a little bit frustrating.)

All those years of leading with my sexual foot has proved a hard habit to break. With Johnny, it was really difficult to not flirt, not drop every dirty joke that comes to mind, not be good ol' sexually-driven Elena. And just be me- not second guess myself, or rely on sex to fill in the blanks, so to speak. I confided in my friend Rodney about this difficulty of not "falling down the sex-well" with this new guy. How I find myself thinking about Johnny in a more-than-friends way, and it's not easy to keep that from spilling over into our conversations. How I seek out that sexual stuff in a man I'm interested in, because it's how I gage if he's interested back. Rodney advised me to just stick with it, keep talking to him, and don't even think about the sex stuff. And, hard as that was, especially since the "not knowing" was causing insecurities within myself, I focused. And those worries and difficulties have gone away. I've relaxed and am letting us keep getting to know each other, in a real way.

I remember something Rodney had pointed out after I broke on the 13th day. He compared me to a Ferrari, but one that keeps letting everyone ride. And that diminishes the value of an amazing, prized vehicle. What makes a Ferrari so special is that only a very select, elite few get behind the wheel. And unlike the item of the inanimate analogy, that power of deciding who "gets behind my wheel" lies within me. I didn't understand fully what he meant by all that until a few days ago. This is going to sound crazy, so bear with me: I never saw "no" as an option. Even when I really didn't want a guy, I'd usually sleep with him anyway. And when / if I did say no, I felt apologetic in doing so. Because, for a long time, I was convinced that a) I loved sex, b) saying yes = it's me who is doing the choosing = power, and c) I'm doing what I want = also power, and liberation. But now I'm getting that I wasn't REALLY choosing. I mean, I was, but still, I was choosing it because it was there. A lot, I mean seriously, a lot of old flames have contacted me lately and I know something in me has truly shifted. I'm finally letting to of that urge to talk back to / sleep with all of them. Old me would've jumped on it, and them, in a heartbeat. For the story, for the great fuck, for the whatever. And that would have made me convinced I had power, because I was doing something I felt I wanted to do, and I had no shame in any of it. I was desired, and I was fulfilling my own desires. I guess it is power in it's own way, but really, saying "no" is the real power, the real liberation, the real choosing. It's so much easier to say yes. It's a lot harder to say no, because that requires you to know and feel your value, and be able to really recognize what and who is worthy of it. It's not that I'm any less sexual now, but I'm not being driven by just plain old anything or anyone, anymore. I realizing what I really want and deserve. Unfortunately, a lot of gorgeous cocks attached to lost souls and dysfunctional men are going to fall by the wayside. I used to have such an idea in my head that saying no made me less desirable. That saying no made me less sexual. That saying no would mean I'd be missing out on something, everything. But I think that came from me not paying attention to myself, and only focusing on getting laid. Now that I'm realizing there's so much more to me, and to life, rejecting just another well-endowed douchebag doesn't seem like much of a loss. But not living, or not being fully in the moment with myself without fear, sure does.

DAY 42: Can't We All Just Get Along?

The number of views "Day 37" received was absolutely bananas. For whatever reason, it got the most reads of any entry thus far. As always, I'm extremely grateful, and flattered, that ANYONE reads it- so, thank you. However, something that comes with an increase in readers is a correlating jump in comments, questions, and messages. And, A LOT of folks you barely know giving you their two cents. For the most part, this is also awesome. I thoroughly enjoy talking with people about the issues I'm facing, how it relates to them, to society, and about life in general. Whether or not they're going through / have gone through things similar to what I've gone through, the conversations have been interesting and thought-provoking.

But then. Ohhhh, but then there are some people who say, for lack of a better term, mind-bogglingly asinine shit. Talking about this specific exchange may piss the person off, should she read this entry, but what she said to me blew my mind- in the worst way. We are not close or anything, but we're friendly, we're co-workers. So when she mentioned she had read the Day 37 entry, I didn't know where the conversation was going to go. Again, she doesn't know me like that. Anyone who doesn't know me or my stories, how I've always been, can easily be taken aback by my writing's directness, honesty, and sexual openness. Which is fair! If I've never revealed my sexual "I'd rather be banging" side to you as a friend, in person, you'd probably never guess. So anyway, she started inquiring about who this "Night After Guy" is, since all three of us work at the same spot. I refused to name him, not because I care about MY privacy, but I'm respectful of his. I felt so put-on-the-spot and awkward though, that I couldn't even think of how to word that very simple explanation. Since I must have appeared vulnerable through all my stammering and "ummmm"'s, she kept pressing me for his name. And I kept saying no. Then the convo took a turn:

Her: Oh come on. You write about it, you put it out there. Why can't you just say who it is?

(She gave me a look at this point, a sort of condescending eye-over. It made me feel exposed and judged. What, she reads one post and that's earned her the right to give me a rude look like that? I mentioned the word "vagina" in it once, threw in a couple of sentences about fucking, and that's it, she knows my life now? The way she was looking at me was making me even more awkward. Oyy.)

Her: So come on! Why cant you just tell me his name?
Me: (awkwardly) Ummmmm. Because, uhhhh...
Her: Come on, who is it? Is it coat check guy? He's cute. I bet it's him. He looks good. Right? Really nice eyes.
Me: I dunno, maybe, maybe not. I'm not saying anything.
Her: Seriously? You put it all out there already. You write about it. You talk about your vagina but you can't say a name?
Me: Yeah I dunno, I just don't want to say it. It's not my place.
Her: Okay, well is he black or white?
Me: Ummmm.

(I also didn't want to answer this; I felt even giving that up would give it away.)

Her: You can't even say that?
Me: Oh my god. Okay. I am not going to say who. But...I will say this. Sexually speaking, I've never really been into black dudes. I've always been attracted to white guys.
Her: (Furrows her brow. She looked both confused and like she thought I was crazy) I don't get it. Why aren't you into black guys? If you're such a sexual person like you claim to be, wouldn't you be all about black guys?
Me: (awkward-er) UHHHHHH...well...

(There were black guys around so I felt very uncomfortable explaining further. HA! Suuuuch a typical white person.)

Me: I mean, I dunno, I'm just not. It's something about their vibe when they've hit on me that's unappealing. I like goofy, funny guys that have a sexy side. To me, black guys seem a little too "Ohhh yeahhh, mmm, you like that right" in bed. That's just not me.
Her: But so what? If you're sexual why would that matter? Wouldn't you just want to sleep with them anyway?

And that's when I had to step away. Because WHAT. First of all. I like what I like. I shouldn't have to explain or justify it to ANYONE. Second of all, this was a straight girl I was talking to, yet it felt like I was being backed into the proverbial corner by a misogynist. Umm, since when does being a sexual person mean I'm going to sleep with any guy, ever? Or sleep with [a certain race] just because their penises have a "huge" rep, (wink wink)? I mean really. Girrrrrl. Okay, yeah, I love dick. And? So? That doesn't mean I'm just gonna hop on any one, just because it's there, just because it may be big and feel good! I may not have always had the best standards, since I tend to pick the wrong men for me. But I don't sleep with people for the sake of sleeping with people. A guy can be hot, and sexy, but that does not mean he'll appeal to me, or that I'm going to want to have sex with him. He could be unattractive and silly and I might want to. If there's undeniable (physical or otherwise) chemistry, that's when, and why, I'll sleep with him. He could have a 1" penis (had that), or a 9" penis (had that too, and ouuuuch.) He could be Asian, white, whatever. I base stuff on instinct and chemistry. It just happens that guys I've hit it off with, and am almost always attracted to, are white guys. And so what? Guys have their things too. Some are into boobs, some are into butts. Some are into white girls (black guys, ironically.) Some are into Asian girls (I'm looking at you, nerdy white boys), and some are into redheads. Whatever man! Like what you like; you don't need to explain shit to anyone.

I was pretty pissed that this girl (and plenty of other people I've met in my life who have read my work) thought "being sexual" equals "she will fuck anything, just to fuck it." I've had to deal with grown men who nearly raped me (not joking, unfortunately), because they know I'm sexual, so that means I must be into it. Yeah, that makes total sense buddy. I love sex, so clearly I want nothing more than your gross tongue all up in my mouth. Or for you to barge in on me in a room to try and put it in my butt. Well for the record, no, it doesn't work like that. To me, being sexually liberated means you know who you are, what you want, you own it, you don't apologize for it, and you live it. You don't do things because you think that's what you should do, or what will please others. You do YOU, to whatever sexual degree that may be. Prude? Cool. Horny as fuck? Go get yours, boo. Babies? Have 'em. Wanna be single forever and Cialis your way to the grave? Well all right, man. It's your goddamn life. Sexual does not mean you're a whore, a slut, a whatever double-standard derogatory word you want to insert here.

I hate to even mention the term, since "double-standards" is such a beaten issue. I don't really want to delve into it, because I don't think it will ever change. Yeah, and that sucks. Yeah, it drives me crazy. Yeah, it's been a major issue in many of my relationships. But, these double-standards still exist, and there's a reason. I think there are some primal components to our makeup that set men and women apart. Not higher or lower, better or worse- just different. And so certain "rules" and expectations that have evolved over time, within society, are directly linked to what our primal roles and urges are. So yes, when women "bend the norm", they're a slut, etc, while guys are ladykillers, studs, and so on. Women try to find ways around this. They hide it, don't talk about it. Or the opposite end of the spectrum: I've seen, met, and read the work of women who are "liberated" and sexual. I feel like mostly...they come off as bitches. Their writing is so condescending, and they speak so highly of themselves, it incites a rage within me akin to slow internet. These ladies may think it shows strength and "bad bitchery" to a man's eyes, but I think it's cold and detached, plus it abandons other females. That approach is not what's going to change double-standards. Because that's something you're doing as a guard, something you're faking, to appear a certain way. I'm sure it's natural to resort to that disconnected, cold facade, and think it'll get you respect. But it'll just make you seem like you're a bitch. You're trying too hard. That doesn't merit respect, sorry. But! While I don't think societal double-standards will ever FULLY disappear, I do think it's possible for there to be an understanding between the genders. Funnily enough, it's the opposite of the "bitch" route. It has to come from inside of us, on an individual level. The more women and men accept themselves, know themselves, the more those standards will sort of...soften. Because when we know ourselves, it becomes easier, more logical, and allows us to really understand and accept others. For me, the past month-ish has not only given me greater insight into myself, but into people in general. I think the more people become aware of themselves, who they are, what makes themselves tick, the more that will help them be able to do the same in regards to others. I don't know if everyone has the capacity or rather, the willingness, to do so. But it's my hope that we do.

DAY 40: IT'S DAY FUCKING FORTY!!

I don't have much else to say here, really. And I'm only half-dressed and need to get to work. But I think this milestone merits a post, however brief it may be. I mean, come on. I'm me, and it's day 40 bitches! If it was lent, the sun has been set for hours, and I would be finished with this business. But it's not lent, I'm Jewish, and I've got 60 more days to go. But you know what? I'm hitting a great stride and I don't think I'll have a problem making it to the end. In the immortal words of Spongebob Squarepants, "I'm ready!"