Fems For Better Men

Back again

2011-11-24T09:20:00.000-08:00

Wow, I met a guy
that I don't mind talking to
Met him in a bar
but he didn't ask me what I do
Let him buy me a drink
because it didn't have a catch
Chilled for a while to
see what came out the hatch
--
Oh, hey
You have a sense of humor
Self-deprecating too without
a raging dose of hubris
Could it be,
that I met a valid male?
An XY chromosome who's not
beyond the pale?
--
So I stuck around
For dinner and some more drinks
to have a convo with this
guy who doesn't think that his shit don't stink
Don't want some 'Roses'
but I'm not an Outkast
I'm just looking for a guy with a little class
--
It's come to pass
that my past of getting plastered
and passing out
after hitting up another bastard...
It doesn't match up
In fact,
I'm not in college anymore
Where going to a women's school
rendered me a drunk whore
--
Nah, I don't need to beg for a dick
I'm surrounded by hardwood,
but I'm looking for a pogo stick,
A real playmate
Someone to shoot the shit with
Sit around in our
underwear
like comfy kids
An adult
who can inhabit their maturity
And hold me to the same
without giving up sobriety
--
Know what I mean?
It's ok if you don't
I'm learning too, and could use someone who says they will
even when I say I won't
--
So back to the matter at hand
with this gentleman
Surprisingly agreeable
A flash in the pan?
I don't know
We don't even live in the same city
The odds of something happening
are frankly pretty shitty
--
But guess what
I'm coming back to the Bay
And it's my birthday
Could I orchestrate this shit
and procure myself a solid lay?
Oops, I mean a convo
You know, an intro
Presumably a solid way to
stoke the blood flow
--
But could you show up
Nope, I guess you fell off
Had a little bit too much
of that Halloween-themed sauce
OK, I can live through this line
I can emphasize with a fool
tryna have a good time
--
So I called you
and we talked it out,
you apologized,
built back your -veezy clout
So we made a plan
And we talked a grand
And I found I'd be back in the Bay again
--
Oh goody, maybe this'll work out,
for another dinner,
some good wine,
and your sweet mouth,
Oops, I mean your sweet house,
yeah, it's decorated nice
I noticed when we went and had a nightcap on that first night
--
"I could sleep here,
It doesn't look like shit..."
In fact, your down bedspread looked quite the opposite.
--
Wait, did I just go there
Oh, you bet your khakied ass!
Shit...
I'm as jumpy as a member of the freshman class
But damn, could you give me a chance?
I need to make agreements before we start to slow dance
--
Like what's your safe word?
And don't text me.
I told you the first time
so why are you trying me?
I get that you're excited that you get to see me
But the ticket isn't yours if you don't show up for the opening
This ain't a peep show
I'm not a spectacle
My doors aren't open to the thoughts in your little world
--
You've got ideas
I can hear it in your silence
And your reluctance
to stand up
is showing me you're spineless
Come on, now
Can't a beezy have a little fun,
without a mummy crying mommy
'cause he thinks that he's come undone?
--
I'm the walking dead
I can sit with that
Bring me your despair
And I'll take that heavy shit to task
What are you hiding from?
Did your excitement run
in the direction of your
predilection for hit and run?
No, we never fucked
But you swiped me with your paw
And the otter saw the peacock turn into a macaw
Now you're squawking loud
But you're hiding out
I can that see you've been looking at my Facebook pics,
so what now?
--
Come out and explain yourself
No wait, I'm not down to
That shit is bottom shelf
You hit the Maker's Mark
when we met last time
But now your actions have me ragging on you in this rhyme
And if you never call?
Well, shit, I was waiting for a muse...
I guess I'll take the letdown
and thanks for all the booze

Journey of love

2010-11-26T13:22:00.000-08:00

Rain does not come very often
in these here parts
What we receive
is our fill
of the deluge
Or simple misting sprinkling
that lightly teases the cheek
taunts the eyelashes
makes them flutter in a girlish
way
As if to say,
See what I can do?

No, there is only the polarity
and the subtleties
Conjured by the mind
And left behind
Never chosen
Wistful, light, and pining
Cloying at the windowpane
As if to say,
Can I come in?

No, we rose above those greyish
clouds
Climbing higher
Precipitating precipitation
Beyond the reaches
of the cloying or the petty
And from our perches
We remembered what it's like
With skin moistened
and hair wet
Damp scalp
Struggling to catch our breath

Those gasps were not for naught
No, they told a pretty tale
of seduction and lust
But now, high up on the mountain
We wonder what was the worth
of sharing breath and losing it
Of throwing caution to the wind
Did we build upon those experiences
Or did we merely let them go
Let them condensate, gathering
momentum until they fell, like
one big, fat, drop.

Who's to say where we would
have gone had we lived in
the northwest, if all our
defenses were constantly wet
All we know up here is the
desert and the stars above
And we are thankful for
always having had
the choice to be in love

All for a Man

2010-08-25T23:15:00.000-07:00

While a meditative state has overcome my desire for sex in the last six months, I am starting to feel as though my desire for men has only waned because I have not been around them. Bouncing around from one self-determined and fulfilling social engagement to the next after an inevitable and uneventful break-up last February, I was completely satisfied with myself. It was literally the first time in my life that I can remember, and possibly the first time ever, that I have been completely nourished by life without being preoccupied with thoughts of a member or members of the opposite sex.

I came out of this enlightened period near the beginning of summer, with urges and old desires resurfacing. I was feeling as though sex was in my inevitable future. Like summer loving was my destiny, and it would be fulfilled.

Well, I met a couple of guys. I got as far as an unimpassioned kiss on the lips with one of them. I made a small to-do about not really liking them. And I broke off the burgeoning connections without much fanfare. Phew... I guess.

I toyed around with the idea of being satisfied on my own, wondered if I wanted to date, figured I didn't really have the time, rehashed some old topics with my mom, and came back to square one. Some kind of neutral state with most of my urges gone or on the backburner.

Then, lo and behold, I entered a new social arena three weeks ago with mixed company and the old thoughts came flooding back. "Is this boy cute?" ... "How attractive is he?" ... "Are we well-matched?" ... "Am I attracted to him?" ... "(checking out his biceps)" ... "(assessing his calves)" ... "Would he work for me?" ... "Am I good/smart/attractive enough?" <-- that one really kills me, and inevitably, the sneaky dreadful pairing of my first name with his last.

It pains me to put these thoughts into words, however brief they are. Yet, what I have written above does not even begin to cover the stream of inane inner conversations that I had during a 10-day long foray in an arena that deserved my focus and attention to much larger and pressing issues. Such as: human-caused global degradation, the future of our planet, and how we're going to fix this mess. You know, IMPORTANT stuff.

But instead, I was racked by a constant stream of blather - stupid, unimportant thoughts that prevented me from meeting my colleagues eye-to-eye - uncontrollable thoughts of potential compatibility, even when I had already determined that I didn't find a person attractive. So much so, that it became like a mental positive feedback mechanism (I take this term from climate science and adapt it my psychoses here) - one thought stoking the next, as if I was compelled to think about a person sexually only because I wished or told myself to stop thinking that way, and FOCUS!

I must give these thoughts a forum, because they lie at the apex of my feelings of failure as an enlightened Fem.

Recently, I was stunned to hear a facilitator in an intimacy discussion group relay an achingly poignant scenario related to my affliction. This man imparted a story about a nationally recognized female author whose works of fiction touch on male-female romance and relationships - of the sort I am prone to consider. An interviewer asked this female author what she thought of the "new feminism." And her answer was something to the tune of "What feminism?" Being that women have won the right to vote, broken the glass ceiling, gained major positions of power in government and in business, and earned tremendous amounts of independence in their relationships during this past century, it might not have seemed like such an inane question, but the author had a biting response that went something like this: "After all these milestones, accomplishments, and landmarks, even the most enlightened woman in this society would drop EVERYTHING for a man."

My response to this anecdote was something to the tune of: "fuuuuuuucckkkkkk".

It's almost true. After all that I have done in my short lifetime, all the work that I have begun in an attempt to better myself, the mission I have developed to become a leader, a positive steward, and a change-maker on this planet, all I really want is a man.

Now... not just any man. I want one who is an equal, a fellow leader, a guide, a contributor to society, an honest person, loyal, attractive (yes, really), outgoing, enthusiastic, a future devoted father, a role model, athletic, outdoorsy, spiritual, grounded, blonde (maybe), not too eccentric, but definitely not normal, healthy and health-conscious, artistic, a spectre of light, global consciousness, and well-being.

Too much to ask? NO!

Possible within this lifetime? Maybe.

But I digress...

My problem here is that I am impatient. While I am driven by knowledge, truth, and the inner forces that compel me to action, I feel as though I am constantly in search of this future mate. As if my life's work will not be fulfilled if I do not meet my passion-inducing love and lifemate in this lifetime.

I am reminded as of late that life is given meaning by what I choose. I can make decisions hastily or out of impatience, but my choices are generally for my own benefit. Hence, I have been choosing to do yoga lately, cutting back on my consumerist tendencies, seeking out truth in all my relationships, and being present to what is happening, not what I assume to be occurring in any situation. In turn, my communications are improving and my social life is maturing.

But for all of this, I am still frustrated. Frustrated with myself, with my lack of focus, and with my insatiable desire for love. There is nothing wrong with this - with love - but I am loathe to think that my fulfillment as an independent, enlightened, and productive woman will be stifled by a roadblock that only I am responsible for creating.

So, online audience, where do you find solace in your quest for love? How do you temper your urges, while indulging your desires? Sex used to be a great freedom for me, but now I realize that it is full of pretense. I am on the search for truth, especially in romance, and I am impatient. Maybe a few words of wisdom will help ease my anxiousness along the way...

the summer has yet to arrive

2010-06-23T15:54:00.000-07:00

we did it
all last night
ripped
sheets
destroyed
house plants
fell
over
broke
condoms
lost
jewelry
underwear
spit slapped tore scratched
bit hit kicked pushed forced shouted screamed licked

collapsed exhausted and did it again
(collapsed exhausted and did it again)

this morning a wad of hair came out in the shower
the back of my head sore where you had been pulling
i looked at you
you remarked on the weather
i sighed and agreed

the summer has yet to arrive

i raced to get to work an hour and a half early
you went home to make chilaquiles
i walked down to the beach
you drove away

the pacific stretches out before me
welcomes me back
doesn't ask where i've been
why it's been so long
and yet,
i want to cry to her
tell her i'm sorry
promise her i'll never leave

these tears swell
pound the shore
the ocean weeps for me

my heart at breakwater
my heart breaks water
i stare at breakwater
i am home

Good Enough To Post

2010-04-27T17:18:00.000-07:00

Hello Community,

Imagine Tiny's and my surprise when we came across this empty booth at the Los Angeles Times Book Festival at UCLA. Never fear, we do our best to keep such men close at hand (we find it's a good practice), thus our good friend, Petros, happily took a seat under the booth banner.

Gentlemen, we'd love to know the stories of your defining moments.

Sincerely,

The F4BMaintenance Crew

Forgive Me Fems For I Have Judged

2010-04-26T21:57:00.001-07:00

Recently I visited with a friend who is about to become a new mother and of course the topic of conversation was most focused around the impending birth. Upon inquiring about the details of the big day she happily informed me that she was skipping a normal delivery in favor of a scheduled c-section. Certainly I could have dropped the topic at that, many births require c-sections for a variety of medical reasons, nothing out of the ordinary about that. However, a tiny voice inside me felt compeled to push for a further explanation, "How come you're having a c-section?" I heard myself asking and the minute the words left my mouth I knew I had broken one of my cardinal rules. Of course she smiled politely at my impertinence and explained that she had come to the choice all on her own, there was no medical reason, just simply that she wanted to have an element of control over the process. Again I heard myself pressing the already weary subject, encouraging her to research how a csection might affect her plans to breastfeed. She assured me that she had and finally I dropped the subject, but it was too late, the damage was already done.

What heinous sin had I commited, you may be asking? Well, if you hadn't already guessed I had broken a personal rule against judging other women based on their reproductive/ motherhood choices. And worse still, I could simply have reserved my judgement in silence, but instead I chose to impose my personal belief against her choices out loud and to her face, in a manner, because even though I didn't say exactly what I was thinking -- that I believed her choice was wrong-- my questions dripped with implication and we both knew it.

The real kicker is that shortly prior to my criminal act I had debated with Bebop about this very topic, over an article posted on the F4BM Facebook page about the masculinization of births, I argued that it should be entirely up to each individual woman to decide her birthing process and whatever makes her most comfortable is the right choice for her. In retrospect, I still stand by this point wholeheartedly, it's my honest belief that when it comes to reproduction it should be entirely up to each woman to decide what is best and right for her own body-- that goes for contraception, abortion and pregnancy. And yet, in the moment, I found myself unable to supress my personal judgement on just this subject, it wasn't as if she had asked my opinion, which would render the situation entirely different altogether. She had already made her decision and I judged her for it. Was I wrong to do it? In my opinion, yes. And for that I confess and beg for forgiveness. The real question though is will I do it again? Sadly I don't know. As much as I would like to believe I would stick to my rules, it is difficult to supress an involuntary thought, but I will do my hardest to try. I guess the real question is, how do you decide what's more important sticking to your personal ethics or speaking your mind? Usually when I'm in doubt I just remember the old adage and try to keep my mouth shut: if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.

Admission(s) of An 'Asexual'

2010-04-22T20:32:00.000-07:00

I've put 'asexual' in quotations because Tiny has told me that my "celibate ways" are self-imposed, which I don't doubt.

I have a highly intellectualized way of feeling, which, I think, works both for me and against me.

Admission: I've never really thought or expected that I would join the ranks of marriage or parenthood (though I think I'd be an interesting Mother, should I ever embark on that voyage...I've definitely had a stellar example in my own mom).

Rationale: I'm pretty picky, for one, and I've never seen myself being called "Wife," for another. (Though I haven't minded being the Wife of Tiny at all). Something about a sexual relationship and the title and image/idea of "Wife" just rubs me the wrong way. Maybe somebody did me wrong in a past life, or maybe I did my wife wrong in a past life; either way, shit isn't for me this time around.

When I say I'm picky, I don't mean I have a list. I don't really have a list - I have a feel. For all my intellectualizing, I do consider myself a "feeler." If it doesn't feel right (good), generally, I consider it a waste of my time. (This is probably largely why I avoid dating almost entirely...well that and that shit's a lot of work). (Also, fortunately for me, growing pains generally feel right). But I do not like wasting my time.

From my personal history, it seems I don't really care what a man looks like, though I think taller men are more suited for my tastes in fashion (and I do like facial hair). If I'm talking to someone and they make me feel bored, I'm not interested - I cannot be interested. Nor can I be interested if they make me feel generally insulted (by being close/d minded and saying insulting things about others), if they can't pull their weight in a conversation, or if they try and make me feel condescended to.

I say "make me feel" with a hint of caution because The Four Agreements says very truthfully that nobody can "make you feel" anything. You can only allow people to "make you feel" something. This is true, for the most part (physical violence excluded). But, my personal amendment to this general statement is, if a person causes me to respond in a way I dislike simply by being themself (or whatever version of their self that they are presenting at the time), I'm not interested.

I've been told that I'm picky, that my standards are "too high," that I'm severe, and that I'm too serious. These labels definitely all have some truth to them.

I am picky.

My standards are high - though I expect no more from any individual than I am willing to give myself, so I think it's fair. (My standards are high for me too).

I am severe when it comes to character and personality because I take myself seriously. Bebop isn't by accident. Bebop is on purpose and purposeful with every action she takes. I'll stop talking about myself in the 3rd person now, cause I think you get my point.

I'm intentional, and so I'm pretty offended when I meet people completely without intention (apathy). Or completely without their own intention (sheep). I mean, what the fuck is the point of being like that? Lack of self-responsibility and/or accountability is a HUGE TURN OFF (not to mention a huge waste of your personal time on Earth). Do not approach me in any setting like "everybody does/allegedly acts," or like I'm "every chick" (unless you're saying a genuine, "Hello"). Do not grab me if you do not know me, this is a surefire way to get yourself cussed out. Because I am intentional, if I intended to be in your arms, I'd do so of my own volition. Cause I've got a lot of that: volition. I live for it, actually.

That's probably why I've never expected to meet a life partner. Because from my own experience I've seen that men struggle a lot with being their individual selves. (So do fems, but you'd think the self-imposed dominant demographic would at least be on top of their shit). Particularly those of the stick-in-circle variety. I'm an individual, so I want to be with an equal. And ladies wont do. I mean, we're fabulous, and I'm the first to appreciate a fine fem, but my appreciation of fems is not sexual to me.

So I make friends and I wait - it would do me a disservice to be an absolute skeptic after all (I'm not, intentionally, trying to scare the right ones off!).

But PoB (Power of Being), I've seen it done, and I've done it myself - dating is too much work. It often comes off like acting, and if there is one thing I do not appreciate it's people who make up "imaginary" worlds in their head and expect you to relate and understand without talking about it openly/directly. This is generally why I require a reference (somebody I know who connects us) from anybody who I will consider emotionally and sexually investing myself in. So that between us there is a link based in reality and a point of reference for understanding.

Realistically, I want someone I do not have to change. I'm trying to change myself, I don't have a lot of extra energy to change you - nor do I want to. (Trust me, I'm a full time job. Plus, you should be motivated to change yourself). I want someone who, simply by being their self, brings me happiness and inspires me. As my life progresses, I am learning such individuals may exist.

So I live 'asexually.' Because if I'm going to give what I'm working on here, I've decided I'm going to give it all. It's a full package kind of thing, if you're new to me anyway. Individuals from my past, on the other hand, I may make exceptions for. But generally, I do not like looking back because I'm trying to take my life forward. I'm not an "Ice Queen" or anything, I am friends with most of my exes after all. In the end, I think I just pick friends better than I pick lovers.

This has made me a pretty good friend over time. It's definitely challenged me to be honest. I always refer to my exes good conscience and "expertise" on me when having troubles in "current" relationships.

Nothing "current" is going on with me right now - at least in the flesh. I suppose my ideal lover may have to find me.

But don't worry, I'll know you when I feel you...and then, hopefully, you'll get to know me.

Confessions of a Stay At Home Mom: Not-So-Bad Mother

2010-03-22T09:33:00.000-07:00

There is a trend in motherhood these days that is often refered to as bad mother confessions, one prominent writer and mother comes to mind when discussing this trend, Ayelet Waldman, if you don't know her for her writing or politics, then you may know her as the woman who went on Oprah and basically confessed to being unable to imagine losing her husband, but somehow being able to cope with losing one of her children. Waldman recently wrote the aptly titled book, "Bad Mother", in which she chronicles her own adventures as a so-called bad mother which has fueled and popularized this movement.

The trend of bad motherhood is in essence a counter-culture to the perfect mothers we are led to believe all our friends and neighbors are. For years women have striven to attain, at the very least, the image of being the perfect mother. These perfect mothers never dealt with colic, explosive poop, leaking boobs, accidentally bumping their kids head against the wall and their babies most certainly always slept through the night. Sounds kind of like a fairytale, right? Well that's because it is. The truth is these women don't exist, they never have. There's no such thing as the perfect mother, just like there is no such thing as the perfect child. However, under the pressure of society, families and other mothers, these women have been oppressed into believing they must present the June Cleaver appearance of perfection and nothing less.

The bad mother trend turns the perfect mother culture on it's head, instead of sharing stories about how angelic their children are and how their son or daughter is poised to be the next Einstein, these women profess the dirty truths of motherhood, admitting to things like letting the dog lick up a childs vomit because they are simply to tired to clean it up themselves. This confessional take on motherhood has permeated the parenthood culture from books to blogs to television, making it trendy to admit to imperfection. Mothers confess to often wanting to tear their hair out over their kids, dreaming of the day their children go to school so they can have some peace and quiet, and wishing that they could be selfishly independent once again.

As for myself, I have a six month old daughter who I love more than life itself. Are there times that I want to tear my hair out because I only get four hours if sleep a night? Of course, I wouldn't be normal otherwise. And yes I do have moments when I ponder what I might be doing on a Saturday night if I didn't have her. At the same time however, six months have passed and I still have no screaming desire to be away from her, although friends and family offer to babysit so I can "get away for the sake of my sanity" I guess I just don't feel "insane" enough yet. Maybe that makes me crazy by bad mother standards, but at the same time I know I certainly can't squeeze myself into the perfect mom peg either (seeing as how I couldn't wait for my baby to fall asleep so that I could type this on my phone instead of staring lovingly at her nestled in my arms). So where does that leave me? Not perfect, not bad. I'd say that's called, oh what's the word...normal. How about we just all stop trying to label ourselves as good or evil because it happens to be popular at the moment and just admit to the fact that we are just plainly human beings. My mom confession? I'm a not-so-bad mother and proud of it.

pam*per- verb, to treat womyn properly.

2010-03-08T11:21:00.000-08:00

I recently indulged myself with an afternoon spent at an Asian spa. Two fellow contributors and I spent the day soaking and then being scrubbed, oiled, massaged, lotioned, masked, rinsed, and patted dry. It was pampering beyond any that I had ever experienced before. Perhaps a lover or two has done similar services, but never for as long, and never for nothing (though I did pay these womyn) in return. At first I almost felt guilty for the level of leisure I was experiencing, but the certainty that this type of relaxation and care felt so natural and healthy got me thinking. Why is a day at the spa a special thing? Should this type of treatment not be part of the female ritual, and on a regular basis?
It's true, globally, millions of fellow females face a far more repressive fate. But still, that is no reason to accept our low bar for female care.
What I envision is not some sort of mimicing game, in which we pick and choose select traditions from particular places, but rather that we step back, reflect on what isn't working and generate something that nurtures those who are expected to foster all of the planet's other creatures, including one another: womyn.
I've been told by several people that womyn need more sleep that men. The scientific validity of this statement doesn't really interest me, because I do know that every womyn I know does seem to be overworked.
Sanyu made the great point yesterday that neither womyn nor men should be praised for taking care of their offspring. Children are entitled to care and if you have one, don't expect much in return for fulfilling that right for them. This is along the line of Sher's post too, I think (See: "Change A Diaper...").
Anyways, what I do think is this: our anatomy, our roles in the family, the hormones that influence our reactions, our desire to be beautiful and the time that entails, the fact that we lose what feels like gallons of our BLOOD every lunar cycle... the reasons abound; we womyn are entitled to care and pampering.
Side note, I just looked up synonyms for "pampering" and they were all pretty negative. That in itself, the fact that our language lacks a truly positive word for treating humyn-beings to blissful experiences, is indicative of the problem.
So, what exactly am I suggesting? Well, first of all, I would like to hear what my fellow females think about this. Do you view this as a problem?
I don't think that it's just me being lazy. I'm an athlete and a serious student. It's not that I don't want to work. On the contrary, I treasure my right to work. But, I feel as if there are some serious flaws in our economy and the worker's rights that are tied up in it. Shorter work weeks, longer vacations, health care including PAMPERING, coming up with a word that is more positive than pampering in the first place... Some people might tell me to move to Europe. But no, this is my culture; this is our culture. What we must remember during any time of criticism is that society is a humyn, not a divine, institution. And therefore, we as people continuously shape it. Let us not forget that power. But if I am to exercise that power alone, I fear that I will simply face a life of unemployment. Revolution, anyone?

The Chronicals of Narnia: A Year of Celibacy? February Edition

2010-02-28T12:44:00.001-08:00

For lack of understanding, insight, and perhaps time, I chose to transcribe my diary onto the Fems For Better Men blog for the January edition in the post, “A Year of Celibacy”. Not really knowing what kind of great understanding I was supposed to be gaining, nor really being able to grasp the impact of blogging my process being anything but self-important, I decided that my diary, and what lay in between the lines would have to suffice for insight. As February now comes to an end, I am yet again charged with the task of taking an inventory of understanding, insight, and time, and I can honestly say that due to my recent re-introduction to the world of the gainfully unemployed, the stocks are brimming with time as I’m searching, nay, scouring through the dust for understanding and insight. Nevertheless, despite the extra time on my hands, journaling has ceased to remain an appropriate form for this blog, and I think before I continue, I’d better tell you why.

For the purpose of full disclosure, I feel I can’t go any further without first going to confession. I am on my knees in repentance: forgive me reader for I have sinned. It has been one month since my last confession and in that time I have broken my vow of celibacy. Somewhere in the crux of being ignored by the man I really love and getting a phone call from the man I’m dating from his girlfriend’s house telling me through the veils of vodka that he “really” loves me, Valentine’s Day struck like the betrayal of a bitch slap. As I lay in the comforting arms of a former lover, I remember thinking that if I just get it over with, if I do this one thing, then no matter what the rest of the year looks like, no matter what else I have to face, at least I won’t have failure hanging over my head.

Insight be damned, I was operating on pure unadulterated instinct and selfishness when we embraced—and when we did something very strange happened. After initially freaking out and attempting to escape out from under him and out his door unexplained (who does that?), I was brought back to my senses as I described to this poor unsuspecting man just why I went so rapidly from cooing to boo-hooing. I found myself filled with this illogical feeling of guilt that I wasn’t feeling guilty…regretting not regretting what I had just done. Never being one to accept failure as even a possibility, no doubt my ego had a lot to do with the stabbing sensation that plagued my chest. Yet, in hindsight I think I was just more disappointed in myself for not being disappointed in myself. Somehow I had taken this thing that meant a lot to me, that I had committed to whole-heartedly in front of myself, God, and the ocean, and just shelved it unscrupulously for the opportunity to have someone else make me feel loved, beautiful, and sexy. With salty cheeks, I wondered what would become of me if I could just give up without giving a damn. Mourning the loss of my own self-righteousness, I cried to this man while trying to explain what I had yet to, until this moment of writing, even begun to understand.

Upon doing a little researching, I discovered that I, like so many, had mistaken abstinence for celibacy. Where abstinence is the temporary restraint from all or some forms of sexual activity, celibacy is a much bigger can of worms. Celibacy, which derives from the conjunction of two words, essentially means “alone-living.” It is the practice of someone who strives to remain unmarried her whole life, abstaining from all sexual activities. By that account, I failed within the first month of my chosen celibacy even while alone in my own bed. From this point of view, failure was eminent from the conception of this experiment as I had already included a clause for sexual exceptions. Also from this point of view, rather than the need to confess failure, was the need to admit I was wrong all along. Yet, was this commitment doomed to fail simply because I was ignorant to the full extent of the meaning of celibacy, or was there something there, something deeper that I was missing?

Going from a year of judgment-free promiscuity to one of guilt-laden celibacy makes just about as much sense as throwing the baby out with the bath water, especially if what I ultimately seek is balance. When I made that commitment it wasn’t to embark on a year of living alone, nor a lifetime, for that matter. Without knowing how to achieve the balance I seek, I decided to commit to trying something I had never done, something that went against every ounce of my moral fiber, just to see how it felt and if I could actually do it. Beyond the obvious frustrations, celibacy, or abstinence continued to prove to be nothing but confusing. Even walking away from the ritual, I felt as though something was wrong, almost as if I had missed the mark.

Eckhart Tolle reminds us that “sin” is literally translated as missing the mark, and upon my confession of sin, I realized that that is exactly what I had done. The guilt for not feeling guilty sprang not from having done something wrong or bad, but having missed the point entirely. Not only had I made abstinence synonymous with celibacy, I had completely forgotten myself when I made the commitment to abstain by adopting models of proper sexual behavior and spiritual attainment that were incongruous with my own values and desires. The year became more about proving that I could do this absurdly unrealistic thing that I had set out to do rather than trying to better understand my own sexuality. In all that ego, I became the baby that got thrown out with the bath water; nowhere in that commitment lay any of the knowledge about myself and my own power that I have meticulously accumulated over the years. So, when I suddenly got choked up and tried to escape my Valentine’s embrace, it was neither my soul, nor my spirit that lay torn and shaken, but my ego that was in the throes of a battle that it was rapidly losing.

Having written and edited this post a dozen times, I’m starting to realize that my biggest challenge in these last two months has been admitting I was wrong. I thought that just because I stood at the ocean’s shore dressed in all white to make this commitment that it had to be the right thing for me to do. What began as the desire for enlightenment ended up being a score card I kept in self-righteousness to measure myself against others. In order to challenge myself to learn something new, I adopted an entirely different way of viewing and interacting with the world that was totally in discord with everything I know to be true about myself, and then proceeded to commit to the arbitrarily and absurdly long goal of one year. The only problem was, and remains, that I am an extremely fast learner.

I write in this space under the title of “Fems For Better Men” and I stand firm and proud with my colleagues who endeavor in this task of improvement. Yet if we men and women who reject the irrational ideals represented by the archetypal man seek to improve upon male/female relationships, it stands to reason that we should begin by improving upon ourselves. We can’t ask and expect men to do that deep work in order to undo centuries of transgression if we don’t lead the way by diving into the deep waters of our own baggage. Like my Valentine tears in the face of my own apathy, the struggle becomes pathetic and the discourse self-righteous if we assume that we are qualified to school men in etiquette, behavior, and moral simply because we stand on the other side of gender inequality. We all, men, women, and transgender, stand greatly affected by the deep-seated mores that dictate and govern our behavior. The pursuit of the archetypal man is as much within me as it is within my partners. In order to promote change, we must be willing to confront the great ego within ourselves before we confront it in others.

Although extremely insightful and beneficial, I’m not saying that my Valentine’s Day experience is making me want to jump off and immediately start having sex again. What I think I’m taking from this month is that celibacy is not at all a part of my intention—I do not wish to seek an unmarried life, nor do I believe that it is a means to experience the divine in my own lifetime. Perhaps, in lieu of a year of celibacy, this should be a year of reflection where abstinence is used as a tool rather than a law. I’m still not entirely certain how this will play out or how this affects the commitment with which I began the year, but this is where I am at the end of February.

The Chronicles of Narnia: A Year of Celibacy, January Edition

2010-01-31T22:28:00.001-08:00

January 1, 2010

Woke up and left Chris still sleeping and walked to my car in my party dress. Came home and prepared for the ritual and drove the coast. Did the ritual in Venice on Mast and committed to six months (to be reviewed June 1st) of non-religious celibacy. Walked away from the beach feeling like I had fucked up and did the ritual wrong. Tried to talk to Laralyn about it but her phone died. Came home and showered and watched movies with Mom. Went to Berns’ for tacos and watched Law and Order. Came home and got into bed and slept.

January 2, 2010

Woke up and went to hang out with Sonia and Bella. Went to work and came home and showered and changed and went to meet Sonia at Hinanos. Went to Main and danced and to Townhouse and went to James’ house too drunk to drive home. Told him I was celibate and it was important so we just went to sleep.

January 3, 2010

Woke up and went to get food at Jamba Juice with James and got dropped off at Sonia’s and went on a walk with the kids to Holy G’s and the beach and Blockbuster. Went home and showered and met Berns, KVH and Sanyu for sushi. Went to Harvell’s and came home and slept.

January 4, 2010 Chris Carrey's Birthday

Woke up and went to work. Came home and showered and went to the cemetery to visit Chris Carrey. They were doing an excavation near his grave so I didn’t stay long. Went to Dad’s and read Hornblower and came home and watched movies and slept.

January 5, 2010

Woke up and hung out in bed most of the day waiting for Sonia who blew off our plans. Got her at the promenade and got into a fight about always having to hang out with Max. Got Thai food and had a conversation where I told her about decided to become celibate and she tried to convince me Matt was never coming back and that I was holding out for all the wrong reasons. Took her home and went for a drink with Berns at the Alibi Room. Home and slept.

January 6, 2010

Woke up and worked on the blog all morning. Went to work. Came home and showered and changed and Ali, Kaveh and Michael Tanaka picked me up and we met Jhila at James Beach. We drank a little too much and Ali came on strong and I turned him down (celibacy). Probably would have gone home with him whether or not it ruined our friendship but wasn't friendship the whole point? Came home and slept.

January 7, 2010

Woke up and drove to Pomona and to court. Came home exhausted and showered and relaxed for an hour. Went to work and stayed really late. Came home and watched t.v. with Mom and slept.

January 8, 2010

Woke up and worked on the blog all morning. Read it to Mom and took Sonia her key. Went to work and came home after and watched Mad Men with Mom. Finished the blog and posted "Thus Spoke The Fortune Cookie" and went to sleep.

January 9, 2010

Woke up and read responses to the blog and watched The Daily Show. Rode my bike to work and met Berns after for a beer at Alibi and drank them outside because it was too crowded. Stole cones from the street and coned Andrew's bed. Came home and visited with Joyo and Victoria who had just gotten back from Sweden. Watched Mad Men with Mom and slept.

January 10, 2010

Woke up feeling sniffley and fixed The Ex-Girlfriend. Went for breakfast with Mom at A Votre Sante. Came home and chatted with Matt who was in Canada briefly on facebook. Watched Mad Men and got a ton of green juice and ginger shots at Leaf and ran into Pineapple Head. Watched Mad Men and got into bed pretty sick. Slept.

January 11, 2010

Woke up feeling sick. Showered and went to work and it only got worse. Came home early and ate soup and watched Footloose and fell asleep. Woke up and ate pasta and watched Mad Men with Mom until late. Max came over and bought The Ex-Girlfriend. Got into bed feeling a little better and fell asleep.

January 12, 2010 Dot

Woke up and laid in bed all day watching movies. Mom came home and we ate and watched Mad Men. Got into bed and slept.

January 13, 2010

Woke up and cleaned my room and Cody came over to give me the registration on the Chevy. We hung out all day and made food and then I went to work. James met me after to take me home but we had to wait for the exterminator to finish. Had drinks at Alibi. He came home with me and spent the night but nothing happened, again.

January 14, 2010

Woke up and felt like I had gone too far by letting James spend the night. New rule: only spend the night with someone if you are interested in developing a relationship with them, not if you are just having fun. Saw Ili outside of my house in the morning. James and I went to meet her at her house to go to the doctor but she snuck out. I left pissed. Came home and wrote Norb a letter and mailed it to Terminal Annex and mailed the butterfly picture to Matt at his parent's house and rode my bike to work. Berns met me at work with Daniel and PJ and they helped me close. She and I grabbed a drink at Alibi and I came home and slept.

January 15, 2010

Woke up and rode to work. Rode to the bank and paid my phone bill. Came home and showered and changed and went to buy Coop a shirt at American Apparel and went to Sonia's house to hang out with the fam. for Danny's birthday. Came home with a migraine and grubbed Holy G's but immediately felt like I was going to throw up so I went to bed and fell asleep.

January 16, 2010

Woke up and went to meet Andrea on Abbot Kinney to interview for the flea market. Came home and bathed. Made Coop's 26 shirt and watched Inglorious Bastards with Mom. Met Jhila and went to Coop's Party and spent most of the night talking to Matt and couldn't believe we were actually having a conversation after a year and a half. Went on a walk with him after the party and had a hard time saying goodbye. Came home still feeling the effects of love and somehow fell asleep.

January 17, 2010 Coop's Birthday

Woke up and went to meet Andrea to help her set up the booth on Abbot Kinney. Mom came and met me with coffee and I met and talked to Austino all day about making art while selling Andrea's jewelry. Came home and showered and went to work and Amanda and I ordered sushi. Met KVH at Venice Beach Wines and had a drink and a good chat. Went home and slept.

January 18, 2010

Woke up and took the car for gas and water and went to work. It poured so it was pretty slow. Chatted with Tamara, a regular, about some deep shit. Came home and showered and went to meet KVH and Sanyu and had a drink at Casa Escobar because Angel's was closed. Ate at Hakata and drank more at Carbon with the crazy bartender from Alabama. Came home wasted and slept.

January 19, 2010

Woke up and spent the whole rainy day in bed watching movies. Got food at Rainbow Acres and babysat Benini and Mikayla. Wrote Matt a letter about having kids that I do not intend to send and came home and slept.

January 20, 2010

Woke up and went to work. Picked up Benini and helped him with his homework. Got Mikayla and played with them and ate Chinese Food. Got Berns nad went to Alibi. Texted with Chris who never ended up calling about him getting transferred to Hawaii. Had a mini panic attack at home because I was confused about decided to become celibate. Ali walked me through it as we chatted on facebook. Took a hot shower and watched a movie and fell asleep.

January 21, 2010

Woke up and went to work. Broke down in the bathroom and had to pull it together to finish work. Got to start making my own life for myself so I don't have to work for anyone ever again. Got Benini and helped him with his homework. Got Mikayla and took them to Kumon. Ate pizza with them and Robert came to meet us at the restaurant. Came home and showered and got KVH and saw Avatar with her. Home and slept.

January 22, 2010

Woke up and went to work. Came home and hung out for a bit before I got Benini and Mikayla and paid. Came home and played and beat the most diabolical game of Sudoku EVER. Showered and changed and Ali and Michael Tanaka picked up Berns and I. Went to Father's Office for Eric Orienstein's Birthday. Ran into Ryan the bartender, whose name I barely even remembered after that one night (oops) and got free drinks all night. Went to the house on Inglewood and got into an argument with Keith about our "relationship" and ended up crying. Ali took me outside and talked me through it and we ended up connecting deeply because of it. Drove myself home in Ali's car and kissed him goodbye and thanked him. Came home at 4AM and got locked out of my room by a random plank of wood that got caught in the sliding glass door. Slept in the house.

January 23, 2010

Woke up and called James to come over and help me with the door. He took me to work. Walked home and showered and relaxed for a few minutes. Berns came over and we went on a mission to Century City. My front tire blew out on the 405 so we got towed to Pep Boys where one of their workers took the opportunity as invitation to flirt with us. Then we went Century City and got See's candy and waited for and hour for a table at Pink Taco where the pretty boy waiter who moved here to be an actor flirted with us to no end. Came home and slept.

January 24, 2010

Woke up and hung out in bed. Dad got me and we went to visit Stanley and bring him a heater because he was very sick and the heat in his apartment was out. Got coffee at Literati and argued politics. Went to Ralph's and ran into a boy named Chris but called him Sean and felt bad about it for the rest of the day. Came home and ate and met up with Berns and Marcello and went to Holy G's. Then we went bowling and Garrett met up with us. Went to Saints and Sinners and ran into Louie from Hi De Ho and met a couple who had just moved to Venice from God knows where and the girl was extremely confrontational about everything and I told her so, to which so protested fervently. Went back to Marcello's house even though I was starting to realize that he was falling for me. Had a glass of wine and watched Singing In The Rain and passed out on the couch before the girls from the Coconut Grove finished their number.

January 25, 2010

Woke up feeling very awkward about having spent the night and tried to sneak out but Marcello woke up and came into the living room just as I was about to write a thank you note. I got over myself and we went to have breakfast at The Curious Palate and stayed for hours until we had finished the crossword. Went to see The Last Station and was so moved that I spent a half hour after the movie in tears at which point I think he really fell for me. Came home and talked with Jhila on the phone for about an hour about being celibate, the conversation with Keith, Chris moving to Hawaii, and seeing Matt. Got really confused, again, about this whole celibacy thing. Wasnt the point to make my life less complicated? Showered and went to babysit Benini and Mikayla. Came home and watched a movie and fell asleep.

January 26, 2010

Woke up and rode my bike to work. It started to rain so I called Mom to pick me up and we hung and watched t.v. Showered and went to Alibi with Berns. Home and slept.

January 27, 2010

Woke up tried to write The January Edition but ended up just writing about Matt. Made plans with Ili but she flaked. Went to work. Came home and got showered and dressed and picked up Jhila and spent lots of money on sushi at Wokano. Chris called and I talked to him about moving to Hawaii again and about getting deployed. Got off the phone all bothered and Jhila talked me through it. Came home not wanting to think anymore so I watched The Hurt Locker...so much for not thinking... and fell asleep.

January 28, 2010 Poppy's Birthday

Woke up and worked on The January Edition but got frustrated and tired of writing about the breakup so I ended up writing a response to Ask a Man?. Went and bought The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay for Dad. Went to work and left early and met Dad, Joyo and Victoria at Il Forno for Dad's birthday. Spent even more money. Came home and Chris called and talked to me about making a life together. Ended up very confused and frustrated. How could I be thinking about a life with Chris if all I want is Matt? Tried to work on The January Edition and wrote more about Matt. Chatted with Guillermo online. Hadn't talked to him since I blew him off. Still don't know how I feel about that one, but glad he's outta my life for sure. Had fun chatting just the same. Slept.

January 29, 2010

Woke up went to work early for Amanda. Came home and showered and talked to Jhila and Sanyu about meeting up for happy hour. Got dressed and picked up Sanyu, Berns and Jhila and went to Hakata and met a gang of fools for sushi. Dropped mad loot, again. Went to Matt Dahlem's house and Chris called and we spent hours on the phone as the party continued without me. He asked me to marry him and move to Hawaii. Spent most of the time trying to convince him of all the reasons why it was a bad idea while he did the opposite. My phone died and Jhila came into the room and and I was all worked up. We talked it out. Had a mini photo session with her phone's camera which made me feel happy and young and beautiful again. Did drugs together. I went home and surprisingly fell asleep.

January 30, 2010

Woke up early to meet Andrea to set up for the flea market and got a mean text message from Chris from the night before. Turned out to be from the girl he is fucking who got his phone and got jealous...very classy...reason #98 why I shouldn't marry him. Worked all day outside at the flea market then rushed to pack up and work at Leaf. Came home exhausted and hungry. Showered and broke down and watched amateur porn online and handled business...why hadn't I done that sooner? Picked up Berns from Playa del Rey and we ended up at Swinger's and grubbed. Came home and Chris called and apologized and tried to convince me to marry him and move to Hawaii. I told him the story of Little Red Riding Hood and he fell asleep. Slept.

January 31, 2010

Woke up and went to Target with Mom. Ate at The Curious Palate and it was disgusting. Went to See's candy with her and got antsy and frustrated about time and deadlines. Came home and wrote "Cultural Imperialism and Localization: Hip Hop In The United States and Worldwide" and sent it to KVH and Sanyu for the magazine. Rushed to American Apparel to buy Cody's mom a shirt. Came home and Eileen was already there. Made her the shirt of The Ex-Girlfriend while she talked with Mom and then the three of us went to see The Imagiarium of Doctor Parnassus and decided she was to be my mother-in-law regardless of the fact that Cody and I broke up years ago. Worked on The January Edition all night in bed. Posted it, watched Y Tu Mama Tambien for the first time(apparently I cannot avoid the subject of sex for the life of me.) Watched porn again...that was great. Went to bed with serious doubts about my ability to stick to one year. While it may not be that big of a deal, and while people may do it all the time, not having sex with anyone I damn well please while being single is annoying at best and confusing at worst. Why am I doing this? For me? For Matt? For some image of myself? For some sort of depth? How am I growing and deepening my life if I am still going out and getting wasted, ending up with boys (without sex) and considering marriage proposals from someone who I don't love and don't, no matter how beautiful Hawaii is, ultimately want to end up with?. Went to bed confused, again. Slept.

Ask A Man? (Jan. 21, 10)

2010-01-21T13:35:00.000-08:00

AZad

Not all men are the same, so women need to stop automatically assuming and associating the "new guy" with their previous, failed relationships.

Spoken Word - Are You Interested?

It's been a while now lady, I'm feelin' you hard
I still don't got a crib, but we can chill in the car
I know you wanna be my girl, stop whinin' fall back
We've been over this, I don't have time for all that
What I'm tryin to say is, I am interested in you
I'm lying, I just wanna keep these benefits with you
Cause my longest relationship ain't even last four months
So, everybody knows I got an issue with commitment
I ain't official with a chick unless she gettin' with the business
And If she brings up a "title" I get distant in an instant
But honestly, this time around I'm goin' in open minded
Or atleast I'm tryin' to, now I can lie to you
And say that I forgot to buy you that nice gift
Then come out with somethin' like "baby, you know you're priceless"
It's frightenin', that most girls believe that horse shit
But I'm tryin' to change, because this fake playa shits gettin' real lame
I don't like kickin game til my shins get bruised
That's what I used to try to do, yeah I've been that dude
But what's the point, if you can't get in that room
Ultimately, all that game failed to get you poon

So, lemme try this from a different angle...

Excuse me, are you interested?
In a 5'10, 155 pound Iranian dude from LA
Naturally I'm bilingual, cause most of my friends are blacks and essays, fall back comprende
You can find me chillin' in my condo dark
The opposite of a John Doe, I keep my convos sparked
Never a dull moment, and I don't usually force jokes
That's because my personality's potent, it just flows
So if the records dancin', you might hear me spit some double entendres
Cause I do believe in second chances
That doesn't mean I condone cheatin' or disrespectin'
I just have a firm understandin' of imperfection
In the public's eye, they front like they love this guy
Who exaggerates and lies every fuckin' time
He opens his mouth to speak, but not me
I like to look at things a little differently:
He wasn't lyin', he was protecting you from the truth
And he wasn't exaggerating, he was tryin' make you smile
I'm a positive guy, optimistic per se...
My hobbies are, shoppin' hard
And rockin' popular teeshirts with converse stars
But you won't catch me robbin' cars
And I'm still I'm far from paid
So I like to relax in Marmalade with Jon
Sippin' on some of that bomb Arnold Palm
I'm gone on the weekends, sleepin'
I know this might sound obscene
But I feel more alive when I'm deep in a dream and
That's probably why I think more than I act
Which also explains why I'm not the iLLest freestyler
Now ladies, that doesn't mean I'm not impressive with the tongue
Matter fact, here's lesson number one to make you cum over
And get high off this fly herb, listen to my fine words
Let these five verbs vibrate off ya live curves
I wanna love and kiss you, touch and lick you
And rub your insides til the fire burns
Out, that's my word
So, lie down let me give you what you deserve
I'm not lookin for a soul mate, just a full date
Attitudes necessary, cause I got a bold taste
Body right the hottie type, with a whole face
And if knowledge is power, then I'm dyin to be challenged
Because a good conversation goes both ways
So don't agree with everything your boy say
And if you're ambitious and attractive
Gifted with a passion, please sit and lemme cash in
But, before you sign on the dotted line
Just know I'm colorblind, and down to make it happen

So, are you interested?

...

Food For Thought. Thought For Food.

2010-01-10T18:46:00.000-08:00

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In case you don't know me well, I am an avid Stumbler. Generally, all things "Searchable Internet" fascinate me to some degree - variations in interest depending on the topic.

So I was very interested to find out something that I have often thought and (eventually) written about is now being scientifically researched & proven.

That is, the following:

10. If you’re a man and find yourself in an argument with your significant other, choose your words very carefully. Not only do they affect the other person, but research in the journal Health Psychology suggests that they can also significantly impact your health. In the heat of stressful conflict, your brain is commanding the release of a stress-chemical cocktail comprised of proteins called cytokines–produced by cells in the immune system to help the body mount an immune response during infection. Abnormally high levels of these proteins are linked to cardiovascular disease, type-2 diabetes, arthritis and some cancers. This study suggests that how rational or emotional your communication is directly corresponds with the levels of those chemicals in your body and the damage they can do. Thing is, the same rules don’t apply to men and women—levels of cytokines in men show an increase over time, but in women they don’t. Why? Women may just be better at communication, or just luckier in this particular biological lottery.

You can find more stuff like that here; but I am not at all surprised that not being able to adapt communicatively (yea, I made it up. I do that) - for a humæn I believe this means reconciling emotion and language in order to create our perception of existence effectively - can actually POISON/KILL a person.

How the humæn is evolved to adapt - or evolves itself to adapt within its environment - is a fascinating thing. Don't ya think?

AFTERTHOUGHT: Perhaps this helps us to better understand what happened (is happening) to Rush Limbaugh

Update (01/16/10): Mr. Review, Roger Ebert, on Rush Limbaugh
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U.

Thus Spoke The Fortune Cookie

2010-01-09T02:45:00.000-08:00

It was late Tuesday afternoon, and as I was thoroughly gorging myself on noodles at the Emerald Thai on Venice Blvd., and I found myself in what I thought was a typical conversation about men. I causally glanced at my best friend for the last fifteen years and said, "You know, if I had never met Mr. M, I would have probably married Mr. C without question." The statement was intended to evoke some sort of relief in her as she had just spent the last several months trying to convince me that Mr. C was a nice guy to date, but not husband material. Yet, to my utter surprise and total dismay, she stopped mid-bite, looked deep into my eyes and said, "He's never coming back to you, you know. Not ever." Her stare and those words, so penetrating, left me powerless to the tears that began to sting stronger than the chili paste I had slathered throughout the noodles, and I suddenly lost my appetite.

Was this true? Was Mr. M really, really never coming back? And if it was true, how did she know it as confidently as she did? What if she was wrong? How could I, in the face of all the years we had known each other, and for the sake of all things I know to be true in my life, stand up to her in that moment?

She looked at me as I looked away and said, "It's ok, I'm your best friend, you can cry." And cry I did, but not like I had expected. As the first wave of tears streamed down my cheeks, I looked up at her and realized she was wrong. Not necessarily about Mr. M never coming back, for that is something only god knows, but about it mattering whether or not he did. You see, Mr. C represents all those things we grow up thinking we are supposed to want out of a man: someone strong, someone confident, someone with a steady job, someone who will take charge, etc. Put simply, in so many ways Mr. C embodies what my colleagues and I have dubbed “The Archetypal Man”. The aforementioned qualities stand like a prize on their own, but as is so often the case when one strives for an ideal, one stumbles, falters and fails along the way in the attempt to attain something that is by definition, unattainable. What one is often left with are the side effects of that struggle. One gets strength, yes, and with it comes the uncontrollable physical and emotional violence. One gets confidence, yes, but then again, I have never seen a bottle of vodka fail to give confidence to anyone. One gets a steady job, yes, but what could be more unsteady and ironic than the army and the age-old task of killing people? And finally, yes, one gets someone who will take charge…A-L-W-A-Y-S! Need I say more?

Now, I will be the first to admit that part of his allure came directly from the fact that he was so utterly conventional. I would imagine myself a Donna Reed army wife, measuring my successes to the ruffles of my petticoats and the perfection of my baked goods at Tupperware parties and think, I can do that and be happy, right? Perhaps, had I never met Mr. M, I would have done it and gone on to live the life my grandmother so wanted for me. Yet, when I told my best friend that I would have married Mr. C without question if I hadn’t met Mr. M, it wasn’t necessarily because I was still holding out for him. Mr. M showed me what it really means to be a man: to struggle, to feel pain, to be unsure, unknowing, unstable and poetically insecure. In a world that demands the exact opposite from a man, Mr. M has committed his life to being exactly, and unapologetically, himself and stands confident in the sole truth that admitting he doesn’t know who he is is the closest he has ever been to finding out. How could I, after knowing such strength, such courage, such beauty, such unwavering commitment and honesty, forget it all and marry into convention simply because convention stood at my door?

So there we were with the sun rapidly descending at a lunch that might as well have been dinner and I marveled to myself: how had the man my best friend spent tireless hours trying to convince me was all wrong step into favor simply because he was there, and the man that I am in love with, the man I know, against all odds, is right for me, cease to matter because "he would never come back." Mr. C was easy to understand and present, and Mr. M was a constant unattainable riddle, and for this reason alone it was far better to forget him, marry someone (anyone) and move on. Now it was my turn to look deeply into my friends eyes. I asked her then, as I ask you now, how did we all get so jaded?

At what point in our lives do we give up on true love? Is it the same moment we find out there is no Santa Claus, or when mom forgets to hide the eggs Easter morning? Is the love of our life, Prince Charming, Mr. Right, etc., just another ephemeral spirit like the Tooth Fairy that we need to grow out of so we can face the harsh reality that life sucks, is not magical, and the sooner we admit it the sooner we can go on living our hopeless little lives …marry into abusive relationships and fuck our children up with divorce and guilt?

There comes a time in our lives where we stand at the crux of two different worlds: that in which we live, and that in which we want to create. It is here that we must stand up for what we know is right and what we know is best. So I ask you, like I asked my best friend: When did "reality" become more important than desire? When did the fight for better men leave us disillusioned enough to take only what we can get? When did we give up believing that there is someone out there that is meant and fitted just for us? And why on Earth, if one is lucky enough to meet that man in this lifetime, should one just give up, let go and accept some harsh reality that it is too perfect, too real, and too magical, and that he will never, ever come back? Why choose a life of expectation just for the mere comfort of knowing what will happen next, over a life where an entire world of possibilities is at your command if you just let go of the need to know? And most importantly, if we can't go on believing that anything is possible, why go on at all? How can we, as self-proclaimed fems for better men, sleep at night when the better man is out there and we are still voting for convention?It is true, Mr. M may never come back, not ever, but faced with the choice of accepting his absence as an absolute reality versus a life of never truly knowing, how could I ever choose the former?

With the sun now fully set, and our bellies overstuffed, the check came like a Godsend in the hands of that angel waiter to answer all these questions. I chose my fortune cookie with confidence and opened it to read: “Ser listo es prepararse para lo inesperado.” I flipped it over and in plain English it spoke: “The smart thing is to prepare for the unexpected.” I smiled, I laughed, and I walked out to face the dark of the night as myself, unknowing and full.

I Want, I Need, Ideal (Nothing is resolute)

2009-12-28T23:36:00.000-08:00

Today, this thought crossed my mind: Where are all the skateboarding, book reading, news listening/watching/reading, interested, interesting, confident, cooking, strong, courageous, surfing, amusing, entertaining, good-music-appreciating, fine-looking young men these days?

Did they ever exist? Does that good-looking guy I saw execute a perfect ollie off the sidewalk near Sunset and Fairfax also have impeccable table manners? Will anyone I bring home to Dad ever ignite a gleam in his disillusioned eye? OR MINE?!

What is a standard? What is a type?
A way to protect ourselves?
To keep holding out because we are too afraid of giving in to something that seems
just “good enough”
…but could develop into something more than we had ever hoped for?

Is there any rhyme or reason to the sixth sense that I count so heavily upon when evaluating new potential love interests? Do men have this sense too? Or are they more easily pleased? …and therefore more inclined to take what they can get if it appears to be a good thing? (Case in point: several past relationships that I cut off [already doomed in my opinion], leaving my thwarted suitors asking, “but haven’t we just scratched the surface?” while I leave patting myself on the back for having narrowly evaded potential heartbreak. And by the way, how long can you date a person before officially/realistically gaining the power to break their heart?)

I ask these questions, friends, simply because I am MYSTIFIED by love. I’ll say one thing though – I am enamored of Lust! Give me a good-looking, smart-talking, joke-cracking suitor for a first date any day. Please, kiss me and leave my head spinning and my ……. throbbing. That’s when all my best poems are written!

But 3 months, 6 months, gosh gee golly, even NINE months in, and the ink hasn’t run dry – it’s still in the box!! Because I am so inspired by ideals, I canonize new lovers. But when the honeymoon is over, I check out. Or trail on thoughtfully until “[human] nature runs it’s course,” i.e. somebody decides it’s over.

Thoughts? Solutions/Advice? Scoldings/Admonishments?

All is welcome in the New Year,

Tiny

Change a diaper, win father of the year

2009-12-26T13:57:00.000-08:00

Last week I was at a holiday party when a friend inevitably asked me the question I always seem to hear these days, "So does Sunny (my husband) get up with you when you feed Sofie in the middle of the night?" She was refering to our almost four month old daughter. "He does," I answered, "he changes her and I feed her, that's the deal we made from the beginning." And of course, as if on cue, she exclaimed, "What a great dad!" In case it isn't obvious, this wasn't the first time I'd heard this response. In fact, I hear this answer everytime this subject is broached and yet it never ceases to amaze me that somehow people think a miracle is being performed simply because my husband happens to change his fair share of diapers. Don't get me wrong, I do think my husband is a wonderful father, but not because he changes his daughter's diapers at 2am. I mean the fact is I change a zillion diapers too, but no one feels the need to throw me a parade, it's just simply what I am expected to do as a mother and that's fine, but why should the bar be so much lower for fathers?

We've all had sex ed, we know it takes two to tango, but as a society we seem to accept that planting the seed is all that a dad does and anything beyond that is a great achievement. Quite honestly, I find it rather insulting to fathers. Certainly my husband is not the only father who changes diapers and while it's not my intention to disparage those that do, I don't think they need to be patronized either. Why should they be patted on the head simply for performing basic acts of parenting? Do we find them so incapable of performing such menial tasks or is it as I fear that when it comes to equality we have only come so far? If that's the case then it's about time we tear down these outdated gender roles, rebuild the expectations of parenthood on a more equal footing and let a poopy diaper just be a poopy diaper instead of a cause for celebration.

About This Mag (Bebop's Rationale)

2009-12-22T16:16:00.000-08:00

Hello Community,

In the midst of all the holiday cheer, chaos, and the year coming to a close, I just wanted to tell you a little bit more about why Tiny and I have decided to expand F4BM into F4BMagazine (from my personal perspective). Additionally, I didn't want to leave you hanging without a post before the New Year. Especially while we work to grow our F4BM/Mag writing crew. As we're a "Mind-Profit" collective of sorts, we aren't writing for anything more than the love of understanding. Understandably, this Blog Collective will take a backseat sometimes to other more pressing "real world" engagements. That being said, we don't want to leave this Blog Collective hanging, and I believe the creation of F4BMagazine will actually help us achieve that goal.

For me, F4BMagazine is our attempt to bring the "Archetypal Man" discussion from one-on-one considerations, to mainstream institutions. Because, ultimately, the failed Archetypal Man prototype isn't just that lurker in the bar, or that lost boy in your midst. He is Societies' conscious idea of the penultimate humæn (changed it up on you Sway ;o). In any society, or at the very least in most of them, the Archetypal Man is at the top of the Hierarchical Food Chain. He's the unattainable. He's the thing we are encouraged to strive to be, regardless of whether it's actually possible.

Striving for the unattainable, the "ungettable get," the ideal, is not in itself a pathway to self destruction (in my opinion). But, when the ultimate ideal stays unedited over a species' entire cognizant existence, and when that species is designed to evolve consciously, I think self-destruction becomes the synthesis. Coming to this conclusion based on my personal observations and experiences, I am becoming more and more aware of the "Gravity of History."

I, personally, have no doubt that the combined weight of the ignorance's of the entire humæn species over the course of its entire conscious history will crush individuals existing in the present day if it is not retaliated against by the combined consciousnesses of the present day.

Basically, I think that we will go extinct if we do not embrace the natural evolution of our consciousness/mind, which means that ideas must grow, expand and change.

"The Man" cannot be the man forever. Not if he plans to endure evolution's basic requirement of adaptation. Which for the humæn race, I believe, means developing the understanding of the conscious mind in order to act against the thousands of years of ignorances we were naturally born into.

We're making up for passed up time and opportunities here.

And we're being kept from this progress by that Caveman known as the "Archetypal Man." His dumb ass plans to drag us all down with his deflated consciousness, and I'm not down.

The problem is that he's everywhere. He's just been left alone so long, and is so lost from lack of self-evaluation, that it's almost as if his essence has been stamped down into the streets of our Earth's societies. He has no figure, no bodily vessel, because he does not exist. He cannot exist.

The Archetypal Man Image, as it still remains today, is the antithesis unto itself.

If it, (and I say it because ultimately this man can only really exist in the lowest of what humænkind has to offer. I'm ultimately hoping he doesn't really exist), were at the bottom of our Societies' hierarchical structure then it would just fade away. But because it's at the top, it haunts us all.

There is a specter haunting society, and so it is not enough to just think of the Archetypal Man as "that asshole" on the street. Particularly when the "Archetypal Man Image (AMI)" has infiltrated every major societal institution.

Soooooooo, this is why I believe it's important to start our F4BMagazine in 2010. Because there are popular interests and incidents that need to be discussed under the Anti-AMI microscope.

Such As....

a) The fact that Ben Bernanke was named "Person (Man) Of The Year" by Time Magazine, for instance (Not to mention Vladimir Putin in 2007, shhheeessssh). Apparently the man who turns peoples lives into figures of "managed" debt is the man to be? (You'll notice from the link that he's the "Man of the Year" in EVERY COUNTRY Time is published in...he is the example for all men everywhere...and therefore all of us "beneath them").

b) Or the way our National Leaders responded to Copenhagen 15 Talks. Who needs to listen to well advised directions when you can just get lost on your way, over and over again?!

c) The fact that Prop 8 is back on California's plate in 2010 (suck it you fly-in-to-live Evangelists).

These are popular and political issues we'll be addressing in our Monthly F4BMagazine, and ooohhh so much more. After all, there's an entire Humæn History of issues to discuss!!

Sincerely,
Bebop

P.S. You wanna join our writing force? Hit us up: fems4bm@gmail.com

F4BM Announces Fems For Better MAGAZINE!

2009-12-16T15:19:00.000-08:00

Hello Friends of Fems For Better Men!

The Creators have decided to forge ahead with a new extension of our communal blog: The Monthly Magazine!

The F4BMagazine is the brainchild of an ongoing discussion about issues that plague us in the media today: bias against women, perpetuation of gender stereotypes, and general pandering to the archetypal man.

How can we forge ahead if the media is working against us? Every revolution starts with an idea, and then we put that idea into action with a conversation. Join us each month as we discuss recent events in the media and how they compare and contrast with the Fems For Better Men credo.

While we're working on it, the Fems 4 Better Magazine is up for your perusal and approval. Send comments our way about the layout, what you would like to see included, and topics of interest that YOU might like to write about yourself. After all, this blog is an extension of a conversation that belongs to all of us, so take a part in ownership!

Check It Out:

Fems 4 Better Magazine

Love Is A Many Splendid Thing

2009-12-08T12:52:00.000-08:00

I’m writing about love. What it means and why it doesn’t work.

I’m sitting on my little couch the other night with an old friend, we’ll call her Kate, who called me from out of the blue. She’s not an “old friend” in the way old people use it; she’s a friend who goes back a few years and one whom I haven’t heard from in a while. I asked her how things were going with…and I forgot his name, because I had only met him once. And frankly, their relationship annoyed me when I met him that once, because it was so consumed by lust that I could barely get a word in while the two of them consumed each other’s faces, biting and licking and sucking and giggling. And we’re twenty-two, people. The make-out sessions in bars when you’re out with your friends has to stop. But that’s neither here nor there (I’ve always wanted to use that expression). The point is, I didn’t know the guy and I was grossed out and I never saw Kate once between the making out at the bar and until…the other night on my couch, when she told me they had broken up. Well, he broke it.

Her eyes started welling with tears and she got that blotchy redness near her nose that I tend to get too when I’m emotional, and she told me she keeps trying to figure out why. “I loved him!” With a rather unsympathetic tone I asked “What did he say” (I was having a hard time mourning a relationship I hardly knew) and she relayed his “I love you but I’m not in love with you” crap on to me and it got me thinking:

What movie did that line come from and why oh why can’t we agree on a definition of love that will render that sentence utterly meaningless? I don’t understand that sentence and try as I might, I never will.

From my limited experience and from my quick think-on-your-feet explanation that I gave to Kate that night on my couch, I’ve come up with the idea that our inability to define “love” is what makes “love vs. in-love” a valid argument. So, there are two schools of thought, or, rather, two forces pulling us in different directions. There is the Disney Princess idea. Or the Backstreet Boys or the Victorian Novel idea of love, which suggests that love is something that happens to us and it is something that we can’t help. It is the “love at first sight,” kind of love. It is magic. It is fairy dust. It is deep and consuming, and “all you need is love,” apparently. And I believe in that.

Then there is the “get real” school. The school of the 21^st century, in which women and men are both working. And money is something you can’t survive without. And so all you need is love, and a job, and a home, and food. This is the love that forces people to schedule date nights and plan out kinky surprises. It is a love that requires cultivation, nurturing, communication and a weekly planner. And I believe in this kind of love. It is a love that people seek out with fervor and ambition. This is also a love that sometimes separates people or a love that brings on the jealousy and the blame.

There are dangers in both schools. The Disney Princess kind of love is the love that makes people freak out the second there is a whiff of anger, animosity, jealousy, or boredom. Because if love is a magical thing, and if its “meant to be” and “written in the stars” then it can’t break. And if it breaks, it wasn’t “meant to be” and hopefully cupid will shoot someone else with his arrow and you can move on. On the other hand, the “get real” school of the 21^st Century is the cause of a lot of that anger, animosity, jealousy and boredom. A lot can get in the way of love.

And I think love can start out as a magical thing, and then a lot gets in the way. And that’s all good. But it’s how you deal with it. If you’re of the Disney Princess School, you believe that it will all work out on its own, and things “get in the way” but they never “Get in the way of your love.” If you’re of the 21^st century school, you find ways to keep love alive.

So Kate and ol’ Whats-his-name were working in two different schools. Whats-his-name needed to be “in love.” He needed that magical sprinkling of Fairy Dust and nothing else would matter. He’s waiting for the girl with the fairy dust. And Kate is a working woman with her own issues and desires and needs who was willing to work on things. But he didn’t have the patience for it because he needed to be “in love.”

So have I concluded anything? No. I think all I’m saying is that we need to get over this idea that love is a divine spark, and we need to stop waiting for it to happen, because love is something that requires a little bit of work, a little bit of planning and a whole lot of trust. Trust that you want it, that the other person wants it, and if you both want it badly enough and if you love the person in the broadest sense of the word, you can find a way to make it perfect. It boils down to wanting it. And what is “it?” It is love. Which I still haven’t defined. Which, perhaps, is why love is always written about as this mystical magical thing…

I wonder.....................

but it IS your responsibility. and mine too.

2009-12-04T01:53:00.000-08:00

disclaimers:

- i’m adopting bebop’s use of “womyn.” i dig it.

- in the context of this post, i refer primarily to womyn, but find that the ideas therein are loosely applicable to any non-dominant social group.

- dominant populations and sociology as utilized are pertaining to western culture as i have studied and experienced it.

- i know that all that we see, think and do is a result of external influences. “self- determined” functions as communicative in order to get as close as i can to what i mean in a practical sense.

shall we? we shall.

young-adult-roommate-housekeeping dynamics are quietly imploring me to get my Ph.D. in sociology instead of my M.F.A. in painting. i’m practically writing a dissertation in my head. specifically, i am fascinated by fellow free-thinking individuals who fall victim to these petty, household annoyances. to be clear, i understand that revolutionaries are only humans with pet-peeves, and am in fact an avid proponent of self-accountability ( i always do my dishes.) however, whenever i overhear a passive-aggressive gripe wafting from a kitchen, i wonder, “hm. you’re an activist, eh? you are down to tussle with some bro about oppression at a moment’s notice in a bar, are practically telepathic, and plan on cleaning up a sociological history's worth of mess that you didn't make, but the five seconds that it would take for you to wash an extra dish bend you out of shape? hm.” whenever i pipe up about my skepticism and confusion, i am met with some version of “but it’s not my responsibility.”

clearly, this is about more than dishes.

the phrase “but it’s not my responsibility” has been popping up on my radar daily for over a month now, and is prompting me to consider who assumes which social responsibilities, and how those assumptions pertain to perspective of one’s self versus one’s genuine respect for others. in the context of this blog, who is responsible for whom and for what is the achilles heel in any number of relationships between men and womyn. by “relationships” i mean of every variety and capacity, running the gamut of familial, professional, romantic, etc. and my, oh my, are these relationships intense.

zooming out a bit, one of the many roots of the issue of interpersonal responsibility is that the litmus test for equality stands as “are you at least as good as the average white, heterosexual male?” accordingly, the dominant presumption is that “we’re all the same. to treat you equally is to treat you the same as i treat everyone else.” despite popular belief, this approach is not synonymous with giving an individual credit. it is a condescension symptomatic of social privilege, tied to the assumption that whoever is at the top of the metaphorical pyramid is qualified to make the rules and set the standards.

as this is the perspective that shapes the our society, womyn inevitably enter relationships under the pretense that our utmost potential is measured by standards set by men, or, rather, outside of ourselves as opposed to within. therefore, we are implored to behave in ways that are meant to prove that we are ‘as good as’ men, despite not having the same social leg-up. we overcompensate. we give much, and readily. we sell ourselves short. we settle. we pine. often, we ‘re exhausted, responsibility-bearing superwomyn who don’t complain because to do so would be whiny and effeminate (catch 22 much?), all the while pausing to question whether or not we have done “well enough.”

so, who is responsible for a gender’s worth of insecurities? why, everyone, of course.

gentlemen, running around with your xy chromosomes and such: consider shifting your top-down perspective to approach individuals eye-to-eye. honestly, there is no reason for us to be like the sociological “you.” true equality does not involve ascending or adhering to arbitrary standards. true equality is being respected and considered on one’s own terms. like it or not, if you’re going to “man-up” and scribble “revolutionary” on your forehead, as a member of the population that currently has the most tangible capacity to impart change, it is indeed your social responsibility to challenge the status quo. to be fair, i know that men endure absurd social pressures, too, and that those pressures influence how you interact with womyn, but that conversation is for another post.

womyn, you lovely, lovely creatures: if you throw like a girl, fine. great, even. why? because despite popular belief, throwing like a man is not necessarily “better.” it’s just different. until the dominant population is fully on board, we must assume the responsibility to set standards for ourselves if we wish to combat a barrage of undue social pressures. regardless of how i feel about marriage as a social institution, recently i read that nearly 50% of educated, professional black womyn in the u.s. never marry. depressing? lonely? maybe. but it also suggests that there are an awful lot of womyn who are opting to do it for themselves in the face of a culture that demands far more from womyn than it is willing to give. for our mental and emotional health and fortitude, womyn should make it a priority to be responsible for our own happiness and self-worth. or, at the very least, strive for an equilibrium that maintains our sanity.

Ask A Man? (Nov. 30, 09)

2009-11-30T14:53:00.001-08:00

ROCKY

I think women are beautiful. The whole 'carry a human being inside your body then pop it out' deal is the most amazing thing to me. Nothing short of astonishing. Mind blowing.

Man is a Relative Term and Love is a verb.

Can I begin by first of all asking if there's anything really left unsaid or unquestioned when it comes to the topic of manhood and love? Is there really anything new to say? We, both men and women, cry foul when relationships fail, but seldom accept people who aren't romantically compatible as just that -incompatible! Until it's too late! Between the hurt and the anger, the bed and the clinic, her yelling your name and her yelling your name, we lose sight of reality; we expect our lovers to make drastic changes within themselves as reimbursement for our invested time. I spent [insert #} years with your dumb ass so I expect payment; become what I want! Like a retarded monkey, we keep shoving that square piece into the circle slot. Of course when this fails, we beat the toy-set and get angry at it. Curse it for not adhering to our wishes after allotting for it space within our playroom. Mature human beings don't do this. We don't sling poo. We're not supposed to at least. Doing things this way just doesn't add up. It only leaves us divided in the aftermath.

On the Other Hand...Love is a Verb no? (So is college)

It damn sure is. At least I think so. That's what I believe. Surely when left un-nurtured, love between two compatible people can crumble. As with any institution, its livelihood depends upon how proactive the members are. Compromise and sacrifice are a must. But where does one draw the line? When does sacrifice become absurdity? Do we always have to ride it out 'till the very end or can we look for signs to let us know when to let go early on? And if so what should we be looking for? I'm not a psychologist or an e-harmony search engine so I don't have detailed answers for these things. But I can say that most if not all matters of the heart can only be properly addressed when knowing one's self. Being introspective allows for better sense-making of your relationship with other human beings. As a man, self-awareness is of the utmost importance to me, because of that very same reason. Knowing yourself produces confidence, and that really helps when spittin' game at the women too..heheh. Sorry, couldn't help myself.

It Was Never About How you Felt, it Was, and Always Will be, About the Facts

If something makes you feel insecure, get over it. If something makes her feel insecure, reassure her. That is what my upbringing has taught me. In a nutshell, that is what it means to be a man. To put the woman first. To provide and be utterly selfless. I, of course, have continuously failed to meet these criteria. I have grown weary of gender roles and have found myself expecting things from women that most men I know don't: Autonomy. I am more than willing to be leaned on and play crutch in times of need, but I refuse to be a baby sitter. I expect the same standards from my woman as I do from myself. Analyze the facts and circumstances and compare them with your feelings. If they don't coincide, shrug that emotion off and keep on truckin!!! I try my best to operate that way, and would like a woman who has a similar mindset. I am perfectly fine with performing by the previously mentioned criteria, as long as she has the ability to do the same. Not that I would ever ask her to, or expect her to; I guess I'm the type of guy who wants to 'serve' a woman who wants me, and not a woman who "needs" me. To put it another way, I would like a co-pilot on this damn plane, not just a hostess.

There's something more endearing about choice...it's just more..REAL. Women with dependency issues don't make choices, they just depend. How boringly unhealthy.

Relative..?

Some of my Muslim friends believe that a man isn't a man unless he prays to and serves Allah. Some of my more liberal friends believe a man to be anyone over the age of 21. The U.S. Army says you're a man if you're old enough to ship off. And my more 'hood' friends say that you're not a man unless your dick game is great. What do you think? Men who have no romantic ties to each other hold hands in Saudi Arabia. Are they less of man than their western counterparts? R. Kelly is deeply sexually introspective. He is rather successful as well. Does that make him a man? If he didn't urinate on a child, would your answer stay same? Is a gay guy a man? And what about Emmanuel Lewis?

To spend your life bettering yourself and the lives of others. That's what being a man should be. A man should provide, whenever possible, for the family, for loved ones, and for other living things in need. A man should be self-aware and educated. A man should not be afraid of a woman who has the ability to take up the aforementioned duties. Not in place of him, but with him.

In the paragraph above, substitute the word "man" with the word "woman," then read it once more. If you can read it comfortably, then you understand where my head is at.

.

The Lost Boys

2009-11-28T16:48:00.000-08:00

There is always something to them
That doesn’t quite meet the eye
They stand out in a crowd
They seem easy at heart
Lost Boys, who are at war with the shadows of their soul
Lost Boys whose shadows are always on the go
The most famous example, Peter Pan, I’m sure you know

But they are more common than a fairytale
Raised in Societies' back lot
The land of broken homes
Or broken hopes
A place of shattered relationships
With which these boys have never coped
But still, they’ve grown
Society "raised" them
They call them "pimps" and "play boys"
Yet another misconception
That encourages them not to become whole

Once upon a time
These Lost Boys were just little boys
Nursing childhood hurts of
Why mommy wasn’t home
Or daddy wasn’t home
And if they were both there
Wondering why there wasn’t enough love between the 3 of them
To fill a room
Because physically being there isn’t enough
And in absence of a true desire to be around your son
Monetary contribution
Is just unwanted child support

A child needs love if they’re going to grow
To stand up on their own
Something many a Lost Boy
Has never ever known
Yet they imagine themselves content
And unknowingly seek a source to fill their void
So I have come to know them
Futilely attempting to pin down their running contours

But we who have loved Lost Boys
Cannot follow into their own world
A place where they see loving women
As a temporary resource
Unknowingly leeching from us
What is so precious to each individual

And it’s hard to have love for yourself
While wholeheartedly loving someone else
Especially if they’re not also putting you 1st
Taking what is given
While half-assedly returning
Attempting to replenish a void
That will never be filled in
Until they look inside themselves
But you mention growing up to a Lost Boy
And they run blind and scared

Nevertheless, we who love can’t help but love
Because it is our nature
And Lost Boys are so easy to love
Having adapted many methods of captivation
Or maybe it just comes naturally to some of them
Once promising boys whose hope died during physical maturation
And they don’t want to leave Neverland
Because they’ve spent a lifetime being nurtured therein
Venturing into the world of broken hearts and real sentiment
Seems too alike their broken childhoods and 1st heart breaking relationships
Besides, they’re running on empty
And how many people really pick up hitchhikers?

They leave emotional chaos in their wake
Only to regret it later
Love is the best thing you can ever hope to get in life
And trampling on open hearts is a significant Karmatic error
I have known Lost Boys
And loved them
Still, in their wake
I stand here open hearted
And yes, a bit broken
I look out for them the best I can
Under the circumstances
I don’t judge the next one from the last one
Because even the Bible says truthfully
That love isn’t easily angered
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always nurtures
I have given all of myself
Over and over
Body, mind and soul to these look alike men
I have offered
I’ve hung my head in defeat at their departure
And shook my head in defiance at their return
Because as much love and sympathy as I have for Lost Boys
There’s only so much time a woman can stay playing

...In Neverland

F[-ck]cades

2009-11-16T21:00:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: Now I’ve got to get real with you ladies/men. I’m a Grad student and I’m busy. I shouldn’t be writing, but I love it, so be forewarned, what I post will be highly unedited because otherwise once I find time to edit it, my mind will be on something else and I won’t even bother posting what I initially wrote. So, lenience, please.

It’s true, breaking things down is typically much more infantile that building something up.
But there are other times, like the past I don’t know, 10,000 years?, when things have been in need of some serious re-construction. And that requires breaking things down first.
I’m not talking about breaking people down, because as this forum eloquently states, we are men lovers, not haters.

What needs to be broken down are these unsustainable nu[old]ances.
It is only after breaking down certain misunderstandings, certain false expectations, and several false presentations, that we can be better lovers of that which we already adore.

So, get on to it.
Façades. That’s what I’m talking about. Façades.

There are 3 responsible institutions.
1- Men. Displaying façades.
2- Women. Pressuring/expecting that which can only manifest itself through something completely unrealistic (that is, that which requires a façade)
3- Society. This is the catch-all, the thing for which I have neither a definition nor a role. But in this day, leaving it is as basic men and women seems over simplified. Perhaps that’s just it, maybe its these unnecessary complications that are generating façades, but that is a topic for another time.

So these institutions and their product, façades. Lots of them. I actually found an abundance where I was recently living. Yeah, for the last few years, I keep interacting with “men” (Sanyu, we’ve never met, but I think you might call them “men-boys,” yes?), and these subtle tendencies all of a sudden blow up and another façade (which wow, I am already getting tired of using that word!) shows up.

Walk with me.

Another man, seemingly strong and stable, loses it.
Informs me that I’m not supporting him enough, that I don’t instill in him the confidence he needs. And we don’t work through it, he leaves.
A few months later, I finally catch my breath and formulate my long deliberated reply, “Excuse me?”
Wait just a minute. You, you who insisted on never opening up, you who assured me that everything was OK, you who never wanted to talk about what was going on in your head—you wanted support? Well, [name], as great as I am at reading minds, why didn’t you just tell me that? Why couldn’t you just ask?

Oh... how could I have forgotten? Men shouldn’t need support. So they don’t ask for it. And then they don’t get it, only to realize that this concept of not needing support is grounded in some seriously short-sighted bullshit. Man—too little, too late.

Now, I didn’t even tap into the sick notion that I, as a lover, am expected to fuel my man’s self-confidence. Comfort and trust is beautiful, but confidence, that’s got to come from within—I can’t provide you with that. In fact, perhaps I wasn’t reassuring because I wasn’t impressed—because confidence is what I find impressive.

So there’s the product, the pattern, the institutions. But can I get some sources? I’d like to eliminate all of these façades, because then they would stop crumbling into disappointment, but first, I’ve got to find some sources.

One Fem's Action Playlist

2009-11-14T21:52:00.000-08:00

Get Up. Get Out. Get On. Get With It.

1 Fem's Action Playlist

(Give it time to load and stream)

The Men(s)

2009-11-12T15:53:00.000-08:00

Hello Community,

We've now implemented an ideally once a month spot called, "Ask A Man?" (You Decide) here on F4BM! As it so happens, many gentlemen (of their own volition) have asked to have a say on this blog. We're certainly not against equality here on F4BM, and we're definitely not against men speaking out about this issue we've gathered here to discuss. So, gentlemen, do let us know: fems4bm@gmail.com

Sincerely,
The F4BM Staff

The Men Archives

NOVEMBER

Rocky (Nov. 30, 09)

DECEMBER

Sadly, None.

JANUARY

AZad (Jan. 21, 10)

FEBRUARY

Sadly, None.

MARCH

Sadly, None.

APRIL

Good Men, Defining Moments

A Fable Is A Lie

2009-11-11T17:19:00.000-08:00

Tell me something truthful
Something that will really make me smile
Teach me some Italian
So I can say, Reconta mi
una storia a cena
I don't mind a fable with a moral,
or an emotion
that presides in context
I just can't take another
conversation
with so much unsaid subtext
The conversation we never had
is even plaguing me today
I am wondering whether it was
worth it to have my friend say
You know,
He didn't put it that way
In fact, he said something very different,
which makes me think
that you're weak
or maybe just oblivious
Is this the one card that you hold
to pull out of your back pocket
To say, here, look at this one,
ain't she a beauty to break up
with?
Were your lies pure boasting?
Immature fodder?
Something to hold on to?
To cross your t's and dot your i's
with?
Yes, our relationship changed
And in a matter of days
We went from a swing set
to a dance floor
to a South African trumpeting
jazz notes.
I found you dependable then, and
even more, exciting.
Yet, even then, I never once let go
of the ways in which we differed.
But we had potential
And that's what matters
No wringing hands or nervous glances
Your job, your family, music, was
enough to keep you steady
And me, too, I decided.
I had my own priorities.
And still, I relished finally having someone
to lavish with my romances
You were a worthy one, and a good fit.
Bright, delivering quips.
Corny, but not enough so
that I couldn't appreciate your shtick.
So why did you have to lie
in light of everything that's good?
You know and I know what we had
and what we could...
We grew close, I left for school,
we tried our best,
but grew apart.
You visited me, and I came home,
but by the time I returned,
we were set adrift.
Recreating magic in the company
of your kin, I grew to love them more
because of the mood they put
me in.
We were good, great even, but our sex
was off...
and you knew it.
So I abstained one night
and that's when you lost it.
Do you remember this?
And do you remember what happened
after?
We parted amicably after 2 days
of each other's absence.
I was sad, and so were you, but
in no great deal of pain.
You were always sweet with me,
and we parted without blame.
So why must you breathe life
into a stale story that never was?
Was it my devotion in the beginning
that I chose to call love?
I didn't plague you with this admission
I offered it up as a gift
My heart, a piece of it, take it if
you wish
Take it or leave it
is my motto for the soul
To protect me from people
who might misread
what I consider bold.
I'm yours for the taking,
if I offer and you accept.
But I am not here
to be called
a desperate puppy
from fear and neglect.
I loved you, for what it's worth,
for that moment in time.
All I ask is that you relish it.
Instead of making up
our story, why not just try
telling it?

Love thyself, then thy neighbor

2009-11-03T18:53:00.000-08:00

Here I sit with my glass of red wine, back in the writing chair after an unfortunate hiatus which I didn’t choose for myself. Sometimes creative opportunities come your way and this one came my way through a friend who spells the word Women with a y (womyn) and Human with an i (Humin) and its not the way I’ve learned things. So forgive me, all you fems out there, forgive me because I will use the word woman and I will use the word human. I am a woman and I am a human and I’m so proud of myself because I feel like I’ve learned to embrace a certain man as a part of me.

I blush as I admit: I want to get married and have children and I want to spend my life with a man, and I find that every time I get into a relationship, it is always for more than a year and I always envision having “our friends” over for dinner parties and I imagine a meatloaf and a pot of mashed potatoes and a bottle or two of perfectly poured red wine. The women in my early life include my mother, who was married at 24, and who insists on a “sit-down-dinner” every single night, and my grandmother who would pour my grandfather a “dry Beefeater martini with an olive. Just whisper vermouth on the surface.” And she would. In her pearls and her a-line skirt. Monogamy is something that comes naturally to me, and yet, if I step back, I realize that it has less to do with the man and much more to do with me.

Me. The product of the sit down dinner and the dry Beefeater martini. Me, the product of an artist and a teacher who don’t get along but who will get along for the sake of their sanity and the sanity of me. Me, the girl who studied English and Theatre—theatre because I wanted to and English because I knew it would allow me to get a “real job.” And me, the girl who knows who she is and just wants to be happy. The truth is, all of us just want to be happy. And its wrong to deny what makes you happy because of everyone else’s expectations of happiness, but for Me, I’ve found that everyone else is a part of me. And the man I’m with is so much a part of me. I’ve made my mistakes. I’ve been with someone who desperately needed my approval, who tormented me and told me I was stupid and not worth it. He told me I couldn’t sing. He told me I had no soul. He told me I couldn’t write.

But I convinced myself that he loved me.

This is what abuse is. And as much as I want to blame him for being the man who shot me down, I can look back and know that I shot myself down because I wasn’t willing to stand up and demand happiness. Happiness does not, in my book, include insecurity with oneself. If you sing, then sing. And if someone tells you to stop singing, just end it. While the problem does exist in the men—abusive men are rampant and unending and disgusting—we, we women, need to give ourselves more credit and know that we have the power to choose for ourselves what we want to hear out of the man that we’ve chosen to spend our days with. If that is our path. And if it is, then read on.

“Love thy neighbor as thyself.”

Love thyself, and then you can focus on loving thy neighbor. There are some rough men out there, but there are women who allow it to happen. Like me once-upon-a-time, they subject themselves to abuse and come to believe that that’s what they deserve. I would call these women “enablers.” Just like a person who gives an alcoholic a drink, there are women who feed the egos of abusive men. We need to demand something better from ourselves and from the people who are meant to enrich our life. You can demand greatness if you believe you are worth it.

I spell woman with an “a” because I’ve found a man who treasures me and who brings out the best in me and who loves me like I deserve to be loved. He respects himself, I respect myself, and I am a woman who has found a man who makes my life better. And I am happy.

The Point (A Work In Progress)

2009-10-31T19:36:00.001-07:00

The Point

Essentially:

We are writing to promote growth through honest dialogue, not necessarily (just) through criticism.

Broken Down:

1. We aren't men haters. We are, in fact, men lovers (and fem lovers).

2. We fems have observed that the current Archetypal Man Image (AMI) is Overrated and Undersocialized.

3. This Archetypal Man Image is also underobserved throughout many Educational Institutions the world over.

4. Because of this we find that "Men," many of whom often choose to try and fit into the conception of the Archetypal Man Image, (both consciously and unconsciously) are becoming an endangered species.

5. However, because Ruling Powers' opinions place "Men" at the top of the Living Things Hierarchy; all people suffer from the low standard maintained for the Archetypal Man Image over the ages.

6. Therefore, by broadening the conception of "Man," we seek to broaden all social conceptions and expectations of human beings: "fems," "men," etc..

7. Additionally, we do not seek to support or condone "Enablers" of the "Fem" variety - or "Men" variety.

It's about time we put the assumed best and brightest under the microscope and see what they're really made of.

*While we recognize that we have a Heteronormative blog, we confess that we are - for the most part - Heteronormative. If you would like us to be less so, and identify as being less so yourself, please join our blog collective. We need your perspective!*

khk

The Fems

2009-10-30T10:20:00.001-07:00

Introducing Your Friendly Fem Staff & Guest Stars:

SCOUT (Non-Religious Celibate '10): Is a 25 year old fem who, after recently updating "the list", was astounded at the realization that after so many lovers (save a very select few) she really hasn't experienced anything new. As a result she has decided to try a year of chosen, non-religious celibacy. She hopes to gain new insight into relationships by developing them without sex, after which she hopes the sex will be amazing!!

SHER (Frazzled New Mamma): Is a first-time mom, lucky to have met and married one of the good ones. She is writing for her daughter in hopes of encouraging a future filled with men who are all good ones.

POLY ("Amoureuse Amateur"): Poly thrives on genuine intimacy, with an unfortunate allergy to monogamy. This combination proves lethal for her lovers, as well as for herself. Laden with guilt and psycho-analysis, she is eager to begin examining external factors, e.g. men, that may be the root of her dissatisfaction.

HAMLETTA (Pondering Performer): Paralyzed by indecision, she has never broken up with a boy or man-friend in her life. She usually waits for circumstances to end what has become a failed relationship. She has spent years going back and forth about how to do what she knows she should do. She does not want to take so long to act, but this is not to say that the time thinking has been ill-spent. She often finds herself in somewhat taboo romances that she jokingly fantasizes about, and is genuinely surprised when they become reality. She is writing to revise these fantasies into healthier partnerships since she is now under the sneaking suspicion that her thoughts create her experience. Hamletta is interested in understanding the differences in how fems and men communicate.

SWAY (Irish Catholic Serial Monogamist): Is a woman with marriage and babies on the brain. She ultimately envisions a life free of unhappiness and full of self respect. She’s made plenty of mistakes in the past and while she used to curse the man who tainted her self-love, she now embraces it as a stepping stone on the path to Happy. She wishes for all women to love themselves the way they deserve to be loved.

RAE (Hopelessly Romantic Artist): Is far too intuitive and sensitive for her own good. She gets involved quickly, and when you slam on the brakes she's too proud to make a fuss as she slams into the windshield. She doesn’t carry baggage, and is genuinely not bitter. She does, however, resolve that honesty is paramount. Real people can't help what they feel.

TINY (Editor Extraordinaire): Is a serial dater who has yet to fall in love... if you're not counting her first 'love' at 14. She is a serious romantic, but she's sometimes selfish with her affection. Tiny is writing for integrity, writing for truth, and campaigning against flakes!

BEBOP (Concept Connoisseur): Is a 23 year old fem who(m) has recently decided to be as honest as possible in any romantic relationship. She finds this scares the average man and would like to encourage men to rise to the occasion of social integrity and communicative honesty that she does her utmost to embody!

Hey (You), An Open Letter

2009-10-27T12:51:00.001-07:00

Hey,

I’m done with you.

…and surprisingly, this isn’t said with any animosity. Because honestly, I know what’s going on. I’ve been honest and you haven’t.

But since you associate not being honest, or not speaking, or not communicating effectively with some pseudo form of actual communication, you probably just associate my saying one thing, the same thing, as me actually telling you to continue not communicating with me – rather than answering the questions that I’m repeatedly asking.

And…because I know what’s going on, I understand how you could see things this way. I mean, you’re not honest with yourself, and now I know that. Knowing that, it certainly follows that if you’re going to lie to yourself, you’re bound to lie to me. But, I have…greater expectations for you. I don’t want to see you meet my lowest standard because I’d rather see you meet my highest. I reserve my highest standard for one other person besides you. Me.

I assure you, I take myself seriously.

And I like to associate myself with honesty.

…

I repeat, I’m done with you. I know you’ve heard it but I need to say it again. I need to hear it again.

I know you’re not a bad person though sometimes I think it’s easier for you to try and tell me otherwise. Or try and show me otherwise.

I see that it’s easier for you to fit a conception than it is to make your own right now. I see that you are hiding from yourself right now.

But there’s something to you, almost slithering beneath the surface as if it’s the one sneaking around, that shines noticeably. Many things actually. And so I’d like to believe that the two, honesty and “shining,” can coexist harmoniously in one body. I’d like to believe that they can coexist harmoniously in my body; but I need practice; and I need something to reflect off of that is a true reflection.

So I’m doing us this favor and I’m leaving you. I’m done. I should be done with you.

I just thought that you’d be a better person.

I wanted to be a better person with you, I gave us chances to be better people together.

I gave you chances to be a better person. I believed in you and your capabilities.

You lied and you took. On occasion you were true, to both of us. But you never work on what you have to give, so you take and you take. You’re a taker.

You’re an ungrateful taker at that. And ultimately, I want more for myself.

I want more for you too, but you’ve yet to realize that taking is not the same as having.

So, yea. I’m done with you.

And honestly, I hope I was the second victim – the first naturally being yourself.

Because honestly, I wouldn’t wish this on anybody. In the condition that you’re in now, I wouldn’t wish you on anybody. You’re low right now, and I couldn’t possibly desire with any fiber of my being for things to get worse for you. Things need to start looking up for you.

You need to start looking up for you – up towards these standards that I know I’m holding and perhaps not yet utilizing.

But here they are.

Because…this wasn’t good. Don’t let anybody fool you into believing that this level of interaction with another person is okay. Because they’re lying, and what you need now is the clearest honesty. A clear dose of honesty.

Without any improvement at all – and this is from someone who’s been with you through the motions – you’ve left me no other option but to cut this off.

In a way you’ve left me nothing but my selfhood in this interaction between us.

And when you wear something down you eventually must get to the core of it.

Thankfully, worn down I find my core is still based upon honesty.

…Only I forgot to be honest with myself first…

Funny.

How talking to you is ultimately me talking to un-me.

You remember how I said you were a failing communicator?

…People in our situation are potentially very dangerous.

I think it’s time for us to cope.

Sincerely,
Me