it's not a fucking contest

I try really hard to let my Voice columns speak for themselves and not elaborate here because they should stand alone, but almost all the feedback I've gotten on my latest column "On Not Having Sex" has been of the "Three months? I haven't had sex in ___ years" ranging from 5 1/2 to 20 to 45. FYI - the point was NOT that it's a contest or that the length of time is really the most important thing there. It could be a year or a month, the point was more how I reacted to that and how it makes me feel. Sometimes it doesn't bother me and sometimes it does; I think the persistent, ongoing rejections are more hurtful and difficult for me to handle than the fact of not having sex with someone else for a given period of time. I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to react to the "that's nothing" responses, especially because obviously it's different for everyone. In other words, the point for me is less "I haven't had sex in three months" and more "All the people I want to have sex with don't want to have sex with me" and yes, that probably sounds a little bitter. I'm more sad about it than bitter, but am just gonna work on improving myself, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually so that I can be the best person I can be - FOR MYSELF. No matter how many dozens of people don't want to date me, I'll still always be my harshest critic, and the only thing I can do in response to those criticisms is try to better myself and not be a lazy stupid lump like I often am. My natural inclination is toward laziness and letting things remain the same and not making any effort to solve my problems, especially when they seem so large and immutable, but I am trying, in my own little ways.

I guess the hope is that once I can be someone I'm proud of, I can find someone who'll want to be with me, warts and all. Or not. I'm fully prepared to get myself back on my feet, pay off my loans, get my life in order and raise kids by myself if I have to, but hopefully I won't have to and I know that I'm not going to figure all that out tomorrow. It's one day at a time with all of it, it's just hard sometimes to try to manage everything I'm trying to manage by myself. I'm slowly letting people help me, and it's wonderful to have such supportive friends and also people who can assist me in career stuff like the website, filing, publicity, etc., but I am a control freak and like to know what's going on and do what I can myself. All of which makes the dating situation a lot harder because it's the one that I have the least (read: no) control over. I've just come to accept that, am buying the 2006 He's Just Not That Into You calendar and trying to work around the clock while still having some fun. I fucked up my 20s so badly, was stupid and foolish and whimsical and couldn't look two seconds into the future to see that, say, signing a $40,000 student loan and living on Mercer Street just weren't good ideas for a 21- or 22-year-old spoiled brat who never wanted to go to the library. I spent those three years squandering every opportunity and every day since June of 1999 making up for it, and I think it's made me a better person. I can be the underdog, and I can handle monstrous debt, I can work my way up bit by bit. And about 80% or so of the time I'm okay with it all, I accept it, and that other 20% can just be really hard and depressing and lonely. Which isn't really under the purview of my column to write about, but is all wrapped up in the sex/no sex thing.

So anyway. I use "I" statements for a fucking reason. I NEVER presume to know anyone else's reality, I try so hard to only speak for myself and thoroughly investigate my own thoughts and experiences, while also trying to understand others'. But I absolutely abhor it when people put their judgments onto me and try to compare emotions. It doesn't work that way. There's no formula for X amount of rejection or loneliness + abstinence = your life story. I just cannot take that on in any way and while of course it's interesting and in the realm of what I wrote about, to phrase it so calculatingly just leaves me feeling icky and sorry I ever opened that door. I love writing but I also know there will never be enough words to explain certain things, especially to strangers, nor should there be. The people who get me, get me, and luckily I have a lot of them in my life. But the people who don't, well, they really really don't.