my take on Weiner-gate

Oh Weiner, where do I start? Well perhaps with, you’re not alone.

This behaviour is actually quite common, and I have the portfolio of what my girlfriends & I like to affectionately call eDick to prove it. What usually starts out with a few flirty texts, all sbqq7q8ttoo often can take a sharp turn into an unsolicited episode of show & tell. Perhaps it’s the exhibitionist in them, perhaps it’s a showmanship of power, whatever it is there are lots of men out there – attached & unattached – that want you to see what they’re packing. From an evolutionary perspective, and since the inception of time men have long displayed their phallus’ in a multitude of forms, and many of which we today consider a form of art to be showcased in museums and the like. An ancient symbol of virility, fertility, and Patriarchal Power it continues to live on in iPhoto format and distributed the world over by way of IM, email, and in Weiner’s unfortunate case twitter, daily.

In his online article titled Mind of Man: Why Men Send Pictures of Their Penises, John DeVore explores the impetus behind such action with a keen insight into the female experience:

“…sending a woman a steamy picture of your genitals is like buying your girlfriend a video game system she never asked for or even really likes for Christmas. It’s a gift for her for you. Men should just be more honest with themselves. We send those pics because they turn us on, because deep down, men want to be objectified… crave sexual approval.”

I’d like to go on record and say I can’t remember ever initiating this type of exchange. As a woman who knows what it’s like to be the recipient of such material, I can tell you that once you get over the initial shock of what you’re seeing, there’s a brief moment where one thinks, ‘wow, ok, he’s turned on at the idea of me seeing this, like right now’, as if to say it’s a skewed form of intimacy, or desire. However that quickly evaporates, and the whole episode is subsequently reduced to fodder for girls’ night.

Case in point, the Music Producer {MP for short}. Just as I had described the Mixologist in dating & social media, MP too came across as a creative force. Having spent the past decade working with the likes of 50 Cent producing music, he was interesting, and artsy, and vastly different from my typical archetype. We met on Match.com back in May, the month of my birth. How serendipitous I thought, the universe giving me a gift in the form of this person. Wrapped up with affairs of family and his sisters’ pending nuptials, we weren’t able to meet for a few weeks but IMs quickly turned into texts, which turned into long conversations on the phone and on FaceTime. We spoke everyday and when the conversation about birthdays came up, learning that mine was only a week away he set out to make a “big, long, hard” impression.

The day arrived along with 2-dozen tulips and a box of chocolates delivered to my place of employment, and a card signifying they were from him. This man who I had never met before in person thought that I was worth the expense, swoon. As I floated through the rest of my day, we spoke intermittently, he explained, ‘I didn’t want to live to regret missing your birthday, and I have a good feeling about us.’ Although it was quite obvious that money was no issue for this individual, I was thoroughly charmed. Now you’re probably thinking what a chump, why would this dude go to such measures for a chick he’d never even met. In his defence, our banter was witty, organic, flowed naturally, we both said each others buzz words, and true to form I was equally optimistic about our union.

Fast forward 5-hours and without any warning I was the unwilling recipient of a barrage of his latest compilation of eDick. I got every angle. Impressive would be the word I’d use to describe the image that had now engrossed my phone, followed by fear, then Defeat. Back to the drawing board. Just like the cliché of the girl who sleeps with the guy too soon, well this was too soon. Nothing in life is free, not even flowers on your birthday. I paid the toll and quickly got off the train.

There’s a place for eDick, and that’s in a committed relationship where true intimacy precipitates such forms of communication, no girl wants to feel reduced to a virtual hole. Alas, unfortunately you know that Anthony Weiner wasn’t sending those photos to Huma, and she in turn based on their most recent news conference is very much ok with that. You know why? Because just as men like Weiner generally want women that aren’t their partners to see what they’re packing, she was equally disinterested in receiving what DeVore humorously calls photos of el generalissimo anyways.

Pssst: Unless otherwise solicited, and in spite of what you’d otherwise like to believe that goes for most women. Just a little (or perhaps in some mens’ case a lot of) something to marinate on the next time you feel compelled to send a photo of your junk out into the ether. Otherwise Keep Calm, and eDick On.

Signing off with love,

xo Kristy

definition of a soul mate

“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.

 

A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.

 

A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master…”

― Elizabeth GilbertEat, Pray, Love

anatomy of a great date

You really should read today’s entry with Estelle’s American Boy and that buttery, melodic voice of hers playing in the background because in my version of events it was the anthem for the evening. By far the best date in my recent history, and I’ve got the air miles to prove it. Yup, you guessed it I’m referring to my Arizona Buddha. So what made it so great that I’d fly 4+hours and 2,243.15 miles for a second date? Let’s break it down.

If you’ve read my initial entry this blog begins with Buddha then you know how it all ends, but what you don’t know is how it all began and what would compel me to explore a future with this person 2-countries and 2-time zones away. In a subsequent entry the world of online dating I discussed how we came to meet, by chance on Match.com. While in the greater-Phoenix area, Old Scottsdale to be precise I had signed into my account on the Friday night and before my Sunday morning departure to respond to a few IMs, along with the intention to coordinate a date for the following week. I felt like I needed something to look forward too, something to negate the post-vacation blues that invariably follow such adventures from reality. Unaware at 1st that the app localized my coordinates, scrolling through the prospects that appeared on my home screen I happened upon his profile. He was handsome, summary incredibly well written and sincere. I immediately started scanning his stats:

Seeking women 28-36 Checkmark

Body type: Athletic & toned

Wants kids: Definitely

Height: 5:11″

Smoke: No Way

Interests, Sports & Exercise, Exercise Habits, Pets, Political View: all in common.

Education: Graduate Degree (explains his communication skills)

In the section titled In His Own Words he briefly referenced his work with Autistic children, and the books he was reading as a result, and my heart ached, ‘this guy’s different’. My head said, ‘it’s never going to happen, he’s here, you’re there.’ I couldn’t help myself, I lingered a little longer. It didn’t take long before he noticed my presence on his profile and inquired after me.

I told him I was only in town till Sunday and he replied, ‘well what are you in the mood for tomorrow night?’. Initiative, I like it. There’s nothing sexier than a confident man that takes control, besides if he wasn’t about to let this opportunity slide, neither was I. Obviously in healthy relationships it’s an ebb and flow, but it’s always refreshing when the man takes initiative at first. To be completely honest, I wasn’t under any delusion at this point that anything was going to come of it, but I was excited to get dressed up & mingle with a handsome local, see where the night would take us.

The next day he called and we spoke for about an hour. Covering a lot of ground, he wanted me to know about him and the more I learned the less I wanted to know. He was becoming more & more attractive, and my ability to mentally keep him at arms length dissipating. He warned me that he was a jeans & flip flops kinda guy, I warned him that I was a maxi dress & wedges kinda girl, and if he didn’t judge me than I wouldn’t judge him. Staying at the Sanctuary Camelback Mountain Resort I proposed that we meet in the restaurant bar later that evening. It seemed like the perfect setting – live music, ambient lighting, sophisticated crowd; besides if the meeting went tragic then all that I had to do was walk past the pool and down the lane way back to my room.

Upon entering the bar, he was already there. Immediately recognizing one another, we embraced as if we’d known each other all along, like old friends. He looked just like his photos, a walking talking reincarnation of the images I had meditated on for much of the day. Looks that could’ve cast him in an episode of Friday Night Lights, the appearance of a jock but with the mind of an academic. Immediately upon taking a seat he pulled out his credit card and said to the bartender, ‘anything she wants.’ For a moment I was overcome by nerves, I could feel the heat rising inside – that feeling you get when you hope someone finds you as attractive as you find them. Without a beat as if he could read my mind he told me I was beautiful and I settled in. After making my drink selection, conversation flowed out of him so naturally I quickly found myself at ease, remembering that it was only one night: I’ll never see him again, so be present, mindful, enjoy this fleeting moment in time, with this man, with this very charming and beautiful man.

He spoke about his work with the disabled, or ‘special’ children as he liked to call them saying, ‘unlike a bully that wakes up one morning and decides to make others reality misery, they didn’t choose this ticket’. Determined to find a way to reach them, to enhance their life experience, to modify problematic behaviour as seen by our society, he was a man driven by passion and not the proverbial pot of gold. He asked me about myself, told me I was pretty again. I felt pretty, I don’t remember ever feeling prettier. He looked at me, really looked at me, saw the woman sitting in front of him or at least this is how I was made to feel. We took our conversation from the bar to a communal sectional. Sociable, he engaged those sitting around us, and seeing him interact only reinforced what I was already thinking, ‘wow, this is the kind of guy I see myself with.’

2ee4edcbc9f3750fecea0eafb6a3e165It wasn’t long before the world seemed to slip away and it felt like it was just the two of us left, him comfortably slouched down with me hovering above, I leaned in to kiss him and he kissed back. It was electric. Flooded with epinephrine, I felt like I was floating. He expressed that it was mutual.

What felt like a hot New York city minute turned into hours and neither of us wanted our time together to end. He asked me where I wanted to go next, proposed a few places with a secondary option to stop at the CVS for a bottle of wine and head over to his new pad, he’d just move into earlier that day. I opted for the second choice. I wanted to know more about him, see how he lived. Besides we’d been on display long enough.

There’s something about the dichotomy of being all glam’d up in a public forum, and hitting the CVS for a bottle of wine, to be consumed in comfy clothes and in the comfort of one’s homestead. I discovered that we could do both. He could move effortlessly between both worlds, we could do it together. Ache. Almost immediately he gave me a pair of shorts & a tee, put on The Goonies, and we talked, and drank, and kissed some more. Wine aside, it was intoxicating. I didn’t leave until the next morning. Reluctantly.

I had a flight to catch so I went into the washroom to pull myself together, to try and channel some of that person which I’d presented to him the night before. 5__2_-7336Mascara smudged, hair knotted, I was a hot mess. Hearing echoes of Dragonette’s I Get Around, I slipped back into my maxi and my jewels, and upon exiting the washroom he promptly asked why I didn’t just wear his shorts & tee, and that it was nothing for him to replace them. Ache.

I opted to remain in my maxi, besides my Valentino wedges + his board shorts were a tragic combination. Approaching the car he hastened his step so as to open the car door for me, and upon dropping me off at the resort vowed to keep in touch. Alas, chivalry is not dead.

I never expected to hear from him, and that was ok. Magical, beautiful, a spec of sand in the hour glass of our lives. Within an hour he had texted me, within two we were Skype friends. The rest is herstory, and immortalized in previous posts. Despite how everything turned out, it hasn’t soured my memory of that night. In that moment I was perfect in my imperfections as was he, and we were perfectly imperfect together. Time can’t take that experience away.

There’s something about being on vacation, an understanding that the moment is fleeting so don’t waste it, which is perhaps why vacation romances are always the sweetest. Trying to make a vacation romance into something more, well that’s just a fool’s errand. That’s not to say there isn’t something to be learned from this, and that is to approach every person, every possibility that this life trusts our way with the same gusto. We get one chance in this life, let’s not flounder it.

With love & hope of a beautiful day ahead,

xo Kristy

me & the Mailman

mailboxdowntown2_en_0This story doesn’t start the way you think, so get your mind out of the gutter. I met the Mailman at an outdoor dance party last Labour Day long weekend, and just prior to my foray into the world of online dating. True to form it all started like the most epic of Love stories: leaning against a pillar, the crowd parted, I looked up as he walked towards me, our eyes locked, all sounds & revelry droning down to a whisper. The attraction was instantaneous, magnetic. Although I hate to reduce him to a cliché, this guy was definitely the stuff Mailman fantasies are made of.

From that moment onwards we were inseparable for about 3-months. That night at the party I had immediately recognized him from another life, it felt like forever but was in fact only 2-years prior that we hovered around the same circle, but never having cause to interact as at the time we were both dating other people. Nevertheless I couldn’t help but notice him as my then year-long relationship was beginning to break down, and he looked like an always smiling, walking talking Ken-doll. I imagined life with him would be fun, filled with life, laughter and the like, perhaps because he was always smiling. Granted we’d only ever see each other in social settings but I wasn’t doing a whole lot of that myself at the time – smiling. So without knowing anything about him, I’d find myself wondering what it would be like to be his girlfriend, to be the girl that that guy idolized. Fast forward and now the universe had provided me with the opportunity to find out.

I’d like to be able to say that the timing was right, but it wasn’t. Completely immersed in what was supposed to prove a career defining venture I had little time to devote to this budding romance. At first he was supportive, he said he understood. I had invested so much time, and energy into this project, and I was on the precipice of greatness. We’d manage to find time to be together, but even when we were I wasn’t always present. Or when I was, I’d crave the connection that comes from being with someone that bears witness to your day, but with a deeper understanding.

My parents are both very different people, with vastly different interests. In spite of their different disciplines – she working in the field of medicine and he in sales & technology – they could always find a way to come together, to connect in matters of career. Some of my favourite moments were walking into the kitchen and into a conversation between them about work, he’d be doling out advice as to how to approach a problematic situation with management, or she’d be offering insight into a contract he was considering, perhaps even something that would take him away from his family for a while. So much support, the greater good for the individual was synonymous with what was best for the family. There was never a moment, a word, or feeling uttered that clipped either person’s potential. I was bearing witness to a form intimacy, a love that resonates with me to this day, and one that I crave in my own personal relationships. Despite his best efforts to understand my work, what I was going through, what I had invested, slowly it became clear that he didn’t, he couldn’t. My life was so different then his.

His life was static, his days, weeks, quite predictable. Mine was the complete opposite. My spirit would die in such a reality, and as expected my reality started to wear away at our relationship. He questioned my priorities, and rightfully so. Working long hours, and in close quarters with a team you become like a family, and my then work situation was no different. As launch neared, long hours at the office turned into even longer hours at the bar with the team. We were swimming in this rip tide fish bowl together, that no one in the outside world could even begin to understand. The pressure was palpable. I’d miss milestones and family gatherings to be with my team and as he began to question what I wanted, so too did I start to wonder.

Then one day we met his family for lunch and upon parting his parents asked what we were up too for the rest of the afternoon to which I replied in my most excitable voice, “Whole Foods! Then home to prepare dinner.” Side bar: Anyone that knows me, knows I get a rush walking into Whole Foods, it’s my happy place. Insatiable appetite aside, I am thoroughly turned on by the way the fruits and vegetables are merchandised. I like to linger in the Produce section imagining what each prospect tastes like, the texture, what I would pair it with. It’s my porn… But back to the restaurant. Blue collar background, and old world migrants they immediately took me to task for shopping there, “why don’t you just go to T & T, it’s no different and much cheaper?”. It was less of a question then a commentary, insinuating that it was a poor use of money. Listen I get that the organic sits next to the inorganic fruit on the bus, but it’s more then just merchandising. I’m inspired when walking in there to take chances in the kitchen, try new recipes, but first and foremost to be healthy. And what I really wanted to say was, “well when your son starts paying for the groceries then perhaps you can have an opinion on such matters.” However I knew that they weren’t coming from a malicious place so I just nodded instead. Upon our departure I addressed the conversation with Mailman to ascertain his position on the matter and it became quite clear that he was indoctrinated into the same belief, and which perhaps was reinforced by his choice of career and invariably income. Like his parents he couldn’t justify the cost. Safe to say that day I enjoyed my visit to Whole Foods a little less.

He was a turnkey husband, looking to settle down & start a family, and he saw me by his side, or so he said. His motives were clear. It took a little soul searching but I came to the conclusion that life with him looked a lot like life on autopilot, predictable, and devoid of trips to Whole Foods. There was no risk, he was safe and not questioning the world around him, his contribution, all made for a nice vacation but not a permanent home. There are moments that I pause and think was I right to let that one go? He was so loving, so accepting of me flaws & all, not to mention had incredible family values and a great family to boot, loyal till the end, my ride-or-die. He checked most boxes, but I had the forsight to see that I’d always yearn for a deeper connection. A tremendously good person, I still think about him from time to time, but mainly when I retrieve my mail and see the note NO FLYERS PLEASE sprawled with a magic marker across the inside my mailbox.

The gift that keeps on giving, thanks Mailman.

With love,

xo Kristy

diagnosis

best-doctorsan Aha moment:

In her chapter aptly titled ‘When to Trust the Power of Attraction’, Kasl speaks to two states of being when approaching matters of the heart: the adult state, or as in my case, the child state, “In our adult state we seek a partner or spouse as a lover, helpmate, friend, and companion on the spiritual journey. In our child state, we want someone to rescue us, make us feel important, and provide security, comfort, or a sexual high. It’s from this childlike state that we fall into Cinderella and the Prince fantasies, and have illusionary dreams of being “in love” forever.”

She further goes on to describe the biochemical responses that accompanies either condition by way of “Paul Pearsall, author of Sexual Healing, (who says) the biochemical response to constant infatuation, being “in-love,” or seeking a sexual high without an authentic personal connection leads us to produce large amounts of epinephrine, which creates chronic automatic agitation or feelings of restlessness and nervousness. This, in turn, can result in irritability, fatigue, and the breakdown of the immune system, leading to chronic anxiety and depression. This experience truly is love-sickness. When people get hooked on the epinephrine high and seek only the thrill, just about anyone will do. Pearsall writes, “Hot reactive sex followed by cool feelings of regret or loneliness can eventually teach our immune systems to be as… disconnected as we have been in our intimate decisions.” …On the other hand, when we create a mindful, loving, personal connection with another, and we are sexually attracted to that person, our bodies produce the hormone oxytocin, which contributes to feelings of intense closeness, trust, and sensual feelings. Incidentally, oxytocin is the same hormone that is secreted when a mother nurses her baby.” {excerpts from if the Buddha dated}

Damn epinephrine, I knew it wasn’t my fault. Now the question is, do they make a pill for that?