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dragonlady7had a lovely night last night. darius came home from work (?) around like 6:30 or 7 or so. I had been lying in bed, sleeping-- passed out at 3:15 or so, dead to the world, narrowly missing an IM hi from NeoPanda (so cruel, so so cruel-- I even heard the message arrive, squinted at the screen, couldn't see, and passed out before I could tell who it was-- curse my lack of eyes that work without lenses). I woke up, groggily said hi to the newly-arrived liesl and dave, and was playing on my computer (all i ever do) when darius arrived home. he asked if i wanted to go out for chinese, and i said sure, so he suggested china buffet. I agreed to this, and decided to primp. I did so, while he checked his email (and believe me, it takes a computer guy longer to check his email than it takes a geek girl to primp). (For anyone who wants details, I wore my brown mascara, and the lipstick that matches my natural color so well it's like i'm not even wearing any-- don't know why i bother, but it makes me feel better-- and a little bit of the sample I have of Clinique Happy, yay, and I wore my brown sorostitute pants, and my black and grey long-sleeved shirt, and my purple velvet choker, and my chunky shiny black shoes with heels that make me a little bit taller (I wish I were 5'8". That would be nice. I don't know why, it just would-- I thought I was that tall once, and it says I'm that tall on my drivers' license, but the doctor's office insists I'm not. Bastards. They also always insist I'm ten pounds heavier than my bathroom scale tells me. Such complete bastards.) I'm doing that thing again where I get lost in my parentheses. But my insistence on closing every set I open, ocd former copy-editor that i am, has set me up well for my forays into computer programming. Anyhow, back to topic, it's not like I was dressed up like a knockout, but I was feeling pleasantly well-groomed, and set to (get ready for this one) Leave The House.)
So we went to China Buffet, which was YUMMY-- they've added a nice little sushi bar, and the sushi chef was very obliging. "I make for you!" he said, when darius asked if there was any tuna. And he insisted on giving Darius more every time we came back, and one to me as well. And then he handed me another thingy (i'm doing a little japanese-student faux pas and forgetting what thingies are called) that i'm sure was unagi, and said "you like this one, is good", and yes, I did. (I hadn't had my wallet on me, but darius put money in the guy's tip jar.)
So after that, we decided to go to the movies, and so after a quick stop at Wegman's (where I bought myself an ankle brace to replace the one Dave borrowed from me and then threw out because he'd destroyed it, and then promised to replace but never did-- i sprained my ankle last wednesday, and have been limping around ever since, and finally decided i needed a damn ankle brace. Feel better already) to get candy, we went to see Blade II. Oh what a funny movie! We were entertained. We laughed our asses off. (Best line: "Now you've got an explosive device stuck to the back of your head.") And of course there was the obligatory Eastern European sultry dark pouty-lipped chick who couldn't act but was hot and dressed in tight leather, so nobody cared. "I came to terms, with what-I-am. a long. time. ago. *pout*" So, all in all, a good way to spend a Friday night, and a way in which i haven't spent a night in a long time. A long long long time.
At dinner, Darius and I had fun conversations about allll the various females I've introduced to him who later tell me how CUTE they think he is (some of them say hot), and we realized that we appeal to the same crowd. Straight girls dig him, because, well, he's hot (did i ever say i didn't think he was hot? no, i never said that. he is. duh) and straight girls think I'm pretty-- in that they admire me aesthetically, and treat me badly, because they assume that males find me attractive. I seem to look like the fantasy that every pubescent girl gets in her head as what the ideal woman looks like-- tallish, blonde, large-breasted, small-waisted, blue-eyed, with a round face and a little snub nose and a little pointy chin-- and they all wanted to look like me when they were like 11 and awkward, and are all bitter that they don't. But. This ideal of theirs, they assume that it is shared by most men. It is not! No! Most of the males I have spoken to have widely variant ideals of feminine beauty. Most of these ideals include slenderness or petiteness. I possess neither. Also, many guys prefer brunettes. They associate blondes with porn. I don't really know what it is. It's not so much appearance that guys go for, it's something in the presentation of the self, something in the personality, something in the manner in which they interact, and something that I definitely lack. I am just not attractive to most men. And not really to most lesbians either. (note to anyone who reads this who is/was attracted to me: i didn't say all. i'm not complaining. i'm just saying, most.)
So... it's sort of a depressing situation for me. I've been noticing all year-- there was one girl in one of my classes who actually said something about how boys must love me, i have such long blond hair, and with the boobs and all, and she actually sounded slightly jealous as she said it. (note: the girl who said this is a somewhat strong-featured girl with dark hair and dark eyes, very tall and thin, and incredibly sexy. Witty and droll and clever and very adept at self-presentation. She probably hates her nose and wishes she had bigger boobs. I assure you, guys worth the effort certainly wouldn't wish a change in either.) And since then I've been noticing. See, I'm the type that girls will actually say "i just wanted to tell you that I think you're really pretty" to, and sometimes they sound all sincere, and sometimes they sound just a bit ... upset. I remember this from high school, even-- back when i wore gigantic t-shirts, and my hair in my face, and huge owl-like glasses, and jeans that didn't fit me-- there were girls who would say 'oh bridget you're so pretty' anyhow. i remember once being actually attacked and having my hair taken out of the sloppy bun i'd put it in (once it started getting long) and combed out, and being commanded to wear my hair down thenceforth because it was pretty. This was not kind and tender and supportive! This was violent and somewhat disturbing. I rejected all such assertations, and retreated into my giant t-shirts, and curled around my notebooks, and felt afraid. (Can I take a compliment, to this day? No.)
Does this bug me? Well, I don't mind that people think I'm pretty, but i mind that they assume I'm pretty to everyone else. This just reinforces the fact that I think women are brainwashed to notice appearances more. When women primp, it's not really so that men will find them pretty, it's so that other women will notice how well-groomed and therefore together they are. (Do men notice the difference between dark brown and black mascara? I don't think so. Do men notice whether your shoes match your eyes? I doubt it. Do men notice whether your necklace and earrings match? Seldom. Do men notice when a woman's perfume has a subtle overtone of citrus, indicating alertness, as opposed to the rival brand's overtones of floral, which is more indicative of sensuality? Um, no.) So no, I am not nearly so attractive to straight men, or even to lesbians, as I am to straight women. So it gets me nothing. Cops don't go easy on me when they pull me over, for example. Isn't that supposed to be a benefit of being "pretty"?
And I spent the entire year I was twenty single, and half the year I was twenty-one. Not one person expressed interest in me in any way (except for the exceptions enumerated in a few sentences, and you have to understand how I would not be eager to follow up on such suggestions). Most guys just don't find me attractive. Most of the people I've hooked up with, I have done so because I basically threw myself at them, and they were like oh hey, why not. The only people I've noticed that I seem to be sexually (rather than aesthetically) attractive to are crazy old (well, middle-aged: 38 or so on upward) white men, and black men between the ages of 25 and 60. I know this because they're the ones that suggest things to me, usually explicitly, often from a distance at a shouting volume. And often accompanied by car horns.
So. You see how I can get a little down-in-the-mouth sometimes? I have difficulty making friends with women, because they admire me in this way-- they think because I'm this classical ideal of pretty, and I say funny things, that I'm some kind of great person, and they either end up being catty to me, or becoming like a fan of me and saying hurtfully adoring things ('gee bridget, you're so funny' in this weird little tight voice) ...
And I have some difficulty in making friends with men as well, because I'm occasionally distressed to realize that I have all these male friends who I find moderately attractive, who wouldn't sleep with me unless I showed up naked in their bed (this is seriously how it goes), and only then because how can you NOT sleep with someone who is naked in your bed?
I dunno, it was sort of distressing to consider. So if you've ever wondered why I don't blush and giggle and smile when you pay me a compliment, that might be why; it's probably not a good thing for my prospects of having a pleasant and happy friendship with you that you think i'm so terribly pretty/clever/sunny/what-fucking-ever.
side note to anyone who's crazy enough to read this-- it's not that i'm bitter and feel myself to be singled out for persecution. I am perfectly aware that there are many people who have similar or worse issues at dealing with their own sexuality and their relationships with those around them. I think pretty much every single person that is alive in this world today has some kind of issue along these lines, but entirely unique to them. None of us understands how others see us, or is entirely comfortable with it. (f'rinstance darius was astonished and pleased when i told him of all the various female friends of mine who think he's a hottie. i mean, it was like every one of them. it was interesting to me to hear which ones of them he thought were pretty. he and i have similar tastes in women, but not identical. i'm probably a harsher judge, but i think i've already explained that i think women are harsher judges of physical appearance...) So, I'm just saying this one is my issue. What's yours?
So we went to China Buffet, which was YUMMY-- they've added a nice little sushi bar, and the sushi chef was very obliging. "I make for you!" he said, when darius asked if there was any tuna. And he insisted on giving Darius more every time we came back, and one to me as well. And then he handed me another thingy (i'm doing a little japanese-student faux pas and forgetting what thingies are called) that i'm sure was unagi, and said "you like this one, is good", and yes, I did. (I hadn't had my wallet on me, but darius put money in the guy's tip jar.)
So after that, we decided to go to the movies, and so after a quick stop at Wegman's (where I bought myself an ankle brace to replace the one Dave borrowed from me and then threw out because he'd destroyed it, and then promised to replace but never did-- i sprained my ankle last wednesday, and have been limping around ever since, and finally decided i needed a damn ankle brace. Feel better already) to get candy, we went to see Blade II. Oh what a funny movie! We were entertained. We laughed our asses off. (Best line: "Now you've got an explosive device stuck to the back of your head.") And of course there was the obligatory Eastern European sultry dark pouty-lipped chick who couldn't act but was hot and dressed in tight leather, so nobody cared. "I came to terms, with what-I-am. a long. time. ago. *pout*" So, all in all, a good way to spend a Friday night, and a way in which i haven't spent a night in a long time. A long long long time.
At dinner, Darius and I had fun conversations about allll the various females I've introduced to him who later tell me how CUTE they think he is (some of them say hot), and we realized that we appeal to the same crowd. Straight girls dig him, because, well, he's hot (did i ever say i didn't think he was hot? no, i never said that. he is. duh) and straight girls think I'm pretty-- in that they admire me aesthetically, and treat me badly, because they assume that males find me attractive. I seem to look like the fantasy that every pubescent girl gets in her head as what the ideal woman looks like-- tallish, blonde, large-breasted, small-waisted, blue-eyed, with a round face and a little snub nose and a little pointy chin-- and they all wanted to look like me when they were like 11 and awkward, and are all bitter that they don't. But. This ideal of theirs, they assume that it is shared by most men. It is not! No! Most of the males I have spoken to have widely variant ideals of feminine beauty. Most of these ideals include slenderness or petiteness. I possess neither. Also, many guys prefer brunettes. They associate blondes with porn. I don't really know what it is. It's not so much appearance that guys go for, it's something in the presentation of the self, something in the personality, something in the manner in which they interact, and something that I definitely lack. I am just not attractive to most men. And not really to most lesbians either. (note to anyone who reads this who is/was attracted to me: i didn't say all. i'm not complaining. i'm just saying, most.)
So... it's sort of a depressing situation for me. I've been noticing all year-- there was one girl in one of my classes who actually said something about how boys must love me, i have such long blond hair, and with the boobs and all, and she actually sounded slightly jealous as she said it. (note: the girl who said this is a somewhat strong-featured girl with dark hair and dark eyes, very tall and thin, and incredibly sexy. Witty and droll and clever and very adept at self-presentation. She probably hates her nose and wishes she had bigger boobs. I assure you, guys worth the effort certainly wouldn't wish a change in either.) And since then I've been noticing. See, I'm the type that girls will actually say "i just wanted to tell you that I think you're really pretty" to, and sometimes they sound all sincere, and sometimes they sound just a bit ... upset. I remember this from high school, even-- back when i wore gigantic t-shirts, and my hair in my face, and huge owl-like glasses, and jeans that didn't fit me-- there were girls who would say 'oh bridget you're so pretty' anyhow. i remember once being actually attacked and having my hair taken out of the sloppy bun i'd put it in (once it started getting long) and combed out, and being commanded to wear my hair down thenceforth because it was pretty. This was not kind and tender and supportive! This was violent and somewhat disturbing. I rejected all such assertations, and retreated into my giant t-shirts, and curled around my notebooks, and felt afraid. (Can I take a compliment, to this day? No.)
Does this bug me? Well, I don't mind that people think I'm pretty, but i mind that they assume I'm pretty to everyone else. This just reinforces the fact that I think women are brainwashed to notice appearances more. When women primp, it's not really so that men will find them pretty, it's so that other women will notice how well-groomed and therefore together they are. (Do men notice the difference between dark brown and black mascara? I don't think so. Do men notice whether your shoes match your eyes? I doubt it. Do men notice whether your necklace and earrings match? Seldom. Do men notice when a woman's perfume has a subtle overtone of citrus, indicating alertness, as opposed to the rival brand's overtones of floral, which is more indicative of sensuality? Um, no.) So no, I am not nearly so attractive to straight men, or even to lesbians, as I am to straight women. So it gets me nothing. Cops don't go easy on me when they pull me over, for example. Isn't that supposed to be a benefit of being "pretty"?
And I spent the entire year I was twenty single, and half the year I was twenty-one. Not one person expressed interest in me in any way (except for the exceptions enumerated in a few sentences, and you have to understand how I would not be eager to follow up on such suggestions). Most guys just don't find me attractive. Most of the people I've hooked up with, I have done so because I basically threw myself at them, and they were like oh hey, why not. The only people I've noticed that I seem to be sexually (rather than aesthetically) attractive to are crazy old (well, middle-aged: 38 or so on upward) white men, and black men between the ages of 25 and 60. I know this because they're the ones that suggest things to me, usually explicitly, often from a distance at a shouting volume. And often accompanied by car horns.
So. You see how I can get a little down-in-the-mouth sometimes? I have difficulty making friends with women, because they admire me in this way-- they think because I'm this classical ideal of pretty, and I say funny things, that I'm some kind of great person, and they either end up being catty to me, or becoming like a fan of me and saying hurtfully adoring things ('gee bridget, you're so funny' in this weird little tight voice) ...
And I have some difficulty in making friends with men as well, because I'm occasionally distressed to realize that I have all these male friends who I find moderately attractive, who wouldn't sleep with me unless I showed up naked in their bed (this is seriously how it goes), and only then because how can you NOT sleep with someone who is naked in your bed?
I dunno, it was sort of distressing to consider. So if you've ever wondered why I don't blush and giggle and smile when you pay me a compliment, that might be why; it's probably not a good thing for my prospects of having a pleasant and happy friendship with you that you think i'm so terribly pretty/clever/sunny/what-fucking-ever.
side note to anyone who's crazy enough to read this-- it's not that i'm bitter and feel myself to be singled out for persecution. I am perfectly aware that there are many people who have similar or worse issues at dealing with their own sexuality and their relationships with those around them. I think pretty much every single person that is alive in this world today has some kind of issue along these lines, but entirely unique to them. None of us understands how others see us, or is entirely comfortable with it. (f'rinstance darius was astonished and pleased when i told him of all the various female friends of mine who think he's a hottie. i mean, it was like every one of them. it was interesting to me to hear which ones of them he thought were pretty. he and i have similar tastes in women, but not identical. i'm probably a harsher judge, but i think i've already explained that i think women are harsher judges of physical appearance...) So, I'm just saying this one is my issue. What's yours?
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no subject
Date: 2002-03-23 01:10 pm (UTC)***
more on this later.
i promise. but for now, it's yes.
no subject
Date: 2002-03-23 01:47 pm (UTC)Attention, department of redundancy...
from Liesl
Date: 2002-03-24 03:16 pm (UTC)I seem to pick up stray people just in general... some are nice, some are scary... ::shrug:: Machine guns. That's what I have to say about it.
Diverse artillery is used to court
And some of the hunters are really prey,
Rustling loudly with blanks to sound the way.
These do hunt to be caught, and not for sport
But draw attention from another sort,
The kind that bag game by machine gun spray
And wont be single by the end of day.
They live to be lovers and love to court.
Sniper rifle, or antiaircraft gun
A guided missile, or hidden mine
Well just be sure the players all have fun
Really, any weapons will do just fine
And on The Bonny Hunting Ground, leave none
Victorious, youll kiss yours, and I mine.