If you didn't know, I'm quoting lyrics by Lush, who I continue to adore.
But as I continue to be very, very single, when Time Out New York asked if I wanted to be in their "Date Our Friends" feature, I said yes. A tiny pic of me (seen below) is in the print mag, and my "ad" is online. So please pass it on to your single friends! I'm so so so so ONLY looking for serious relationships, though. Been there, done that on the casual thing. Anyway, they gave me 50 words and I think I did okay, so read it. And it may be unclear from the ad, but I'm open to men or women. And yes, the fact that no one has replied yet makes me feel like even more of a loser, but you've gotta try everything, right? I hope so.
More on this topic this weekend, but for now I'll just say - yes, I know Ashlea (she contributed "Battle of the Sexless" to Best Sex Writing 2008), but clearly, we don't know each other that well, because the last thing in the world I would ever want anyone to want to date me is because I wrote about sex. BOOOOOORING and who the fuck cares, right? Well, that's my take. So if that's what intrigues you, you've so got the wrong girl. Call Julia Allison's # on the cover, okay? Not that she writes about sex (dating, so close), but I never ever want to go out with anyone again who "likes me" because of the dumbass writing I've done. I thought I left that behind after the Village Voice column, but apparently I was wrong. So I'm actually taking Julia's branding message to heart. I can't "undo" what I have out there in the world, and I don't want to, and yet, something is off message. Something feels icky and wrong to me lately about the image I must project on the dating pool, so I'm trying to fix that.
The real me? The girl with the umpteen heavy bags. The girl who sleeps curled up in a ball on her couch with the lights on. The girl who cries at least once a month, usually more. The one with so much in her head she sometimes wants to start over as someone else. The one who loves super cheesy movies. The one who writes about cupcakes and is as excited about visiting a 4-year-old as she is about doing a reading in Miami. Okay, I guess I got carried away and kinda said what I wanted to say. Copy editor Noah Tarnow did not nominate me, alas, but I'm much more into his trivia night than any sex event.
Don't get me wrong, I still want to have sex, like, sometime in 2008, and I do write about it and will continue to, but I despise the fact that that seems to then define me, that it's considered all I can do or want to do. I have so many other interests that supercede sex. I was going to say "I'm stuck with it," and that's not it either, because I love the work that I do, I just hate the pigeonholing, stereotyping, judgment. I hate sometimes being surrounded by sex writing yet almost never the real thing, and when I do have it, it's moments of fleeting faux intimacy. I just want to meet someone nice and normal and mature and well-suited to me. And if someone tells me I'm "initimidating" one more time, I think it'll be time to pack it in, get the hell out of New York, and go find me a cave to live in.