The Land of Sex and Drugs

I've discovered something recently. My friend Ruth, a seemingly rational, confident, sane woman is quite the opposite when it comes to one thing: men.

Last week, Ruth had a lovely evening with a man she had had a few lovely evenings with, but this time with a different ending. This time, at the end of their evening, she invited him up for tea. Their platonic relationship became not-exactly-platonic. (And yes, "invited him up for tea" immediately became our favorite euphemism.) The evening did not include sex, but it did include a lot of other things much less innocent than drinking tea. He spent the night with her in her teeny, tiny, university-issued cot. So glad I don't live in a residence hall.

The next day, when I asked her how the evening went, she responded with "It's complicated." Thinking that there was some kind of Luigi-style over-sized baggage problems going on, I met up with her later. She told me everything that had happened. I couldn't figure out where the problem came in, so I asked. Her answer went something like this: Well, I didn't have sex with him, so he's never going to call me again. This statement made about as much sense as pouring milk before the cereal. (As in, no sense whatsoever, why would you ever do that?) There is no law stating that you have to have sex with everyone you invite up for tea. It's also not as if they had just met that evening in a pub, snogged in the bathroom, and started taking each other's clothes off in the taxi. They've actually been out a few times without the rest of the crew; if he were only interested in sex, he would have made a move by then. I asked her to remind me again where he was from. "Holland," she said. "The land of sex and drugs. He definitely won't call me."

I told her he would definitely call her.

She seemed to accept this. Then: But what are we going to do? My visa will expire, I have to go home. How is that going to work?

It was then that I realized that I was dealing with a crazy person. How does one go from "He's never going to call me because I didn't have sex with him" to "Ohmygod, we have to get married before my visa expires" in 30 seconds?

I very gently reminded her that 24 hours prior, she had never even so much as kissed this man, and that September is 6 months away. Let's focus on the second date before we start weighing the pros and cons of an international relationship versus a quick wedding to prevent deportation, shall we?

Despite my best efforts, she repeated the same concerns to Amelie the next day. Later, Amelie said to me. "That girl is CRAZY! She would marry him next week, wouldn't she?" Yes, I'm afraid she would.

I think her craziness is by no fault of her own. She is merely a product of her culture. Ruth is Arabic, and by Arabic standards, she is incredibly liberal. However, compared to the Western culture of Amelie and me, she's very conservative. This is the same girl that was shocked that I had kissed Luigi in a busy train station during rush hour. In her country, when you kiss someone, you kind of are practically engaged. Even married people don't kiss in public. And yes, Ruth has had boyfriends before, this isn't the first man she's ever "invited up for tea," but I do have a feeling that if it goes wrong, Amelie and I are going to have our work cut out for us.

In honor of International Women's Day today, I thought it would be the perfect time to get a few things off my chest. 

What the hell is going on, America? Seriously, I've only been gone for 6 months, but all of a sudden we seem to have turned back the clocks. It's as if women's lib never happened and we've gone back to being nothing more than baby-making machines. It kind of pisses me off. 

Where to start? How about with quite possibly the biggest Douche Bag on the planet, Rush Limbaugh. All poor Sandra Fluke, a 30-year-old law student wanted to do was exercise her democratic right to go before Congress and speak about the need to include contraception, including hormonal birth control and IUDs, as part of the new health care coverage. And what did she get for this? Rush Limbaugh, on national radio, calling her a "slut" and a "prostitute." For three straight days. Apparently, he didn't get enough national attention for doing it the first time, so he went back on his show the next two days and escalated his misogynistic and outrageous claims until he was so far over the line, as Joey Tribiani would say, the line was a dot to him.

 First, he showed his extreme ignorance by proclaiming that Fluke must be having so much sex she couldn't afford to buy all the birth control. Rush clearly doesn't understand how birth control works. You take one pill a day no matter how much sex you're having. You don't pop a pill every time you have sex. One a day, whether you're having sex 8 times or no times that day. He is clearly confusing birth control with Viagra, a product I have no doubt is necessary for him in order to get it up. Although I highly doubt he can even convince his 4th wife to have sex with him.

And when that didn't get him the attention he felt he needed, he went ahead and said that if the taxpayers were going to be paying for feminazis (because wanting equal rights is at the same level as a political party responsible for the mass slaughter of millions?) to have sex, they needed to get something out of it. And what would that something be? For her to post a sex tape so everyone could benefit. Rush Limbaugh, you are a disgusting, sick, pathetic excuse for a human being. 

At last count, twelve of his sponsors have backed out. Only 12?! And how did the politicians react to this? Did they condemn him? Speak out that he was wrong? Mitt Romney said only that those were not the words he would have used. Really, Mitt? You would have used other words to call her a slut and a prostitute? How many other words are there? You can't stand up to a worthless radio buffoon, but you think you can run this country? You are spineless and pathetic. President Obama on the other hand, is a very smart man, and called Fluke personally to offer his support. Note to Republicans: Women can vote now. Don't piss us off. 

Then there's the trend of government sanctioned rape sweeping across the country. The governor of Virginia, who, until this whole debacle was expected to be a favorite for a vice-presidential run, signed a law requiring any woman who wanted an abortion to undergo an ultrasound by way of vaginal probe. Despite what some people may think, getting an abortion is not something that women take lightly. I can only imagine what a traumatic decision it can be, and then to have to go through that? And what about women who require an abortion as a result of rape? The government is going to require them to go through that again? For shame. (Of course, I already wrote about the hypocrisy of the right wing.)

The good news is, women seem to be fighting back. In Oklahoma, state senator Judy Eason McIntyre held the sign you see above in order to protest Oklahoma's Personhood bill. That's right, an elected official allowed herself to be photographed (proudly, and smiling) with this sign. I love her. I want to vote for her. Her colleague, Democratic Senator Constance Johnson, attempted to attach a provision to the Personhood bill that would make it illegal for any man to ejaculate anywhere other than a woman's vagina. I also want to vote for her. 

In Ohio, state senator Nina Turner introduced a bill requiring men to undergo full rectal exams in order to get  a prescription for Viagra. Of course, as most of the men voting for these laws require Viagra in order to carry on cheating on their wives, it won't pass. Funny that Viagra is often covered with most health care plans, but birth control isn't. I guess we know who makes these laws. 

Ladies, I'm angry. And you should be too.

Fuckwittage: It's catching

Recently, I met up with Luigi. I probably shouldn't have, but I needed some closure.

I didn't get it.

Turns out, it's complicated. (Isn't it always?) It's also a long story, which I honestly don't feel like getting into right now, because when I do, I pretty much always start to cry. Let's just say I'm not the problem, but until the complications go away, I have no closure, and I just sit around wishing things were different. I even went on a date with the Pool Boy, which was a perfectly nice date, and I enjoyed myself, until it was all over, and I was thinking of Luigi instead of the Pool Boy. And then I started to notice that the Pool Boy was playing a game.

It started when he was teaching me to play pool. Before he even asked me for my number, he announced, unprovoked, that he had come out of a relationship last year, and that he was damaged goods. Aren't we all? We're not kids anymore, at this stage in our life, everyone has a few bruises. I knew this was his way of telling me before I had even thought to ask, that he wasn't interested in a relationship, so if I wanted one, I was barking up the wrong tree. Don't worry, Pool Boy, I'm not interested.

His good friend did the same thing to my friend Amelie. He and Amelie went out for drinks one evening, but before the evening started, he was sure to inform her that he was also out of a relationship last year, and he didn't want to get into anything either. Then I noticed that both of them are playing the same game. Hot and Cold. One day, they'll greet you in the student union with enthusiasm and a kiss on the cheek and tell you how great you look. The next day, they won't even acknowledge you. Amelie and I decided immediately we were not about to play this game. We're not in high school anymore, boys. Grow up.

But the "emotionally unavailable" rash is spreading. And yesterday, I had a good, long, coffee and pastry break with my friend Audrey, who is seriously hot. (And who I'm trying to convince to go out on a date with my housemate.) But take heart: Even the really pretty girls get their hearts broken. She had been going out with a guy who is also a friend of mine (we all go to school together), although there was something about them that always made me squirm a bit. He's ten years older than she is, and she's so pretty, and he's so... not. Also, I could see how much she liked him, but I also knew from being friends with him, that he wasn't exactly looking for anything at the moment either. Sure enough, on the same weekend I saw Luigi, Audrey was having a slightly similar conversation with him (although with more fuckwittage). He told her that he had lately started thinking about his ex, and now he wasn't as enthusiastic about her as he had been at the beginning. Seriously? He's not as enthusiastic about her? She told me she felt like he was making it out to be her fault that his enthusiasm had waned. It's not her fault. He's being a fuckwit.

I mean really, guys. If you are still hung up on someone from your past, that's fine. But don't start something with someone else. I really don't know what's worse: starting something and then pleading emotional unavailability, or walking around telling girls you're "damaged goods" as a get-out-of-jail-free card. In the latter case, you're covering your bases immediately. That way, we can't call you a fuckwit: you already warned us.

In the meantime, get thee into therapy and move on.