stand-bi

i'm awkward as fuck.

not in the adorable pretty woman, kind hearted hooker that doesn't know which fork to use with the salad kind of way.

i'm awkward in the bring a whole room to an awkward silence with an inappropriate comment or story kind of way.

i've never figured out the difference between polite conversation and when someone is actually hitting on me. probably because the second one has never happened.

i'm a bartenders favorite person. a little extra attention and they get an above average tip and probably a phone number that they'll never even glance at.

because when a bartender carries on a 20 minute conversation, through several interruptions, on the theory that geographic location/place of birth directly affects temperament and health of the population (think: people living closer to the equator are statistically happier due to their naturally higher vitamin d levels from getting more liquid sunshine than northerners) and the etymology/prevalence of genetic disorders or neurological anomalies based on geography...that MUST be flirting or at least some level of interest...right??

for the record: nope.

just a bartender getting a degree in geography.

i'm socially awkward of the ZERO GAME club when it comes to dating. i can wingman like a mutherfucker. if YOU need a date, i can help make that happen. but for ME? nope.

i have never struggled (per say) with my sexuality. growing up i liked boys because i was raised in a small religious town where girls liked boys and boys liked girls and that was that. there were a few outliers- one PE coach that was a lesbian...she lived with the lady that refereed the volleyball games. that was the extent of my "exposure" to anything other than the status quo according to the baptist church. vague half knowledge of two ladies that lived together. oh the scandal.

years after leaving the small town scene, after a divorce, after some growing up and exploring and coming into my own and realizing sex and masturbation are ok and not shameful, one-way-ticket-to-hell things, i started to notice small shifts in myself. porn preferences tended more and more towards girls. i started noticing women more in general. started thinking i would really like to try dating girls as well as guys. there was no real debate, no real struggle, just a slow recognition of a whole other side of myself and a whole different section of the dating pool.

huh. i think i'm bi. MAYBE I SHOULD EXPLORE THAT.

and so i went on a date with a girl. (that ended in a threesome somehow. some men have magical powers that i will NEVER understand).

and i LIKED going on a date with a girl. and i like girls in general. and i still like boys.

BUT. that was my one and only date with a girl. and my track record with boys isn't much better. out of the last 10 scheduled dates, 9 of them have stood me up.

because i just...i'm missing that part. i'm missing that social filter of polite vs. flirting. i'm missing that confidence to not care about rejection. i'm missing that ability to connect.

i can carry on a conversation with a stranger next to me in a bar. i can chat with them and have general bar debate and banter. but that's it. i don't know if the bartender is flirting. i can't tell if the waitress paid extra attention to my table. i don't know if the checker at the grocery store is just trying to make their shift interesting or actually is interested. is that smile from the stranger at the gas pump just a nice person? or someone checking me out?
 

i like boys. i like girls. but i'm on perpetual stand-bi.

how do you get past that? how do you learn to differentiate? it's easier/safer to just assume NO ONE is flirting and walk away at the end of an interaction, but i can't help but feel like maybe i'm being a little too closed off ice bitch when i do that.

people like to talk about the bi community as double dipping...oh, you're just bi so you have twice the chances at last call. YOU MEAN TWICE THE CHANCE AT REJECTION? cause i'm pretty sure that's all it means. also...do bi people not have taste? are we that cartoon wolf howling at EVERYTHING? in the same way homophobic men are afraid of gay men because being gay must mean you like EVERY. PENIS. ON. EARTH. apparently being bi means that i have no opinion or personal preference, i'm just trying to bang anything with a heartbeat.

guess what: NOPE. being bi just means i'm TWICE as awkward. it means i'm TWICE as inept at trying to get a date. it means i'm TWICE as likely to stick my foot in my mouth and embarrass myself in front of someone. i'm too straight for a good portion of lesbians, and dear god, whatever you do, never tell a man you're bi because all you'll hear after that is "do you know anyone for a threesome?" DUDE. I CAN'T EVEN GET ONE DATE AND YOU WANT ME TO ARRANGE A THREESOME?

and so here i am. twice as single. double the awkward.

remember that horrible tom hanks movie where he was stuck in the airport forever because he didn't have a homeland?

that's me. in the dating world. stand-bi forever because i don't really belong anywhere. and i don't speak the language.

now i just need a catherine zeda-jones stewardess to take pity on me.

basic theory of invisibility

i'm invisible. or rather i have the power of invisibility- the power to make people completely forget i exist in general, or at least forget that i can hear, have needs, or possess basic human feelings.  

one or two things can be overlooked. after the evidence starts to pile up it becomes harder to ignore. when people insult you RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU, but not directly at you, you can no longer pretend it's not an issue.

a mother not noticing that you need glasses until a teacher intervenes.
not being taught to shave your legs until your brother is so embarrassed he begs for someone to teach you.
not getting your first bra until (again) a teacher brings it to parental attention. (keeping in mind that 3rd-6th grade were all male teacher. bless them for the awkward they had to endure).

those things can be dismissed as markers of a crappy childhood. 

being intentionally passed over for promotions.
batting 0.000 on ALL dating sites.
not having plans for the 152nd friday in a row.

you start to wonder but chalk it up to lack of a social network or not marketing yourself in the "right" way.

a co-worker sitting in your office, less than 2 feet away complaining about "...single moms with two kids that file their taxes and get more money back than they ever put in and are working the system and ruining it for everyone else."

or

"...i would never let someone that was gay into my house. can you imagine having them around my kids or my wife? not even the cable guy. i would just say i changed my mind and don't want the service any more."

those are a little harder to ignore. those are fucking impossible to ignore. those are directly indirect shots. either they're that wrapped up in their own hate and prejudices that they honestly have NO CLUE what they're saying applies to someone RIGHT NEXT TO THEM, or they don't care, and i am invisible to them in that moment.


so. how should i use my powers of invisibility??

because of, or hand in hand with invisibility comes, for me at least, the painful lack of social skills. what's the point of going out when you're invisible? when the only person in the bar that talks to you is the bartender, isn't it better to save money and drink a beer at home on your own couch? when you go to a packed concert hall and don't talk to a single person...when you have people lean over your or push you out of the way to talk to the person right next to you...when you sit alone in a restaurant and the waiter keeps passing by your table...when you run all your weekend errands and don't see one person you know.

being invisible is lonely. you crave social interaction. conversations that require words more than one syllable. topics that make you think and challenge and debate. you want more than the 2 minutes of coffee shop drive through fluff. you need more than the latest update on what new fad is happening in jr. high. you NEED to be seen and heard and to exist for a small space.

therein lies the theory of the comfort of strangers- you're more open to talking about ANYTHING with a complete stranger because IF you ever see them again, it will be so far removed they (probably) won't remember anything. also, it's your ONE chance to connect, so you want to fucking JAM PACK that small window with as much of locked up stuff that once the flood gates are open there's no going back. so you over share. all the things that socially normal people know not to let out. all the awkward and inappropriate topics, stories, happening. you become THAT person. the one people tolerate because maybe there's a good story in it. you become the weird person which, well, true, but just a small part of the tip of the iceberg. but you almost don't care, because at least for a moment, someone saw and heard you (but you do care, because no one WANTS to be the weird person).

there's also the awkward problem of never knowing when to make an exit. if you're smart enough you set a timer for a parking meter and actually care about not getting a ticket. some of us aren't that smart. or don't care. or are willing to take the ticket for just a few more minutes of being out of the house and around people. you get so excited for the rare outing, the glimmer of humanity that you become the last man standing. you stay until the bitter end. it's never great. it's always a giant bucket of awkward. but it's your small portal. your moment of non-invisibility. your blink of existence. and you desperately don't want it to end. so you're stuck in the worst catch 22- extend the awkward or extend the invisible?

there are perks to invisibility. every super power has to have the good with it somewhere. when you're invisible you get to see the real side of people much faster. they let their guard down because they forget you're there or don't care. you hear their real thoughts and opinions. you hear their real words, not the gloss they usually spin. when you do have a conversation- a REAL one, not an awkward overshare moment, it's much deeper and more real than most conversations. you broach topics that normally wouldn't come up. the comfort of strangers works both ways.

but you go through life as a shadow of existence. you're a passing flash of an image, easily forgotten and frequently overlooked. you want to be in the light, but it seems to be either a blinding spotlight or a half burnt out night light. neither is optimal. there must be a balance somewhere in between, but i'll be damned if i've found it in my 35 years.

the bonus to being mostly invisible is the ability to develop a harder shell. not impenetrable, but much stronger, much more efficient for letting things roll off of. i know comments aren't directly about me, because they don't see me. i know they're not purposefully leaving me out, they just forgot i was there. the number of fucks given about any particular thing drops well below the national average because what does it matter anyway? but as all swords do, this has a second edge. i've developed a much stronger sense of bitch. i've learned to push people away and reject them before they reject me. you can't fire me, i quit logic. i'd rather be the heartless bitch than the weird weakling. i know i can't ever ask for help because that proves that single mothers are failures. we are a drain on the system. we are screwing it up for everyone else. i'll do what i can myself and leave the rest before i dare ask for help.

i'll stay alone in the darkest corner before i reach out and burden others. no one wants that. no one deserves that. you didn't see anyone else willingly jumping into the swamp of sadness for a fucking spa day. no one wants the depressing, pessimistic crap. fuck. i don't even want it. so i'm sure as fuck not going to spread the anti-joy. debbie downer parties alone because not every party needs a pooper.

so i stay home. alone. depressed, defeated, invisible. its so fucking exhausting working up the effort to go out when you know it will be a bucket full of awkward. but i try. there's inappropriate conversations and awkward attempts at humanity. there's a few fun-house horror show interactions. vague attempts to step out. but mostly there's invisibility.

have you ever tried to find an invisible person in the dark?

just...don't

2015 has been a strange, mean, bland, weird year.

i can't even remember most of the year...at least in specifics. there's large blocks: remember when i was doing music interviews and writing and getting my creative life off the ground again? remember spring and summer shoved full of baseball? remember when i had a roommate? remember the NEVER ENDING football season? and now, here we are. the last days of another calendar.

this year has been and endless march across digital screens of all new ways to be a failure in life. aside from the million lists of "you've been using (insert every. single. item. in your house) wrong!" there's also all the people- celebrities, you tube stars, writers, seemingly everyone letting me know i'm not even loving myself right. if i hate the body i'm in, SHAME ON ME. self love! self acceptance! fat is beautiful! accept all bodies the way they are! don't change a thing!

if i want to change and be healthy it's a traitorous act- why can't you just love and accept yourself as you are? learn to love the person in the mirror! don't give into society's standards of thin is beautiful! fat trader! you're *supposed* to love all your lumps and bumps and "curves" (trust, there's no "curve" here, just...blobs).

if i want to stay the same then i know i'm not being my most healthy self. and i know how "simple" it would be to just do all those nine billion 5 minute a day workouts to have perfect abs and perfect calves and perfect butt shape and perfect obama arms. IT'S JUST FIVE MINUTES. and HOW HARD is it to eat right? what do you mean you don't have an endless bank account to buy all these super trendy super organic miracle foods (that you have no idea to cook and even if you did and the child in your house wouldn't touch, so you'd have to cook two meals every night)? just sell a kidney go to whole foods! (where would i sell a kidney? and where is there even a whole foods??).

shamed if you do, shamed if you don't. 

this has also been a banner year for depression. i didn't have any particular inclination to meet other parents at all the sports things. i'm lousy at best at maintaining friendships. at worst...well...that's about where i am right now. there's nothing quite like spending christmas evening in a bar being invited to random hotel to smoke pot and watch porn by a stranger (true story) to remind you how completely and totally alone you've made yourself. still, better than sitting at home in the total silence realizing that not one person, friend, or family offered an invitation and, because you're completely terrible at being a human, you didn't reach out to anyone to ask. if there's one thing that stuck from all the lessons my mum drilled into me, it's that you NEVER, ever, under any circumstances, invite yourself over to someone else's house. that is the epitome of rude and presumptuous.

and i know, trust me, i KNOW: if you don't like your story, CHANGE IT!

oh, just change it!

OF COURSE.

just change it!

tired of being alone at the holiday? open your home to other lonely people! start an "island of misfits" tradition and have people over for games and drinks and...wait...oh yeah.  done that for the last 5 years and the only person that took me up on it is the now ex-roommate. 

well, just get out there and make some new friend! like...in the evenings...when you're too broke to even get a $2 pbr...and the kid freaks out and starts to destruct if you're not home every night...and bars aren't the best places to make friends...

join a gym! meet people AND get healthy at the same time! oh. yeah. except that crazy huge sign up fee and the monthly fees, and, again, the being away from home causing the spawn to destruct...so take the spawn! oh...extra fees...wait...

holy peter. this isn't that hard woman. just...volunteer somewhere! you know you have evenings and weekends totally free. when you're not running errands. or trying to keep things together at home. or when you're not crippled with social anxiety and depression. oh, and remember not to get too involved and attached when you do volunteer...remember how badly that's ended the last...every...time you've tried.

there's a reason the most remembered phrase from my dad is "you can't save the world kid." oh the countless times i've been screwed over or screwed myself over trying to help people.

what do you like to do? read? well, that's not very social. but how about a book club? a reading? a writers circle? the local book stores post readings and signings and book clubs. JUST TRY ONE (which i will, this saturday).

just keep swimming. just keep looking. just keep trying. just keep surviving. just keep going.

just. keep. going.

i think one of the best but hardest things has been seeing the youngest kiddo transition into jr high and battle the same things that i battled then (and still battle now).

do you remember how mean and scary lunch was if you didn't have a group you belonged to? how fitting in was *THE* most important thing? and i never did. i didn't fit at all. and i so desperately don't want that for my kid. i don't want him eating alone at a table. i don't want him wandering the hallway battlefields with no allies. we got into baseball...but none of those kids are in his school. we did football...a few of the kids are in his school but they don't have any classes or lunch together. and so i give in and let him get the trendy "jogger" sweats even though they are just ridiculous overpriced sweats with designs on them (no they aren't mom, look how much cooler they are). i make sure he has extra stuff in his locker- gum, mints, a few extra dollars for a drink from the vending machine. small tokens he can offer as olive branches. i tried like hell to get him to keep a few tampons in his locker to be a girl ally...that didn't go over so well. if only he knew...

we keep working on stepping outside the "cool" kids and talking to other kids that are maybe sitting alone feeling like they don't fit in anywhere. there's more to talk about than sports. talk about a netflix show or movie you like. a book you read. a comic that you like. your dog. your skateboard. or, just LISTEN. find out what other kids like, what they're interested in. and he's trying. and i know how hard it is, but i REALLY, REALLY don't want him to be like me. this socially awkward loner that spends the holidays cleaning the grooves of the coffee table with a chlorox wipe and a toothpick (again, true story).

he sees me at home, sees me frustrated and angry and sad and doesn't understand what it is. how can i explain depression to him without scaring him or putting undue burden on him? how can i explain that i want him to learn to be better than me? i want him to have friends. i want him to work hard for things. i want him to not be entitled. i want him to have better experiences and memories. i don't want him to learn depression. i don't want him to lean isolation and loneliness. i don't want him to spend his whole life looking for something that isn't there.

i feel like aside from all the sports that's what 2015 has been for me. isolation and failure and social awkwardness. and i don't want that for him. hell, i don't want that for me any more. i just...don't.

socially awkward

so. i'm old. and it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks. well, some tricks. "those" tricks i pick up pretty easily. social situations- not so much. awkward yet? it gets better.

i've never been a social butterfly. i've never been one that seeks out the center of attention. i'm at my best in a one on one or small group setting. i'm NOT a good dancer. i do NOT take good pictures (EVER). i'm not the girl that can walk into any room and have them all eating out of my hand in minutes. i'm just not. never have been, not on my list of things to be when i grow up.

i have a knack for putting my foot in my mouth. fuck it. BOTH of my feet permanently reside in my mouth. i have a nasty habit of cursing WORSE than a sailor on leave. my sense of humor is an acquired taste and even then can cross the line faster than an ethopian in a marathon race. see what i did there.

 i love my wednesday nights out. i love any night out. i love being away. conversations that don't include nerf or zelda or who pushed whom down the stairs. i love the band that plays. they're good friends of mine and incredibly talented. i do NOT love how old it makes me feel. most of the kids are college age- as in barely 21, forget they can use their REAL id now, talking about finals and class schedules college kids. i'm talking about my teenager and trying desperately to remember what it was like in college. TEN YEARS AGO. jesus mother fuck. TEN YEARS. i've been out of college ten years.

i watch these kids guzzle $5 long islands and $2 pbr's while i sip at my jack and coke or glass of wine. i listen to them talk about how trashed they got and how they can't remember full days while i make sure i'm drinking water to prevent the slightest hint of a hangover after my two drinks (maximum).

and, because i'm so damn old, i lost my train of thought. OFF MY LAWN.

there. now, i do know this isn't what i started out to write. i got distracted. it happens to old people.

what i started out to write is about how i often find myself feeling more than slightly awkward. and i have this uncanny ability to make people i interact with feel the same way. or at least it seems like that. awkward pauses, uncomfortable silences, the whole gambit.

*change perspective*

so. i started writing this quite a while back. since then i've discovered that i'm not as socially awkward as i thought. a friend invited me to dinner while he was in town with two complete strangers. dinner was excellent, there was great conversation, and i guess at the end of the night the other couple actually enjoyed my company. i have since talked to other people that enjoy being around me IN PUBLIC as strange as that may seem.

life is about learning and changing and growing and figuring out how to accept yourself as you are. i am not a social butterfly.  i am NOT good in large groups. i KICK ASS in small groups though. give me one or two people to talk to and i can hold my own like a fucking pro. that is my strength. i'm learned enough random facts over the years to bullshit just about any topic, i can read people pretty well and actually use my edit button (yes, i do have one that i can dust off on occasion) when needed. i won't be the one getting drunk to deal with the situation, i won't be the one in the corner giving everyone the evil eye either.  and you know what? the world needs people like that. it needs large group entertainers and small group entertainers. it need big bold people and maybe not quieter but bold in a different way people.

i'm still awkward in most social situations. i'm still the quiet person at the bar. i'll be the one sitting at the bar alone sipping my drink, enjoying the music, and OCCASIONALLY talking to the person sitting next to me. i don't fit in a big parties, but small dinner parties are fracking awesome. i don't like going to huge concerts, but if there's a group in a small venue count me in! i'll brave an arena full of people for a hockey game and maybe chat with the person in line getting a pretzel (but probably not) but would prefer a night at home with a glass of wine and a good friend.

and you know what? THAT'S OK.