Friends-Giving

With Thanksgiving now past we move into the core of the holiday season which actually concludes at Valentines Day in February. So for the next 10 weeks expect some sort of display, advertisement or article on how to stay sane/keep fit/find gifts and of course travel and do so despite rising costs of both travel and entertainment. Wow that sounds so fun!

I also will read numerous articles on loneliness and of course the rise in social isolation that has maintained since the onset of Covid in late 2019, when we thought it was just a simple virus and to be cautionary. Remember those holidays? No me either. I was still traveling between Nashville and Jersey and saw many travelers wearing masks as they were coming from Asia. I had been reading about the virus and knew instantly this was not something that will pass, little did I know how bad it would be. And then by the New Year it turned quickly to shit. Remember those fun pressers with Trump and the counterpoint Andrew Cuomo who would use their pulpit to bully and to coerce others into compliance and cooperation or sheer ignorance and little respect for others let alone their own health? Yeah and the rise of Fauci who retires next month and to never see him again either is fine with me. All three of these Stooges did little to assuage or comfort Americans with their endless polticizing, conflicting and contradicting messaging and of course the sheer bullshit that came out all of it from both sides of the political aisle. Not the first time I have seen a transmissible disease used as a political football, but hopefully the last. Nah, we had Monkeypox and that seems to have faded but that is fine as vaccines for diseases that are totally preventable are on the decline. Enjoy those pox/measles and the like at your holiday buffet and then when you have illnesses later thanks to the post affects of them, you can thank yourself and your family for their ignorance and lack of access to proper medical care. Folks few people have family Doctors and rely on Urgent Care and ER’s for their primary care which by then is now past the preventative stage. America, bringing back epidemics one at a time.

So with that we enter the phase of the moon where after three years of paranoia and hysteria we are to gather together and put all that aside to share a plate of food that may or may not cost more, taste any better or be worth all that time or travel to sit at a table and talk about what? Sports? TV? Movies? Books? Oh wait no one reads books they read Social Media that tells them about books. So they talk about I guess Book reports that they saw/heard on Tik Tok.

I go to a great deal of events of which I write about here, largely because this is self published and with that it is still considered published work and for that I can get some tax credits for the cost of doing so. I struggle keeping up the blog and was beginning another to draft fiction and see how to create work from what is ostensibly non fiction and turn it into fiction to avoid the whole concept of what is “creative non fiction” versus actual non fiction. Meaning that I can change names, situations and blur truth with well lies or made up shit isn’t that fiction, created non truths? Sometimes writing linear stories are boring and why most non fiction is not well read or sold other than a few bios that draw the eye and then the Author disappears back into the world to never have that kind of success again. The late Author, Julie Powell of Julia and Julie is a good example. She never had that kind of recognition and acclaim that began as what? A blog. From that drew attention and success which it evolved into a book and movie that was never replicated again in her brief time on earth. Or how about James Frey who wrote a creative non fiction book that was so beloved by Oprah, then it was discovered it was just that – creative fiction. His life ended in a similar fashion, once infamous now just sorta famous, a cultural footnote.

And that is the struggle for many who despite having had fame, fortune and success is finding a path that maintains this course of life and that the creative fuel or inspiration maintains. It ain’t easy. I can do small doses of inspired thought and then like any drug, it lasts for a moment and then back to real life. I get why people do drugs as they cannot handle the let down, the sense of high and with that the power it brings that makes one feel unique, special, loved. Read Modern Love in the New York Times or LA Affairs in the LA Times. These are the stories of the heart and head that talk about the success and failures of finding love and romance in the big city. I find them incredibly amusing, boring, sanctimonious, sad, or interesting. I don’t read them all the time but I do occasionally pass over them. I read one today, “When love calls, go.” My first thought, “Hang up the phone or don’t answer.” Honestly I did not get one word of that as it was a cultural story that one would have to understand the history behind the concept of race, identity, religion and belief in the institution and dogmas that are embedded into the belief of arranged marriage and its import to one’s family and history. But it continued to reinforce my belief that religion is the bane of all existence, especially to Women. Had that woman stayed in Hong Kong, had a thriving career, remained with her family and met someone on her own or not, what could have happened could have been equally if not more satisfying or joyous than meeting a dude and marrying him and moving across the globe to satisfy what appeared to be her family’s wishes, not her own. Wow. Just wow.

And in that same paper they had a story about a Breakup Bootcamp. It charges 4K to mend a broken heart. I knew in my heart I had potential to be a cult leader as I watch the Vow Season 2 on HBO and yet I also could not go through the charades and machinations to maintain such bullshit and duplicity. I mean once I cleared that first million I would be out of there and claiming that we must end this and go on our own journey to seek knowledge and freedom. Then I would immediately move to Switzerland.

I am not going to comment on any of that absurd bootcamp but it is about the same cost for some visits to Therapist over a brief period and add Yoga, a Sex Worker and a short vacation, it adds up so this is fine frankly if that is what you need to feel better. I am sure the ESP/NXIVM folks felt the same after their thousands of dollars dropped for bullshit jargon and coaching from ostensibly two white people that look like Middle School Teachers. Wow. Just wow.

But it is this pervasive FEAR of being alone. This has fueled many of the shooters who have no social ties and cite a lack of a “girlfriend” as their reasoning. The most current crop that shot up a Bus, a Walmart and a Gay Bar seem to have the most diverse reasoning or lack thereof as to why as one committed suicide (the Walmart employee) and the others “motives” at this point will either evolve or never fully be understood as again it is less about the why but more about the how. How they get a gun and ammo and feel compelled to act upon their rage in a manner that kills and harms people just living their lives is the only thing I care about. This is not about mental health as you are already crazy to start amassing guns, get tactical gear and ammo to then act on your rage. Yes, you are crazy. The end literally and towards people who had nothing to do with your rage or anger. The exception it appears is the Walmart crazy who while working their expressed paranoia, delusions and rage yet not one co-worker or supervisor felt compelled to listen to him and inform those around him that this is a problem. And that may explain his list and targets. We truly do not actively listen, we patronize, ignore or simply are that self involved to not. Almost all shooters have expressed similar anger prior to their acts and yet again and again we go “mental health” but hey its clear we have no fucking clue what defines mentally healthy.

And again we have this insatiable belief or idea that you must be partnered off, have a hand count of life long friends whom you rely to be that family of another kind. Great my family were nuts so would this be a sane family and what is sane. While I found my Parents challenging as parents they were not bad people so being their friend is not an issue and with that I accept their limitations and have moved on the therapy stage of blaming them for all my ills. What I did learn was independence and the ability to rely on myself which can be overwhelming and at times I would appreciate someone else to do the heavy lifting. I would actually really love someone to plan something and include me in a genuine offer of friendship. This would be inviting me to a play, a movie, a walk. An ACTUAL invite with the exchange being that they do the planning/organizing or get the tickets and I will pick up a meal, drink or something in the future in which to reciprocate. I can truly say that will never happen. The last time I was invited to something was in Nashville to a baseball game that I did not want to go but felt I could not say no as to not hurt their feelings and I dressed and was ready with a no show text about 20 minutes before. I knew it was a lie and was furious and it was then I decided to lie and fuck with that individuals head from that point on. But is that mentally healthy? No, but I found it by far more entertaining and when I left I finally did admit that I made it all up I could in fact write fiction! I was by far more creative when I put my mind to it but it also changed how I saw people and the limitations I could foresee as I moved forward in life. And that led to the policy of No Compromise. Since landing in Jersey City I have had two social encounters with two different Artists, one I went to Governor’s Island with (which turned out to be the longest and best thing of that) and another who I met for coffee and she drank none and we walked around Union Square for about an hour. It was boring and neither of them I have seen again nor even remember their names. But again effort made, it was stalled and I moved on. No harm no foul and no compromise.

And this weekend I read the below article in the Washington Post from of all things an Economist who is concerned about the concept of Social Isolation. What resulted was not a far reaching discussion on health, loneliness and the overall affects it can pose on mental or physical well being. This was about the issue of choice and of situation. Yes the rise of mental health issues and the like that can be serious when we speak of those who are alone, and wish to be otherwise. That is completely different when one chooses be alone and or is simply alone, and yes folks I was in a marriage of one so you can be in partnerships that are of that nature. I refer to my Parents who again were the role model of that which I duplicated to a tee, so yes I do now know that boundaries and interests and relationships do not need co-dependency in which to thrive. And yes folks that my Parents did not do things together, sleep together, socialize or have interests together they were utterly co-dependent on that dysfunction that I thought that was “normal” or “healthy” and today I find myself content with the idea that yes that works for me now. Irony I am back to where I started only now I can articulate that and am sure I do not want a partner to live with me or fuck me. I just want a great friend whom I can do things upon occasion and have trust and respect as the foundation of such. That will never be a Woman they are incapable of it. We women are an unhappy lot and I just look to the Karen who lives in 946 below me and that performance in my Apt. on October 10. Then last week to get on the elevator with me and act as if she had no clue who I was confirmed it, she is what? Crazy. Just not gunshot crazy. And that is what falls under the umbrella of a mental health disorder.

And when I read the article and the comments that followed they too confirmed the reality is that most people choose to be alone, they are bored, frustrated, exhausted. Some come to it from years of having to care take and be the primary care giver, have had tremendous loss and want to be alone and some manage to have a healthy relationship with their partner/family and feel no great urge to be the life of the party. I am a great advocate of the “random” where your path crosses for an hour or two and take great pleasure in that exchange and then move on. I finally accepted that and often do make an offer of a future time but I don’t mean it and I really do. That is being polite. Most often I don’t remember their names and make sure that I am appreciative and thankful but I am done with it. The nice man I met with his friend (and yes I do recall both their names they were delighful and deserve that respect) on my Birthday whom I had dinner I die offer to reciprocate. My first attempt was in that same week to meet by coming into the city and running errand and saying I was stopping for coffee so if he was around to let me know and left it there. His response, “I don’t drink coffee.” So I told him to have a nice day and keep in touch. He did and with that I have been deeply bored with the texting and after my disaster at the Brooklyn Academy of Music and the German Actor in Hamlet I realized I was truly done with plays and theater. I had my few tickets left and was going but not going to discuss or pursue any further drama, literally or figuratively. So this weekend I planned a trip to Baltimore in January to see the John Waters exhibit and attend their acclaimed Symphony. As I planned it I recalled that the Gentleman was coming to see Death of a Salesman again (where we all met) on the 13th but I simply dismissed it then moved on with my plans. And sure enough the very next day I got a text with all the tickets and theater he was planning on attending that weekend. It was packed and unless I attended one of them on the same day and time I could not possibly reciprocate with dinner. I was secretly relieved. But with that I responded. “Wow great choices, shame I don’t do Broadway anymore and with that schedule I doubt we would have a chance to get together anyway. Enjoy”. His response was Happy Thanksgiving anyway. Loved the deep inquiry into “What you don’t do Broadway anymore?” Yeah, like coffee. Again the lack of curiosity and interest said more than had he expressed as such. Even if I wasn’t going to Baltimore that weekend I am back Sunday morning, but with a short window and his lack of coffee I am not sure what he thought we could do. Have Breakfast? I actually don’t do breakfast. So with that I suspect it is done. I am relieved as we had nothing to talk about but the play. There is only so much to talk about there. I am not sure he thought we were to be anything more than friendly acquaintances but the inability to communicate and speak about things other than a single subject be that theater, politics or sports is a problem folks.

I find it fascinating that people find me so “intelligent” which is great but it is really that I simply read, retain and seek knowledge and experiences. It takes so little effort to find things to do that I like. I went to see the play, Piano Lesson, with a very star studded cast on Tuesday. I have been a fan of August Wilson as despite all his plays taking place in Baltimore where he once lived, he lived his later years in Seattle and it was from there is how I became familiar with his work and life. He lived a short distance from me in Mt. Baker and sadly our paths never crossed but I am sure he would have been a lively conversationalist. And with that I decided to stay in the City for the night as to avoid another drama at my home And at what had to be the best find of hotels in Manhattan, Public, in the LES. I have fond memories of that hood, often staying there when I would visit. It is still a mixed but thriving area and with that easy access to and from Midtown and the PATH exchanges. I had the best time at Public, from a room upgrade to a bottle of Prosecco on the house, I can not say enough good things about the service or the hotel. It is a must go to stay or just to dine, drink or visit. I am going to have to find another excuse in the future to stay despite my disinclination to attend Broadway in the future. Yes that much was true as there is nothing next season I plan on seeing unless I buy day of or lottery. It is not worth it. Two more to go with an Off Broadway show, Man of No Importance and the Musical 1776, my calendar is now full of Opera and some Cabaret. But theater is no longer my muse and with that we will always have our moments but it must be exceptional in every sense of the word.

And you do atttend Cabaret you can reserve a table or sit at a bar seat and with that I will never sit anywhere but a bar seat. I am seeing Sandra Bernhardt next month and Joe’s Pub to end the year and wisely will take the bar. I did Below 54 last week as well and they “upgraded” me to a table. I shared with a Mother, and a Daughter and another young woman who also joined the table. I knew after I was cut off mid sentence I had nothing more to say so I listened to their conversation progress and the best part was the Young Woman was originally from Nashville, confirming that I needed to keep my mouth firmly on my wine as flashbacks and reminisces were not on the menu. So I listened to the table next to me discuss their theater going and thanks to that convo again reminding me why it was time to forego it as they defined the “type” of NYC theater audience. Their discussion defined pretentious but while they trashed one production the irony was that next to them at another table was the Stage Manager of said production. Ah NYC folks it is a small town. I have come to the conclusion that yes I am smart and smart enough that small talk is being polite but silence is golden, like the Tony Awards.

So why are people alone? Read Bowling Alone a 20 year old book by Robert Putnam. It explains it and shows that little has changed but the methods in which we did connect and socialize have eroded and with it today’s Social Media is anything but a manner in which to meet and find others just like you. We are all now algorithms, and as in math, like finds like to solve the equation. Math is Hindu-Arabic, its own language and you read it right to left and we are Americans who suck at math. That may be why as we are also not bi-lingual and we assume that all of the rest will come to do as we do, as we do it. Yeah okay.

So embrace aloneness, do not confuse it with loneliness. If one suffers the one prospers and you must find the ways to those tiny relationships that can boost self esteem and self worth. My stay at the Public Hotel did that. With that I found out 946 was gone for the week, but I am glad I did stay regardless; I needed to treat myself to civility and dignity. And that is how you meet others in that orbit of positive energy that enables me to thrive and survive. I have let the thoughts of suicide pass over me and that is all they do – pass.

I spent Thanksgiving watching old movies. First was Blackboard Jungle (which irony had Sidney Pointier as the bad student which only decade later he would be taking on the redeeming Teacher role and my influencer in To Sir With Love) and folks there may be more closeness to reality than I imagined when I read this about a former Teacher at one of the many schools I subbed at in Nashville – Johnson. This was,the last stop before Jail and I knew this Teacher but the story was right out of the movie. That school had many problems, including that at one point Nashville Police quit as they did not feel safe there. Yeah no one did, it was literally a block away much like the other school in Jersey City Bright St which was, until this year and it explains why I subbed there as well, but not one moment did I feel safe. There was no learning, no security and frankly no point. So after that flashback, I then watched the original Boys in the Band from 1970; a film about a Birthday party but in reality a gay night of anger, rage and recrimination by a bunch of Queer friends who define the word in a dysfunctional way, not a fun “gay” way. Toxic friendships are just that toxic and with that it shows that even Men straight or gay have anger issues. Yikes, how perfect for the holidays to remind yourself maybe being alone is not that bad of an idea.

Opinion Americans are choosing to be alone. Here’s why we should reverse that.

By Bryce Ward

November 23, 2022. The Washington Post

Bryce Ward is an economist and the founder of ABMJ Consulting.

The covid-19 pandemic wreaked havoc on our social lives. Cancellations, closures and fear of a potentially deadly infection led us to hunker down and avoid acquaintances, co-workers and extended family. Time spent with friends went down. Time spent alone went up.

Thanksgiving was not spared. Americans spent 38 percent less time with friends and extended family over the Thanksgiving weekend in the past two years than they had a decade prior.

And now for the scarier news: Our social lives were withering dramatically before covid-19. Between 2014 and 2019, time spent with friends went down (and time spent alone went up) by more than it did during the pandemic.

According to the Census Bureau’s American Time Use Survey, the amount of time the averageAmerican spent with friends was stable, at 6½ hours per week, between 2010 and 2013. Then, in 2014, time spent with friends began to decline.

By 2019, the average American was spending only four hours per week with friends (a sharp, 37 percent decline from five years before). Social media, political polarization and new technologies all played a role in the drop. (It is notable that market penetration for smartphones crossed 50 percent in 2014.)

Covid then deepened this trend. During the pandemic, time with friends fell further — in 2021, the average American spent only two hours and 45 minutes a week with close friends (a 58 percent decline relative to 2010-2013).

Similar declines can be seen even when the definition of “friends” is expanded to include neighbors, co-workers and clients. The average American spent 15 hours per week with this broader group of friends a decade ago, 12 hours per week in 2019 and only 10 hours a week in 2021.

On average, Americans did not transfer that lost time to spouses, partners or children. Instead, they chose to be alone.

No single group drives this trend. Men and women, White and non-White, rich and poor, urban and rural, married and unmarried, parents and non-parents all saw proportionally similar declines in time spent with others. The pattern holds for both remote and in-person workers.

The percentage decline is also similar for the young and old; however, given how much time young people spend with friends, the absolute decline among Americans age 15 to 19 is staggering. Relative to 2010-2013, the average American teenager spent approximately 11 fewer hours with friends each week in 2021 (a 64 percent decline) and 12 additional hours alone (a 48 percent increase).

These new habits are startling— and a striking departure from the past.Just a decade ago, the average American spent roughly the same amount of time with friends as Americans in the 1960s or 1970s. But we have now begun to cast off our connections to each other.

It is too soon to know the long-term consequences of this shift, but it seems safe to assume that the decline of our social lives is a worrisome development. Spending less time with friends is not a best practice by most standards, and it might contribute to other troubling social trends — isolation, worsening mental health (particularly among adolescents), rising aggressive behavior and violent crime. Americans rate activities as more meaningful and joyful when friends are present. Friends and social connections build on themselves and produce memories and fellowship. They also boost health and lead to better economic outcomes.

We can hope, as covid-related barriers recede, that people will change course.Time with friends did increase in 2021 after the vaccine rolled out; however, at the end of 2021, it was still an hour below the 2019 level. Furthermore, a Pew Research Center survey made public in August suggests that covid might have changed us permanently — 35 percent of Americans say that participating in large gatherings, going out and socializing in-person have become less important since the pandemic.

The potential harms of these trends are sufficient to demand that Americans devote some resources to understanding and reversing them.

You can help reverse these trends today without waiting for the researchers and policymakers to figure it all out. It’s the holidays: Don’t skip Thanksgiving with your family. Go to that holiday party (or throw one yourself). Go hang out with friends for coffee, or a hike, or in a museum, or a concert — whatever. You will feel better, create memories, boost your health, stumble across valuable information — and so will your companions.

Put effort into building relationships that you can count on in good times and bad because, as the song goes, that’s what friends are for. Besides, you just might have a good time.

You are not alone

If I hear that expression one more time I am going to go Derek Chauvin on someone and pin their head to the ground with my knee and draw the life out of them. That is how sick I am of that here on day 413 of social isolation. For me I don’t see that changing anytime sooner than later but the move to open NYC by July 1 on one hand, means the other hand of Cuomo once he extricates it from a throat or a boob he is fondling (with him it is hard to know) means that at least I will have some level of flexibility and freedom that I currently do not. As for now we must schedule an appointment to go to a Museum, walk the High Line, or go to the gym. It grates and wears you down to the point where going seems more a chore versus a pleasure.

I spent the better part of the pandemic enjoying the odd single sense of being and freedom which I still appreciate but it has become boring and monotonous. The weather has been horrific with few days of actual pleasure in which to wander and to seek at least moderate adventure. Today is International Jazz Day and so I do what I do everyday, listen to Jazz. But I decided that the pajama day and lockdown was needed to avoid the endless confrontations I seem to have of late. This week I found a note to my door that said this:

HI THERE, WE TRIED KNOCKING BUT MUST HAVE MISSED YOU. UNFORTUNATELY, WE CAN HEAR EVERYTHING FROM YOUR APARTMENT. IT HASN’T REALLY BEEN AN ISSUE UNTIL NOW., AS OUR DAUGHTER IS ONLY 12 WEEKS OLD. SHE GETS WOKEN UP EVERY MORNING BY NOISE AROUND 5/5:30 AM. WE ARE HOPING YOU MIGHT BE ABLE TO LIMIT ANY LOUD ACTIVITIES UNTIL ABOUT 7 AM. THANK YOU.

What is find distressing is that they claim to hear EVERYTHING. Really? I live above them, so what are they hearing exactly. I know for one they are hearing my washing machine as I do laundry at that time. I go to the gym at 4 am and work out until 5, shower and wash all the clothes from that and the day before. I have a small apartment and few towels so it requires laundry more often than normal. So they can hear everything and wait until day 409 to let me know. One of them is a Police Officer so that may explain the X-Ray hearing. Did he hear me fall off a step ladder and nearly break my nose? Did he hear me one day rage and cry for hours when my depression got the best of me? Did he hear me laugh outrageously over King Kong v Godzilla? Or my stumbling to bed one night where I drank myself into a stupor only to get up at 3 am and start all over again? What does he hear? I responded that it was l likely the laundry and I would discontinue that but other than that what did he suggest I do to eliminate any noise that is clearly been disrupting him and his family all of these 409 days? I never heard back.

The next was the 31 year old boy at the wine store, I am a good customer there as well aside from working out at 4 am, drinking is the other hobby, and in turn for the past 400 days he worked there I never spoke to him to my recollection until the week of my first vaccine March 23. He then asked me if we could “hang out.” I did not think anything of it other than he was bored too and thought he she seems nice so better than no one.. well I was wrong. Within a few hours the texts began requesting he come over drink wine and have light eats. Then when I said no, he suggested taking that to Liberty Park across the way and doing so. When I said no and suggested we have coffee he offered to get some at Starbucks and we go there to drink it. Did I mention he wanted to do that after he got off work at 10 pm at night?

At this point I wondered if I was losing my mind or were we all. I informed him that I would prefer a daylight adventure and he countered with a day trip to the Jersey Shore. I thought about how fun and agreed. Then again it got weird. He said I could meet him there at 3 pm after he got off work early one day. I asked what we would do and he thought well we could walk the boardwalk and if we wanted we could come back or not. I thought, well if we are going that late I get the staying over, but if we are going at different times I would get a hotel room he could meet me for dinner and if he needed to I would get a double bedroom or a sofa pull out so he would not have to drive back. That seemed to confuse him and finally, I had to after he continued to press on when this trip was to occur, I told him no. Honestly, why would I go alone and then have him drive two hours down to eat a meal with him and then be slumber pals? Are you fucking kidding me? I am twice his age and this was absurd since I told him that I was 61 not interested in any type of romance, sexual encounter, or anything remotely like that with a man his age nor frankly any man at this point given the pandemic. He threw a temper tantrum and walked out of the shop. Days later he suggested a true day trip and then days later informed me that there were shift changes and he did not think he could do it. Well, that saves that. He then continued to go on about going to a Gay Bar with him so he could see the one a customer just opened. Thanks, I want to be your beard. So I said, “Hey that drink and light eat a thing, wanna do it tonight?” He refused as he was going to explore the area and the bars in the hood. He did not invite nor ask if I would like to join him, so I assume he found a date of his own age. The word “platonic” he must have repeated to me several times and at one point I thought he was convincing himself that is what we are. We are not even that. We are not friends and we have no future of being so. But I tried but this comes after I had made the decision that I had to stop compromising, stop capitulating to make friends, and be one. Women are constantly being marginalized, gaslight, and exposed to micro-aggressions that exhaust you. It is hard being Black, yes I get it I really do. Have a pussy? It is largely the same thing. Being white doesn’t give me a free pass at all. It may have but with age that has been canceled quite a while ago. I have no value other than my checkbook at this point and as for the 31-year old I seriously could not believe that he thought that my pussy was that valuable either since I was clear with the comment “My pussy like my checkbook is closed for business.” Again this is a white man and they don’t get the message. And this includes the very well worn – no means no – which I also texted him. White men are big dicks with little ones attached in which to poke, prod and bore us to death.

So in the last encounter when I did what I did best, push buttons and see how far they will go I knew that he would once again prove me right. I said that during this entire pandemic I was alone, I had no friends, family, any place to go or to be that mattered or would recognize me if I wasn’t there. That I spend 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 407 days at that point totally without true human connection, and that where I go on my own is not exactly a treat for me to go with someone else. If I can and have why would I with you? My birthday and Christmas went without a card or an email from anyone I knew and the one person I had been good too, is now some anti-vaxx lunatic and I have cut off all communication with that individual so again, why would I go to Liberty Park or a Gay Bar with you when they are the places I go to without? So yes folks I am very much alone. And when a Police Officer tells me in a note he hears my comings and goings, my first thought is: Fuck what is next, a Breonna Taylor?

The last week I have read several articles about how friendships will evolve and to this, I doubt anyone can say that it will be a significant realization that most people pair off with partners. Their friendships are all based on the power of the pussy or dick and for many, this is whom they identify as their “best friend.” I never knew that sucking or fucking was a pre-requisite to being a friend but alas I confused sex with well sex and friends as those who did not require inserting an object into my body to define it. Watching the current Gaetz scandal in Congress play out that again shows how white men define friendship, by fucking and sucking together the same girls found online; however, I will give them credit they at least paid for it.

I found this interesting as again it shows that we truly don’t know who we are until we do and then we celebrate it. Celebrate yourself, you are worth it.

If You Don’t Want to Go, Say No

Most social obligations would be best left in the Before Times.

By Jesse Grosse The New York Times April 29, 2021

When I was in my early 20s, my friends started calling me “The Bailer.” I was infamous for making plans and then canceling the day before. Even at the time, I knew this was irritating and ungenerous behavior. But I made the plans with the best intentions: I love my friends! I want to see their faces! That spoken-word event in a dank, low-ceilinged bar sounded like fun when you told me about it three weeks ago!

About 24 hours before many social outings, I would start to feel sweaty and inert. After a long day’s work at an office, I would often feel drained from human contact and all I would want to do is buy an enormous burrito at the spot near my apartment, get home, take off my pants and eat it in privacy while watching reality television. After a few years of disappointing my friends last minute, I learned that it’s much kinder and less stressful for everyone involved to be honest with myself — and my friends — about what I would actually show up for.

I began to evaluate what I really enjoyed doing and what I valued about interactions with friends. I did not like standing for prolonged periods of time, for almost any reason. I did not like waiting in line for food. I did not like anything that included the word “networking.” I did like getting drinks or dinner in a place where we could really talk, or lounging in someone’s living room, or going to a party if there were going to be lots of people I knew there and ample seating room.

Having children at 30 was a great excuse for being the hermit I naturally am, and it also helped clarify my socializing needs even further. I was both more tired but also more starved for grown-up conversation. I opted for even more socializing in small groups without my daughters, and when I was with them, I experienced the joy of raucous dinner parties with a separate kids’ table. I learned the valuable skill of continuing conversations through multiple interruptions.

During the pandemic I added a few more types of socializing to my repertoire, including outdoor walk-and-talks, like I’m some jerk in an Aaron Sorkin TV show. Though some pandemic behavior comes easily to me, because I do hate leaving my house, this year of enforced isolation has been depressing, and even a shut-in like me has been missing human contact with people I am not related to.

That does not mean I will come to your spoken word performance in the future. I am still short on time on this mortal coil, and I imagine I will return to my previous socialization preferences.

While obviously there are some obligations you show up to because you love and honor your friends and family even if you don’t want to attend, I invite you to figure out what you actually like about seeing people in the “After.” Especially now that people are making plans with frenzied abandon, saying yes to all manners of activities without a second thought because they are so starved for socializing. Yes to that group sound bath! Yes to the wine-cooler tasting! Yes to the early morning rave! Oh honey, no. No. No.

Be honest with yourself. If you like the energy of a big crowd, say no to that intimate coffee and parry with a trip to a concert. If you hate going out, invite people to come over.

Tell people the real reasons you’re saying no for things you say no to. This has two benefits: it will give you deeper intimacy with friends who will know you for the true crank you really are. And it will mean that they stop inviting you to things that you really don’t like to do. My friends no longer call me The Bailer, because now I always show up.

Modern Love?

After the sex gone wrong story about Aziz Ansari, irony that this is the same man who wrote a book called Modern Romance, I listened to several critics weigh in on the confusion about what defines sexual harassment and abuse and of course rape and how it will be the real challenge when it comes to seeking resolution in the current state of #MeToo and #Time’sUp movements.  

If you watched the Oprah interview with the founders of Time’s Up it is clear they have no idea on what they are planning to do, how to do it and who is in charge of making those decisions or determining a priority on how to administer let alone distribute funds collected in the course of its growth.  They just got a 1.5Million dollar check the other day thanks to Mark Wahlberg and there is more guilt money I am sure forthcoming in the weeks ahead.  But a leaderless movement will fall the way of the others that preceded it regardless of who are members and that too needs some thought before anyone moves forward.

The Ansari story I found repugnant and familiar.  Any woman who has had sex with a man that began as a consensual can find themselves in similar situations and in turn react and respond in equally confounding manners thanks to years of training and expectations that as women we are sure we must comply in which to save our life/retain or gain trust and in turn maintain or establish a relationship.  Yes that is a great start to a long lasting love affair, coercion, guilt and manipulation.  Well that works in the Church so hey why not.

I read this essay in the Modern Love section of the Times yesterday and thought of my job when I work with younger kids.  They often get into a such a state I have a hard time understanding them so I frequently find myself saying, “Use your words to tell me not your tears.”  I have frequently in my adult life cry-talked where a partner has said, “I have no idea what you are saying?” and my response oddly becomes quite clear, “You never do” to resolve a disagreement.   It has a levity to it and often breaks a moment of tension.   Ah fall to a joke when all else fails.   It is why I am alone as I can no longer take anyone seriously and this however is not in a good way. Trust is earned and frankly that is one job no one is willing to take on as it would be hours before I would bother letting down my guard let alone my pants for a man today.   At times it makes one feel very alone and yes lonely.

But in all honesty few use their words and again where are men learning this bullshit? From women or from their mothers. The violence and sick shit I suspect comes from other men in those situations where the lying and bragging dominant the dialog versus truth when it comes to sex and women.  That is what defines rape culture an environment that supports, encourages and fosters falsehoods and protects members from truth and reality.   But it all starts at home women and ask yourself what are the messages and cues you are teaching your sons and in turn what contradictions and lies you are demonstrating?  Do as I say not as a do?

Finding a companion is not easy and it is part luck and part fortitude or just well being in the right place at the right time.  Making it work however is another story.  I have tried the online sites and personal ads to find a hook up, a date or even a conversation and I have failed all but once with that and I realize that loneliness and desperation do not make a great ice breaker.  I came of age in the time before the apps and swiping one right versus left to make the call who gets the call and I don’t see any of this any different than the matching of fish frankly so why pretend otherwise.

I read this weekend the story of perhaps the most idiotic woman I have ever read about in my life of those stories where lonely hearts find the one they think is the one and it was so bizarre it was a LA Times magazine and podcast called Dirty John.   It was fascinating in that train wreck way those often are.    I am not sure what the woman was at one point thinking this penis attached to a body was that great as it was clear she needed deep therapy and counseling long before this odyssey began but it was a hell of a story. 

So when the discussion about Ansari took place this morning on the news shows the issue of education, training and re-learning about social cues, verbal insists and of course communication that will stop much of this before it begins or ends the same way the Ansari story did – in public.

What I also want to point out again is that women raise men.  In the story about Dirty John you see a family full of problems when it comes to male/female relationships and in turn it becomes almost a legacy that sends a strong message to the women in the family that men can do whatever they want to a woman as forgiveness is a much better weapon than a gun or any other means of protecting oneself from violence.  Thank God one did not learn that lesson or she would have found herself the victim as her Aunt had been a decade earlier.   I have never read anything as tragic as this family and its history of domestic violence but it did say that women are really shitty at getting the fact that men are not good for you when they are not good for you.

I have no consistent patterns when it comes to men and in turn it took only one man who drugged men, propelled me behind a car after filling me with enough booze to also kill me and then walked away from the wreckage telling the man who did find me and was calling 911, “She’s still breathing” then walking into the night that I no longer needed a man in my life.  I knew that it was a Gay man who found me and when we finally met I was relieved as it was Gay men who brought me home from the hospital on my birth it would be a gay man who ensure that I would stay alive when needed.  What is truly appalling it was my two male Attorney’s when I found the witness statement in the Police reports (which they overlooked) and in turn commented that my date “Shar” could have killed me that they were resistant to that description.  No they were sure he was just afraid.  Really? Then why not stay behind, talk to the Police about what happened and why when he was called by the hospital that night (as he was the last text on my phone they traced) or to the follow up calls respond?  Really, he wanted to help me and do the right thing?  No.  No he didn’t.  And my two Attorneys, Ted Vosk and Kevin Trombold, never once asked for a court order to enable Verizon to trace the calls and texts and find the owner of the phone number.   So not only did Shar walk away, Vosk and Trombold walked away from the obligation to their client to defend and support me.  As long as the check cleared that was all they cared about.   Vosk no longer practices law in Seattle and ironically works on behalf of domestic violence victims and assault of women in Alaska while Trombold still practices his version of public defender law only charging clients for the privilege.

As I read the essay below authored by a millennial, the ones who are sure changing the patterns and the reality of America, I laughed as there is nothing in that story that is new or surprising.  A woman wants sex, she pretends that is all she wants, but takes him to her home, allows him to stay and then spends a day with him believing that it will be different than the times before.  The words used are the same, the promises and the lies are all the same as those that were before but this time its different.  No, not it is not. 

My Mother used to say,  “Take them to a hotel room don’t exchange last names, get it done and get out before morning.”   She was right.

For Best Hookup Results, Use Your Words, O.K.?

Modern Love

By GABRIELLE ULUBAY
THE NEW YORK TIMES
JAN. 12, 2018

I had invited him over only for sex, so when I woke the next morning to the sight of him putting on his pants, I said, “Do you need me to walk you out?”

“No, I’m just going to use the bathroom,” he said. “I’d like to stay, if that’s O.K.”

And it was. So he stayed for the rest of the day, never more than a few inches from me. We left the room only to use the bathroom or to shuffle to the kitchen for snacks. Meanwhile, my roommates laughed, gossiping about my “sexcapade with the cute guy from Tinder.”

“I think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he said. “I can’t believe we met on Tinder.”

I had never been the girl of anyone’s dreams — not even my own. I always imagined the quintessential girl of men’s dreams to be taller than me, thinner, more poised and blond. But my lover insisted, and we lounged on top of each other until late in the afternoon.

Later, I said, “Do you usually have sex with girls the night you meet them?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Why, do I come off as a slut?”

I laughed nervously. “Of course not.”

Finally, he answered: “Not really, no. I mean, I wouldn’t turn sex down, but I wouldn’t go looking for it, either.”

After a minute, I asked, “Do I come off as a slut?”

His voice softened. He wrapped his arms tighter around me. “No, not at all. You actually come off as a lady.”

Maybe he wanted it to sound like a compliment, but my doubts about his sincerity made it feel more like a blow. I wondered if he was lying to make me feel better or to ensure more sex later.

As a child, I was always told, “Use your words” — shorthand for saying precisely what I mean and what I expect from people. As an adult, I’ve noticed that a lot of people aren’t very good at using their words, especially before and after hookups. Few ever seem to say precisely what they mean or what they expect.

Regardless, I smiled and said, “Really? Thank you.” I kissed him on the cheek, the temple, the forehead. “And you come off as a gentleman.”

And he did. But I secretly hoped that he was the same as me, that his chest also simmered with hidden indiscretions, and that the speed with which we slept together was as typical for him as it was for me. Because if it wasn’t, I would have to wonder if, upon discovering the truth, he would recoil. I would have to wonder if he would think of me as dirty or morally deficient, even though he already said he found me gentle.

“Wow, you’ve got a beautiful smile,” he said, idly stroking my waist, my stomach, my hips, my thighs. “You’re really the full package.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I know I don’t,” he said. “But I mean it.”

He told me I was smart, funny, creative. “You’ve got good karma, Gab,” he said.

I said, “You see things in me I didn’t know were visible.”

I don’t know why I fell for it, especially when I hadn’t even gone looking for it. For some reason I’ve always been susceptible to thinking my life would be vastly improved by the solution to a single problem. In high school, I thought, “It will all get better when the braces come off,” or “when my skin clears up” or “when I go to college.”

And now, older and supposedly wiser, I find myself thinking it will all get better when I find romance. When I have a man who wants me despite how fallible, loud or political I can be. Someone who, with a kiss, can snap me out of my self-pitying reverie. I think about how long I’ve been ready to find the beauty in another human being, to caress the scars of someone as flawed as me and to feel that person reciprocate.

That night I hadn’t been looking for romance, but my two-time lover embedded himself in my consciousness when he told me I was the girl of his dreams, and I can’t help but think how cruel that was, considering how it all turned out. Our goodbye was a kiss on the mouth and a wink as he stepped off the subway.

He had grinned and said, “I’ll see you later,” but he never saw me again. I have since learned that “later” means the same thing it did when I was a child and wanted to do something extravagant: It means “I don’t want to” or “If I feel like it.”

Now I’m told, “You only like him because he flattered you,” and “Good sex can trick you into thinking you like anyone.”

“What did you expect, Gab?” my friend said. “You can’t form a connection with somebody that fast.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t mean to. This felt different.”

She sighed. “Your problem is that you jump into things too quickly.”

“O.K. …”

I thought there must be something terribly, medically wrong with me if I could so badly misinterpret a situation. I wanted to see a doctor. I wanted a diagnosis. I wanted to ask my lover if he had found himself disappointed, if I wasn’t who he wanted me to be.

My friends tell me I need to love myself. I’m told this will make my life better, much in the way braces and clear skin were supposed to make me beautiful. When I ask how to do this, my friends become philosophers and say, “You need to find it within yourself.” Their advice is so abstract that I wonder if they, too, have searched and cannot find it.

How do I search within myself? I imagine reaching down my throat and rummaging until I find some bright little mass labeled “self-love.” It has been hiding, perhaps behind some bothersome organ or within the folds of a stubborn muscle. And when I find this magical panacea, I will say, “Oh, there you are. Where have you been all this time?” And I will set it back inside of me, this time in the correct place.

My question is: How will I know when I have found this thing that I never realized I lost, and what will happen when I do?

But I don’t really think my problem is a lack of self-love. I enjoy sex for its own sake every bit as much as a man does, and I’m honest about that. What confuses matters is all this sweet talk, followed by the vanishing act.

“Ghosting is the most cowardly way to end a relationship,” I once said to a male friend in a room with a guy who had ghosted me years before.

“Would you really rather someone tell you to your face that they don’t have feelings for you?” my friend said.

“I’d rather have that than be made to feel like an idiot,” I said.

Not too long after, a man I slept with told me I was beautiful while we were walking to my apartment in the middle of the night. He caressed the back of my hand with his thumb and smiled, but it meant nothing — under the orange glow of streetlights, I knew, even broken glass looks stunning.

“I feel so lucky right now,” he said. “I can’t believe a girl like you would give me the time of day.”

I texted him the next week, but he never responded. Annoyed, I noted that I wouldn’t even have thought to text him if he hadn’t blanketed me with such gratuitous flattery.

And then my two-time lover called me a lady. He added me on Facebook and told me to keep in touch. He said my skin was soft and my smile was beautiful and he couldn’t believe he had found someone like me.

He said, “I’m never mean to girls.”

I smiled. “So you’re a self-proclaimed nice guy?”

“Yes. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” I said, draping my leg over both of his. He slid his arm beneath my head like a pillow. “But I don’t want a guy to be nice to me just because he feels obligated to, you know? I want him to be nice because he means it.”

“That makes sense,” he said, tangling a hand in my hair and kissing me on the forehead.

I don’t wander into casual sex expecting it to yield a relationship. I have never understood why some guys seem to think flattery is the key to a bedroom they’ve already been welcomed into. They say they would love to date me and then wonder why, the next day, I think they want to date me.

I neither require the flattery nor deserve the ghosting. With hookups there’s no need to be mean — just say what you mean. Use your words.

Ring Around the Tub

As a single woman of a “certain age” we are often defined by our family, extended or otherwise. When you have no family either by design, intent or just ’cause you are looked upon suspiciously. Not terrorist suspiciously because we are invisible, there is no see someone say something, to acknowledge your presence. Women are invisible when they hit the no fertility mark as that is a scent men are drawn to and it is embedded in DNA which is one reason, the other is that the bumping and grinding wears itself out after a “certain age.”

And yesterday I opened the Nashville Scene which included love letters to Nashville by the readers. And oddly or not one stood out by a young woman from Seattle who has also relocated here. What she says about the ‘ville is utterly en point. The obsession with Church is the dominant factor here, the other is being in a committed relationship, preferably marriage with a member of the opposite sex.

Hey, Ladies of Nashville.

What is uuuup? I fucking love you.

Three years ago I moved to Nashville from my lifelong home of Seattle, leaving behind the land of weed delivery, gay marriage and socialist city council members for a new place in the middle of the Bible Belt. “Culture shock” doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Sure, I have met some wonderful people, because Nashville is full of wonderful people, but I’ve never felt capital-H Home. Strangers ask me what church I go to and are confused when I say I don’t go at all. I’ve been told I’m too loud and too direct when I thought I was simply stating an opinion, and I’ve been made to feel foolish for wanting the world to be a safer, kinder place for everyone — especially women. Lately it’s been particularly difficult. The fact that a very unqualified man was elected president over an overwhelmingly qualified woman has had me longing for Seattle’s more progressive pastures.

But then I drove over the Korean War Veterans Memorial Bridge on Saturday, Jan. 21, on my way to Nashville’s Women’s March. Thousands of people — the majority of them women — were flooding into Cumberland Park, filling the parking lots surrounding Nissan Stadium and lining the 3,000-foot stretch of the John Seigenthaler Pedestrian Bridge. They were yelling, chanting and waving hilarious, smart and/or poignant signs. They were refusing to be ignored.

I knew there were like-minded people here. I knew Nashville is a blue dot in the red sea. But it wasn’t until I saw women come out in droves to support other women — women of color, trans women, immigrant women, women who aren’t old enough to vote and women who have been voting for the better part of a century — that I was finally able to understand just how many of us (of you!) there are out there.

I see you, women of Nashville. I hear you. I love you. Thank you for making me feel like I have a home again.

Yours in resistance,

Megan Seling

And while she found a minute of joy to the march I did not go to I want to point out that one hour of one day gave her a brief moment of hope but it will not last.  But I get it, any port in a storm and the idea that you are not alone is always a comfort. But how is that working today Megan?

Today another bill is being proposed that drivers who “accidentally” kill or drive into protesters are not liable for any civil lawsuits which will kill the large personal injury industry here.  And in turn open the door for maniacs to drive into crowds and in turn kill or injure others but hey he can still face criminal charges, or not.  Met the cops here? I have and it is blame the victim mentality here so you should not be protesting if you didn’t want to get killed/maimed.

And finally Vanderbilt is being investigated under Title IX violations with regards to rape.  Vanderbilt had an infamous rape case that led to two trials of one defendant due to a Juror not admitting to his charges of sexual misconduct when he was a minor.   And yet no one bothered to cover the other rapes on the campus and sure enough there have been more than one.  Again these girls are clearly whores and deserve it.  This is something I hear repeatedly by the wearers of the belt.   And Vanderbilt is the largest employer here and that means deference.

And don’t expect the Courts to care as it appears Judges and Legislators here have made their access to the ladies an industry in and of themselves.  Well its Mad Men in Nashville!

As here we are in the city of now and yes it is 1995 and the Defense of Marriage Act is back here in the land of Now if that now again was decades ago. The current legislator has proposed a bill that defines marriage as between a man and a woman; this is not the same bill that defines what a husband is and a wife is in regards to marriage and that definition is again gender based. We also have the toilet bill pending which ensures we use the right rest room. Ever seen that line in the ladies, well men I don’t care when I have to pee I have to pee, so shove over.

And of course if this depresses you you may have difficulty finding a therapist as it is law that they can decline you as a patient if you are of an “alternative” lifestyle. So good luck with that!

I do want to reiterate that Seattle was not a dream holiday as the age discrimination and the overall demeanor of the Seattleite which made national news last year in a long profile in the The New York Times with regards to Amazon and its larger affects on the city,  shows that this is everywhere but here in Nashville we have God, damn it!

When you have an median wage that falls between  42K to 52K, (depending on the source) apartments being built with an average rent of 2K, that means in order to live in said apartments one must make 100K to afford that.  So if 85 people a day are moving here and finding jobs to afford said apartments then the median wage would rise.  Um no, it has remained stagnant for a decade and again the numbers of those with higher education who actually live in Nashville remains equally stagnant with 30%, so you mean to tell me that there is nearly 50-60% of non college educated individuals earning close to 100K?  Forbes hardly rates this town (its not a city) as #30 to do business and ranks it as 2% above the national cost of living (Funny the Chamber claims we are 5% below).  And that is the no income tax.  But is it that great?  Really?

These are the top 10 employers in Nashville, note there are two manufacturers – Nissan and Electrolux – the rest are largely health care and hospitality.  There are few 100K jobs other than Executives and high end Medical specialists who top out over the magical six figure salary that the current developers want to attract.  And to look at the rest of the major employers is is largely the same.  Again the current candidate to the Department of Labor, Puzden, plans to relocate here. Yes, we need more low paying gigs here asap.

 **As workers in the Nashville-Davidson-Murfreesboro-Franklin Metropolitan Statistical Area had an average (mean) hourly wage of $21.49 in May 2015, about 7 percent below the nationwide average of $23.23, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.

But the hype is on and the bubble is blowing bigger with another announcement (in between crime reports) that a huge hotel and water slide development is being built.  And I am sure the jobs there will be in the six figure range, and that includes a decimal point.

As I watch the news they are covering the local rep company (which I am still unclear where that is located) having nudes on stage, the first ever in their history.  I can only say that again this is 2017 but in Nashville welcome to 1953.

So who is moving here?  Those from adjacent middle states, other parts of Tennessee and they don’t check their conservative, closed values at the state line.  They bring them with them, they in turn are like the Borg and they assimilate very quickly to the culture climate.  You have to to survive.  Swimming against the tide is dangerous.

As we approach Valentine’s day I did laugh as Nashville’s rating as a place for singles was low.  Yes that would be correct as you have to have a partner here to be valued.  A partner that is as opposite in sex and same in color.  I can’t wait for the return of anti-miscegenation laws.  The movie Loving here played here for about a week, shocking no.

When people keep telling me I need to find a man, my normal response would be: “Does he have a vagina?” which would leave them guessing if not uncomfortable, but I have learned here that snark doesn’t do well and I don’t need any more cops at my door thank you.  So I will just nod and think that they can take Jesus and go fuck him.  The only ring I need is one around my tub and that I can wash away, much easier and cheaper than a divorce.

 I have always thought the historical markers and constant references to the way it has always been is nuts and this place is utterly nuts.  It is highly entertaining and if I can make it 4 years I will have accomplished my goal and then I can get out of the ‘vile.  But hey come to Nashville and live in the past and live in the city of Now?