On New Year’s Eve, I tweeted that if I wrote about that night at all, it wouldn’t be in my blog. But I do want to put down a conversation that’s been on my mind ever since that night, because at the time, it really bothered me. It bothers me less so now, and I feel like the process from there to here is worth sharing.
Not only that, but I’ve been sick at home for two days with a vicious head cold and my brain is turning to mush.
Simply put, I wish people would quit assuming that because I’m attractive and single and live in The Big City, that I want exactly what they want. I don’t. I never did. And I’m sick of seeing that look of shocked pity when they find out I don’t, and I’m sick of explaining myself to people who would rather think of me as some kind of old prude who can’t have a good time rather than actually listen to the reasons why I’ve made the decisions I have.
When I first moved here, I had lunch with an old friend who had lived here for a while. One of the first things he told me was that San Francisco was “a great place if you’re single.” I hadn’t been single for some time before I came here. I was focusing on my own life in a way I hadn’t in years, and I wasn’t really interested in dating at all. Besides, when I thought about what dating really meant to most single people my age, I have to say I didn’t really look forward to it.
I’m “single” and I really don’t consider this such a great place for someone like me. But I suspect San Francisco isn’t much different than Dallas was, it’s just that when I was in Dallas, I was in a relationship and insulated from the realities of “the single life.” In fact, when I got into my last serious relationship, I really hoped I would never have to be a part of that life again.
But here I am. And I’m not participating in what everyone else seems to think I should be. Because apparently I’m supposed to be all kinds of excited to be here just because I’m “single,” and likewise I should be foaming at the mouth and looking at San Francisco as some kind of free for all hookup buffet with all fun and no responsibility to anyone’s feelings but my own.
“Single” doesn’t just mean you’re not in a relationship anymore. “Single” apparently means, looking for a hookup and ready to party like a twenty year old. To me, “single” still means, not in a relationship. And that’s all it means to me.
I went out on New Year’s Eve with a couple of younger friends from work. I had a blast. I heard some great music and saw some very interesting things (some of which I could have done without). I got relentlessly hit on by a guy named Mauricio who incidentally was the first man to call me “beautiful” since 2004. I drank some wine, but I didn’t get drunk. I decided early on that I didn’t want to. And when I left that night, I felt great. It was 4am, I was wide awake, I didn’t feel sick and I hadn’t done anything I would feel embarrassed about the next day. I was easily able to drive home. I dare say I was in far better shape than my younger friends, who were just a little over half my age and yet exhausted from “letting loose and having a good time.”
I had a great time because I did it on my own terms. Despite the fact that I was grilled by one of my friends about why I wasn’t drinking more, why I didn’t do drugs, and then berated because I didn’t want to pick some random guy and go home with him.
“But Amy, I would be happy for you if you found someone to go home with.”
“But I don’t want that.”
“But why not?”
“Because I don’t believe in using people.”
“But they want to be used!”
“BUT I DON’T!”
Why is that so hard to understand?
When I got the eye roll and heavy sigh, I was done talking about it and so was he. He wasn’t going to understand. But for some reason I was left feeling like the outcast, the one who should be judged for her behavior, or lack thereof, instead of him for his, and right after he told me what he wanted to do to that girl who just walked by and in how many rooms he wanted to do it. And that wasn’t fair.
Why do guys think we’re impressed by that crap? I’m certainly not. In fact, the more you spread yourself around, the less attractive you are to me. I don’t care if men have free reign in this society to act like selfish oversexed dogs with no consequences for their behavior. If you treat women like toys that were put here just to entertain you, then you disgust me just as much as the women who act like those toys. Period.
I ended up thinking about that conversation for the next two days. And I came to the conclusion that maybe I envied those kids their freedom. That there was a part of me that wished I could throw caution to the wind, not worry about about the other person getting hurt, not care one lick about my own self respect, and just go out there and “have fun.”
And then as soon as I thought that, I was over it. I don’t want that at all. What I really wanted instead was to be respected for my decision and then be LEFT ALONE. Or maybe what I really wanted was to be loved for it. Ultimately. I wanted to be seen as something special rather than something to be pitied or talked into something I clearly didn’t want.
Sure, I’ve had guys tell me they respect me for who I am. But they usually tell me that as they’re walking away, and usually toward someone else. They tell me I’m classy when we break up. Well, thanks. Thanks for telling me I’m exactly what I always wanted to be, and that you have no use for it.
Your loss.
Because this isn’t a game, and soon I started to realize that I shouldn’t give a damn how anyone else feels about it. The only reason I did was because I was pushed to defend it, and I really hate having to defend the decisions I make for myself that aren’t even anyone else’s business. I didn’t make this decision because I thought it would get me something specific from someone else. I did it because I have to feel a certain way about myself, and I did it many years ago, long before I moved here. Because if I go out there and start using guys to fulfill my own selfish desires and then throw them out like garbage when they ask for something back, then how dare I expect any better for myself?
That’s not to say I haven’t ended up with the occasional douchebag anyway, but at least when I figured it out, I walked away.
There are too many people out there who think they’re entitled to get their physical needs met whenever they feel the urge. Period. And like my twenty-something friend, they think it’s okay as long as the other party says yes. Yes means they don’t have to think about their actions at all, that they’re totally off the hook and doing nothing wrong. In some cases, maybe it really is okay. Or does it just mean that neither of you respect the person you’re with instead of just you?
Either way, it is not attractive.
People tend to expect this behavior when you’re twenty, or if you’re a male of any age, but it doesn’t make you any less accountable. All it means is, people really don’t expect much from you in the first place. And that’s pretty sad.
But I expect a lot from myself. Because I have to be what I ultimately want in a relationship. Someone who can be trusted. Someone who sees the other person as more than just the sum of their parts. Someone who wants more than just a shallow experience for a night or a month or two, knowing there’s always another one waiting around the corner if things get too serious. I have to be brave myself if I want someone to be brave for me. I have to respect them AND me if I want them to respect me at all. I don’t deserve to have what I want if I don’t treat others the way I want to be treated.
People are not interchangeable body parts. You can’t take all your memories of someone, all the parties you went to and the things you did together, all your intimate moments and then just hand them over to the next person in line like they meant nothing, reliving them all with a newer model in place of the old. You can’t do this over and over again and then expect to find someone serious and caring and trustworthy just sitting there waiting for you when you’re ready to settle down yourself. You want a good person, you have to be a good person. There is no other way.
So I’m going to continue to live what I believe I deserve from people, and walk away from what I don’t. And I’m going to continue making new friends and living my life for someone other than just myself. I joined a volunteer group recently that’s allowing me to meet some really good people outside of work, people with more going on in their lives than just hanging out in bars and getting drunk on the weekends. I’m not doing it to find anyone in particular, but I do know now more than ever that I need friends outside of work and closer to my own age. And who knows, maybe there will be one guy in there who’s not so busy trying to prove he can still keep up with the twenty year olds that he might actually know a good thing when he sees it. Just one friend like that would be worth it.
Not only that, but I’ve been sick at home for two days with a vicious head cold and my brain is turning to mush.
Simply put, I wish people would quit assuming that because I’m attractive and single and live in The Big City, that I want exactly what they want. I don’t. I never did. And I’m sick of seeing that look of shocked pity when they find out I don’t, and I’m sick of explaining myself to people who would rather think of me as some kind of old prude who can’t have a good time rather than actually listen to the reasons why I’ve made the decisions I have.
When I first moved here, I had lunch with an old friend who had lived here for a while. One of the first things he told me was that San Francisco was “a great place if you’re single.” I hadn’t been single for some time before I came here. I was focusing on my own life in a way I hadn’t in years, and I wasn’t really interested in dating at all. Besides, when I thought about what dating really meant to most single people my age, I have to say I didn’t really look forward to it.
I’m “single” and I really don’t consider this such a great place for someone like me. But I suspect San Francisco isn’t much different than Dallas was, it’s just that when I was in Dallas, I was in a relationship and insulated from the realities of “the single life.” In fact, when I got into my last serious relationship, I really hoped I would never have to be a part of that life again.
But here I am. And I’m not participating in what everyone else seems to think I should be. Because apparently I’m supposed to be all kinds of excited to be here just because I’m “single,” and likewise I should be foaming at the mouth and looking at San Francisco as some kind of free for all hookup buffet with all fun and no responsibility to anyone’s feelings but my own.
“Single” doesn’t just mean you’re not in a relationship anymore. “Single” apparently means, looking for a hookup and ready to party like a twenty year old. To me, “single” still means, not in a relationship. And that’s all it means to me.
I went out on New Year’s Eve with a couple of younger friends from work. I had a blast. I heard some great music and saw some very interesting things (some of which I could have done without). I got relentlessly hit on by a guy named Mauricio who incidentally was the first man to call me “beautiful” since 2004. I drank some wine, but I didn’t get drunk. I decided early on that I didn’t want to. And when I left that night, I felt great. It was 4am, I was wide awake, I didn’t feel sick and I hadn’t done anything I would feel embarrassed about the next day. I was easily able to drive home. I dare say I was in far better shape than my younger friends, who were just a little over half my age and yet exhausted from “letting loose and having a good time.”
I had a great time because I did it on my own terms. Despite the fact that I was grilled by one of my friends about why I wasn’t drinking more, why I didn’t do drugs, and then berated because I didn’t want to pick some random guy and go home with him.
“But Amy, I would be happy for you if you found someone to go home with.”
“But I don’t want that.”
“But why not?”
“Because I don’t believe in using people.”
“But they want to be used!”
“BUT I DON’T!”
Why is that so hard to understand?
When I got the eye roll and heavy sigh, I was done talking about it and so was he. He wasn’t going to understand. But for some reason I was left feeling like the outcast, the one who should be judged for her behavior, or lack thereof, instead of him for his, and right after he told me what he wanted to do to that girl who just walked by and in how many rooms he wanted to do it. And that wasn’t fair.
Why do guys think we’re impressed by that crap? I’m certainly not. In fact, the more you spread yourself around, the less attractive you are to me. I don’t care if men have free reign in this society to act like selfish oversexed dogs with no consequences for their behavior. If you treat women like toys that were put here just to entertain you, then you disgust me just as much as the women who act like those toys. Period.
I ended up thinking about that conversation for the next two days. And I came to the conclusion that maybe I envied those kids their freedom. That there was a part of me that wished I could throw caution to the wind, not worry about about the other person getting hurt, not care one lick about my own self respect, and just go out there and “have fun.”
And then as soon as I thought that, I was over it. I don’t want that at all. What I really wanted instead was to be respected for my decision and then be LEFT ALONE. Or maybe what I really wanted was to be loved for it. Ultimately. I wanted to be seen as something special rather than something to be pitied or talked into something I clearly didn’t want.
Sure, I’ve had guys tell me they respect me for who I am. But they usually tell me that as they’re walking away, and usually toward someone else. They tell me I’m classy when we break up. Well, thanks. Thanks for telling me I’m exactly what I always wanted to be, and that you have no use for it.
Your loss.
Because this isn’t a game, and soon I started to realize that I shouldn’t give a damn how anyone else feels about it. The only reason I did was because I was pushed to defend it, and I really hate having to defend the decisions I make for myself that aren’t even anyone else’s business. I didn’t make this decision because I thought it would get me something specific from someone else. I did it because I have to feel a certain way about myself, and I did it many years ago, long before I moved here. Because if I go out there and start using guys to fulfill my own selfish desires and then throw them out like garbage when they ask for something back, then how dare I expect any better for myself?
That’s not to say I haven’t ended up with the occasional douchebag anyway, but at least when I figured it out, I walked away.
There are too many people out there who think they’re entitled to get their physical needs met whenever they feel the urge. Period. And like my twenty-something friend, they think it’s okay as long as the other party says yes. Yes means they don’t have to think about their actions at all, that they’re totally off the hook and doing nothing wrong. In some cases, maybe it really is okay. Or does it just mean that neither of you respect the person you’re with instead of just you?
Either way, it is not attractive.
People tend to expect this behavior when you’re twenty, or if you’re a male of any age, but it doesn’t make you any less accountable. All it means is, people really don’t expect much from you in the first place. And that’s pretty sad.
But I expect a lot from myself. Because I have to be what I ultimately want in a relationship. Someone who can be trusted. Someone who sees the other person as more than just the sum of their parts. Someone who wants more than just a shallow experience for a night or a month or two, knowing there’s always another one waiting around the corner if things get too serious. I have to be brave myself if I want someone to be brave for me. I have to respect them AND me if I want them to respect me at all. I don’t deserve to have what I want if I don’t treat others the way I want to be treated.
People are not interchangeable body parts. You can’t take all your memories of someone, all the parties you went to and the things you did together, all your intimate moments and then just hand them over to the next person in line like they meant nothing, reliving them all with a newer model in place of the old. You can’t do this over and over again and then expect to find someone serious and caring and trustworthy just sitting there waiting for you when you’re ready to settle down yourself. You want a good person, you have to be a good person. There is no other way.
So I’m going to continue to live what I believe I deserve from people, and walk away from what I don’t. And I’m going to continue making new friends and living my life for someone other than just myself. I joined a volunteer group recently that’s allowing me to meet some really good people outside of work, people with more going on in their lives than just hanging out in bars and getting drunk on the weekends. I’m not doing it to find anyone in particular, but I do know now more than ever that I need friends outside of work and closer to my own age. And who knows, maybe there will be one guy in there who’s not so busy trying to prove he can still keep up with the twenty year olds that he might actually know a good thing when he sees it. Just one friend like that would be worth it.
