THE DAY I GOT MY GOOD JUDGMENT BACK – 062617

This blog entry leaves me feeling, well, just a little “less hopeful” about finding “the one,” or “ones” for me, because I had such a positive first impression of him.  To be fair, I even had a positive first date with him…except for the part where I paid for dinner.

And - when I had the opportunity to explain to a group of sister-friends how exactly, it came about that I ended up paying for dinner, it didn’t really hit me how ridiculous it sounded, until I heard myself telling the story out loud.  And even though these sister-friends were very careful to suspend their own judgements about my behavior (allowing me to have my own bad judgement all by myself), I couldn’t help but to hear what they were thinking:  WTF Maureen!  Red Flag Red Flag Red Flag, Sister!  Funny how a yellow flag becomes a red flag when you involve third parties in your personal fiascos, but what’re you gonna do…live in a bubble?

So I met Al (not his real name) on Tinder.  Tall, dark and handsome.  Seriously…and he seemed so…so…wholesome.  At least his photos did.  There was nothing written in his profile - which for me is a bit of a yellow flag, because what, you can’t take the time to tell me just a little bit about yourself?  Even on Tinder they give you 1000 characters.  Make an effort. 

But yeah, he looked so kind, so gentle, and soooooo super-easy on the eyes.  Which, by the way is requested in my profile; specifically, I request “....someone easy on the eyes, but not too much of a pain in my ass.”  Because who needs that, right?

And then there was the part where he was so eager to make plans, straight off the bat.  This is impressive, as most men seem to prefer the "extended texting relationship" over an "in-the-flesh-meet-and-greet."  And when I say extended, allow me to offer an example: 144 messages into one texting relationship I was having with a fellow, and he still had not solidified any plans to meet me!  And I tried, dear reader, boy did I try my dammdest to make plans.   But he always seemed to skate AROUND making plans.  Right up until the time I told him that, after 144 messages in and no plans made indicated to me that we weren’t a good match.  Of course, his next message to me, 30 seconds later was “Wait!  Not so fast! How about lunch?”  

Sorry darlin’…too little to late. 

So – Al and me made plans to meet for dinner.  I show up to the spot first, and I see him walking towards me.  B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L.  Even better than his photos, which is always a very nice surprise.  I remember one blind date where the guy who greeted me was a full 60 – 80 pounds HEAVIER than every single one of the “slim-me” photos he chose to display online.  #decepticon.  The online dating scene is FULL of them. 

He came walking towards me smiling, I was smiling, it was obvious that we both were enjoying first physical impressions.  Good start.  And then, he asked me: “Do you want to come to my brother’s house with me?”

What?  WTF?!?  What kind of question is that, do I want to take a ride in a stranger’s car to gawd knows where you really intend to take me to do gawd-knows-what? 

And that is basically what I said to him.  To which he replied: 

“Well I don’t have any money right now and I need to go pick some up from his house.” 

I was completely baffled.  How do you show up to a first date without any money?

“You have a credit card don’t you?” (I mean, who DOESN’T have a card?)

“They’re all maxed out.”

So what was I supposed to do at this point? We were already at the restaurant, he was an extremely tall drink of water, and I’ve been thirsty for damn near three years now. (walk away, mo!  you were supposed to walk away!!!)  So I went with it. #toothirsty

“OK look," I said,  "we’re here, let’s eat, I will pay and then you can pay me back.”  I was really FINE with this decision at the time…I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?  I have a nice dinner with a stranger and never see him again.  Those who have heard my stories before know i was stiffed for an $85 food/bar tab several years ago, so, meh. 

And we did have a nice dinner.  Good conversation, great “views” (lol) I left happy.  

And i was happy...until i told the story of my first date to my sister-friends.  And began to doubt my judgement. 

I heard from him a couple days later.  At 7:30 in the morning, he texts me.  

“Arrghhhh!”  I reply via text.  “Too early!”

I was out of town at the time, and let him know I would contact him when I returned.  Which I did.  On Friday, I send him a text, asking when he would be back in the bay area.  He lives in Sacramento, and is often in the bay for work. He responded that he would be in the bay for work the following week.  I give him the thumbs up, but no plans are made. 

And then, on Saturday, at 12:30 in the a.m. he sends me a text, which reads:

“Hi Maureen.  I know its late.  I’m in Oakland.”

Which, thankfully, did NOT wake me from my pleasant slumber (and I’m a notoriously light sleeper) – I saw the text early Sunday morning – and replied as follows:

ME: OK…but what exactly are we supposed to do with each other at 12:30a.m.?!?

(several hours later, like 3:30 in the afternoon, i receive this response):

HE: Hey.  Just woke up.  I was hanging with my brother.  It was a 50^th bday party. 

(now i'm even more confused and need further clarification):

ME:  Soooo….you drunk-dialed me then?

HE: No, I was not drunk at the time.  We were coming back from the city at that time.

(what?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!  “At that time?!?”  Who gives this kind of alibi to as an excuse for making a bad decision?)

ME: omg totally lame. 

HE: Lame? What exactly is lame?

So what is he asking here? Is he asking for clarification of the DEFINITION of the word lame?  I mean, I know it’s a fairly white thing to say, but here I am, I AM a Ritz Kracka, so obvs. I’m gonna 

say those kinds of things.   But really, who has never heard the word lame used in this context before?  No matter, I’m not going into the weeds with this one here and I have had enough.  I decide to address what about his behavior I find to be lame.  Perhaps I can save another poor soul from future nonsense.  Probably not though.   

ME: That apparently, you thought it was perfectly acceptable to call me in the middle of the night.  This, coupled with showing up to a first date with no money…I think I have to bow out at this point – we are not a good match.

He didn’t text back. 

Still - i remain hopeful.  

WHAT DOES ENTITLEMENT LOOK LIKE? - 060217

In this day and age of escalating racial tensions, the issue of ENTITLEMENT has become a hot-button topic in my social-circles: what it looks like 'in action' and how the effects of entitlement, if gone unacknowledged and unchecked can oppress others and their their right to exist and take up space...free and unfettered.

Well folks - i'm here to tell ya!  Entitlement looks like this: a “cuddle puddle” of 4, perhaps 5 people physically encroaching upon another human being’s personal space, with complete abandon and total disregard.

Tonight at Ecstatic Dance, I had the opportunity to be on the receiving end of this obnoxious display of entitlement.  What started out as one woman sitting cross-legged on the mat in front of me (there are several mats off to the side of the dance floor for people to hang out, do yoga, simply rest.  They are soft mats, approximately 3'x3' that jigsaw together, creating convenient boundary lines) ended up being two men and at least two, maybe three woman sprawled out on 3 or 4 of these mats, writhing and grinding their bodies into each other…with, as I mentioned before, total abandon and absolute disregard for the human being (me) occupying the space presently, and also prior to their arrival.  I guess in practice, possession isn’t really 9/10 of the law after all.  

And don’t get me wrong, I take no issue with their writhing and grinding, and overall freedom of sexual expression, I’m not a prude for heaven sakes, and this ain’t my first rodeo, you understand.  Hell, i really wouldn't mind finding myself in a cuddle puddle some day.  But, in addition to the perimeter between my physical body and their physical bodies getting smaller and smaller, I was kicked at least three or four good times.  Without as much as an acknowledgement, let alone an apology, that there had been unintended physical contact.  It actually "felt" like they were trying to kick me out of their way!  Perhaps they were.  

Because…well, because entitlement.   Which in practice means that the space is theirs to do with, play with, hoard in whatever fashion they see fit.  If you just happen to get in the way of all of their entitlement, well, move out of the way, FFS! 

You know, consent is a funny thing.  And it’s a big and consistent topic at Ecstatic Dance.  The conversations typically center around getting consent before engaging in dance with another person.  And most certainly before any kind of physical touch.  

But what about consent when it comes to sharing another’s personal space?  And sure, we all have different ideas about how wide of a space constitutes an appropriate amount of personal space (I have a friend who needs a great big bubble of space between his body and others) but we can all agree that there indeed exists this thing called personal space.  And if we can all agree that this exists, then we can also agree that this personal space can be violated.  

And its one thing to violate someone else's personal space by accident.  This type of situation happens often, with or without our knowing whether we have, but when we know that we have, as when we accidentally kick someone who is sitting in their personal space, this violation is easily remedied by an acknowledgement and an apology.   But what happened at Ecstatic Dance was a repeated and ongoing violation of my personal space - if not intentionally, at the very least, carelessly. 

The 4 or 5 folks who violated my personal space last night happened to be white (well, they didn’t just happen to be white, Ecstatic Dance Oakland is probably 85 – 90% white, so it’s more than likely that a majority of these violations are perpetrated by white people). 

Oh hell, who am I kidding, with my badly veiled attempt at “political correctness”:  These violations - and there have been several - have ALL been perpetrated by white people.  Never have I ever experienced an incident in my entire LIFETIME where a black person accidentally violated my personal space and didn’t acknowledge it.  Ok, maybe from the young ppl...but young ppl. are - in a word - obnoxious.  It's been MY experience that Black People don’t tolerate that type of b.s.  Stay in your lane, mkay?  STAY.IN.YOUR.LANE.  And – if you happen to veer out of your lane and into my lane, well - you better recognize.     

I would suspect that perhaps the history of ongoing violation – of all kinds, not just physical, experienced by black people in this country has trained/programmed our DNA (among other things, such as emotions) to be specifically sensitive and averse to breaches of personal space, even the most minor of experiences, such as being rendered invisible and then repeatedly kicked.

  

Which is why I am so keen on bringing movement medicine (specifically, free-form dance) to my black and brown communities here in Oakland.  And this idea both excites and terrifies me.  What if this idea is rejected? Or worse, what if I am rejected – for the umpteenth time in my life – by my brown and black communities?  I mean lets face facts, bi-racial folks often find themselves tip-towing between two very different worlds, feeling a part of neither.  At least, this has been my experience.  And yet, what if this idea is not rejected, what if it’s embraced - think of what kind of healing could take place in ALL of our extended communities!

To be honest, my idea is not really "my" idea: black and brown people have “always” embraced and practiced movement medicine – typically some form o dance – as an integral part of their culture…one of the important links to their ancestors that was stripped away from them with the forced deportation across the Atlantic ocean. 

“Sankofa” is a word from the Twi language of Ghana (there is a very good possibility that my birth-father’s roots are from Ghana) that means to “Go back and fetch it”, and this is the concept I am working with right now.  I also just learned (thanks Wikipedia!) this: “Sankofa is often associated with the proverb, ‘Se wo were fi na wosankofa a yenkyi’ which translates as: ‘It is not wrong to go back for that which you have forgotten.’”

SANKOFA

Reclaiming what is our birthright.  Reclaiming an integral part of our connection to ourselves, to this planet and to each other.  Reclaiming the JOY and absolute ecstasy that is possible when we are completely free and at ease in or bodies, expressing the music through our bodies. 

So - I know what you’re thinking: “Well? Did you say anything to these people?” No, I didn’t.  Indeed I thought about it, several times during that long 20 minute sit, but in addition to loud music potentially drowning me out, this cuddle puddle was so involved in its own physical experience, any noise from me would most certainly have gone unnoticed, or more likely, fallen on deaf ears.  Or even worse, I might have been *marked* as a deviant; an outsider, and “ostracized” by the group, because I just can’t get with their “sharing space” concept. and take up space.  Not to mention, i love confrontations as much as i love cleaning my bathtub. Or my toilet. Or getting my annual pap smear. 

Which I can, it’s just that, well, my definition of sharing space includes a very important clause for respecting personal space.  In fact, this is probably the MOST IMPORTANT clause in my definition of what it means to share space with others.  

And if i'm wrong in wanting to, in needing to protect the sacredness of my personal space, i don't wann be right.

SANKOFA

WTF is WRONG with you (young) people?!?

I began this piece starting with the title (after receiving a particularly distasteful text from a potential suitor), in which "you people" referred specifically to men, and even more specifically, to those men who don't seem to have a very firm grasp on appropriate and inappropriate courtship rituals.  But after talking with a good friend about the incident and hearing her perspective that men are doing the things they are doing because women are responding to them, it occurred to me that perhaps it's the whole entire younger generation that has gone stark-raving looney-tunes when it comes to courtship, turning our modern day dating scene into a vast wasteland of over-promised debauchery and under-delivered authenticity. 

The other day, I was quietly recovering from septum repair surgery, with ample time to peruse the various dating apps, and I ran into a lovely looking young man, 33 tinder/tender years of age.  For the record, I had finally taken that gigantic leap of faith into lying about my age – actually since turning 49 less than a month ago, because it really does seems as though the field of potential online mates thins rather rapidly in your late 40's.  I had been experiencing this thinning out since turning 47, freshly back on the single scene, and slowly coming to the depressing realization that I had, rather abruptly (to me, at least) become “older woman” age on dating sites.  

 

Anyway, the only reason I lied was to be able to have a fighting chance to connect with a potential someone whom I could then inform of my actual age, and the reason for my slight deception. 

Which I had almost the immediate opportunity to do when, after slashing 10 years off my age, I went Tinder-fishing and caught two eager fish with my brand-new 39 year old profile! 

When I confessed my deception to suitor #1, he was quick to inform me that “At least 70% of ppl. lie about their age on dating apps, and I knew you were in your 40’s anyway.” 

To which I responded, “Well that’s not the most flattering thing to say to a woman…that you look OLDER than the age you are representing yourself to be.”  To which he replied, “I'm sorry, I hope I didn’t offend you…” To which I replied, “You didn’t offend me, I’m just noting here for you that it’s not very flattering.”  To which he did reply, but I didn’t answer quickly enough, because during my lull, he unmatched me.

And, after dispatching with this folly fairly quickly, another match appeared, and I immediately informed him of my age, which he indicated was not a problem for him.  He also told me that he lived in Davis and was in town visiting friends, and that he was thinking about moving to either the east bay or San Diego.

Seems harmless, I thought.  At the worst, we connect and don’t vibe at all; at best, I meet the love of my life, who just happens to live in Davis right now, but would move to the Bay if given the right incentive (me).  So, off we went, making plans about meeting up:

Me: I can meet as early as Friday, so when will u be in Oakland again?

He: I’m leaving today.  I was going to delay if you wanted to meet later.

(I think here is the moment I sensed things were veering in an unintended direction…)

He: I was planning on leaving tonight at 8 but if you want to meet for a bit, I will leave at 10 instead.

(me lying in bed with my head propped up with three pillows to reduce swelling and splints stuck up my nostrils)

And he went on:

He: I can tell you all about me in person and get to know you.  If you are in my area, we can meet in Davis next time.  

(me thinking why the f#ck would I be in Davis?!?) 

And then suddenly, out of nowhere:

He: I want to kiss you and your neck down slowly to your body and kiss your body (sic).  Then pick you up and lay you down in the bed and lift your left leg and kiss you from the ankle down to your wet pussy

Quickly followed up by:

He: Oops, probably too much.  Not sure if you like it? (winky smiley face) ha-ha. 

I literally caught myself pulling the phone away from my face, and looking at it, in sheer HORROR, as if the phone itself had just assaulted me.  

I mean… how did he mistake me for a hooker?!?

Or seriously, is THIS how the kids are picking people up these days? I mean, I guess it’s perfectly acceptable now (perhaps even desirable) to suggest different sexual positions, as a warm up for the first date?!?  Weird. Just. Weird.  

Either way, I’m just not willing to go there. 

Update one week later: I am switching my age back to 49.  Not only has the activity slowed down to a trickle, but I realize the likelihood of exposing myself to bad pornography increases, the younger I go.  Perhaps this age will catch me some classiness.  

A girl can dream.