The Mixed Signals of Male Responsibility

If I'm wrong, correct me, but wasn't it not that long ago that men were talking about how much they wanted an independent woman? Didn't Ne-Yo even make a song about it, "Miss Independent"? I swear it wasn't even 10 years ago when men pushed women into the world of going dutch on meals and half on rent. Men were literally saying that having any responsibility towards women was making their booties itch, and the word "provider" became up for interpretation. Boy have the tides changed!  Now, a growing community of men want a housewife who gives them full control over their lives. They now not only want to be your man, but your dad as well! This realization hit me like a bag of bricks during a conversation with Coffee. He discussed very eloquently how a woman's real value is in being a wife, and he would exercise full veto power over anything she may want to do. I mean, parts of the conversation were out-and-out jaw dropping and no, he wasn't kidding. He even said that he'd refuse to marry a woman who ever told him he couldn't tell her what to do. According to him, a woman with that attitude would rather be single. He even seems to hold great disdain for Miss Independent qualities like wanting to travel or have a say. I mean, what's going on??

The word on the curb is that the Boss Babe era is over and now the younger generation of women would rather be trad wives than CEOs. This may be true for some, but I suspect these things come in cycles. 10-20 years from now, those women will be complaining about feeling suffocated in the home, financially deprived, and wanting to get out and work. I guess it's a testimony to how well women fought for rights that today's younger girls don't even remember forced home life to the point that they want to return to it. Whoever said history repeats itself wasn't joking, but can we return to a time of gaucho pants and not to one of female suppression? 

P made a good point the other day: I'm old. He said hopefully, as the old women die off, the world can get back to a point of female obedience. I resent this idea that women have to be Stepford Wives for men to feel powerful, but that's where we are.  As the women's right to abortion has been revoked and our right to vote is now up for discussion, it saddens me to see women eagerly walk off the side of the cliff and siding with this extra toxic form of patriarchy. I guess I should be excited about this as a feminist. If feminism is about making your own choices than these young trad wives are making the choice to be incredibly dependent on a man independently. 

A Wrinkle in Face

Today, a nurse told me that I have a baby face. This is something that I have been told my whole life. I guess that is why I was so dramatically devastated when I found my first wrinkle in the corner of my mouth. 

"That is not a wrinkle, that is a crease," my aunt said, observing my face closely. Isn't that what a wrinkle is? A disgusting, unwelcome crease?

I have discussed before how full of myself I was in my 20s. I thumbed my nose at any type of plastic surgery. I felt sorry for women who would permanently change their faces. I even got holy with it, saying that it was a sin because we are all made in God's image. Getting so much as a nose job was like telling God that you thought He was ugly, or at the very least, could have done a better job. My tune has changed over the past few years. If my looks begin to fall off, I want every plastic surgeon in Georgia with even an ounce of talent to tap dance on my face! 

Years ago, I saw an interview with the late, great Joan Rivers. And she said that the only thing that mattered was looking good. I won't say that it is the only thing that matters, but it is important, and admitting this is a testimony of the world's vanity as well as our own. I am very realistic with myself. Some may even say that I am harsh with myself. I know that I am very overweight. I know that some changes have to be made there. But I have always thought I was pretty, even when others made it clear that they did not. I even find that my prayers are changing. I pray that God protect the world and bring peace, and also bring peace and protection to my face. Amen. 

Like many middle-aged women before me, I have begun to research facial products and what would work best for me. I am finding myself on the side of any snake oil that says anti-aging right in the title. There's no time to play, gotta get to work. I committed to letting this first wrinkle be the last. 

NO!

I am proud to report to you that my 2-year-old niece is a tough cookie. When she doesn't want to do something, she stomps her little foot, crosses her arms, and shouts no at the top of her lungs before running off. This is obviously a behavior that needs to be corrected, yet when she does it, I feel a sense of jealousy. Her response is the response that I want to have to just about everything in my life. 

You see, I find myself in a consistent state of shock over how overwhelming adulting is. Being grown is nothing like how I imagined it as a child. Every day was supposed to be like some version of a Living Single episode. Only, my version was going to include more money and sex and travel. Surprise, this Khadijah is not living that life at all.  But I am single. I guess that is a small win. 

I think of this when I see my niece acting out, and I often wonder what it would be like to respond to the world as she responds to me when I say she can't have another cookie. 

The World: Holly, apply for more jobs that will not call you for an interview. 

Me: No! 

The World: Holly, do something with your hair before you end up with an enormous dreadlock. 

Me: No! 

The World: Holly, please complete all tasks in a reasonable manner so that you don't have to rush. 

Me: NOOOOOOO! 

Instead of stomping out of the room, I tend to roll over and take a good nap, then wake up and stream a movie. There is no solution other than doing what I need to do, you know, adulting, so sometimes, I rather just clock out and dream about my once dreamt about sitcom life. But you can't stay asleep forever. Believe me, I've tried. So at some point (you'd think it would have been before middle age), I am going to have to get up and pull up my big girl undies and do something about my life. But don't ask me to be excited about it because the answer is no! 

Revelations and Realizations

The older I get, the more I get to know myself. I guess that should go without saying, but this may not be the case for everyone. And I find that the things that I am realizing about myself are things that I should have realized years ago. For example, I used to think that I got seasonal depression during the holidays, but I now realize that I get a version of it before every season change, and it manifests as deep mourning. I have been thinking about my late grandma a lot, and experiencing sadness over lost friendships. Risky Business called me this morning and told me that she realized today, at 40 years old, that every man she has been in relationship with, both serious and otherwise, has come out of her friendship circle. You would think that she would have noticed this two decades ago, but I guess it is never too late for a lightbulb moment. I think that as long as we are having these lightbulb moments, we still have an opportunity to change and make ourselves better. In my case, I can continue to work on ways to deal with loss until it doesn't feel as heavy. Maybe Risky can go out on a limb and find a date that isn't a bestie. In my mind's eye, we will continue to prune ourselves until we are finally complete...or close to it. I can't wait to see what that will look like. 

A Change In The Side Tide

Coffee has lost his favorite woman in his rotation. She got a new gig and she's headed up north. He said he's okay with it, that nothing ever stays the same. But I found myself thinking, Man. I wish there was a condolence card for this. 

I love sending and receiving cards, which is pretty much a dying art. Outside of Christmas cards, no one really takes the time to buy cards and make them personal anymore. But what if the cards addressed more modern issues like getting laid off, having to sign up for the draft, or losing your favorite rotation woman? I think a revamp of cards in this way could be encouraging! 

Your favorite side got a new gig

She moved up north and hit it big 

And although she's no longer yours in this way

I'm sure you will find a replacement any day. 

Befriending Coffee has shown me the blood, sweat, and tears that goes into keeping a steady, healthy rotation. It's not some easy, breezy process. A lot of time and skill is involved, so a loss in the stable should be addressed with kind words and top notch stationary stock. Shouldn't we support our friends in all phases of life? Just an idea. 

The Purity Culture Gag

I have unintentionally dipped my toe into Christian purity culture twice. The first time, I was in high school and a co-president of a club that was big on waiting to have sex until after marriage, even though kids were totally hooking up at our regional conferences. I was too young to know better. The second time, I was good into my 30s and totally old enough to know better. Yet again, I was seduced by the idea of monogamy and the promise of a place in heaven. Luckily, both times I have been snapped out of my goofiness by the facts of the world. I am all for dating with intention, but the primary intention should be learning how to deal with the opposite sex's BS so you don't want to pack up your bag and go home every time the crazy presents itself. I mean, my God, I'm a 41-year-old woman who does not know how to healthily deal with the stress and anxiety of not having my text returned immediately. 

Purity culture is all about keeping your cookies in the jar, but what I am hearing out in the world is less about cookies and more about not having the mental juice to even deal with dating at all. Every person who is single and ready to mingle, from 18 all the way up into the golden years, is being bombarded with ideas and information on the opposite sex, most of which are ridiculous. The podcast bros think women are whores who shouldn't vote and ladies think that men are useless liars. What is the intention supposed to be under these circumstances? Finding someone to couple with that doesn't make you physically ill? I think everyone is leaning into sex because it's all they can agree with. Somehow, Christian values have confused the situation instead of make it better. I guess that's because the idea of what a Christian is has changed socially, which is a conversation for another post. 

Ah, if I would have had the confidence and the knowledge to date full force when I was young. It could have been a beautiful thing. With my head held high dressed in the armor of God, I could have kicked losers out of my way with authority and could probably be coupled now. But there is no need to focus on the past. At least I'm going to heaven (I think). 

Curly and the Pee

Something is afoot in the dating world. I am not into the Zodiac or anything like that, but are the planets realigning? Is the sun shifting? Something is wrong in the divine order of things. I don't know what to call it technically or medically, but it seems like many single men have lost their minds, and because I can not make any sense of it here on Earth, I guess it is time for me to take my questions on the matter into the spiritual realm. Recently, a man flashed me his junk "on mistake" during a video call. Risky Business was stood up for four dates in one weekend. And now, Curly has even been taken for a pretty gross ride, meaning that the crazy is even going on in the gay community. I mean, are we all screwed?

Over the weekend, Curly went on a dinner date with his guy friend, Todd, which went pretty well. Then afterwards, they decided to hit up a couple of bars. All was well until they hit up the last bar, a gay bar that seemed pretty niche from the word go. 

"I walked into the bar and literally every guy there looked like different versions of George from Seinfeld," he said. This made me laugh. I mean, how many Georges could there be in one place? According to Curly, it was a whole house full. He went to the bar and ordered a drink, then asked Todd to hold said drink while he went to the bathroom. Todd gremised. Apparently, this was a bad idea.

"The guys here are really into piss play," he informed Curly. "They pretty much pee on each other in the bathroom."

Who takes their date to some type of pee palace piss kink nightmare club on a date?! Curly didn't have time to think about it. He really had to pee. He went to the bathroom, and what he saw was horrifying. First off, the floor was pretty much saturated in urine. And there were no uninals, just some type of group pee troft and a stall with no door. Listening to him describe it, it sounded like a bathroom in some type of overseas men's prison. There was only one man in there at the moment, and he was visibly disappointed when Curly left the bathroom after he relieved himself and didn't stick around for a pee party. On the ride home, Todd seemed a bit confused by Curly's attitude. I mean, what's the big deal about taking someone you like romantically to some type of open diaper den? 

The moral of this story? These guys either openly don't give a sh$t or they are setting you up to get peed on. Now, if that doesn't sound like an awesome, swingin' dating scene, I don't know what does!