Dear OKC

Dear OKC,

I implore you to include a special section in your long line of questioning that speaks to the overall cleanliness and hygiene of potential mates.  One question about frequency of showering is not enough to make an informed decision about a person you could possibly share a meal with, or worse yet, find yourself convinced to kiss.

Thank you,

Disgruntled Customer

LOGO!

I'm Coming Out

My brother somehow scraped together $8 in prison to send AND insure a package for me. In the package was a plethora of cassette tapes. It is a wonderful gesture that is completely lost on me. I do not have the means of actually listening to them and from what I can see, it’s all rap music. I hate rap music, but he wouldn’t know that considering we only just met about 3 years ago.  He’s 37, I think, and I am 35.  I am not ashamed to say I do not know how to react to him or act around him, although I probably should be.  I know, even though he has not said it, that I really do not live up to his dreams of the sister he was looking for.  I’m trying . . . just not hard enough.

I’m coming out. I have never told anyone this. That’s a lie.  So far I have told 6 people and it only matters to one, Nigel. He is the reason I actually met my brother in the first place. It really matters to Nigel.  It creates a lot of pressure in an already awkward situation. I knew I was adopted at either 2 months old or 2 years old without anyone ever telling me. Whether you believe it or not, I remember every important event in my life from the age of 2 on. This is confirmed. I actually would lean towards 2 months, but I digress. I have an older sister and brother who were also adopted. For some oddball reason, our mother never told us. I found a picture of Michael, my gift-giving brother, when I was 7. It was like looking into a mirror. I asked my mom who the lil boy was and she absentmindedly and flippantly said he was my brother. She expected me not to remember or not to be able to absorb the gravity of what she said. I hid the picture in my room and I still have it today. I found some paperwork in my mom’s room pertaining to my adoption like my birth mother’s name and my real name . . . .

I tucked all of this stuff away just like I tucked away the reality that I was adopted. My adoption is a dirty lil secret. A secret that my entire family kept from my siblings and me our whole lives.  Until my mother died, the fact that we were all completely different; we all look different; I am way smarter than my siblings; was ignored. By the time I was 5, I realized that the only way out of this situation would be chin down and good grades so I could go to college and get the fuck out of there. That is not a hyperbole. I viewed the first day of kindergarten as my first step towards college. My adoptive mother was a monster to put it lightly. She should not have been trusted with the care of children. Even without telling me I was adopted, she made sure I felt out of place at all times.

Not once in my childhood did I want to seek out my birth mom. When I reached adolescence, I tried to ignore the whole thing. I grew smart enough to appreciate the beast that was my mother. I could have been adopted by someone who didn’t live in a good neighbor like my mother. I could have been adopted by someone who didn’t make me strive so hard to be the complete opposite. I had goals in my childhood. And I met them all except one, so far. That was all fueled by my complete and utter hatred for my mom. I really didn’t have the time to seek out another mother who was already not a fan of mine. So why am I coming out?  Michael. I would prefer to hide my adoption forever. It is my opinion that there is no sure fire way to make a kid a head case than to give him/her up for adoption. There is no amount of therapy that can reconcile the fact that for 9 months you heard the voice of your birth mother [good or bad] and upon birth, that is the voice you seek out and it is not there. That is a reality. When I was a kid, I always thought if I told someone I was adopted, they would look at me and realize that I wasn’t worthy. Read me up and down and try to figure out why my mother would throw me away. I never sought her out because I didn’t want all of my fears confirmed.

That’s where Michael comes in.  You can’t really hide a brother in prison. I mean you can, but the brother everyone knows about lives in Queens so i get quizzical looks. I’ll explain meeting Michael in another post. And I love Michael and he really loves me and it would be disingenuous to lie about him. So I’m slowly beginning to tell people I’m adopted because of Michael and my friends have surprised me with their reactions. No one cares. No one looks at me like I’m unworthy. They look at me exactly the same way as they did before they knew. They do have a lot of questions though, and I will answer a few now:

1.       Michael somehow, while in prison, found me. I will never lose my amazement of him because of that.

2.       I, after meeting my brother, still have no intention of seeking out my mother.

3.       I feel like my brother completes me. He has confirmed the existence of unconditional love which I was skeptical about. I’m grateful to have him.

 The story of my relationship with Michael is evolving, but I am not. I am me. I am unabashed, not ashamed and adopted. The only time I wonder about my worth is when I know I need to be a better sister. I will continue to try. As of now, I’m coming out. Loud and proud.

Is this a date or coffee?

As Y’A illustrated, lesbians cannot be trusted when it comes to ‘JUST FRIENDS’ on OKCupid.  I decided to try my hand at Meetup.com (of the lesbian sisterhood variety) to increase my posse of lesbians because right now we are rolling with me, Y'A and another friend who would do anyone. I promptly RSVP’d for a Sunday Brunch excursion.  The brunch itself is nothing to write home about; there was lots of French toast and awkward conversation.  Nice bunch of ladies and I wasn’t attracted to a single one!  Victory – I might make a platoniclesbianfriend yet. One chick arrived late and looked about my age; we struck up a conversation (she struck up a conversation and I listened) and it was pleasant.  As we were all leaving, the tardy chick and I randomly decided to go to a farmer’s market down the road. We both mentioned seeing it and had planned to stop by, so why not arrive there at the same time and make more pleasant conversation amongst the corn and tomatoes?  We discussed a mutual affection for hiking (platonic), dogs (platonic), cooking (platonic), then she threw out a very non-committal invitation for dinner at her new house (platonic??).  We exchanged numbers and went our separate ways.  Over the next month or so she would randomly call and chat me up, nothing too unusual, normal work complaints, renovation plans for her new house, the hard-core dyke theatre troupe she was a part of - the conversations were not flirtatious, though we both mentioned exes and that we were currently single.  I couldn’t quite figure out where this rambling mess was headed. We didn’t hang out. She was EXTREMELY formal on text, like using my government, and so I was surprised when she invited me to a show. Dinner and a show to be exact. There is no reason why two lesbians can’t hang out and have dinner and see a show and wait . . . did I mention several of her theatre friends would be at the show? They are lesbians and we all know how lesbians think when they see their lesbian friend with a new chick……fuck. I foraged ahead, ate some delicious authentic tacos with her and really enjoyed the water dancing play set in a pool.

AFTER “DATE” – She introduces me to her friends, one I recognize from other lives, and I shift nervously as I try to read the situation. They are looking at me, sizing me up LIKE I'M HER DATE. The friend I recognize is flirtatious. I reciprocate. I don't really know the non-date date protocol of flirting with her friend. I’m jerking my head back and forth like a crack addict trying to figure out who I should smile at or who I should ignore. At this point, I hope we are still JUST FRIENDS by the end of the night.

 

The ride home in her car was excruciating. I was feeling like I broke some code of conduct, but she was talking talking talking and I’m trying to figure how I should play it and exit with no body contact. We drove around a bit, discussed her artwork, she showed me her new house (from the outside people), and finally we pulled up at my apartment. I have honestly blocked out how I got out of her car. I probably mumbled something about texting her later or next week or let’s hang out soon.  The moral of the story is – if you’re trying to find friendship with the same pool of folks you’d bang, things can get a bit sticky. Just sayin’.  

i misremember that

It quickly became apparent, after the Epiphany date, that I was the culprit. I was clearly exuding pheromones to attract ‘crazy’ or something was off with my profile.  Jess and I had a consult and we decided to change my profile to ‘just looking for friends’.  Not even 5 minutes after updating it, someone named Jesse sent me a message.  Jess advised me to just go for it, despite my reticence because it was pretty obvious this chick hadn’t read my updated profile. ‘JUST FRIENDS!!’  Right. After a few messages backwards and forwards, we decided to meet for a drink. We meet, things go well, I guess….I’m not looking for a relationship and to me, this is just hanging out. ‘JUST FRIENDS’.  Cool. Except she is 26, a lil young for me. I had to explain all of my jokes, I had to tell her about the 80’s, etc.

“2^nd date” - We meet up again. I actually enjoyed hanging out with Jesse, save for she had literally nothing to say, but eh you can’t have it all. I asked if she wanted to go see Black Swan. Sidenote: I had no interest in seeing this movie and it was a terrible movie, especially for a “2^nd date” and I use the word date loosely.  The movie was so terrible I would have left, or at least would have suggested leaving, had Jesse shown some sort of sign that she was present in the movie theatre. But she didn’t. When we left the theatre and were recounting the movie she tells me she was frightened. What! I was surprised. Not just because it was so shitty how could you possibly be scared, but what fucking adult doesn’t tell another adult they can’t handle this flashback causing train wreck of a movie?? We walked around, I was utterly shocked she wanted to get a drink, we went to GYM BAR – if you’re a lady boy lovin’ sports dyke like myself, you would certainly enjoy. I walked her to the train after a drink and she had that hungry look in her eye. I gave her a hug (grudgingly) and said good night. Always leave them wanting more ladies.

“3^rd date” – we hung out at her house during a damned blizzard. She made some forgettable vegetarian something that I can only describe as ‘different’, but nice, and we drank a 100 year old bottle of scotch, which was very very nice.   This is the point in our hanging out that I need to have ‘The Talk’. The ‘I don’t want a relationship Jesse’ talk, the ‘I like hanging out with you and let’s keep it this way Jesse’ talk, the ‘your legs are really hairy and let’s hope that it Jesse’ talk.  Unfortunately, none of that actually happened. What DID happen was the scotch hitting me like a ton of bricks (empty stomach, no offense vagetarians).  So Jesse and I are hooking up, as the kids say, and I’m thinking ‘There is no way I’m having sex with this broad, not without The Talk’.  After several fits and starts to remove her hands from precarious and potentially dangerous territory so I could state, quite matter-of-factly, that I have no intention of U-hauling, pairing up, or even putting the letters G and F together anytime soon, I decide to beat a retreat outta there. Eh, I had fun. I felt like a teenager in a friend’s basement….but I digress.

The next morning when I arrive at work, I had a perplexing email from Jesse. Like a real email, not an OKCupid message. After ten minutes of trying to figure out how this chick got my personal email address, I gave up and began to read and immediately starting laughing until I was sore.  Jessie quite apologetically explained that she CLEARLY had led me to believe she wanted something more. She was sorry if I wanted something serious and she has a tendency to not be clear and she was sorry if she had caused confusion.  WHAT THE FUCK!!!! Not only did I never intimate anything she was apologizing for, hindsight being 20/20, I would like to thank the hell out of Jesse for jumping the gun and preempting me form making a break up speech for a relationship that didn’t exist! Thank you, Jesse. It was my pleasure.    

Monumentally Busy

OKCupid is a great accessory for the working gal on the go. Complete with iphone app, you will never miss a message from a potential suitor again. Even with these advancements in technology, no geek, nerd or dork has yet to invent a way to date without actually um . . . Dating. Online dating requires some lifting, ladies. How heavy depends entirely upon you.

You have to play the game.

I have really enjoyed our messages that we have shared so far. I think you are cute. I think you are funny, smart and everything else you seem to be. You know my goals, aspirations, history, what I do for a living and I know yours as well. We both want world peace, equal rights, and a cure for AIDS. Now when in the hell are we going to meet? The most obvious thing that I know about you is that you are monumentally busy. With your school work, 8 jobs, and volunteerism schedule, when on earth do you have time to date? You haven’t given me an opening to ask you for a meeting so why are you on here? I read your profile. It says you are single. I read what you like in another human being and I must say, I’m it. You read my profile. You know my likes and dislikes and you haven’t violated any of these just yet. The next logical step would be to meet.

The internet is full of people who want to be desired, and liked, and sought after, but most of these people do not have the energy or intention of actually meeting those who desire them. Ask a lesbian to fix a bike, put a bookshelf together or train a dog and she's there. Ask her for a date on a dating site and it's just crickets.

This is classically evident in messaging women on OKCupid. OKCupid uses a tool called Quiver to basically force you to play the game. They send you three women they have calculated as your potential match per day. The intention is for you to message these women. I set out for a complete month to message every woman in my Quiver. I read their profiles and found a pathway to message them. This “something” was almost exclusively something they referenced in their profile, i.e. music, movies, sports, or hobbies. With this in hand I felt the process couldn't be easier. I mean, what better way to get a conversation going by asking someone to speak about themselves? Women who are so verbose when describing themselves in their profiles become complete mutes when there is a message in their inbox. Why is this?

Out of the 50 women we message during the OK Cupid Chronicles research phase, only 8 responded. When you send a message complimenting the person she wants you to think she is, the silence says one of two things: I’m full of shit or I don’t want to play the game. The key is to get as many people to visit and wink and message you, so you can weed out the incompatibles and find your mate. Women will give your profile a cursory glance and send you an obscenely tardy response to a well intentioned message. Ladies, realize that if you are too monumentally busy to play the game, then you are just clogging up airspace.

Deleterious - the toxicity of women

In the sometimes inhospitable and always overly dramatic world of online lesbian dating a *wink* is as good as a U-Haul showing up at your front door. OKCupid has managed to create a format where profiles are guided by few unobtrusive questions so one’s true creative juices may be let to flow.  And oh, how they flow.

As I clicked through Girls who like Girls ages 27-35, several themes emerged – women enjoy over sharing, many consider themselves ‘writers’, cats are very popular, and more often than not, women choose careers in ‘helping’ fields. As for the proliferation of writers, my internal dialogue states otherwise, given their incorrect usage of ‘your’ and ‘their’.  OkCupid informs me that women enjoy cooking, as a hobby, and also to be close to those they love, which reeks of pre-second wave feminism. Countless profiles professed an ability to ‘make others feel comfortable’; even more assured me they are ‘a laid back, go with the flow type’. It became clear fairly early on that what women listed were the traits and characteristics they thought others would desire in a potential mate. Not once did I read ‘attracts grifters and other con-artists, so if you’re hungry or broke, message me’, or ‘prefers coloring books to the classics’, or ‘currently shouldering heavy baggage, BEWARE!’ These would have been far more helpful admittances. Instead w00lfe12 wants me to know she enjoys Fridays night out and redefining sexuality. Huh? Some seemingly innocuous admissions were downright dangerous; quietcortexxx told me and a zillion other ladies her neighborhood and local watering hole. Jesus, remember McGruff the Crime Dog?  Don’t tell strangers your address! The deeper I traveled into the bowels of OKCupid, the more I realized everyone was just a variation of the same.

The Epiphany Date

What I am about to share is what we call ‘the epiphany date’. The mold on the bread, so to speak, that sparked the research and led to The OkCupid Chronicles. I risked life and limb on this date. There is no hyperbole with this story; unfortunately, it’s exactly what happened. 

First Person I Met on Cupid: After chatting online for a bit, we decided to meet up for a daytime date. Keep in mind I had my fail safes: gotta pick up my nephew at 4, friend would send a text if I needed him to-This is really the only way you can blindly meet the crazy.

This is my storyMet up with this girl and she is on the phone with dad. No worries. Takes awhile to get off. Still no worries. After a quick restroom break, she needs to get coffee. No problem. We head into a Starbucks. We are in there 10 seconds before she says "I can't get my coffee here". I say "What?" She says "I’m not feeling the vibe. Don't you feel it? The energy? I can't get my coffee here". Oh Kay. We walk into Brooklyn Heights and after 2 or 3 blocks of thinking about the energy, I think "We need to stop now".  I suggest a cafe. Two steps into the cafe, she starts bitching and moaning. I say relax. I suggest we sit outside cause it's the third sunny day this summer [and I have my shades]. She orders her iced coffee in a sweet way that wasn't sweet or cute, as a server I was unnerved immediately. Oh Kay. We start to talk and I steer the convo towards where are you from type stuff.  She's from the scariest part of Brownsville that I refuse to go to and she suggests renting a car and driving around. I say "No thanks, I don't want to go there". She insists. I sternly say no. On to school, "where did you go to school?" LaGuardia Community College, she says. For a month before she realized her dad wouldn't pay for school. Oh Kay. That was 17 years ago. After that, she went to nursing school for a month to study mortuary science. Then another school to study psychology. Then another for medical assisting . . . "So what did you get a bachelor's in?", I asked. "Oh nothing" is her response. She explains that she never got her degree, but she plans to study metaphysics. Where? Online. To which I asked "How can you do that online? Don't you need a lab or something?” "Oh no, you don't need a lab" she responds. Oh Kay! Moving right along…..She won’t make eye contact, to the point where I am bothered. I mean this chick is looking at the trees and birds and planes go by. I call her on it and she says she likes to know her surroundings. Oh Kay!

Moving along….She asked me why I wear one of my rings. I say cause I like it. She says why. I say cause I like it. She says “You know what it means right?” So at this point with her complaining about the sun and looking towards the sky for half an hour my interest is piqued. She says “That ring repels negativity”. I’m wondering at this point if I should throw it away cause it is obviously not working.

Moving along and sensing the flames of this date growing, I ask the server about the beers. After a long list I decided “If I have a beer, then I will spend more time with this chick.” I asked her if she liked beer. This is the convo that ensued...
Her: I haven’t drank in 6 weeks.
Me: Why, court order?
Her: No. When you drink or smoke weed you leave yourself open to be psychically attacked by vampires.
Me: What!
Her: Yeah, you are vulnerable to an attack, so I am being very aware.
Me: Have you been attacked before?
Her: Yes, in the past by several, and currently by one, which is why I need to be aware. That’s a long story.
Me: Do you have a Wiccan circle in your house?
Her: No, but I used to be Wiccan.
Me: in my head: date over!!!!
Then she randomly says: They attack you in your sleep you know. I’m sure you know about that.
Me: Why would I know about that!
No response.
So I ask if she’s ready to leave, fully prepared to never see this girl again and she suggest we go for a walk. At this point, I’m too afraid to say no, so I say “Well, you talked about the promenade, let’s go there”. Before we are in the promenade she is complaining about the sun. I’m trying to enjoy the view and she is complaining about how sunny it is and how the shore has been shortened by construction. Meanwhile, I’m trying to take in the site as I have never seen it and 60 seconds in she says abruptly “You ready to leave?!” I said “Give me a sec.” I take in the sites a minute longer and try to conjure up a quick exit. The walk back was painful and awkward, highlighted only by my asking “What train do you take?” so I will know how much longer I will have to deal with her. A final discomfited and horrible goodbye left me needing a cigarette and a beer and I had both. Wow. Vampires? On a first date? Really?

Dating with a Vagina

Long before I knew Manti Te'o existed, Jess and I determined that everyone lies on the interweb.  Let's go with the premise he was duped [he wasn't, but for shits and giggles, let's play pretend].  I can easily see how he could fall for some of these lies.
Sometime in 2011, Jess and I decided to prove the interweb lie theory in what we will call The OKCupid Chronicles.  This was no uncertain charge.  The scientific method was referenced, an IRB convened (don’t ask me for names and affiliations, it’s all on the up and up) and we established a criteria for the women we engaged.  Between the two of us we had Baltimore and New York as our representative sample.  It was perfect. We could cast a wide net of lesbian crazy to test.  We wrote impeccable and HONEST profiles following our criteria.  We agreed upon a few ground rules: no one of extremely short stature for Jess and no one trying out for the WNBA for me, no one who directly and specifically referenced drugs, and no one looking for casual sex. Everything else was pretty much fair game. This was a no bullshit test and this is the way it went.
Interminable amounts of time were spent perusing OKCupid profiles. We’d read the litany of wonderful things lesbians were doing, what they liked and what they were into. We only engaged the person by asking them about something they actually wrote in their profile.  This, we concluded, must be the best way to a woman’s heart.  Engage her with shit she already told us she liked! Simple, easy, and I should have been up to my neck in dates.  Yeah right.  After about a month, we determined women don’t actually want to date. Sure the profiles professed a great interest and want to meet the right woman, share intimate moments, build a life/relationship/family/house. What they actually want is to be desired. The more women I messaged with something as simple as ‘what is your favorite John Cusack movie?’  [their alleged favorite actor], the more silence I got. When women actually did respond to the pointed questions we would ask, it was basically to clarify that the information we had [meaning their profile, written by them, we could only assume] was incorrect and they were not Mets fans who love Tegan and Sara at all. Oh right, that was my profile, the one that was ME.
So the OKCupid Chronicles will offer you a front row seat to (almost) every email exchange, IM, awkward text messages, and dare I say-the dates we actually went on.
Disclaimer – this was all done on the up and up. We never lied to anyone. We had genuine interest in every fringe activity and raw foods fad and hot yoga place these chicks proclaimed to be interested in.  Given our thoughtful messaging, I think we were more interested than they were. This experiment was undertaken in the name of science to prove that everyone lies. Except us of course…

Who You Are

i already know the song i will use to mourn my next break up. i haven't even met her yet, but i know she will misunderstand something i never said so Between The Lines by Sara Bareilles it is. self awareness is the quality i value most in humans and i'm brimming with it. it eliminates the sting of someone telling you what you are in the heat of the moment. "you are blunt and not sensitive enough" yup. "you only like to text" yes and that's probably how i started courting you. "you like to spend too much time alone" you are correct. this, i think, makes me the best girlfriend ever. i never lie. i don't like to argue.  i know who i am and trust me you will too before we date. despite this, i will give my future ex gf and our future amicable break-up it's justice by listening to Between The Lines for a full day before i head to the bar. RIP

Going Postal

In Anytown, USA there is a discussion happening in the communal kitchens of regular joe offices about any number of inappropriate and slightly racist/sexist/homophobic topics that would give Gloria Allred a proverbial hard on.  One might think there’s a generational gap, blame the old-timers for their backward views. No such luck.  Office mates from 20-70 proselytize about the "Orientals" who make their carry-out, the Non-english speaking guests of our country who take their drive-through order, anyone who isn’t a WASP and would dare wish a Happy Holiday instead of a Merry Christmas, and The Gays.  Now I’m not suggesting it’s an episode of the 700 Club, I’m merely reporting out that there is more subtle racism/sexism/ageism/homophobia in work-a-day America than folks would like to admit.  I, for one, pledge to stand up against such tyranny and speak out atop my soapbox at mention of ANYTHING vaguely inappropriate – not because I am a curmudgeon or highly moral or even politically correct, but because I hate these fucking people so damn much.  

Are You Ok?

I would like to lead the campaign to remove the words "Are you OK?" from the American female lexicon. 90% of the time it is used inappropriately. I will give you an example. An appropriate use of the question "Are you OK?" would come immediately after a child or an elderly person fell. Appropriate. An inappropriate use of the question "Are you OK?" is after a period of silence and or an absence, unless during that period of silence/absence there was a news report of my injury, death or arrest.  Rest assured, I am definitely OK. The problem with the question “Are you OK?" is further compounded when written via text or email. During this time lapse, the American female, gay or straight, has lost the ability to imagine that the absentee has laundry to wash, groceries to purchase, receipts to organize, or books to read, or god forbid, work to do. The consequence of hearing, and even worse reading, the words "Are you OK?" on the normal red blooded American male and/or lesbian, is to retreat retreat retreat-usually with an intoxicating spirit.  I am singlehandedly leading the effort to spare the American female some grief by removing the ability to say these words in succession. I don't talk to my brother for weeks at a time and never does he start a conversation with "Are you OK"?  And I know he sleeps very well at night. So ladies, your silent or absent paramour has not fallen off the planet. We just have shit to do.