Resolution for New Year: No More “Mr. Nice”

I’ve made a New Year’s Resolution for 2013:  I will no longer try to be “Nice”.

Now, I’ve spent my entire life actively trying to be nice.  Honestly… I don’t even know why.  I look at how I was raised, and the schools I went to… and I have no clue where I even got the inspiration to want to be nice in the first place.  Sure, we always “heard” that we had to “be nice”, but the actions I witnessed always seemed to tell the exact opposite.  Any small courtesy I tried to show people wasn’t usually returned with the same.  Usually… it just became an advertisement of being a target for bullies. (I honestly cringe at the thought of what would have happened if there was Facebook around when I was in High School.)  My four years of High School… I don’t know if there was anything that “being nice” got me, except embarrassment, pain and rejection.  Why didn’t I change?

The only thing I can think of is that the trifecta of The Muppets, Fraggle Rock, and Charlie Brown must have had an overly-profound impact on me.  You may be laughing, but I’d say there’s a 94% chance that’s a non-exaggerated truth.

In The Muppet Show, I saw characters who were always trying… and usually failing.  Gonzo with his acts of insanity artistic genius, but never fully working being appreciated.  Fozzie with his horrible jokes, and constantly being heckled and insulted by those two old A-holes Statler and Waldorf (Yes, they’re lovable coots… but they were still A-holes).  Miss Piggy, with her grand diva-ness, making a grand entrance… and suddenly grandly tripping down the stairs.  Kermit trying to keep everything together and running smoothly… and it inevitably gets out of hand and becomes a disaster.  But amidst it all, they were silly, they had fun, and were always there for each other, trying to make a great show.  In that backstage world… No one hated each other, no one was overly cruel… and if they accidentally were mean, they apologized sincerely, and with meaningful gestures (usually a sweet song).

Fraggle Rock was even more so.  All of the Fraggles were nice to each other… that was simply “their way”.  They got mad, frustrated, and all of that… but they were always there for each other and treated everyone well.  Even if they were afraid of them… even if they had every reason to hate something, should that something be in trouble, they would still help.  Not wanting anything in return… doing it because they loved to help and liked being nice.  That’s a beautiful thing.

(It’s not a coincidence that both are Jim Henson projects.  I feel strongly similar about all of his projects, and am an eternal fan.)

With Charlie Brown, I felt like I found a kindred spirit.  He always fails, but more importantly, he keeps trying.  No matter how much he’s bullied and berated by the others… he’s always nice and courteous to them.  He did no wrong by anyone, yet they called him Wishy-Washy for it, and adults gave him rocks on Halloween for it.  (Seriously… who the bloody hell would give a child ROCKS on Halloween?  What kind of a sociopathic neighborhood did he live in?)  Come to think of it… maybe Charlie Brown is the opposite argument for those very reasons.  “If you be nice to everyone, they’ll make your life miserable.”  Somehow, I got the “be nice” message.

Yet, it still never paid off.  When the other kids see my Charlie-Brown like actions, they’d ask, “Why do you do that stuff?”  I say, “Just trying to be nice.”  Then, it was inevitably met with “Nice Guys Finish Last.”

Those words have been drilled into me time and time again.  And I *know* it rings true all too often.  I’ve seen it, experienced it, and been consistently frustrated by it.  But the weird thing is… I was okay with it.

Having been on the receiving end of people being A-holes, I’ve told myself several times, “I do not ever want to make someone else feel this way.”  Because I knew how horrible it was, and I could never think of intentionally inflicting that onto another.  I was never one to feel better with the role-reversal or revenge.  Maybe its empathy, maybe its guilt, I don’t know.

But being nice… DID make me feel good.  I know, its cliché, and seems like something in a badly-written kindergarten after-school special.  But I genuinely felt some warm fuzzies by performing an act of niceness.  It wasn’t because “Jeebus told me to”, or because “Karma will pay me back later”, and especially not because “This person can benefit me later.”  All of those… I don’t think are very good reasons.  If Jeebus told you to do something… It doesn’t sound like you could be trusted to do it on your own.  If you think Karma will pay you back… that seems a bit like a selfish reason.  You’re only doing something because you think you’ll be benefited later.  If you didn’t believe in Karma, would the other person be crap-outta-luck?  That’s doubly so with the last one… you’re expecting to benefit later, but just admitting it up front.

Well, I’m not religious in any way… and I don’t believe in Karma, either.  I always thought that the niceness wasn’t a means to an end… it was an end itself.  Because of that, I even attested that my niceness was, technically, selfish.  I like feeling good… being nice makes me feel good.  So to feel good, I’m nice.  With Karma, it’s an extra step.  “I’m doing something nice, so later something nice will be done to me… and I’ll feel good.”  My way was more efficient, frankly.

So I did all the “little things”.  Giving up my seat on a train or bus for someone else.  (The elderly, a pregnant woman, even a non-pregnant woman, or someone that just looked too dang tired), opening doors for others, picking things up for people that they’ve dropped… and I just called those things “Common Courtesy”.  Little things that everyone should be doing, and cost next-to-no effort.

Then, I looked out for the bigger things… the things that you have to go legitimately “out-of-your-way” to do.  The things people ask you to do… walk them home, run an errand for them, help move, etc.  Chances are, if you’re asking me to do something like that, we’re friends… and I would do absolutely anything for my friends.  But I’ve been asked of things like that by people who weren’t really “friends”… but I did it anyway.  Why?  Honestly… because they needed it.  The pleasure I got from being “nice” was actually secondary.  I was no longer thinking “this will make me feel good”… but rather, “They need help?  I’m there.”  My own convenience and pleasure became an afterthought.  (That’s partly why I think I’ve got a bit of a “superhero complex”.)

Now, I’ve still made all the cliché complaints:  “Women don’t want a nice guy, they only want the A-holes.”  “Oh, no… I’ve been friendzoned!”, “Everyone says they want a guy like me, but they don’t want *me*!”, and of course, “Why do they complain there are no nice guys, when I’m right here!” 

I admit, these are just statements of frustration about my horrible luck.  Ultimately, if a woman doesn’t want to go out with me… then she doesn’t have to.  That’s her choice, not a pattern of abused thinking.  (Granted, I wish some of them would *tell* me that instead of just not returning my phone calls… but I digress.)  I’ve never been able to get actually angry about it… only sad.  (The one type of Love I know the most about is the Unrequited kind.)  Because I know it really is “Luck”… and with my introverted personality, it can be a touch more difficult to really connect with someone in a romantic way early on.  So, I lick my wounds, feel bad for myself, question my masculinity, spout a few of the cliché complaints to let off steam, and in about a week or so, I’m back to normal, giggling incessantly at The Muppet Show. (You have your rejection-recovery system… I have mine.)

(By the way… a word about the “friendzone”:  No, it’s not inherently a “bad thing” to be “just a friend”.  But keep in mind, if we meet, have a date, and you decide you just want to be friends… that is basically starting a friendship on a rejection.  And as I am someone who is *extremely* careful about the friendships I do cultivate, that’s not exactly a comfortable way to start, especially if I was getting my hopes up.  Please realize that’s probably not going to happen.  Nobody’s fault… it just happens that way.  If we’re already friends for a good period beforehand, try it, and it doesn’t work… then maintaining the friendship afterwards is easier… I just need a little time to lick my wounds, feel bad, question my blah blah, etc.  Okay?)

Through all the (numerous) rejections in my time, I’ve still tried to maintain the “nice” part of me.  But you know… I never really liked saying the word.  Something about declaring myself as a “nice guy” always felt a little fake. I’ve done it on occasion, but it never sat right in my craw.  It’s a bit like a knighthood… you can’t declare yourself a knight and put “Sir” in front of your name.  Someone else has to call you that.

Yet at the same time… I got a little competitive over it.  I figured, “if I was going to be rejected over being “Nice” (socially and romantically), so be it… that’s who I am, reality be darned.”  So, I buckled in and wanted to embrace it.  But then I start hearing murmurings of some other guy… another “nice” guy.  Women that I had crushes on gave him high recognition as a “nice guy”, talked glowingly about him… and then say the dreaded sentence:  “He’s the nicest guy in the world!”

That… has always been a red flag to me.  I admit… there’s a good chance it’s jealousy.  But when I’ve gone out of my way, throughout my whole life, to try and be “nice”, and always do the right thing… hearing of someone that has apparently beaten me at the “Nice Guy Olympics” (Because that statement is an absolute… there can’t be 2 “nicest guy” winners) is… well, a bit jarring.  Especially, if he is seemingly being celebrated for that which I was always rejected for.  Now, sure… the statement was maybe a bit of hyperbole, and I don’t know if anyone was saying that about me to other people.  But for probably the only time in my life… I actually felt competitive about this.  If I finally got to meet this mystery “nice guy”, it was always with a very critical eye.  Most of the time I came up with the conclusion, “He’s not that nice.”  Oftentimes… I thought they were A-holes.  Maybe a couple of those were unfounded, and spurned by jealousy… but mostly, I would see genuine evidence of A-holishosity (Yes, that’s a word.  Now.).  It actually drove me a little nuts to think that THIS individual is seen as “nicer” than me.

A friend of mine in Grad School once told me of a survey he read about something like this.  (I don’t know the source, so as far as I know, this is not much better than anecdotal, but anyway…)  Some sociology class set-up an experiment.  They brought in people to give responses, and had them meet up to 4 different kinds of people.  The first was someone who was nice and pleasant for the entire interaction.  Second was someone who was a Jerk for the entire interaction.  Third was someone who started off as a Jerk, but then became nice during the interaction.  And finally, was someone who started off as Nice, but then became a jerk.

According to the findings of this survey… they found that the individuals who started off as a jerk, and became nice were perceived as then being MORE nice than the people who were nice the whole time.  Likewise, those who started off as nice and became a Jerk, were then seen as a BIGGER Jerk than the Jerk who was a Jerk the whole time.  That concept blew my mind.  It was the first time I actually said to myself, “Have I *really* been doing it wrong this whole time?  Is that why Assholes are seen as Nice people?”  What the hell????

Now, believe me… I see the irony here.  The very fact of getting jealous and a raised ire do not seem to be traits of a “Legitimate Nice-Guy”.  Well, guess what?

Niceness is not a benchmark of Perfection.

I have always tried to be nice, but I also try to be aware of my mistakes and flaws.  In no way have I tried to be perfect.  There are a couple of times; I’ve been the one to do the rejecting.  I’ve neglected to follow-up on what could have been a good thing with someone, and in doing so, did not show the respect to that someone who should have received it.  I’ve had a few times where I willingly let my ego get in the way.  I’ve said mean things that I haven’t regretted, and I’ve even had to purposefully turn on the “A-hole” switch a couple times in life.  (I never liked doing it… and I hated myself afterwards, but at the time, I determined it had to be done.)  I know I can’t please everybody all the time, and on rare occasions, you need to make people hate you.

Maybe that will be easier now.

And maybe you’re saying, “Wait, if you genuinely enjoyed the experience of helping people, of being courteous and all that… why stop being Nice?”

Hey, I didn’t say I was planning to become an Asshole.  I don’t even *want* to change anything about my personality right now.  I’ve just been thinking a lot lately, and in my reflections, I’m seeing a none-to-pleasant trend:

The large majority of “Nice Guys” are total douchebags.

I don’t just mean the ones I had experience with in the past.  There’s a website on Tumblr called “Nice Guys of OkCupid”.  (It seems to be down as of this writing, but a quick Google search will pop up several articles and examples talking about it.)  It has their picture, the part on their profile where they talk about being a “Nice Guy”, and a selection of some of the “Match Questions” and their answers.  It’s the “Match Question” part where most of them reveal they are not exactly “nice”.  Rather, they are a bit misogynist, homophobic, racist or even a potential rapist.

One of the questions is a statement: “No means NO!”, and the answers to select from are degrees of agreement or disagreement.  So when some “Nice Guy” answers, “A No is just a Yes that needs a little encouragement”, suddenly the bile starts to rise in my throat.  Same happens when an inordinate number of them answer “Yes” to the question “Do you feel there are any circumstances in which a person is obligated to have sex with you?”

Now, I do take some solace in the fact, that my own answers to those questions have already been answered… and they are all widely different than these tools.  I guess I just took it for granted, thinking that it was shockingly obvious that no one ever “owes” me sex.  (I wouldn’t even want it if it’s only being offered out of obligation.  What fun is that?)

I realized… THESE are the people that share the label I’ve been trying for my whole life?  Seriously?  I got depressed, because technically, these guys are “my peers”.  No thank you.  Not anymore… I’m seceding.  I’m getting rid of the “Nice Guy” label.

First part to go… the “Guy” part.  I don’t know about you, but I feel like there’s a distinct difference between “Guy” and “Man”.  I think “Guy” implies something more of a college-aged mentality.  With bikini-calendars, and posters covering the walls.  Neither of which I’ve had since I was in Undergrad in the late 90s.  During calendar- shopping season, I’ve on occasion considered, “Maybe I’ll get one of those with the pretty ladies this year…” but quickly switch to, “Nah… I’m long over that.”  The prospect of a cool travel-themed one just seems more entertaining to me to look at every day.  (Besides, air-brushed models aren’t as attractive to me anymore.  Reality is sexier.)  As for posters… I don’t think I’ve had one on a wall since before my first apartment in California.  Any picture on my wall is in a frame.

“Man” sounds more mature, and that’s appealing.  Maybe it’s an “alpha” kind of idea… but growing up, I always thought about the “Man I want to be”, not “The Guy I’ll probably end up”.  And yes, even though I read comics, quote from The Muppets and Monty Python, and squee when I watch a new Doctor Who episode… I do try to think of myself as a somewhat mature(ish) “Man”.

So, it’s “Man” over “Guy”… and I certainly don’t want to be an asshole.  Therefore, instead of being a “Nice Man”… I think I’ll just try to be a Good one.

I like the term “Good Man”.  A Good Man implies having a sense of honor.  A Good Man may not always do the nice and pleasant thing… but will always try to do the “Right” thing.  Won’t always succeed… but will at least try.  (And the “Right” thing is rarely the Nice, Happy thing.)  That’s something I wouldn’t mind seeing on my tombstone.  “Here lies a Good Man.”

When I really think about it… maybe that’s what I’ve been shooting for all along.  Being “fair” has always been important to me; If I had a choice of being really nice to one person (which meant screwing over someone else), or being “fair” to both, with not particularly nice to either… I tended to go with “fair”.  I felt like that was the better long-term solution.  The times I’ve had to turn on the “Asshole Switch”… I did it because I was trying to be fair.

So that’s what I’m doing, trying to be the Man I want to be:  A Good Man.  Maybe I’m there already, but that’s not my call to make.  I hope I never stop striving for it.

Yes, this does mean that I’m not actually changing anything about my personality… I’m just changing the terminology I use.  Frankly, I think that’s a much easier New Year’s Resolution to make… and those are my favorite.

Nice guys may finish last… but a Good Man doesn’t need to make it a race.

Happy New Year, everyone!

How To Tell a Stranger They're Beautiful

Sure, it sounds easy.  Just head on up and say, “Hey there, angel-eyes, is it legal to look that good?”  Splash on some cologne, show off the guns and show a little chutzpah, right?  Nay!  Guess what?  That’s the road to becoming “That Guy”.  In this context, “That Guy” means “Douchebag”, you Douchebag.  Take your unjustified self-confidence and get the hell off of my blog!  (And shave that pencil-thin chin-outline you call a beard, you look lame.  By the way, that tattoo of barbed wire on your arm isn’t “tough-looking”, it says “I’m a bottom”. )

They gone?  Good.  I hate those a-holes.

Where was I?  Oh yeah.  

It really isn’t that easy.  Especially to those of us that don’t have all that douchebag-level of self-confidence.  Plus, if you do just go for broke and say it, you’re not taking into account a number of issues that need to be addressed.  (Trust me, this crap can get complicated.) Luckily for you, I’ve gone and done most of the over-thinking needed. (Don’t thank me, just doing my vastly underpaid job.)

First important issue:  Motivation.

Why have you elected to do this?  This is a much more important issue than you may think, because it is also contains a hidden danger.  If you’re doing it to “impress”, or “get digits”, than that is the campaign trail to be President-Elect of Douchebag-aria and why the hell are you still reading this, I told you to SCRAM!  Douchebag!

Yes, doing this as a pick-up line is a hidden danger.  Because it’s not supposed to be a pick-up line… it’s supposed to be a compliment.  A simple, sincere compliment.(Emphasis on “Sincere”.) If you’re doing this to get in someone’s good graces as an effort to eventually get them naked (or ask them for money, or a recipe, or whatever)… then it immediately becomes “You’re only saying this because you want something.”  Even if you honestly do believe them to be beautiful, the fact of you trying to take it further suddenly makes it sound like complete bullshit. Something that is merely: A means to an end.

This is not supposed to be a means to an end.  It’s supposed to be an end in itself.  You follow me on this?  Hear what I’m talking about?  I’m saying that this is something to which you will receive no reward.  Not even as a long-term plan.  Your return-on-investment on this is NOTHING.  Zero. Nada. Zilch.  A big bowl of “Nut ‘n Honey”, and I’m not talking about the breakfast cereal.

Sincerity is the name of the game here folks.  Like what Linus looks for in a Pumpkin-Patch, there needs to be “Sincerity as far as the eye can see.”  Without it, you’re on the way to becoming the Douchebag (justified or not… just being seen as a Douchebag isn’t a good thing).  

Sure, maybe you’re not a douchebag, but still consider yourself one of those “I don’t care what others think” kind of people.  “So, if they think I’m a douchebag, so what?” Well, for one, that attitude’s getting dangerously close to actually being a douchebag, so I’d start re-thinking some life choices, if I were you.  (Just sayin’)  Second of all, your target’s perception of the situation… is part of the POINT of this exercise.  Here, you have to care what the other person, a complete stranger, thinks at that moment where you say it.  Otherwise:  Mission fail, even if you think it didn’t.

Okay, so why does it have to be a stranger?  What’s wrong with saying it to a friend, or even just someone you know?  Again, sincerity can be a factor.  A compliment like that, even if meant 100%, can be taken with a, “Oh, they’re only just saying that because they’re my friend.”  Or you could get, “Wait a minute, is this person trying to make a move?  I hope they know I only want to be friends, but now it’s all awkward!”  Now granted, it might work out totally in your favor… and there’s nothing wrong with telling your friends that you think they’re beautiful… I’m just saying:  You’re on your own, but good luck.

Well, my motivation comes down to two things:  One, when reading PostSecret, or browsing around on Tumblr, or elsewhere around the internet where strangers find the freedom to express themselves anonymously… I occasionally see a wish posted that says, “I wish a stranger would tell me I’m beautiful.”  I thought… why a stranger?  Well, if a stranger approaches you to say that they are honestly attracted to you physically, then the “beautiful” part starts out honestly.  But if they’re STILL a stranger afterwards, not asking for anything… then it confirms that the only motivation was a true and honest opinion… that you are in fact, beautiful.  There’s a lovely romance in that wish.  And it’s one that I can have the ability grant to others.  (Even sometimes make that wish for myself… even though I don’t consider myself much of a “romantic”.)

Secondly… there are some people that I think really deserve to hear it.

Second important issue:  Location

You do have to pick your location fairly carefully.  You don’t want to do it in an obvious place.  Doing it in a bar or nightclub… why bother?  First of all, it’s hard to hear (which affects later issues)… and for another thing, people that go there are usually all dolled up to the nines TRYING to look like that.  So if that compliment comes, it still going to have the element of “Oh, they’re just saying that because I’m showing all this skin”.  But wouldn’t that compliment mean a little more if you heard it while wearing jeans and a t-shirt, coming out of the post-office, showing no skin and even wearing minimal make-up?  One location is where people are fishing for those kinds of compliments, and the other is where it’s totally unexpected.  Ironically enough, it’ll be more appreciated in the location where it’s a surprise, believe me.

I’ve done this a few times at my gym.  Which is a risky location, I know.  Because people there are “trying” to look good (in a long-term sense), while maybe not necessarily looking “club/bar-level good” at that moment.  Also, you may still see the individual after the compliment is given.  But with the nature of the gym, you can still remain strangers with just about everyone.  Just as long as you’re careful and selective, so you don’t become seen as another “That Guy”.  (In this case, “That Guy That Tries To Pick Up Chicks At The Gym”.  Too many in too short a time, and that’s who you are.) But on the plus side, you can do a bit more pre-observation on the target, so as to make a slightly more informed choice on whether or not the individual is worthy of receiving said compliment.

Which brings me to the third issue:  Selection.

You have to be selective.  You can’t say it to just every pretty face in the joint, eventually making your way to everyone over a period of time.  I don’t care if you think you’re freaking Rudolph Valentino and say “Every woman is beautiful!”… that doesn’t make you a lothario, that makes you a horndog with low standards.  (And if Rudolph Valentino was really that great, don’t you think the other reindeer would have asked him to join their reindeer games?)  Certainly, there is merit to the statement “Every woman is beautiful”; Every individual woman is going to be considered beautiful to some other individual.  In my first apartment in California, I shared a kitchen with a 400-lb. woman.  She was a sweet soul and all, but not physically attractive to my eyes (especially after seeing her eat 3 packs of Ramen Noodles in one meal).  I hope she found someone that sees her as beautiful… but I’m okay in admitting I’m not one of those guys.

So, even if you’re like me, and believe that Beauty does come in many shapes and sizes, you still have to draw the line somewhere.You’ll still have a decent-sized pool to choose from.  Now, you have to start narrowing it down, to find the one that you believe really deserves to hear it.

Now, from here on the selection process involves making possible assumptions about people based on looks alone.  No, that’s not 100% respectable, I understand.  If a lawyer pointed that out in court, I’d sound like a sexually-harassing a-hole.  In fact, saying it here could be evidence for ME being a douchebag.  That’s a risk I have to run.  But the pool has to be narrowed down somehow; otherwise, again, it means nothing.

Okay, first thing I do is eliminate the “Hot” girls.  I mean the ones that are stereotypically “Hot”.  They subscribe to the media-barrage standards of what “Hot” is.  Look at the way they carry themselves.  You can usually tell by looking at someone if they have the “I’m Hot and I know it” attitude.  I’m not saying look for the ones that have low-self-esteem… just eliminate the ones that have maybe too-high of self-esteem.  They obviously don’t need the boost, and the compliment would probably be wasted on them, anyway.

In the gym, it’s a touch easier to spot them, because every muscled jackhole is trying to flirt with them.  Now, me being an introvert, I’m a bit of a people-watcher, so I occasionally notice things like that as I’m going from exercise to exercise.  I don’t think the Gym is a place for socializing; it’s for getting work done, and getting healthy.  So the flirters tend to stick out.  The meathead guys usually go for the stereotypical “Hot” women, because they think the amount they can bench-press deserves the lady’s attention.  And the gals being flirted with have most likely heard it all before.  For them, they might not even make the differentiation between “Hot” and “Beautiful”, so it all sounds the same to them.  So, it’s probably a wasted effort on our part, and even more a likely chance they’d think “Ugh, what a creep-o.” (Unless I had a six-pack stomach and Calvin Klein-underwear model looks, then they’d probably respond favorably.  Hey, there are shallow women, too.)

So the stereotypical Hot ones… out.  Sorry, that’s the way it goes.

Ideally, what you want, is someone who is beautiful… but maybe isn’t told so very often.  Which is a pretty big category, sadly.  Maybe it’s more accurate to say:  Someone beautiful… who considers themselves “average-looking”, and is okay with that.  Or even that believes “The right person will think I’m beautiful.”  (Acknowledging that not everyone will) Well, even if I’m not the right person… I can see it.  And I think that’s a person worth telling it to.  I think the compliment wouldn’t be lost on someone like that.

Actually pinpointing that kind of person… is a crap shoot, I admit.  But a big part of it probably comes down to what YOU consider to be “Beautiful”, and how that might compare to a friend’s opinion.  If you see someone as beautiful… but think they’re probably the type some friends of yours would say, “Eh, she’s pretty.” Or “She’s alright”.  Right there, it’s obvious that you are seeing them in a higher opinion then someone else… in which case, you’re on the right track.  Got yourself a potential candidate there.

But don’t go jumping the gun!  I see you’re about to jump on over there and make your presence known… hold up! You can’t do it right this second!  Why?  Issue #4, my friend:  Timing!

You swagger over there at this moment, you’re right back to the “Douchebag” issue.  You might as well put on the Douchebag club pin right now!  (Hey, didn’t I kick you out of here earlier?  No?  You sure?  Yeah, right… I’m watching you, Buster!)

Timing is vital on this, I really believe that.  You don’t want to interrupt anything.  If she’s hanging out with friends, forget it.  Even if you did manage to compliment her, the friends will either scoff and make fun of you for trying a “pick-up” in front of them, (cock-blocking even when you weren’t attempting to… “cock”?) or maybe even get jealous and say, “What about me?  Am I Beautiful?”… and you don’t want to be prompted to say it out of obligation, because then it even feels like bullshit, and deep down, they know it’s not as satisfying because you were prompted.  No, you need to catch them when they’re alone.  At the gym… don’t interrupt them in the middle of a set.  That’s just rude.  And besides, you’d rather have their full concentration, not splitting it with “what number rep am I on?”  Full concentration can help with full appreciation.  So, during a workout is very tricky.  Maybe the only time you could get away with it is when they’re wiping down the exercise machine.

But you also don’t want to do it with anyone around.  Even if outsiders don’t care, for the target… if it’s something they might find embarrassing (whether by virtue of “can’t take a compliment” or “someone is making a fuss over me, oh no”), you want to minimize the potential for that happening.  This should be a fairly private moment… no one else’s business.  In the parking lot is a good place, where most other people would be out of earshot, if they’re even around.  (Yet, it’s not so private that she would have to worry about her safety… you want to minimize any potential “threat” factor for her, too.)

But don’t stand and wait for her in the parking lot.  Because this is the element you pretty much should leave up to fate.  IF you find yourself in a comfortable public-yet-non-threatening-private-ish location… IF you find yourself in said location with the target in close proximity… IF the target is not otherwise occupied… and IF there’s no interlopers in the area, then you should be good to go.  But it can be a small window of opportunity, that could be easy to miss.  Go about your business, and if the paths cross with the circumstances in the right place… well, okay.  But if you two are parked on opposite sides of the parking lot… don’t go in her direction until you get in her earshot.  Make the approach just before the actual path split.  Go a little out of your way, but not a lot.  Going too much out of your way… can be creepy.  

Yes, this does mean that it’s possible that opportunity will never arise.  It may happen.  That’s okay.  Let the Grand Imaginary Powers of Coincidence do their thing, and if those Powers are kind… you’ll have your window of opportunity to make your approach.  (Okay, you can help them along a teeny bit, by picking up your pace, or slowing it a little; if it betters the chances of being at the ideal spot at the same time.  Just don’t be obvious about it, and be prepared to abort on the slightest notice, okay?)

Now, we come to The Approach.  The fifth issue.

Don’t go starting with a “Hey Toots.”  Or a “Yo, wait up.”  Forget about “Hey Girl!” And do NOT even think about a “Howyoudoin?”  Don’t go into it with cockiness, or suaveness, or Valentino, or tough-jock attitude.  Frankly, in this instance, for what is actually trying to be achieved…  do not step in with “confidence”.  You go in with confidence when you want something, when you’re pursuing someone with intentions that are, in essence, selfish.  (Which isn’t always a bad thing… but it’s just not the point of this.)  Here, I’m saying go with something else.  Not with the opposite of confidence, but something a bit more towards that side of the spectrum:  Humility.

A simple “Excuse me”.  Not said with a tough attitude, or a wink, or a seductive tone… but rather with the attitude of “You would do me the honor of bequeathing 5 seconds of your attention in my direction.”  Gentleman-like, that’s all.  If they don’t hear, or keep walking… then abort mission.  The moment has passed… no harm, no foul.  Just enjoy the rear view for 2 more seconds (hey, I’m only human), and then keep on your merry way.

Chances are, you will get their attention.  Then it’s the time for the truth.  Just make sure it IS the truth, otherwise, you’ve screwed this up way back at the beginning.

For me, I find myself usually introducing the statement:  “I just wanted to say…”  As I think it would feel too “weirdo” for me just to say cro-magnon-like “Ungh… you boot-ee-fall.”

Now, I also tend to throw in a little extra something… mainly because I’m paranoid, and I honestly want the person to be complimented and not weirded-out.   And despite all precautions, this could still be seen as an unsettling experience.  So, either just before or just after I’ll say “I really hope you don’t feel uncomfortable by this… it’s not a pick-up or anything…”  Though, I’m usually kicking myself afterwards for adding that.  I don’t know… maybe I’m using too much humility in there.

But, now it’s been said… bringing us to the last issue:  Reaction.

This is not only about the Target’s reaction… but yours as well.  For the Target… you really only want them to be gracious.  A simple smile and thank-you… recognition and appreciation.  It’s awesome if they are genuinely moved by your sentiment… but that won’t always happen.  Anything beyond simple “appreciation” is gravy, quite frankly.

But your reaction can also be a factor… remember:  This is not a pick-up.  You are not to ask anything from this person.  But if she does think it’s a pick-up, and rejects you, thenyou have to remain gracious, say, “That’s okay… I just wanted to say that.  Nothing more required.” Then politely excuse yourself.  

This is another reason that you can’t make it a pick-up… because a rejection may come.  But you won’t actually feel rejected, if you’re sincerely NOT doing it as a pick-up.  Because there’s nothing to be rejected… and the compliment still stands.  (It’s not that I’m afraid of rejection… okay, I am, but that’s completely beside the point…)  But if you compliment her, she rejects… and you feel rejected?  What do most douchebags say?

“Stupid bitch, you’re ugly anyways.”

“Lesbo.”

“Dumb whore!  Screw you!”

Yeah, they retaliate with an insult to save their precious egos… and also makes the original compliment completely null and void.  Good work, asshole.  Now do you see why I kicked you out in the first place?  There’s nothing wrong with letting the lady have the last word.  If they truly were worth the effort in the first place, they’ll remember you met rejection with a sense of grace, and did not take back what you said… which means you must have really meant it.  And they’d probably be a little humbled by that… congratulations, you’ve made them a better person!

Even if her reaction is ideal… you still need to excuse yourself quickly, lest the awkward-phase descend, and the sincerity of the gesture disappears.  

I know I said to take out the confidence and come in with humility… but oddly, if you do this way, you actually demonstrate a different kind of confidence.  The confidence of honesty.  Too often, the people who are overly-confident in this world, seem to have no problem lying their ass off, to get what they want.  And those same confident people who say they’re “just being honest” about something, are usually saying something pretty shitty.  As a whole, we’re pretty much trained that when someone says, “Hey, I’m just being honest here…” you know they’re going to say something you’re not going to like.  (That’s actually known as “Liar Liar Honesty”.)   So here… you can actually throw them for a bit of a loop… in a very good way.  Under the insistence of sincere, unadulterated honesty… you can actually make their day.  Which doesn’t happen nearly enough in this world.

I have recently said this to someone.  It’s been a long while since I’ve last done it, and hadn’t even considered it in that time.  (Granted, it’s not something I wake up and say, “I’m going to find someone to compliment today”.  I just try to keep my eyes open and if the occasion occurs… great.  I tend to average once every 9 months or so.)  She goes to my gym, and I started noticing her every now and then when I was on the cardio machines.  Then I realized I was noticing her more and more.  If I was on the stair-climbers in the back of the room, and she jumped on one of the treadmills directly in the next row up… I’d say to myself:  “Cool… I get a nice view today.”  As neutral as I was keeping my attitude, with regards to the people around me at the gym… she seemed to stand out, by not really doing anything at all.  She kept to herself… did her workout and leave.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen her talk to anyone… just does her thing and moves on. 

She has very short, brunette hair… and I don’t really know why, but I have a semi-“thing” for short-haired brunettes.  Now, short hair doesn’t work on every woman… but those it does work on, it looks really good.  And believe me… on this woman, it looks freaking great.  It suits her incredibly well.  She has an angular-face (and I like angular faces… again, not sure why), gorgeous eyes… she looks simply Beautiful.  With a capital B.  And I know I’m going on only looks alone, and maybe it seems a bit shallow (but right now, I don’t care.  Bite me.)… but if you asked me at the time, “Of all the women in this room… which one physically looks like someone you’d want to fall in Love with?”  I’d probably say her.  This is not meant to sound “stalkerish”… just “very admiring of her appearance”.

Now, I don’t know if she’s married or taken (I haven’t seen a ring on her finger, but doesn’t mean it isn’t there… or maybe she takes it off for her workout), I don’t know her personality, her name… heck, I don’t even know if she’s in my age-range for dating.  She could even be Lesbian, who knows?  All I know is her appearance.  And she is absolutely in my definition of Beautiful.

So, I thought about it for a bit… and decided, “If the opportunity comes around… I’ll tell her.”  Now, I don’t always see her there… for one, I don’t always go to the gym at the same time every day.  But when she is there, I usually spot her.  We never crossed paths, but I didn’t try to facilitate that happening.  (Like I said, it needs to be left to the Grand Imaginary Powers of Coincidence.)  Then, I finished up my workout, went to the locker room, walked around the old creepy naked dudes, got my stuff together and headed out.  Walking towards the front door, I pass by the staircase that leads down from the upstairs locker-room (the Women’s one).  I see out of the corner of my eye that someone is coming down it, probably will end up right behind me going out the door into the foyer.  So, once I go through, I pause and hold it open for that next person (a polite habit I’m fine with keeping).  I turn my head and see that it’s her… the Beautiful brunette.  She says, “Thanks” (for the door-holding… and a pretty voice, by the way), and goes ahead through the outer door.  The only other person that was there just went inside as we were coming out… so this looked like the opportunity.

It was raining a little, so she paused briefly as she stepped outside to put up the hood on her jacket…

“Excuse me?”

She turns and looks right at me, looking slightly surprised (understandable)… this is the first actual contact I’ve ever had with this woman.

“I… hope this doesn’t make you feel at all uncomfortable, but… I just wanted to say… I… think you’re incredibly beautiful.”

(I don’t know why I put so many pauses in there… not entirely intentional.  It’s not like I can “abort mission” anymore at that point.  I’m committed, gotta go through with it.)

She smiles… (a really nice smile, too) and says, “Oh, that’s so sweet!”

“Don’t worry, this isn’t meant to be a pick-up or anything… I just… wanted to say that.”

She says, “Thank you so much… that’s really sweet.  Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.  You have a good evening. “

“Thank you, you too!”

And we walk off to our separate cars.  I didn’t look to see what she was driving (that seems like a stalkerish detail to try and discover), just got into my car and headed off like normal.  (I was also being rained on, and I didn’t have the rain jacket with the hood.  Eh, it was worth getting wet.)

I’ve seen her at the gym a few times since, and we even passed by each other a few times.  Met with eye contact, and a smile.

It appears that the mission was a complete success.  She seemed genuinely appreciative of the compliment, as I hoped she would… and the aftermath is nice, too.  Doesn’t seem insulted or weirded out by me (as she’s at least acknowledging my existence)… and maybe exchanging a smile with me can be a nice reminder to her that yes, someone does find her sincerely Beautiful.  That’s a role I’m happy to play, and wouldn’t want to jeopardize.  And just maybe… I granted her a wish.

However, if SHE were to strike up a conversation with ME… then I’d have to say all bets are off.  (I just first have to make sure she’s not married/taken/lesbian/etc…)

But that’s how I tell a stranger she’s Beautiful.

Now, go kick a douchebag for me.

Putting the Harm in eHarmony...

A few days after I flew back from the funeral, I signed up on eHarmony.

Yes, there’s a connection.

And yes, I know… I had sworn off the internet dating due to such lovely examples of here and here, not to mention other lovely experiences that I hope never to repeat, both in experience or verbally. What made me fold?

Well, whenever I’ve experienced a time in my life where I lost someone I cared about… I get a bit of a glimpse of my own mortality. I get the urge to pull other people that I feel close to…even closer, so that I don’t feel like I’m taking them for granted, and really hold onto them and not want to let go. In missing the one I’ve lost, I become more protective of the others. Personally, I think it’s actually a normal (or at least normal-sounding) reaction.

Thing is… whenever that’s happened in my life… it’s never been at a point where I’m in a relationship at the time. (It just worked out that way) And loneliness kicks in a little harder then usual… because I don’t have anyone that I can literally pull closer and hold on to.

As an individual that tends to have a hard time meeting people, and for whom the bar-scene and normal people-meeting methods don’t work… I tend to feel like my options are limited. (Oftentimes, into the low single-digits.) So, I had a moment of weakness… and I signed up on eHarmony.

I picked that particular site, because it seemed to be a little more serious-minded then the other dating sites I’ve tried. As you have to answer about 900 screening questions and give up a good few hours of your life just to get it set-up… not to mention its one of the more expensive dating sites out there… it seemed logical that the only people that would actually go through all that crap… would be ones that are actually serious about finding a healthy relationship.

Well, it *sounded* like a good theory.

I purchased a full 1-year subscription, in advance. It was the most economical (you essentially pay for 3 months, get 9 free)… and I also wanted to give myself plenty of time to get to know someone, and not rush into anything. (Even amidst my insane dry spell, I have no desire to jump into anything… be it relationship, bed, pile of mud, or otherwise) Since it was mid-November when I signed up, and knowing the upcoming holiday craziness would be… well, crazy... I made a personal resolution not to physically meet anyone until after the New Year. I made it fairly clear on my profile and in the e-mails of those I was matched up with, and they seemed totally cool with it. They said they liked the idea of getting to know me first, without any pressure… and taking our time. Great! Maybe this whole “matching” thing they had going on… actually had something to it.

Now, in terms of matches… while I was given a hefty list, I didn’t go trying to write to all of them (even though the site actually suggests you do). For one, there’s no way I’d be able to keep track of everyone and the different conversations. That’s too much like being a “playa” in the real-world, at least to me. No, I tried to keep the numbers small. While I prefer to focus solely on one person at a time… I knew that probably wouldn’t be smart here, and I should at least try to chat up more then one at a time. Face it, chances are any particular one person isn’t going to work out, but a small percentage would be worth pursuing… so the odds would increase with at least trying to talk to a few more. (Yes, I was starting to “play the numbers”. Hey, I was trying something different… Go me!)

One gal I was chatting with apparently lived in Los Angeles for a few years… during the same time *I* was out there. And then she moved back to New England, like me. That coincidence was a bit weird… but also cool. Because we had dual-coast-knowledge in common. We had nice talks on the phone… but then the calls and e-mails got further and further apart, and then stopped… having never met in person. It started to sound like she was getting too busy in life and work… and then disappeared.

One of first ones I *did* meet in person, however… I really liked. Our phone conversations were really nice, and we soon made plans to meet face-to-face. When I did… I actually thought she looked *much* better than her picture (and her picture was really attractive). She also had a bit of fire in her… during a conversation about skee-ball, a carnie game I at one time had near-mastered, she seemed to have no problem saying how she would “kick my butt” at it. I loved the fact that she openly challenged me to it… and I was definitely up to taking her on. We ended our first date… with the promise of a second. No kiss, no moves… just a smile and a promise.

Now, I tend to gauge the success of dates on one thing: If I call her afterwards and hear back from her… it was good. And I actually did heard back from her. That would make this the first “good date” I’ve had in a LONG time… and since she actually made good on the promise of a second date… which was not only the first 2nd date from an online connection I’ve ever had, but the flat-out first 2nd date I’ve had in a long time… She seemed like she was genuinely interested in me. I was definitely interested in her.

Our second date, we got dinner and a movie. The conversation during dinner was once again really nice… lots of smiling, lots of eye contact, laughing, etc. I really didn’t feel like I was “trying”… it was feeling right.

We went and saw the movie Taken (it was in the theatre at the time). Sure, maybe people would think an action-movie isn’t the best date-movie… but they weren’t on this date. And none of the other movies seemed to appeal to either of us. We both enjoyed the movie, and walked out of the theater… into a surprise snow-storm. Everything was completely coated with snow (and we had no idea that it was even supposed to). She had driven us over to the movie theater, so we had to go back to the restaurant where my car was.

I would not have thought that any part of this date was going badly. There were no really awkward moments… no clashes. Just smiles, laughs and the good kind of eye-contact (as opposed to the psycho-stalker-kind of eye contact). The end of the second date… had the promise of a third.

I started to get out of the car… and you know what? Looking at her… it felt right. I then leaned back in… going for our first kiss.

Then she turned her head.

It wasn’t an accident, it wasn’t like she didn’t see me coming towards her… she very consciously turned away.

I had COMPLETELY mis-read that situation. In the span of a half-second, I then felt like the biggest idiot I’ve ever known. (You’d think I be used to it)

I just said, “…okay, then.” And backed out, closing the door. She was still smiling, waved good-bye, and drove off. I cleaned the snow off my car, started it up, and started to head home… mentally (and occasionally physically) kicking myself all the while. I could not believe that happened… the first real time I put myself out there since *COUGH COUGH*, and I was 100% sure that the moment was right. And it wasn’t.

I am absolutely atrocious at reading body language. If I had any doubts on that statement prior, it was confirmed then and there.

And I had nice long time to think about it… because my car broke down on the way home. In the snowstorm. (Was I Hitler in a previous life or something? Seriously! WTF???) I got to sit there in the cold… and stew in my thoughts of my own stupidity, for an hour and a half, while waiting for AAA to get there.

And you know… I did call her. I told her I would (before the ill-fated attempt), and hoped that the third-date interest was still there like she said (again, before the ill-fated attempt). I make good on my promises.

I didn’t hear back from her.

The few friends I talked to about it… some of them said, “Well, maybe it was too soon for her”, while the majority of others said, “No kiss? On the SECOND date???” Looks like the minority was right on that one. While just about everyone thought it a bit odd that if the other 99% of the date was great… why she still just disappeared. But that’s neither here nor there. It was over and done with.

I licked my Pride-Wounds for about 2 weeks, then got back into eHarmony. (Who knew I even had Pride to get wounded?)

That was probably the start of everything going downhill. Because over the next several months… I had a lot more first dates. But no second-dates. Not for about another 8 months.

I had a lot of lovely times… met some really nice women. Just about all of them were ones that I *wanted* to see again. But no matter how good of a time they seemed to have, no matter how much laughing, good-eye-contact, blah blah blah there was… I never got my calls returned afterwards. It was going directly back to the old pattern it seems I’ve always known: Have a great time; I say I’d like to see them; They say “Yes”; I call; Nothing.

And before you suggest it… I was always trying different things. Trying different approaches, different jokes, different methods, asking different kinds of questions of them, sometimes a more tame conversational approach, and sometimes with just a touch of flirtation. I’d make resolutions of “Okay, I’m not going to tell THAT particular story on the first date, because even though they all want to know it, and love the telling… it never gets anywhere.” I was ALWAYS trying to vary it up. And all these women that eHarmony was telling me were “good matches for my personality”… all disappear after 1 date. 95% do so without any explanation… they just disappear. (Even the ones that had said, “That’s so rude of those other girls!”… they went ahead and did it, too. Seriously… it’s been incredibly frustrating.)

I don’t know why, but why do the majority of women I seem to meet… quit so soon? I can NOT come to a full conclusion about someone after a brief 1-2 hour first date. (You’d think I’d have an advantage from all the e-mails and phone calls prior to meeting…) I need time to suss someone out. Too much “guarding” on a first date when meeting someone completely new. Hell, I do it! And it’s because I’m so guarded, that I don’t want to give everything about me on a first meeting. I doubt anyone does.

It seems like that if they don’t get “Romantic-Movie-Style-Attraction-Sparks/Chemistry” with someone from the instant get-go… then they might as well cut it off now and continue on. Because isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?

Life doesn’t have a screenwriter. Sorry if this is a surprise to anyone.

I’ve read several articles that claim that Romantic Comedies and movies of the ilk do more to hurt real relationships then help them… and I’m inclined to agree with them these days. (Must we once again go over the concepts of Fantasy and Reality?) If you honestly think that real life can and should be like those sappy pieces of crap, then stop being so surprised when I put on a 13-foot-long-scarf and claim a big blue box is “my ship”.

I say Garry Marshall should be the first to go. Set phasers to “puree”.

There were a few women that I did hear from afterwards… to tell me that they “didn’t feel any sparks.” Which frankly, only feeds into my frustration-rant above. Same reasons… blah blah… why are you expecting them so soon?

One actually told me that she had “too much going on right now” to devote to a new relationship. Sorry to ask… but why the hell are you on there in the first place? Oh, a friend put you up to it? You let your friends throw away your money? (Like I said… eHarmony isn’t cheap. I thought that’s what would weed out the “not serious” ones) Furthermore, you let your friends push you into things you don’t want? Oh, please. Frankly, it screams “lame excuse” to me.

Oh, sure… but in *this* case you really are “too busy”, not like those other liars. Here’s the thing about being “too busy”; And I’m not trying to sit on a high horse here… I’ve been insanely busy before, myself. But you know something? If I want to spend time with someone… or pursue a relationship… I *make* the time. I rush around a lot, oftentimes like a chicken with my head cut off… maybe lose a little sleep here and there… but I make it. Especially if I think someone is worth it. A relationship would definitely qualify for that.

And thing is… I’m a patient guy. I’m willing to wait for a little time to open up in someone else’s schedule. Sure, long pauses suck… but if they at least make an effort, it means a lot to me, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Love will find a way… but *we* have to do the actual looking.

So… my time on eHarmony. I’ve had a LOT of first dates… and 3 second dates, total. Of those other 2 second-dates… both just disappeared afterwards. One mysteriously just stopped calling/writing/texting soon after said 2nd date… and the other, I started to get the impression that she wasn’t as attracted to me as I was to her, and that’s when I stopped hearing from her. (But since I’m horrible at the body language, what do I know? Maybe she never was.) eHarmony is officially a complete bust. If I ever see Dr. Warren, I’m going to tell him where to shove his 753 questions and “personality match-ups”… because I don’t think he knows squat.

And it occurred to me… I don’t actually know anyone that’s met their sweetie online. Not even an acquaintance. I have a lot of friends and acquaintances that say THEY have friends/relatives/etc that met the Significant Other online… but I don’t actually know anyone myself that it’s worked for. So… from my point of view… they could all be making it up.

There is one person, whom I met online, that I’m in contact with currently. We’ve had a first date… and a second… and even a third. We met during a free weekend on Chemistry.com. (I’ll be darned if I’m paying for ANOTHER site. That one weekend was it for me on that.) I haven’t tried for a kiss… or even a hug. I’m wanting to go so insanely slow here, my previous pace is blowing past. But we have a nice time, and I actually do hear from her… albeit sporadically. I know she is busy right now, but unlike the other “busy ones”, I do actually hear from her, and we find a little time to meet up. (Like I said… the effort means a lot to me.) Hell, just the fact that she’s an attractive woman, who’s single and *my age* gives huge brownie points… and while I’m not totally sure of her level of interest (take nothing for granted!), I am. So I’m hoping I get to see her again, and fairly soon.

If it doesn’t work out… that’s okay. But I’ve given the online method enough chances, and this is the last one. More power to you if it works, but it’ll mean it doesn’t for me.

If it DOES work out? Then that is a-okay by me, and I’ll sing the praises of online dating.

But I’m going to need a neon sign with arrows to signal the time for that first kiss. You’re high if you think I’m going through that embarrassment again.

Secret for Secret...

My love of the website PostSecret… ironically, is not a secret.

I last wrote about it almost a year ago… about the first postcard I sent in. Since writing that, I’ve made more postcards (like I said I would) and sent them in. Probably about 5 or 6 more. It *did* get easier to send those in. Some, I just wrote simply on the postcard, others I tried drawing.

None of them were ever posted… but like I said before, if you send it in with the expectation of them appearing on the site, you’re doing it for the wrong reasons. The guy gets over 1,000 a week, and posts 25 of them. Odds aren’t in your favor.

But it’s the telling of the secret is the key. It’s entrusting it to a complete stranger… even potentially the world. Maybe even getting away from it. Giving the secret to someone else… because you don’t want it anymore.

Since last year, the site now has a presence on MySpace and Facebook, of which I also check every now and then (though not as often as the main site). These sites are mainly used as “what’s going on” with the site, and upcoming seminars/exhibits and whatnot… while the main site is solely for the weekly postcards, and nothing else.

Last Saturday, I was looking at the latest MySpace blog… and people have started posting their cell phone numbers in the comments section… for the purpose of letting strangers text-message secrets to them. The “instructions” just said to go to the latest one posted, and send it to that person. I thought that it could be dangerous… but honestly… I think the only people that READ the PostSecret MySpace blog… or the main site itself… are the kind of people that wouldn’t abuse it. Plus… you can always go back and remove your comment if you get too nervous.

I sent off a few of my own to some numbers that were posted. And a few minutes later:

I posted my own cell number.

Within 2 minutes… I got my first text-secret.

It… was a bit heavy. More so then I was expecting. It definitely showed me that this is an experience that isn’t F**king around.

But the trust it shows… to send that to *me*, and who the hell am I? It absolutely humbled me. Sorry, I won’t say what it is… because it *is* a secret. Entrusted to me, and I don’t tell secrets that aren’t mine to begin with. I took the secret so this person wouldn’t have to keep it. Hopefully, it helps them… they said it did.

Within the hour, I got several more. For the next 3 hours, until I went to sleep, I just lay on my bed, texting secrets back and forth to strangers from across the country… some told me their names, some asked for feedback. But I always exchanged a secret for a secret. I believe that’s part of the trust.

It felt… very intimate. Sharing some things that even people I’m close to don’t even know about me. I actually felt connected to so many people at once… it kinda feels like falling in Love. The trust I felt… the trust I gave… the vulnerability, seeing and feeling it… and especially NOT suffering embarrassment for it, or having it shoved back in your face.

I think I can honestly say… it was one of the most Beautiful experiences I’ve ever had. And you know I don’t take the word “Beautiful” lightly.

I was still texting a few people the next morning… continuing conversations. Now, I don’t have unlimited texts… but frankly, I don’t care. I’ll pay the extra fees… this experience was too wonderful to not continue as long as I could. I even got some new people texting me… even though there were more recent numbers posted after mine.

I wanted this to continue… I wanted to do something more.

So, I wrote out several secrets of mine… and when I went to the gym for my daily masochism/work-out… I placed them all around. (I don’t think anyone saw me) Didn’t put them in obvious places… but hopefully places where they would be found. I did notice a few people actually saw them… fewer actually picked them up to read them. But I don’t think anyone threw them away… at least when I was there. But the next day they were gone. So… I put out a few more. I’d like to think that someone was picking them up and keeping them… and not tossing them in the trash, but who knows? Maybe the gym isn’t the most empathetic place to hide secrets at… but the place does advertise itself as a “judgment free-zone”… so that makes it sound kind of appropriate. It’d be hypocritical if they frowned on my behavior… don’t you think?

Hiding those secrets… was fun. And a bit cathartic. Because like the texting and sending in the postcards… it’s a way to get away from the secret. To get rid of it, in a sense (though not really).

This whole past week has been filled with PostSecret for me. I discovered that there’s going to be a “PostSecret Event”… basically a seminar and exhibit, given by the founder, and it’s coming fairly close. By “fairly close”, I mean about 3 hours away. But it’s the closest the tour has come to me yet… about 7 months ago, another was scheduled that was closer… but it got cancelled a few days before it happened, much to my chagrin… so I’m not skipping *this* opportunity. I’m taking a half-day at work, and driving up for that evening. Sure, coming back so late will suck… but I think it will be worth it.

And I’m sure I’ll do another update when that comes up in a few weeks. Count on it.

Tetchy About Touchy

I’m not a touchy-feely person.

Sometimes, I wish I was… I see friends who are more “touchy” than I am, and they’re all being so friendly and warm and touchy with each other, and often I envy them. But I just can’t do it myself.

I am *very* aware and protective of my personal space, and if you invade it without the proper authorization, I start quoting Bugs Bunny:

“Of course you know… this means War.”

Now, I know cultural practices become involved. I think that here in America, the distance of one-arm’s length from your body is the general rule of “personal space”… referring of course to the radius. Swoop that imaginary gap all around you, and that’s our own American-style Bubble we use to bounce around the cosmos in.

From what I understand, by world-wide standards… that’s a pretty big bubble. I believe the Personal Space Bubble Concept (PSBC… I just made that up!) is much smaller in Mexico… I learned that when I used to work summer’s at a Metals company, where about 90% of the workforce were illegal Mexicans. (That’s not an unfounded generalization meant to offend and insult. Just stating a fact. Seriously, I.N.S. went through there once and pulled out everyone that didn’t have a green card… the place was practically empty.) Every time I was working, and had to demonstrate a procedure to one or more guys who barely spoke English (which was wonderful lesson in the concept of “language barriers”), they would stand INCREDIBLY close to me. Honestly, our faces were almost touching. Even when I stepped backwards to give myself some room, they’d just move forward again. Rather than follow my gut instinct… which is to flat-out Head-butt them… I would eventually have to sternly stop them with my outstretched arm and slowly and clearly say, “No!” (It felt odd, talking to men probably twice my age as if they’re little children with learning disorders… but that’s just another thing that comes with the language barrier.) I was not down with their idea of Personal Space… but who knows, maybe they were just consciously messing with me. *shrug*

I don’t really know what the PSBC is in other countries… I’m curious to know. (If you do, or have experience, please comment.) Might be handy to know… would hate to travel to Norway or something, only to find out the hard way that their PSBC is 10+ feet.

But the invasion of Personal Space is not limited to misunderstandings between cultures. No, there are plenty of Americans, born in America and never left, that live in blissful ignorance when it comes to accidental invasions. (“Accidental Invasion”… there’s a term you’d never hear applied to Napoleon or Hitler)

Now, there’s certain situations, where I’ll give allowances to total strangers if they have to invade personal space. Airplanes, for example. Sure, they’re big… but that just means they can throw MORE people inside them. They’re packed, cramped, and not everyone is having a good day. So, when sitting in the seats, or waiting for the loo, you accept that you’re going to be feeling like a sardine for however long the flight lasts. So, when someone can’t help but notice what brand of deodorant you wear… you can forgive them for their trespasses, or at least give a little more leeway.

Supermarket checkout lines… however, are NOT one of those forgiveable instances.

To the guy that is in SUCH a rush to get out… who feels that even though there’s 5 people in front of him in line, he will *obviously* get out faster if he’s 17 inches closer from where he was standing… BACK THE F**K UP! If you’re going to stand THAT close behind me while in line, you better be wearing a condom! I’m there to buy milk and deli meats, NOT to get violated! When the person in front of you moves forward, take a second and wait. Let a gap of a few feet form between you and the person in front of you (Me!)… do NOT immediately close the gap to mere micrometers! I swear to Jeebus, I’m gonna spin around and wack you across the ignorant skull with the plastic hand-basket! (It probably won’t dent the obviously thick bone, but at least I’ll feel better.)

Respect the personal space!

Now, if you’re female, and invading my personal space (without authorization), I’ll mainly just back up myself, or find some other excuse to get away from you. (Because I can’t justify any violence against women) But if you’re a male? Then you need to keep something in mind: “Personal Space” can also be referred to as another term…. “Striking Distance”.

(Now, I haven’t actually been in a fight since 6th grade, but I’m surprised how often I want to come to blows with the average joe on a weekly basis.)

I don’t know where I got so edgy about this. Now, my parents aren’t exactly “touchy-feely”… but they have their moments.

To those that are now Gasping in surprise… No, I haven’t been molested. Don’t jump to conclusions… I’ll throw you towards all the conclusions you’ll need.

After I first went away to college, the first time I went home was at Thanksgiving. (I was one of the only people in my dorm that DIDN’T go home every weekend… I was the *only* one that didn’t want to) When I first saw my Dad when I arrived home… the man hugged me.

I can NEVER recall a time before that when that man hugged me. I almost jumped backed and screamed, “Who are you, and what have you done with my father?!” (Which is also what I said when, after years of hearing his complaining about people that drive “obnoxious” pickup trucks, the man went and bought a pickup truck.) Definitely NOT something I was used to… and it felt very awkward.

The only other “touching” the man ever did on a regular basis, that I can think of… is when he’s having a conversation with you. He’ll just lean over and randomly touch you… on the arm or on the leg, while he’s talking. When I’m riding in the car with him, and I’m in the front seat with him, he’ll do it at least 4 times during a short car ride. Now, that’s probably just his way of “connecting” with people he’s talking with… but it annoys the hell out of me.

My Mom also touches me in annoying ways. The other day, it was the end of the weekend. I had no plans nor did I go anywhere… so I didn’t shave. I was fixing my plate for dinner, and she just reaches out and puts her hand on my face, making a “scruffy” comment… my initial reaction to whenever she does that is to flinch. She still has not figured out, after 32 years of that body language… I don’t like it. I find face-touching to be a bit on the intimate side… so it feels really damn weird when a member of my family does it. Creepy to the max. I know it’s not intended that way… but who said feelings had to make sense? (Intentions and Feelings are two different things) Though, the biggest annoying touch, is when she hits me.

Stop gasping, already! Sheesh… Not THAT kind of a hit! This is the “playful thwack” on the shoulder. It doesn’t hurt, doesn’t leave a bruise, and is obviously not meant to mean anything malicious. Nevertheless… no matter WHAT the intention behind it is… I don’t like being hit. I just don’t. We’ll be talking, maybe a crack will be made by me… and because my Mom doesn’t have the lighting wit, the reaction is a “playful thwack”. Now, the first time I’ll always let slide, but I still say, in a pretty serious tone… “Thanks Mom, very funny. Please don’t hit me.” But then, hearing this… she scoffs, and thwacks again. “Mom! I asked you not to hit me!” Another scoff, another thwack… this is about the time I just turn and storm away, now thoroughly pissed off. They’ll make a comment about being “too sensitive” and brush it away. So, no matter how many times I sternly state it… no matter how often I get pissed off, regardless of the “joke” or “innocent intention”… it still doesn’t click in:

I…. DON’T… LIKE… BEING… HIT!!!!

Like I said… Intentions and Feelings are 2 different things… and so is Hearing and Listening.

I know this kind of thing wouldn’t be a big deal to most people when they’re “in the moment”… and you’d think my own parents *would* have that level of privilege when it comes to touching me. (Especially because the above examples… are actually pretty rare) *shrug* They don’t. And that’s just me, I know that. I can’t give you a Freudian psychoanalytical reason as to why I’m that way, but I’m open to suggestions.

But I’m also not saying I live my life solely in my bubble, never being touched, and never touching other people. There ARE people I’m more touchy-feely with.

Once I got to college, and starting gaining good friends… I found myself getting more comfortable with casual touching. There were of course, limits. And most of the casual touching was with the opposite sex. With the guys, we all pretty much had the same macho-mentality of the Clint-Eastwood-like-stoic-independence. Any accidental homo-erotic moments were immediately followed by a low-toned coughing and approving comment about “the Game that was on last night”. An old roommate of mine liked to add a “tie-straightening” to his personal reaction. (The fact that I’ve never seen the man WEAR a tie, notwithstanding.)

When I got to Grad School… and came to California, the liberal views started pouring in. Eventually, quite a few of them started rubbing off. I came to realize that I was quite comfortable in my own sexuality, and also grew close to some men who were not of the Heterosexual persuasion. That’s about the time when I really got comfortable with the act of hugging another man. (Yeah, it’s probably related to it) Now, I don’t go around hugging every guy I know… but the ones I’m comfortable with, I have no problem. They still need the correct Authorization Level… but the benefits of those levels became expanded for my fellow males (for those that are comfortable enough to take advantage of them).

I have 4 basic levels of Authorization.

Level 4: This is pretty much everyone in the world that I *don’t* personally know. The only authorized touching that’s pretty much allowed is shaking hands… but do not go anywhere above my wrist. Passive, solitary instances of touching… such as bump, a slight gesture meant to get my attention… those will slide for the most part (just don’t do it too often). Level 4s are allowed to enter the outskirts of the Personal Bubble… but don’t get comfy. And Lord help *somebody* if you do the old “tap on the shoulder from behind”. When someone has their back to you, and you tap them on the shoulder, forcing them to turn around and face you… that’s very confrontational. If a woman is doing that to me… I’m thinking, “Great… what did I do now?”, as I prepare to get verbally chewed out. If it’s another man? Well, that’s an invitation to a Rumble. 20 minutes from then, I’ll either be in Jail or the Hospital… depending on how big the guy doing the tapping was.

The only way to make the shoulder tap non-confrontational, is that immediately after you tap them on the shoulder (2 fast taps, not the intentional ‘1…2…3’ tap that precludes fisticuffs), you move up to their side… so they don’t have to turn around, rather they just turn their head to the side to see you. Talk briefly and to the point, and it will be obvious you mean, “sorry to interrupt, hate to be rude, thank you for your time”. That’s the shoulder tap that will easily slide.

Now, if I meet someone (who always starts at Level 4), and I soon conclude that I actually like this person… they will be moved to Level 3 Authorization.

Level 3: This is where most of the people I know are. This allows all the hand-shaking of Level 4, plus adds high-fives, the rare and friendly “slap-on-the-back”, and the occasional hug. This is also where pretty much all of my family is. Though, if there were sub-levels within this level… Many family members *would* be more at the top, closer to the Level 2s. But generally, Level 3s can enter my personal bubble and hang out for awhile.

Level 2: This gets into a more exclusive-type club. Level 2 is for the REALLY good friends… the people I’m very comfortable around. Level 2s can enter my Personal Bubble and stay as long as they want. Whenever I did shows with fairly small casts, usually all the members are given at least temporary Level 2 access while we’re doing the show… because we were working so closely together. (Once the show closed, we often never saw each other again… ah, the tragedy of live theatre.) Generally speaking, if a Level 2 Authorized friend needed a shoulder rub or a neck massage… they simply have to ask me, and they’ll get it. (I wish more would request it… I used to be really good at them, and it’s been a long time since I’ve given one… and longer since I’ve received one) Also, if a friend with Level 2 Touching Authorization needs a comforting Hug, again… they’ll get it with no problem. Guys with Level 2 are the ones I’m comfortable hugging on a regular basis. Girls with Level 2, are allowed to get the hugging PLUS the occasional innocent flirtation, innuendos, and kisses on the cheek, should the situation allow it. All the stuff that I let “slide” with the lower levels… Level 2 is able to do without a problem. Now, just because someone HAS Level 2 authorization… doesn’t mean they’ll always get all the benefits. Obviously, if a female friend with Level 2 authorization is married (as several are), that will contribute and dictate to the actual behavior used when hanging out. They will NOT get the flirtation and innuendos. Guys that are married, however… WILL get the flirtation and innuendos, because I find it funny.

Level 1: Level 1 can enter my Personal Bubble… and I won’t want them to leave. There is, and only ever will be… 1 person at any one time that will be granted Level 1 Authorization with me. 1 special person that’s allowed such a sensual level of access. (Sorry, guys are not eligible for Level 1) I’m not talking just Sex… I’m talking real Intimacy. Hand-holding. Cuddling. Face-touching and playful thwacking is not only allowed, but encouraged. The last person with Level 1 Authorization liked to give playful thwacks on the butt. If I happened to walk in front of her, and my derriere is right there… she’d have to slap it. (Something she did with her friends all the time) Anyone in Level 2… could get away with it about once a day with me. But Level 1 could do it as often as she pleased… and I’d occasionally shake my booty in her face to even invite it. Arm-touching, leg-brushing, laying-head-in-lap, fingers-through-the-hair… all exclusively Level 1 benefits (giving and receiving). Level 1 is the ONLY person that’s allowed to come up to me from behind and touch me or hold me. While Level 2 gets neck and shoulder rubs, Level 1 also gets full back massages, foot rubs… and a personal favorite: Hand massages.

Hand massages are what I sometimes use as an “invitation” to Level 1 status. If I have someone in Level 2 that I’d like to be Level 1… the only thing I have that could be considered a “move” is to somehow find a way to offer them a hand massage. The hand massage itself is not seemingly intimate… but it can feel that way when receiving one. I’m pretty good at them… yet, even a clumsy one can feel relaxing. I consider that my “offer-of-candidacy-should-you-so-want-it”. I have no idea if it’s ever interpreted that way. *shrug*

But it’s also innocent and non-invasive enough that I can give them by requests. Again, if a Level 2 wants one (and knows to ask), they can get one. If it’s requested by you… it’s a bonus for Level 2s. If it’s *offered* to you… then it’s an invitation for more and better things.

Though, not all who have attained Level 1, got it by hand-massage invitation. (Most didn’t) Some weren’t even in Level 2 before getting to Level 1. Oftentimes, it became a weird, case-by-case kind of situation. Those always come around and pop up, throwing monkeys into the wrenches.

Currently… there is no one with Level 1 Authorization with me.

There was one that I wanted to invite to that level… but I apparently was not at the same Authorization level with THEM. It only ever works when we consider each other to be the same level. If I want her to be a Level 1, and she sees me as only a Level 3… we’ll only ever be Level 3 friends… or not friends at all.

Maybe it’s just another example of my over-thinking things…

Maybe it doesn’t even make much sense to a normal, rational mind.

But I never said it did make sense. Nor did I ever imply that I’m normal. (Rational is up for debate)

Bottom line: I *like* being touched. I love it.

I’m just very, very, VERY picky about it.

;)