To Be Desired

Last night I was in bed, unable to get to sleep, and I started thinking about desire. No. Not my phone. The act of desire. Feeling desired. Or making someone feel desired.

You see, people like to feel desired. Not just women either. Men too. They want to know that others think they are attractive. We all do. And not just from our partners. Even when we are in loving, caring, amazing relationships it can still feel good to have someone else desire you. Compliment you. Think you're the bee's knees.

See, most of the time, the task of making us feel desired comes down to the people we take to bed with us. Mostly meaning our partners, girlfriends, boyfriends, wives, husbands, sidekicks. It's kind of their job to make you feel desired. Attractive. Admired. Coveted. Longed for. I mean, it shouldn't be hard to do, right? Because you shouldn't be going to bed with someone you don't find attractive, right?

Well, not exactly. Trust me, my bubble was busted too.

A couple months ago a male friend told me men will sleep with any girl (we are saying girl simply because it jives with the fact that I am a heterosexual woman and am really only interested in forming sexy relationships with men who like the ladies. For all I know, this might actually apply to gay men as well, but at the point in time we were actually discussing men who like chicks.) Anyway, this friend also went on to clarify that it didn't matter whether the dude was even attracted to the person or not, he could still knock boots with her regardless of whether she was hot or not.  

Yeah, it seemed pretty harsh to me. Mostly because the thought of someone sleeping with me only because Monday night bowling was cancelled made me feel sad. My friend said, even though men preferred their booty buddies to not be dogs, if push came to shove...you get my point. And then I found myself kind of disenchanted because sex isn't just sex to me. Maybe I'm a hippy but I think there should be some sort of attraction going on there. But even if there is that initial mind blowing chemistry it doesn't mean it's going to last forever. Or even a year.    

We've all been there, knee-deep in a relationship only to see the sex fizzling out. We go from feeling desired to feeling like yesterday's dirty laundry pile on the floor of your bedroom. The truth is, a lot of us have been in relationships where the sexual, affectionate, complimentary, ego boosting side of the relationship dies and has to be buried in the backyard next to the remains of Crumpy the hamster. Some people think the death of the hanky-panky is inevitable, that it will dwindle regardless of how you try to avoid it.

I don't want to believe that's true. I want to believe there are people who can live their whole lives together and find one another more attractive each year that passes. I want to believe there are couples who enjoy each other physically no matter how many days, weeks, months or years pass.

One might call this wishful thinking.

Because we all know things change. The compliments stop. Affection gets put on the back burner. Sex lessens, and sometimes stops altogether. Kissing is reserved for hellos and goodbyes and goodnights. Holding hands becomes virtually non-existent. And cuddling? Well, that's just for the honeymoon stage. It's almost as though the better you know someone, the less you actually want to touch them. Or touching them becomes less important for some reason.

Don't get me wrong. I'm sure you love them, but do you lust them? Do you desire them?

It's like that terrible scene in the first episode of Breaking Bad. It's Walter's fiftieth birthday and his dutiful wife is intent to giving the birthday boy a little action. She's going to take care of him because it's his special day. Except, her laptop's open and they're talking about chores that need to be done around the house as she gives him some manual pleasure. In the short scene so much is conveyed. Maybe it depresses me because I understand it. I've done something simply for the sake of doing it before, like it's expected, a quota I needed to fill.

We grow up. We get old. We move in together. Have kids. Buy homes. Work overtime. Stress about money. Get annoyed with each other. Become resentful and bitter. I get it. Life happens. But part of me wonders if it can't be avoided, not life, but the breakdown of desire. What if we simply put our phones and computers away. Turn the television off. Mute the world around us so we can reconnect, and not just mentally or emotionally, but physically as well.

So often, it simply turns to routine. Trying to schedule intimacy into our busy lives. If we're lucky. Sometimes we just let it fall to the wayside and gradually forget what it's like to be wanted. And, essentially, that's what desire comes down to. Feeling wanted. Being wanted. Having someone touch you because they want to, not because they're supposed to.

I guess it's easy to desire someone you don't really know. A picture. A model. An actress. The cute girl who serves you coffee. It's harder to desire someone you see everyday. The girl who always wears sweatpants around the house, who cleans the kitchen floor, or nags you for leaving your crap on the dining room table.  The guy who comes home dirty, picks his toenails, and can't seem to put the toilet seat down.

Or maybe we just forget how attractive they are. The qualities we lusted after in the beginning disappear. We just don't see them anymore. We forget what initially drew us to them. Or maybe we simply grow accustomed to seeing them, to the point where we don't really see them at all. They turn into a piece of furniture. The old worn leather chair you've had for so long. It's comfortable, and even if unsightly, you're just used to it.

Either way, I've never really felt extremely desired. You know, to have someone unable to keep their hands off me. Probably because I've never been 'sexy' (please see this blog to understand). Those who have had lusted over me usually don't really know me. And maybe that's the kicker. Maybe the 'can't keep my hands, lips, eyes off you' thing is specifically for the beginning, or internet affairs. On hold for those who don't really know us and can let their imaginations turn us into something we aren't. A fantasy. The perfect recliner, not the cute ottoman that you really are.

The thing is, if you feel like a piece of furniture - functional, practical, scotch-guarded and safe - then that's probably how others will start to look at you. Perhaps you need to desire yourself before other people will desire you.

And maybe I'm just rambling to fill space.

I Am Not Here To Hurt You

People don't want to hurt you.

Well, let me rephrase that. Most people don't want to hurt you.

Sure, there are some sadistic bastards out there who take pleasure in causing harm, but they are actually far and few between. That may come as a shock. Probably because we live in this crazy world where we are constantly being told how hurtful and distrustful everyone is. Everyone is out to get us. They want to steal our homes, cars, and boyfriends and girlfriends. Our friends and family are moments away from using and abusing us. Co-workers are going to take credit for our work. Bosses are going to overwork and underpay us. Cooks will spit in our food. Grocery clerks will overcharge us. Random people we don't know want to clone our identities and become us.

Well, that's just crazy. Isn't it? Sure, you're all nodding your heads, but the paranoia is there, it's set in, and it's spreading. Because we all know what happened to so-and-so. She went to wherever and ran into what's-his-name and the humdinger and the what-cha-ma-call-it and nothing will ever be the same again. Her life is ruined! And there are a hundred stories to back up the don't trust your neighbour vibe we are cultivating. Whether we like it or not, no one can be trusted. I heard it on the news; so it must be true. 

To counteract it, we have to be diligent. We can't become victims. No one wants to be made a mockery of! Square your shoulders, narrow your eyes into suspicious slits and watch with the dedication of a hawk all the people you come in contact with. They are all out to get you. You can't trust anyone. No one wants to see you happy. Humans are self-serving creatures that want to creep into your house at night and take all your good memories and laughter and love. 

It's so ridiculous, but I was there once. I thought people were out to get me. After you catch your friends talking bad about you and have enough run-ins with creeps on the street you start to believe what the media is selling. This is where the fear comes in. Controlling-lock your doors when you enter your house-check your backseat-don't stop to give the lost man directions-fear. A fear so thick and suffocating that we don't walk anywhere alone late at night and certainly won't open our doors if someone is banging on it crying for help. Why? Because we are going to get mugged or tricked or taken advantage of.  

I'm sorry to tell you, it's a lie. And it's been a lie since we were kids when we were told not to talk to strangers. These feelings of antipathy carry on until we are adults. Strangers are painted as these evil monsters who want to rip out your fingernails and feed you poisoned candies. Except, and I hate to be the one to tell you this, but we are all strangers - and sometimes we get lost and make mistakes. Sometimes we do horrible things. There are even times when we are mean. But then we are also nice and giving, caring and sweet. And every-so-often, we need help, just like everyone else.

If given the chance, maybe all of us strangers can change things. There are a handful of individuals trying to divide us, of that I'm certain, and modern society is indeed a step backwards. We want bigger fences and less connections, or so we are told. We are no longer a tribe. We do not know our neighbours. The days of borrowing sugar are long gone, and I highly doubt anyone introduces themselves to the new people who move in on their block. Our welcome mats have long been disposed of. And the lonely pit we are all now dwelling is getting a little deeper every day. Eventually, we won't be able to get out. 

Right now, most of us are merely existing in this world. To simply exist means to eat, sleep and breathe, and that is just a waste of life. We want to live here. And to live is to thrive and grow. I spent many years dwelling in my hurt and I allowed it to make me jaded. It brought me so far away from the girl I wanted to be, the girl I knew I was, that I lost sight of what I was doing. It took me a long time to get back to where I belonged, to find my home again.

Life is precious  It is fleeting. We have no time to waste. Which is why we need to cherish the moments we are here. The moments we are together. We need to appreciate ourselves and each other.   

If the world doesn't end next week, I propose a radical movement of love based on trust and forgiveness. Perhaps if we let go of our past wrongs, then we can move into future rights. Stop the negative thinking and let some positive light shine in. And, most importantly, understand that there are more good people in this world than bad. Hopefully, with a little hard word, some laughter and plenty of cookies and cake, we can undo some of the damage that has occurred. I want to try to change this perception that mankind is uncaring and unforgiving. Maybe then we can start to unravel this horrendous knot of apathy and animosity our society is entangled in.

From this day forward, know this - I am not here to hurt you.

And I choose to believe you are not here to hurt me. 

Holy Crap

I haven't blogged in ages.

I promise to do one next week. And it's going to be good.

A Good Cry

The term 'having a good cry' is confounding to me.

I mean, to put it in the simplest way possible, crying simply isn't good for me.

Okay, I understand some people cry when they are overcome with happiness, but I'm not one of those people. Even when I cry at weddings, it usually isn't because I am so thrilled for the people involved. Most likely it's because I think the person is making a huge mistake. Of course, I probably shouldn't have admitted that. I mean, now if you see me crying at your wedding you're going to think I'm not supportive, like you're making the most unwise decision of your life. Please, if you invite me to your wedding, and you see me bawling my eyes out, just assume you are the exception, not the rule.

Now that I've covered myself, let me delve a little deeper into this whole 'good cry' thing.

Crying, like from-the-gut-sobbing-can't-control-the-tears-bawling, is a very bad thing. I get that people think it is cleansing and a wonderful way to release pent up emotions. But I'd rather sweat out the toxic sadness with exercise or vent it in the form of a good string of curse words. It totally sucks to be reduced to a bag of tears and isn't in any way refreshing.

You know what's refreshing? A bubble bath or eucalyptus steam.

Not only does crying make me look like hell, but I feel like hell - but hell on a bad day, not a lukewarm afternoon when Lucifer isn't in such a damning mood.

While I am sitting here thinking about the act of being reduced to weeping mess, all that keeps playing in my head are the horrible, terrible, awful things. And yes, I did need three words to describe the same thing there. Let's look at the outcome of these so called 'good' cries. Sore Eyes. Runny Nose. Puffy Face. Snotty sleeves. Pounding temples. Feeling like an utter moron if people are around to bear witness to the spectacle, and feeling turdish if I'm alone. (Turdish is totally a new word for us all to enjoy) Let's face it, blubbering is ugly. Not even babies or supermodels can make it attractive.

Have you ever cried and there isn't a tissue around? Snot trails down your nose, mixes with the saltiness of your tears, gets in your mouth because crying close mouthed is next to impossible. So, you wipe it on your sleeve, trying desperately to pretend you have everything in control while silently thinking how disgusting it is that your nose is dripping and you are powerless to stop the hideous scene. All you can do is roll with it and try to act like it isn't happening. Yeah. We've all been there.

And apparently women are known for crying. We are identified as criers. Some people even say we can't even control it. Our hormones are to blame. Damn those hormones!

The thing is, I don't cry all that much. Not at cute commercials, or sad movies. I don't spend a lot of time snivelling over burnt toast, my job (or ex-job), or weight gain. My period rarely has me in tears. That said, I know a lot of ladies who do participate in sob-fests fairly often and, to tell you the truth, I admire them. I admire anyone who can own their feelings like that and shove them out there for all to witness.

The whole thing makes me feel far too vulnerable. I mean, it does happen. But since I dislike it so much, when I finally cave into the melancholy monster it is business. And it is messy.

With all this said, I almost cried on the way home from my friends' house last night. It's been hanging out for awhile. I felt it coming, the shudder in my chest, the tension pull behind my eyes, the pain down my throat. But I managed to suppress it. Detour around it for a couple more...hours? Days? Weeks? Who knows?

I mean, it's there, lurking about, waiting patiently for me to let it out. And it's going to happen. I mean, it's all part of human nature and not being an emotionless psychopath. But rest assured, it isn't going to be a 'good cry'. I won't walk away from it feeling rejuvenated and sighing like I've just had a demon exorcised out of me. No, I'll be annoyed and exhausted. I'll want to sleep.

There is, of course, an exception. And that's laughing until you cry. That's just awesome.

Love Is

Because last week's post was all downtrodden and uninspiring, I've decided to write about love. But not the standard witty and funny sort of the thing you've all grown to love. No, more like a list. To lighten the heart and free us (me, really) from the shackles of last week's birthday blues.

So, this is what love is to me.

Love is...

- having a sidekick
- catching a glance and knowing it is only filled with affection
- laughing until you cry
- baking sweet treats and refusing to eat them until the other person has had first taste
- listening first and talking second
- music nerdiness
- having a month long horror movie fest
- sending care packages in the mail
- watching the same film at night even when you aren't together
- smiling when you first wake up
- a Sons of Anarchy marathon while doing a puzzle on a rainy Sunday
- kisses for no reason
- doing things without obligation
- never feeling lonely even when you're alone (though still missing the other)
- snuggling for warmth
- running baths and putting the bubbles in (and lighting the candles)
- turning the television off when the other person falls asleep
- and not smothering them with a pillow when they are snoring
- handmade cards
- actually, handmade anything
- spending a hundred hours on the internet trying to find something amazing to hand make
- washing the other's back (while sneaking a peek at the good)
- pirate ship models
- surprise gifts for no reason
- making the bed without being asked
- thank yous (manners matter)
- not making demands or ultimatums
- not minding the stinky stuff
- good mornings and goodnights, respectively
- leaving a note
- planning for the future
- honest moments
- friendship, and being friends
- a mutual zombie respect
- asking 'how are you?'
- the sound of wooden wind chimes
- home cooked meals
- cleaning house
- having a good story to tell people how it all began
- unwavering support, like that of a jock strap or really good bra
- knowing you always have someone on your side
- celebrating the good stuff
- working through the bad stuff
- not holding back
- reminiscing on dirty moments
- sharing the cake (even when you really, really, really don't want to)
- communicating, even when it's hard
- doing, not necessarily saying
- proving it's true

And such stuff.