An Open Letter to All the Mr. [something big and important, probably married]s, Regarding Your Emails

Open Letter

Thanks for the email, but you don’t have to be embarassed by my sexuality.  I know you feel the need to save your praises for private because you’re a big shot/celebrity/lawyer/news anchor/executive something/father, or whatever other identifier raises your importance above mine, but there’s really no need to worry.

I am not a predator, try not to think yourself so persecuted.

I know I wrote a piece about sexuality and inequality and my broken disappointed heart and used words like pussy and dick (and maybe next time I won’t stop short of using anal), but those are not things to be ashamed of.  I am sorry you feel the need to read my words with the lights out.

Maybe you want to hide in the privacy because single girls have been known to wander (this is a warning from your mother) but I am not here to scandalize you.

You don’t have to be ashamed to spread my words (which are not my legs), or to be seen talking to me.  After all, your intentions are entirely innocent, no?

So while I appreciate the email, about how much you enjoyed my writing, you should have just ended it there.  It’s flattering to know that my appearance pleases you and how you think I’m going to find a great guy some day, but you should know that I have already found one.  Several actually.  And that my having of them probably won’t fit with your idea of how my life should be.  But that’s not my problem (and I’m not even entirely clear on why it’s yours).

I don’t want to get married.

I don’t want to find the one.

I want the many.

I want to hear a hundred stories.  I want to lay down with men who change the composition of my surroundings.  I want to know the world.  I am greedy but not selfish.  I want more than my hands can hold, and so I stand facing it all with open fingers.  I want to kiss and laugh and love and fuck and be my true self and rip my heart open and spill it on the floor for all to see.

I don’t want a gated community, a picket fence, a sofa to sink into.  It is already hard enough to stand up tall everyday, I don’t need more things hemming me in.

So, thanks for the email, but it’s not necessary.

You see, I don’t need you to save me.  And I know for sure that I cannot save you.

I know I posted that thing about the boy who reacted poorly to my large frame and the things about men who try to woo me with discussions of my body.  I know I got angry and frustrated and lost faith in humanity for a second but I’m only human.  I am an elastic woman and likely to bounce back.

So, I know you got to see the flaws and the heartache and the sadness, and maybe that stirred something in you but none of these things mean I need you to save me.  They are not about you.  You already chose your life and this private weirdness that you’re creating with your power and your secrecy is affecting my balance (so you should stop).

I’m standing up here, spine only partially made of jelly.  Mostly strong enough and not nearly as alone as you might think (and frankly, my friends and family all feel a little jilted that you’ve minimized their roles so emphatically in my life as to think that one singular man could replace them entirely).

So thanks for the email, but your secrecy has splinters.

Words that should be innocent enough off the tongue, show up dressed in your issues and your shame and your inadequacies.  Your email is a time bomb and frankly, sir, I don’t need your bullshit.

So unless you’re ready to stand up tall and stop acting like my sexuality is an affront to your marriage, your personhood, and your fucking existence…unless you’re ready to stop pretending that my comfort and expression is a threat to your way of being…unless you’re ready to stop imposing your danger onto me…

I would just as soon prefer that you kept your praises in your pockets and your heavy words out of my box.

This Has Been a Big MisTINDERstanding!

Tinder

 

*Disclaimer:  there are lots of amazing, intelligent, enlightened, fantastic men out there (Unfortunately, for me, I’m related to most of the ones I know).  But seriously, I always hope that when I write these ranty bits that men who are awesome are just like phew! I’m awesome! (but are also a little embarrassed about humanity, as I am).

I have to admit that Tinder has me stumped.  I heard this rumor that it was a dating app, however, all evidence has been to the contrary — showing me that meh it’s probably not.  That being said, I still don’t really believe it’s a hook-up app…

Because I can’t believe anyone would have sex with the majority of these dudes!

And before you think I’m some awful judgmental bitch (I mean I probably am, but not for this), I should mention that it has nothing to do with looks.  The men who match and contact me are all mostly of one type — the absolute fucking dumbest.  This, in turn, brings up a greater issue, which is–why aren’t men more ashamed of themselves and embarrassed to be stupid and boring? (but we’ll deal with this one another time).

And while I understand the whole impetus to say bullshit nonsense like boys will be boys and dudes just want to get their dicks wet um is that really all we’re capable of a species?  I don’t understand why the world expects me to be pretty, and fit, and sexy, and smart, don’t forget funny, and interesting, kind and considerate, a real cutie pie, to smile all the time, except when I’m crying over a man obviously, gracious, empathetic, and great at all things sex related…but dudes can just be pieces of shit and no one seems to care because cock and balls and stuff.

The one upside to Tinder, so far, has been the ego boost.  For those of you who sometimes doubt your own attractiveness, Tinder may just be the thing you need.  Even while being selective (at least I think I am, I guess I’d need to sit side by side someone else making the same observations to know if I find men, on the whole, too attractive but generally speaking I’m probably swiping right for about 1 in every 20-40 guys), and with that being said I still managed to find myself somewhere around 700 matches.  Now, don’t get too excited…of those 700 matches, I probably get a message from maybe 50% (the other 50% I’m assuming were either drunk when they swiped, or didn’t realize I was as chubby as I am till they saw the other pictures).  Nonetheless, and maybe you guys are all getting way more matches or something but whatever, that’s way more men than I thought would find me attractive.

Now, I can practically hear you saying it Why don’t you just get off this app if you hate it so much?

Welp.  Because nothing is ever ALL bad, except maybe cilantro (blech! that shit tastes like handsoap!)  But, I have this fucked up sense of hope that I’ve just had bad luck thus far.  And that maybe all the really awesome guys who don’t think I’m just a piece of shit vagina that isn’t worthy of their most basic sense of decency are just around the corner.

OR…at the very least that somewhere along the way I’ll figure out why these guys are all so awful and so completely and entirely okay with that.  Either or.

Have you had some great experiences with Tinder?  Are you banging chicks left and right or meeting all the dudes that I wish I was for some great sex?  Are you the girl I thought I was but apparently no longer am who can just message up a hot dude and go meet for a drink and a fuck and have the time of your life?  If so, I want to hear all about it (but be forewarned, I’m skeptical as fuck, and will likely want to see some kind of proof lol I’m such an asshole but whatever, you still kinda love me right?!?!) anyway…email me at SomethingSheSaid@gmail.com if you want to share your story.  XOXOXOXO – Victoria

Notes on a Plane, Or Why Bullying with Kindness Isn’t a Thing

Bullying

Imagine for a moment, the following scene:

It’s Thanksgiving weekend and you’re stuck at the airport.

Maybe you’re having a bad day.  You’ve lost perspective.  You know you’re acting like an asshole but somehow can’t manage to contain yourself.

Maybe you’re worried that if you miss your non-refundable connecting flight that you’ll get stuck in some unknown city halfway between your home and your destination and given that you could barely afford the ticket price to begin with, will be shit out of luck.

Maybe your partner just left you.

Maybe you just got fired from your job.

Maybe you fall on the Autism spectrum and have abnormal responses to sensory stimuli, find it difficult to maintain social relationships or to understand social cues, or struggle to communicate.

Maybe you just found out you have cancer and have to fly home to break the news to your parents.

Maybe you’re just an entitled shitty person who maintains a total lack self-awareness.

Maybe you’re completely fictional.  (for argument sake let’s assume this isn’t the case, regardless of the fact that this is obviously the case).

It doesn’t really matter.  But there you are, at the airport on Thanksgiving and your flight is delayed and you’re acting like a total dick.  And then whew! you’re on the plane and getting set for your journey home when suddenly you get this note from a stranger on the plane…

Read the story here:  “This Epic Note-Passing War On A Delayed Flight Won Thanksgiving

So, what is so wrong with this (and the people who think it’s funny)?  Well, let me tell you.  There are really only two possibilities for what this guy must have been thinking to provoke this confrontation:

Hey, look at this total asshole who can’t possibly be upset enough.  I’m going to go out of my way to be cruel to her and taunt her and hopefully she’ll have a total fucking breakdown that I can tweet about and people will think I’m a hilarious hero.  PS. I’m going to make sure I use some language that incorporates both violence and sex to really let her know that I think her place in the world is beneath me regardless of any supposed provocation.

Or he thought

Hey, look at this woman, who is obviously pained in some way, and though I could probably try to make her day a little better (and thus in some small way improve the days of everyone around her) I’m still going to go out of my way to be cruel to her and taunt her and hopefully she’ll have a total fucking breakdown that I can tweet about and people will think I’m a hilarious hero.  PS. I’m going to make sure I use some language that incorporates both violence and sex to really let her know that I think her place in the world is beneath me regardless of any supposed provocation.

 

I almost can’t even write this because I’m so out-of-my-mind with confusion/rage/frustration/disillusionment, especially after reading Elan’s follow up statement on his blog where he starts out by admitting that he’s just an IRL Troll or as is more commonly known, a goddamn bully:

I had a great time antagonizing her, reading your responses, and just generally trying to have fun with an irritating person.

(emphasis mine)

Then, he makes an attempt to justify his bullshit behavior with some nonsense about how it’s unforgivable to be unkind to people while they’re working (which btw is nonsense not because that’s a bad idea, which it isn’t, but because the very fact that he was harassing this fictional woman on a plane – a specifically dangerous place to antagonize and provoke people, particularly on the people’s whose job it is to then have to keep them calm and placated).  He was fucking with the flight attendants and the other passengers as much as he was fucking with Diane.

Then, he reaffirms what I am already certain of, that he is, in fact, no hero.

And finally, he sums up his final point, which is that we should all be nice to each other.  wait?!? what?!?!  The guy who just harassed a woman for hours, did so to make the point that kindness should be spread and being nice is what is most important.  *brain explodes*

What I did today was just point out something we all know: Be nice. It’s Thanksgiving. Be nice.

Be nice everyday, but if you see a man or a woman working on a holiday you better respect that they would like to be with their family too.

But before I can let you go to just think about the sadness of this whole facade and how horrible people are and how maybe this is why I can’t sleep at night.  What I really want to point out is just how wrong this dude is about how to change the world.

So have some compassion and have some appreciation.

Most people do. Most people are great. And then there are a bunch of Diane’s in the world.

And it’s OUR job to tell every Diane to shut up.

It’s OUR duty to put the Diane’s of the world in their place.

We need to REMIND them about the way of things.

We outnumber them.

So, I’m really glad we had fun today, but I really hope you guys join me, look a jerk in the eye, and tell them to eat a piece of your body, because really, that’s what the holidays are all about.

And while I know this man is, in his own fucked up way, trying to make this lighthearted and just a joke, the problem is that like rape jokes or bum fights, or all the other disgusting things humanity does in the hopes of hilarity, this falls far short of actually being funny.

You know the old adages Kill them with kindness and You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar?  Well, semantics aside, they are spot on.  The world doesn’t need more people telling women to eat their dicks (or whatever violent and misogynistic rhetoric might be the equivalent for men), the world needs more kindness, more empathy, more patience.  Oh, and by the way, that DOES NOT mean less jokes.  It means better, smarter, funnier ones.  Jokes that don’t sacrifice the weak.  And if you can’t write those jokes…well fuck…try harder…or find another way to share joy with the world.

If you see someone in pain, help them ease it.

If you see someone in trouble, try to help.

If they snap at you and act like a jerk, don’t react in kind.

Don’t write them snotty insincere notes in order to get a laugh at their expense, tell them a joke and send them a present.  Maybe they laugh, maybe they don’t.  Maybe they’re thankful or maybe they’re not.  But you tried.  You were a good person.  You made a sincere effort to make the world a better place.

And btw Elan, trolling someone in real life…is just bullying.  You are a bully.  But maybe I can buy you a drink someday, and you can tell me why you’re so upset at the world.  Maybe I can help or maybe I can’t.  But I’ll listen if you need me, I’d listen if any of you need me.  Because honestly, what the fuck else are we doing here, if not trying to make the world a better place for everyone else in it?

40 Days of Dating

40 Days of Dating

 

[dropcap]I[/dropcap] try to reserve my hate for really horrible things like genocide and poverty, but under the assumption that I’m obviously not comparing this project to the true worst things about humanity, I have to admit that I hate everything about the 40 days of dating project.  EVERYTHING.

My Bias:  they’re not writers and while in many ways they don’t claim to be (after all this project is really just a bunch of repetitive forms or diary entries filled out for the internet to see), but I think we all know that along with their new Hollywood agent, they’re hoping for (planning on) a book deal and likely have been from the beginning.  And while I get that sometimes non-writers can author a book and it can actually be interesting (because they themselves are so interesting) that doesn’t really apply here.  These are two designers narcissistic assholes who are trying to become real housewives of worthlessness type famous.  Finally, while I don’t necessarily begrudge anyone taking their opportunity to become rich and famous, I just can’t fucking stand people who do it on a lie (and their lie is that this whole thing isn’t a big fucking act put on by two not great people).  Show me heart and I’ll respect you, show me your ass and call it your heart and I’ll hate you forever.

So, For those of you who have been lucky enough not to be exposed to this fake-staged-irrelevant-insincere-bullshit, you’re lucky (and also, sorry because I’m about to ruin that by exposing you to it).

FortyDaysofDating.com

The basic premise of the “experiment” is that two people with opposite relationship issues (though I would actually argue they have the same one of being completely self-deluded), she falls too quickly, he has commitment issues, date each other for 40 days (with I guess the hope of curing their issues?)

I can’t stand when women say things like I fall in love easily or I just really give relationships my all because I know that in their fucked up heads they think these things are admirable.  They don’t get that by suggesting that the lust they feel is love that they completely devalue what love really is (and also…what is so awful about lust that people are always trying to make it into love?!?).  They don’t understand that by giving everything to a relationship that they don’t really understand what a relationship is, or what being a complete person is.  The funny thing is I have great respect for someone who can realize that they’ve got issues and things to work on personally, but pretending the issue that you face is that you’re just so goddamn sweet and nice and caring rather than that you are totally out of touch with who you are as a person is something I just can’t get on board with.

I also can’t stand guys who think they’re nice but are really just some cross between a total fucking baby and just dumb as shit.  This is the kind of nice guy who thinks he’s protecting your feelings by constantly saying that he doesn’t want to lead you on and that he’s damaged or something rather than just spitting out the truth which is that he doesn’t like you as much as you want him to.  I find this completely insane that a guy could think this is protecting a girl somehow, but it’s totally common so there ya go.  The thing is though, if he actually just said the words, something like look, I like you this amount, that is all I’ll like you, if you want to continue to hang out I can do that but my feelings won’t change.  Then, the girl could decide, is she okay with said amount of liking?  If yes, she stays.  If no, she goes.  Either way, she made a decision based on all the information.  Sure, she might have hurt feelings (I know I personally can’t believe anyone doesn’t think I’m the most interesting woman in the world but here’s what, SHE WILL GET THE FUCK OVER IT, I promise).  And the upside is she won’t have spent weeks obsessing over whether or not you really like her because here’s what…that obsessing…that detective work and mind-reading is the very thing that makes her hurt and later hate you.

Anyway, that’s who this project is about.  The girl who devalues love and the man-child who can’t rip a bandaid.

Detour:  Have you ever had a friend who seems to be involved in all kinds of drama and yet tells you that they hate drama?  Yeah, they’re lying.  They fucking love drama.  Sure, no one likes negative things and fighting and feeling upset…obviously.  But drama comes with adrenaline and intrigue and it’s something to do, and more often than not feeds the ego…AND THAT’S WHAT YOUR FRIEND LIKES.  And here’s the thing of the thing, you can always get out of the drama.  There’s always a way.  Just get out.  If you don’t like it just get out.  Get out.  GET OUT.  JUST FUCKING GET OUT!!!

That’s what reading this stupid experiment feels like though – two people complaining about a bunch of things they could EASILY fix (like easy bake oven easy, like me with a super smart football player easy, you get the idea).

And you’re probably thinking – still though, why so upset?

And here’s why:  I hate this project and these people for the same reason I hate the majority of reality television – because it’s pretending to be real, to be honest, to be about exposing some sort of truth about human relationships rather than just some vain-attention-getting-grabber-wheel-of-people-who-aren’t-worth-the-attention.  It’s fucking human poison and I hate everything about it.

Now, before you go well hey, isn’t that what you’re doing here?  Let me explain.

I commend people who bare their souls and get book deals (even if they’ll only ever be authors and not writers, I love a good celebrity biography as much as the next guy).

I think it’s great to try experiments with your life, to go on adventures, to seek opportunities and when they arrive to take them completely.

I applaud those that are innovative, fresh, willing to be embarrassed, take risks, etc.

But if you’re going to sell me lemonade, you can’t fucking make it out apples.  When you call something the truth, it has to actually BE the truth.  (okay well it doesn’t, I mean you can do whatever you want, free country and all that, but if you don’t want me not to hate you, if you want me not to think that you’re poisoning the hearts and minds of the easily swayed with your bullshit agenda and disingenuous attempts to bare your heart, then you have to actually do it with the truth).

Because that’s really what’s at the heart of why I despise these two and this project.  While I hate to infantilize people, there are hundreds (possibly of thousands) of people who actually believe fairy tale nonsense (and love this project) and don’t see the stupidity that is its participants (stupid in certain ways only because as much as I dislike them, so many more do not and think they’re great and I would bet a fortune that they have an agent and a book deal within the month if not already).  I feel like there are real people, who want to know real things about dating (and how to be happier with dating and more emotionally sound with their dating choices) and for those people, I blog, and for those people, I hate this project on behalf of.

 

Because a regular reader, might not see that this guy is such a douchebag, they might not see that he strings her along on purpose and for his ego, that he’s a fucking childlike crybaby, that when he says he was being “playful and funny” that he was actually just being boring and tedious (and that he’s a part of that whole epidemic of men who think they can just say that they have a good sense of humor and then they do, that you don’t have to be witty or intelligent to be funny, this guy is spreading that like wildfire).

He’s the guy who worries about words.  Who thinks labels are what make a relationship and that it’s his job to protect others (under the assumption that he’s just so fucking unbelievably amazing that were he to reject someone they might not make it through the day).  And yet, spends the whole 40 days apparently unable to figure out how he feels about someone.  Is it really that hard to figure out your feelings?

For example, I can love someone and yet also know that I don’t want a committed long distance relationship.  I feel a thing, I think a thing through, I figure a thing out.  Why does this guy struggle so?  Is it possible that perhaps he likes the power of lording it over the poor half-wit that is his female counterpart (and for reference I think they’re both half-wits so this isn’t a gender thing)?

Because a regular reader, might not see her for the complaining child that she is.  (how, btw, can people manage to be super successful and yet totally fucking ridiculous?!!).  Why would you start a project like this when you’ve recently developed a debilitating case of migraines (that get worse with stress, stress like trying to get famous on the internet)?  She’s the girl who stiff upper lips her way through dinner pretending she’s not in pain (all the while acting like a totally aloof asshole who barely wants to be there).

It’s this bullshit martyr act that drives me insane.  (these are examples and didn’t really happen in the project) – She’s the girl who comes to your birthday party and then throws up on everything because she had the flu and she thinks she’s a super great friend who did this great thing for you, except you’re like bitch, why didn’t you just stay home, I can live without you at my birthday and now not only have you made yourself the fucking princess-centre-of-attention but you’ve barfed on everything and ruined my party.  She’s the girl who cleans up at the party before it’s over, thinking to herself oh look at me, such a good little homemaker when what she’s really doing is being rude to all the guests and hey! bitch I was still drinking out of that cup and did you throw out the piece of cake I was saving!?!?

 

I could go on and on but I think you all get the picture.  Everything about the 40 days of dating is unloveable, including the participants.  She’s the sweetie-try-hard who’s not actually sweet and he’s the nice-interesting-playboy who’s neither interesting nor nice (nor really a playboy).

The whole thing is just so fucking insincere and out of touch and I can’t fucking stand it.

 

They’re the Spencer Pratts of fake vulnerability, the Tap Out shirts of dating, the Ed Hardy of sexual honesty.

 

And one final note, if you spend 5 sentences describing the meal you ate, and a 3 word phrase to say we had sexeither the sex is fake or the project’s integrity is.

 

In their defense:  The typography was kind of cool.  Also, I’m aware I’m only seeing two sides of the story (and yes, a story can have more than two sides, particularly because they are confined to filling out a daily questionaire rather than possibly going off with their own writing to explain things more clearly).  Also, the one thing that is actually neat about the whole project is something I’ve always kind of wished for…having more than one side.  While I always try to write honestly and accurately about my affairs, we can never truly know what the men were thinking then or now because they aren’t able to write about it (well technically I would publish it if they wanted to be that’s not really an easy thing to make happen).  So, on that front, I commend them.

 

Celebrity Culture and Why the Paparazzi Isn’t the Problem

I recently read an article about yet another act of aggressive (if not disgusting) behavior by a paparazzi (paparazzo?).  The incident involved insulting a seven year old (Suri Cruise), and while I think the behavior was despicable, I believe it pales in comparison to the behavior of the consumer who purchases gossip/celebrity/tabloid/etc. magazines.

You cannot stand on higher moral ground than the person taunting a child to get a photo if you then consume that photo.  Placing the blame on the paparazzi is a bit like believing that the shift supervisor in a sweat shop is the person to blame when in fact, it is us, buying the shoes who are really to blame (or at the very least the company who chooses said factory…though we’re still worse).  Our society functions on supply and demand, and if there were no demand for celebrity photos, there would be no sleazy behavior to get them.

To be clear, I am in no way condoning the behavior of the cameraman.  Insulting a child is pretty disgusting.  But what is more disgusting is the perpetuation of the involuntary invasion of personal privacy.  And while the argument could be made that celebrities themselves sign up for this–Hollywood and business and all that–I would make the argument of so what?!  I mean, is that really the most reasonable argument?  Are we really telling people that if they book a job that requires anytime in the public eye that they are forgoing all sense of privacy and are essentially public property for the rest of their natural lives?  That’s insane.

While I think the paparazzi was clearly in the wrong here I think it’s worth noting who the real culprit(s) are: the people who buy tabloid magazines (including the high-brow, if there is even such a thing, ones like Us Magazine, In Touch Weekly, Star, and People, not to mention all the websites and TV Shows like TMZ, Entertainment Tonight, Access Hollywood, etc.).

I recently wrote an article about bullying and how (and I’m generalizing here), society as a whole looks at the bully, to place blame, and upon the bully’s immediate influences. When, in actuality, the blame lies with society. For example, girls are so often bullied over sexual choices (with whom, at what age, with what ease, with how many, etc.). But, if we as a society didn’t judge the sexuality of women (in attempts to suppress their pleasure and happiness under the guise of morality and virtue), bullies would have no ammo. (here is the article for a better explanation)

To bring my point back to this article–if people stopped buying the magazines that invade the privacy of celebrities–paparazzi wouldn’t have a job that entails invading the privacy of celebrities. While this particular paparazzo acted horribly, in many ways, he was just doing his job by whatever means necessary. For all we know, he’s the single breadwinner in a house of 5 children just trying to make ends meet, and while this in no way justifies his behavior, you have to wonder who is more in the wrong, this person doing his job or the consumer wasting their money in order to know/see the private lives of celebrities?  Who is perpetuating this cycle of personal invasion?  Who is the demand that this paparazzo is supplying?

And don’t get me wrong, I’ve read articles about celebrities on the internet and I’ve read a People or two in the nail salon, and I’ve even gone as far as to read the old copies of Us Weekly that a friend subscribes to.  I’m simply saying, that the first step in the right direction is to accurately portray the real scenario and to assign blame where it logically goes, on us.  After all, you can’t fix a problem until you can figure out what it is.