Monday, March 8, 2010

Tales of conscious single female, or why you are going to die alone.

I am going to be honest -- up until a few months ago, I had been blessed enough to never really participate in the dating scene. I got lucky. From right around puberty, up until January, I had flitted from relationship to relationship using the convenience and ease of high school and college. I never had to "meet" somebody. Now, I find myself a 20-something, out of college and thrust into that thing they like to call "real life" and I have to be single on top of it.

So I went for the pragmatic approach. No, I didn't start going out to bars, sit by myself and order rum and cokes all night waiting for a bald 20-something CPA to sweep me off my feet. I joined a dating website. That's what technology is for, right? Networking without ever having to deal with real human moments?

Meet OkCupid, also known as "The Google of online dating." (The Boston Globe) It has all your basic ingredients: a profile with "self-summaries" 5-10 photos of your face, "match" questions that determine your compatibility with your new mate (or at least new one night stand), and a few humiliating and terrifying features called "icebreakers" and "QuickMatch," which we'll get to later. That, and it's free. Should be fantastic ... right?!

Wanting to share in my amusement/shame/humiliation/glory, I enlisted my beautiful, lovely, and single friend Miss Elle (of The Demoiselles and Broke and Beautiful fame) to share this experience with me. The results? Well .. I will let them speak for themselves.

Example 1:

My Self-Summary
Work at a University, I am recently divorced from my Bisexual wife
as we think we can be better friends and parents if we don’t live
together right now.

Example 2:

Feb. 27, 2010 – 6:38pm
Example 3:

(6:25:15 pm)i*****:we'll move to virginia
(6:25:23 pm)i*****:where I'll knock you up
(6:25:29 pm)i*****:and youll force me to marry you
(6:25:34 pm)i*****:and I will, but reluctantly
(6:28:01 pm)i*****:then you'll miscarry the first kid, who we'll name Tom and raise as our own
(6:28:09 pm)i*****:then youll cheat on me with Tom
(6:29:30 pm)i*****:our first born
(6:29:32 pm)i*****:you sicko

Within the first few weeks of being on this site, I came to exactly three conclusions.

1. I am going to die alone.
2. America might just love trolling itself a little too much.
3. I really need to start a blog about this.

Yes, that's right. am willing to compromise my own dignity for your safety and entertainment. I bring you, OkCupid, Kill me. A cognizant look at the dating scene and all the lols and humiliation it entails. Please follow myself and the lovely Miss Elle in our adventures, so that way, you won't have to subject yourself to this. Or you will, but that will just make it at least a little less painful.

Three cheers for being single!

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Re-discovering my personal style and releasing my inner Catwoman.

Break-ups are tough. There is nothing remotely new or innovating about that statement, can we agree on that? But rather than a bad haircut (although I am currently sporting one of those), I've decided upon a different sort of change to cope. I am revamping my wardrobe.

For years I have been the cute, ethereal girl. Covered in lace, florals and big hoop skirts and vintage dresses galore. But after recent events, it didn't fit me anymore. See, I had been holding out on my inner badass. I knew she had been there the whole time (she likes to sneak out in arguments and witty comebacks to drivers that like to give cat-calls), but I thought she deserved more.

My last relationship taught me that I couldn't really spend a single minute more letting myself sacrifice my own happiness for someone else's, and no longer could I allow myself to ignore what I needed and wanted. This was going to be my, "not taking shit from anyone" year, my selfish year. This year, I was going to figure out what it is that I want, and I was going to go for it. 

With my newly discovered mantra, I could think of only one article of clothing to commemorate this step in a new direction: leather leggings.

Observe. They are perfect. I feel like Catwoman, and I can already feel a thousand new outfits for my new look formulating in my mind. I'm thinking, my punk phase: revisted, but refined. With oxfords, lace bodysuits, leather, and plenty of sequins. You may still see a sundress poking out every once in a while, but this style is going to be my focus.

New year, new school, new job, new beau, new wardrobe.

Here are some styles I am ogling:

(Karen O)

(BlackMilk Clothing)

(Gucci 2010)

(Source Unknown)

Here's to you finding your 2010 look. I will keep you posted on my transformation into a total badass.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

"You're not like most girls."

The altogether best and worst words to ever come out of a love interest's mouth. Have you heard it before? It's second to none with "You think like a man."

Part of me wants to be flattered. Because that part of me logically realizes that society views women as catty, superficial, unintelligent, and all around THE BIG SUCK. So, telling me I'm not like that ... well, thanks.

But the other part of me, the bigger part of me that cannot be suckered in by some lame bit of flattery is really, really angry.

What do you mean by that? What are most girls even like? And how the hell do men think, anyway? If I was an average American woman, I would pick up the latest issue of Cosmo for their brilliant advice on how to handle this situation, but I'm not, and I can only handle so much blatant garbage shoved down my throat, so I think I may be at a loss.

You see, it's comments like this. Generalizations, that are perpetuating the problem. That are making it seem like society's viewpoints are really okay. 'I guess that it's not so terrible that I don't respect women and think they're all dumb, lying, whores, because hey, everyone else agrees with me for the most part. Except that weird lesbian chick in accounting.'

There are times when I want to just scream my bloody head off, because I hear things like this constantly, and I am the only person in the room who will dare to disagree. And shit, I know I couldn't possibly be the only feminist on the planet, but I think far too often it feels that way.

It sometimes feels like this is just a losing battle. I mean, can me, and a few other strong women and men out there really change an entire culture's way of thinking? I mean, my god. It's everywhere. I will walk into work, and have a perfectly normal conversation with who I tend to think is a fairly intelligent co-worker that will turn around and tell me that they "love gay men because they're so sassy." Moments where I can educate those people sometimes just pass me by, because I feel like I can communicate as many facts and logical points that I could ever possess, and the message will be lost after a total of ten minutes. And even on the off chance that I get through to them, there are still millions and millions of people I will never reach.

And how can I even reach them, when they will write me off as just a girl with too much testosterone (which would explain why I'm so laid-back and not painting my nails as we speak) that just wants to elevate women above men, because I'm a man-hating, hairy, angry dyke?

How do we truly band together? And can we ever hope to eliminate the generalizations surrounding our cause?

Monday, January 4, 2010

Resolutions, introductions, the whole she-bang.

It's a new year and I am ringing in with a new blog. It seemed only appropriate that I would introduce myself with ways in which I plan on bettering myself.

I have never been one for resolutions. I have been one for breaking promises. Mostly the ones I make to myself. But after the most tumultous year of my life, it is time for a change. I am nineteen and I am in what I like to call my "transitional" period. I dropped out of college. I moved back home. I tasted freedom and then reality hit me much harder than I was planning on having it do so. I entered the "job" field, granted, not where my passions lie, but I landed somewhere. I do not believe I was fully prepared for this year, but it taught me everything that I did not want to do anymore.

1. Do not wallow.
I spent an entire year, wallowing. I bitched about my job, I bitched about my boyfriend, I bitched about being broke, I bitched about Tom Waits not banging me. (I'm kidding about the last one, a little.) Partially, I can say that it's not my fault. I spent almost 11 years of my life battling depression, but that's an excuse. I will not give excuses anymore. That's part of it. Yes, life will continue to kick your ass, Brianna, but you just have to kick it back. Nothing will change if you drink a bottle of wine alone in your room and listen to Nico with the lights off. Either suck it up and shut up, or change your situation. 

2. Be. More. Proactive.
Yes, there is an I Love the 90's marathon on tonight, and no, you didn't pay your bills, or mail that package, or wash your hair, or start that goddamn blog you have been talking about for months. Yes, you've always been the type to exist in your own head, but dammit, woman, enough is enough. Stop imagining the fanciful life you have always wanted and make the steps to get there. Make a 30-day, 100-day however many day action plan and DO IT. Don't spend your life in your parents attic with no heat, watching VH1. Go out into that world and DO SOMETHING. You have all the resources you need. They are also known as you. You are capable. Please prove it.

3. Tell everyone and everything that inhibits you to fuck. off.
You lived your life so far for other people, for responsibilities that weren't important to you, for choices that you didn't feel like you really made. It's time to stop. It's time to take charge. It's time to admit that there are some things in your life that really hold you back, and as much as you may love and cherish those things, you need to sit down and analyze how much they are destroying you. So, fuck off.

I hope that I am on the right track. I anticipate that this will be another difficult step towards the goals that I really wish to accomplish:
1. Become a fashion buyer.
2. Move to Philly.
3. Get published.
4. Bang someone really gorgeous.
5. Buy those Marc Jacobs boots I'm craving.
Some goals a little deeper than others. And most of them are far-fetched and not quite fully formed in my life. I don't think that's the important part, though. I have much more time to learn what those goals may be and what they actually mean to me. I think this year will be the best one yet, if I can finally discover what it is I love, actually fucking do it, and stick to it.

Here's hoping.