When you fall spectacularly in the parking lot before getting into your car, heading over to your ex boyfriend’s house to drink and watch Fargo, and manage to hurt a foot, an ankle, a knee, and both palms, after a particularly awful couple of weeks of trying to make a new relationship work, it hits you quite keenly that there’s something metaphorical about showing up on his doorstep bleeding.

It’s not the first time he’s had to bandage you up, but it’s the first time after the breakup, several months before.

He cleans you up, gets bandages on your foot, your ankle, your knee.

Your palms are still bare, outstretched.

“I have to get some more bandages for . . .,” he begins.

“My stigmata?”

You settle in. It’s a little like it used to be–the two of you with wine and then gin, watching tv, but you don’t throw your legs over his lap.

You’re more aware of your legs this time, what with the painful throbbing on your knee under your jeans.

In commercial breaks, you catch up. His kids, your aunt.

In one break, after you’ve moved on to the gin, you say, “Someone hurt me.”

You explain how a man was dating you, and then started treating you oddly. When you asked why, he said there wasn’t really a future, since you live thirty minutes from him, and since you don’t want to get married.

Of course, that was all true when this new guy first messaged you, when you has those dates, when he met a couple of your friends: it said so right on your profile–where you lived and that you didn’t want to get married–that you wanted a partner but without the cohabitation.

You told this new guy that your profile explains–has always explained–what you want. He said you didn’t mean it. “You’re obviously just looking for hookups if you don’t want to get married. You can’t have real intimacy unless you live with someone.”

You cried. In front of this man.

You had only cried in front of your ex twice in a two year relationship, and once was about the break up.

Of course, the other ended up being a breakup too, but it wasn’t losing this guy that made you cry. It was frustration, being so misunderstood, having this guy tell you that you didn’t know what you wanted. Missing the kind of relationship you’d had before.

“Am I crazy for wanting what we had?” you ask your ex.

He puts his hand on your good knee.

“You’re the sanest person I know.”

Later, you bleed a bit through your bandage on the way home.

(Written recently, but about November.)

Um, I have to do this, right?

From OKC (the company):
“Thanks for being a loyal and active member of the OkCupid community! We wish everyone could be such an upstanding citizen, but like any user-driven website, OkCupid attracts its share of trolls, scammers, and people who just don’t follow directions well. To help minimize this element, we’d like to invite you to moderate the many reports of misbehavior that we receive daily.

“Moderating can be fun, but it’s not for the faint of heart. If you’ve never seen a rated-R movie in your life, you may want to sit this battle out. Otherwise, accept our gratitude for embarking on a journey into the dark recesses of online dating!”

After some discussion on line, a guy* asked for a date, suggesting the next Sunday afternoon.

Me: How about 4 p.m. at Barista Brew Cafe in Davis?

[He didn’t answer, until the day after the date was supposed to happen.]

Him: Hey Gorgeous, I def would like us to meet. I find you very classy and sensual lady. think we will enjoy each-others company. Cant wait to meet you.

Me: What happened on Sunday? I was really surprised that you left me hanging.

Him: sorry, it was a busy day for me. request, can we meet somewhere in Sacramento? what’s up with you ladies of match living anywhere, but Sacramento? I look forward to seeing you Lovely.

Me: Is me living in Davis a problem for you long-term? Would we always have to meet in Sac?

[At this point, I’m worried he may not have a car.]

Him: oh no, distance it’s not a problem at all Lovely. It was just me. I got asked to go to Granite Bay for coffee the other day. Thought to myself, it got to be a charming lady in Sacramento..only looking for one 😉 ? I am eager to meet you. Hope to see you soon.

[Oh, you have a car, but I’m not worth the 20 minutes in it.]

[& then, later]: Cafe some day ?

Me: We can maybe set something up. I have to admit that I’m less excited than I was. It bothered me when you asked me to do something Sun afternoon but then didn’t even write to tell me you were too busy. And then in the next messages, you basically complained that the women you’re meeting don’t live in your city, which I thought was a bit tacky, and also not very empathetic, since none of the people I talk to are in my city either.

[6 days go by]

Him: when are you coming to Sacramento?

Me: At this point, I’m not coming to Sacramento.

*Readers may remember another guy insulting my intelligence after I told him we weren’t a good fit, since he expressed a desire for children. I had to send the guy described in this post a similar message, but rather than being offended, he said he was open to children but not set on them, thus paving the way for things to wrong for other reasons. 🙂

NPR yesterday: mumble mumble mumble [I had not yet had my tea] . . . David Bowie has died.

I felt like I’d been punched in the chest.

I won’t claim to be the biggest fan in the world; I’ve never even seen him live.

But he meant something to me.

Labyrinth premiered when I was 13. The combination of medieval scholar/screenwriter/Python Terry Jones, Henson sensibilities, and David Bowie rocked my young world. Is it a coincidence that I was coming into my sense of sexuality (aka puberty) just when David Bowie appeared as a sexy stalker/s&m king/rocker?

Of course not.

That man started everything.

I know the whole point of the movie is that Sarah learns about being strong and independent, but every single time Jareth/Bowie says, “I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave,” I say, “fuck, yeah!” (Coincidence that the Heathen album has a song called “I would be Your Slave”? I think not.)

My step-father took a strange pleasure in telling me that Bowie was gay when he learned of my crush (he was trying to crush my crush). I didn’t know then that Bowie was bi if anything. I just had my step-father’s word on things. Now, I was being raised in the South, being forced to attend Southern Baptist churches.

I know I was supposed to be disgusted. I don’t remember how long I ruminated, whether it was hours or days, but I do remember coming into the living room and announcing that my step-father’s news didn’t change anything. Bowie was famous; I had no chance with him; thus, who he loved didn’t matter in my life or to my crush at all.

I named my last little kitten Jareth.

I dressed as Jareth for Halloween a couple of years ago.

While wearing that Halloween costume, I first met my niece, Artemis. She was screaming at her parents, as one month olds are wont to do. I showed up in my costume and took her in my arms. She fell instantly asleep on my corseted-up breasts. The Goblin King is so good with babies.

My first piece of fan fiction (before I’d ever heard the term) was written when I was 13 or 14. I started writing a sequel to Labyrinth: Between the Stars.

After I discovered Bowie in film, I discovered his music, playing the albums my step-father had, and getting cassettes of my own when new stuff came out. Never Let Me Down (1987) was my first acquisition. “Beat of Your Drum” is one of my favorite love songs. “Time Will Crawl” is an apocalyptic masterpiece, and I sometimes listen to it when I fear my migraine will last “three long years.” “Glass Spider” is epic, despite its terrible intro. When Bowie was bad, he still managed to be awesome.

Like everything I love, Bowie intersects with my work. Years ago, I wrote a movie column: 13 Facts About Labyrinth. When I teach poetry, I always start with a couple of songs, to both demystify poetry and to encourage students to pay attention to words. “China Girl” is a staple of the lesson.

My work on Hanif Kureishi (I wrote the encyclopedia entry on him for World Writers In English) includes Bowie; Kureishi went to the same high school as Bowie and models a character on him in The Buddha of Suburbia. Bowie did the soundtrack for the film version.

When I teach Sandman, there’s Bowie–Gaiman had his artists model Lucifer on him. Gaiman also wrote a piece of fan fiction about Bowie.

In Y: The Last Man (another graphic novel series I teach and do work on), almost every man in the world dies in the same instant. One woman mourns when she realizes that all the male rockstars are dead. Grief is especially painful when Bowie’s death hits.

We’ll miss you so much. We are honored to have shared this time with you. Thank you for everything.

I used to have a note on OKC saying that I would answer messages other than “hi” etc. Faithful readers know that this causes problems.
Thus, I now have a note on my profile explaining that I used to answer all messages, but that I have to be more discriminating due to the rudeness some guys exhibit. I apologized to awesome guys for letting the un-awesome guys wear me down, but still invited awesome guys without dealbreakers to message.

This morning, this was in my inbox:
“After re-reading you message me if, I just want to say. You kinda get what you put out there in the universe. With that said I think you may be getting what you deserve. not to be rude but we reap what we sow.”

I’m listening to an amazing story on This American Life about an awful troll who ended up apologizing to the woman he actively tried to hurt for years. Over and over again, the woman explains that trolls and their insults, rape threats, and death threats are “just a part of [her] job.”

I’m thinking about two things: the few times I’ve been trolled and the awful way in which society expects women in the public sphere to accept trolling as inevitable.

Naturally, I’m also thinking about how many times this week I’ve thought about taking myself off of dating sites, just giving up, due to the rudeness with which some people respond to me (I’ve been accused of being rude too, and I’ve apologized in those cases).

I’m feeling especially pessimistic this week. I’ve had the usual problems, which I’ve written about and will likely continue writing about, but I’ve also had thee particularly bad experiences.

1) My profile very clearly states (in many ways) that I’m looking for something long-term.

However, some guys hope I’m kidding.

One man (without a profile pic, so he’s probably married) recently wrote, “Hello….how are you? Would you be interested in getting together sometime for some consensual fun?”

Isn’t it nice that he doesn’t want to rape me?

I was polite but firm in turning him down, wishing him well in his search.

That’s a little different from this recent question (sent as his very first email):

“How proficient are you at riding a nice cock?”

I had never “reported” anyone before, but I reported him.

He no longer has an account. It’s likely that OKC saw that he did that to a bunch of us and cut him off.

The site has a vested interest in getting rid of those guys. The perpetual problem on dating sites is an imbalance in the male:female ratio. Thus, the site doesn’t want guys scaring off the few women there are.

2) A 30 year old guy contacted me, asking what subjects I teach. I looked at the five questions he’d answered. One said, “Are you looking for someone to have children with?” He answered, “yes.” I responded to his message, telling him what subjects I teach, but noting that we aren’t a good match if he’s looking to have kids. I wished him well.

His immediate response was to say, “I dont understand women!” He then went on to tell me that didn’t pay attention to the questions and said I shouldn’t bring up children in a first email. I told him I always address dealbreakers right away.

Him: At least, you should have asked people what they really think about a particular subject without saying farewell in your first messages!​

We went back and forth for a while; eventually, I suggested we end the conversation, since we were just frustrating each other. I was so careful to keep it light and polite, not typing any of the potentially mean things that entered my head.

Me: I think we’re both feeling misunderstood by the other, and I’m sure neither of us wants to upset the other. We should probably cut the conversation short and go enjoy our evenings instead. I’m sure you have something better to do than to have a frustrating conversation with me. 🙂

Him: I just wonder with that level, how you teach something!​

Me: Did you really need to insult me right then?

Him: Lmao, i dont need anything, and i dont insult anybody! I just want to learn something because you gave me that impresssion, i dont have any problem to understand you, i just dont like the way you communicate with me! Your mind seems to work quite slowly and it might be hard to digest what i am saying!​ [. . .] I hope that will really TEACH you that you wont talk about this subject in your first message anymore! ​

3) A guy with a very blank profile (he had no picture, had answered no questions, and had only written a one sentence description of himself) messaged me, asking if I was real.

I said I was real and suggested he fill out his profile if he wants real messages from real women. He then wrote some weird ramblings about how posting anything was a waste of time and how having a partner should be a “right, not a privilege.”

I indicated that I wasn’t interested in continuing our correspondence, noting that I am uninterested in blank profiles and pointing out that he would not have messaged me if the only info next to my name was “looking for that someone” either.

What followed was a succession of stranger and stranger messages. In some, he put words in quotes or otherwise indicated that he was responding to what I said; however, in each case, I never said anything on the subject (see the “as you say” line below for an example). Maybe the voice in his head said it?

A selection:

“I live alone and I have no pets. Women, as you say, often tell me I am incapable of falling in love. I am the odd one out, the one who will never conform…or at least show emotions. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand what is going on.”

“Your smarts is letting you down. And when it comes to expressing your feelings, you Ph.D. is not helping. Thanks for wishing me well. I actually am doing well. No, you are not angry. You are just disoriented. You are talking to a smart guy, for a change. And that’s a first for you, isn’t it? You are not sure you like it.”

Those last two guys are from the same night. They partially explain the funk I’ve been in all week. Being mansplained to is exhausting, but it’s moreso when guys are mansplaining about how stupid they think you are.

Unwilling to allow the insults to go further, I ended up blocking both of them.

Many people, including my therapist, say I need to stop answering people. The very first impression of ick that I get should lead to the delete button. I’m considering it more and more. I feel like I’m in a trap. If I don’t answer, I’m a bitch. If I answer, guys think I can be bullied into a date, or just bullied.

Still, there have been a few guys who actually said thanks after I said no thanks.

Not sure what to do.

Why Can’t I Find An Easy Going Guy?

A small selection of the beginning of the profiles I’ve seen in the last couple of days:

I’m a very easy going, alway happy, love being outside enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. Love going to new places. Really enjoy going on walks or bike riding. Spending time with family and friends.

I am a calm easy going guy who believes in the golden rule. I treat people with respect. I like to keep busy and unwind when not working.

Hi my name is [x] ,Im easy going fun to be around,I like to cook ,I like to be around positive people ,who care about people. life is to short ,so i try to be a good example to my two boys.WE have a great relationship,I lead by example.Respectful hard working and clean.

You’ll find that I’m fun and easy to be around. I like to stay in synch with the flow of the moment. I love to laugh, adore the excitement of adventure, and take great delight in life’s simplest pleasures ,honest, and caring. I am a passonite and loyal person with a great sense of humor! ( Humor makes the world go around )

I’m easy going, fun and friendly, loving and caring , looking for someone to share my life with , laugh with,laughs that could be so hard to make you cry. lol. Looking for that one time connection. Looking for home.

I am easy going and love to have fun!

I’m easy going, laid back and loyal and am in search of the same. I am looking for a partner. Not a mother or a daughter. Mean girls and liars need not apply.

Easy-going guy looking for connection with the right lady.

I’m an easy going guy, looking to share experiences and fun times. I enjoy good company with a chat, on the couch, or out and about. I’m looking for someone to help when I need, a sense of humor and can challenge me.

I deleted a bunch more of these. Note that, most of the time, this is all the guy says about himself.

I wish I could hold a writing workshop for these profiles; I would give guys the same advice I give my writing students, especially those who are writing personal statements.

Lesson 1: avoid cliches.

Lesson 2: use specific details to stand out from the rest.

(With my pre-med students, for example, I explain that everyone says s/he is passionate about medicine. It means nothing because everyone says it. Also, if they’re passionate, they should be able to show me that. I’m never going to go through a pile of applications and say, “Give me that student who likes science/got good grades/etc.” Here, of course, no guy stands out for being easy going, for liking to laugh, for liking to hang out with friends, for wanting to have fun, etc.)

Lesson 3: proofread!

P.S. I could have done this post with “I work hard, and I play hard,” “laid back,” and a ton of other meaningless nonsense.

Update: Just read another profile, and I discovered one of the causes of this problem. Match.com is modeling bad writing.

The guy literally cut and pasted a sample bio as his paragraph about himself. At least he was upfront about it:

“I borrowed this intro from the provided examples, but it works for me. 🙂

‘I’m a laid back person with a fun sense of humor. I’m a lover of all music and movies. I enjoy nature and can walk around a museum. I’m a sucker for someone who is compassionate and likes to get out and play and can stay in with dinner and a movie.'”

As I’ve thought about my year, the theme is inescapable. It’s been a year of loss.

I lost the best relationship I’ve had in my life to date, leading me to the disastrous adventures I’ve chronicled here. (It should be noted, of course, that I’ve only written about guys who would never get either a first date or a second. I haven’t yet written about the seven guys who have managed to have two or more dates and the misery that accompanied some of them.) Suffice it to say that I miss being in a relationship, I miss intimacy, I miss being held. It just doesn’t seem right that only cats and toddlers touch me.

I lost my Jareth over the summer, and it still hurts. I find it surprisingly sad that I can just hang the toilet paper up on the roll and that it remains unmolested, that no one is picking out an ornament about four or five feet high on the tree and deciding to go at it with a good flying leap so that it might be destroyed, that no one enforces a ban on tacks being on the walls by prying them out with tiny teeth. I shouldn’t have to sleep not only without a man but also without my little girl, who would come make a nest out of my hair to curl up in while she nibbled my head or neck until she fell asleep. It’s all these months later, and when one of the other cats comes into my room in the middle of the night, my sleepy mind thinks it’s her, and then I have to remember that it isn’t. It happened this morning again.

Jareth snuggling with Alexander

I lost one of the closest relationships in my life. As many of you know, a year and a half ago, I took in my aunt when she became disabled and could not obtain care in the Obamacare-refusing South. We all expected it to be challenging, especially since I couldn’t afford to move us to a bigger place. What none of us expected was the emotional stress it caused–I was suddenly living with emotional circumstances too much like my dysfunctional childhood. I had flashbacks and nightly nightmares. My blood pressure shot up, and my own health got worse. I tried counseling, but it takes two, and one of us resisted. I got diagnosed with PTSD, and the situation became untenable. My aunt now lives with a roommate here in Davis and is holding a lot of anger and pain, for which I don’t blame her. But she denied it when I try to talk about it; the idea of counseling has been unilaterally banned. Now, she’s decided I’m “evil”–that I do things intentionally to hurt her. It’s a defense mechanism, I know. But I’m in great mourning. For 40 years, she was my second mother, my closest ally, my best friend. Naturally, this schism has rippled through the family, and my relationships with other family members are suffering. Neither my aunt nor I have ever meant to hurt each other, but we have done so, greatly. But at least she has access to healthcare now.

My grandfather is losing the ability to hold conversations, and so it’s difficult–practically and emotionally–to talk to him. He’s also getting ready to shuffle off his mortal coil. Earlier this year, he wrapped up our conversation by telling me he loved me just as I am. He’s always told me he loved me, but addendum was new. I am, and have been for decades now, a great disappointment, since I’m liberal and I live in California and I teach at a University, etc. Daddy’s a man of few words, and those few made me sob.

These are the things I dwell on when I can’t sleep, that wake me up at night, and that greet my consciousness in the mornings.

However, there have also been some wonderful things this year.

Anubis tried to die (a few times), and while my savings are completely depleted from keeping him from doing so, he is running around like a kitten again.

In some ways, I’ve gotten my son back. When my aunt was living here, I basically never saw him–he stayed in his room all the time. Now, he’s back in our living room/office again.

I only went to the ER once; I haven’t thrown up since July. My team is still working on all the problems–not making much headway at the moment, but I can do what I need to do on most days.

I got to meet my new niece, Lucy, to spend time with my nephew, Jack, and to watch nephew Liam and niece Artemis grow when they come over every week. Plus, all of these children got me great Christmas presents. 🙂

A free Southwest flight got me a visit with Tiffany, Denise, and Vanessa. My work trips took me to Portland, Vancouver, New Orleans, London, Oxford, Fort Wayne, and Iceland! Next year, I’ll be in San Diego, Seattle, and London–probably more places too.

Iceland

(I still need to blog about Iceland.)

I got to go to the following shows: The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain; Sarah Vowell; Paula Poundstone; Julian Sands; Tim Meadows; Mnozil Brass; King Lear; A Doll’s House; Weird Al; Hamlet; Warp 11; Margaret Cho; Mr. Burns: A Post-Electric Play (by Anne Washburn); Ira Glass: Three Acts, Two Dancers, One Radio Host; Big Wow! ComicFest; Dan Savage; Sac Con (where I did a Simpsons Trivia Panel); Eddie Izzard; Sacramento French Film Festival; Man and Superman; Anna Devere Smith: Notes From the Field: Doing Time in Education; The Book of Mormon; Much Ado About Nothing; Kathleen Madigan; Coriolanous; Pink Martini; Vince Gilligan; The Reduced Shakespeare Christmas Pageant; Disgraced. I also got to spend some time with Temple Grandin.

I got to be on NPR and on The Huffington Post. I gave a sermon on The Simpsons at the UU Church, and I was part of two talks at CapStage. I gave quite a few special talks at UCD and did stand-up comedy with my students.

My classes (all sixteen of them) went well, and I got a few people into med school, law school, etc. Two of my students got into Prized Writing. The Upper Division Comp Exam has started running smoother, now that I know what I’m doing and now that I’ve revised the rubric for clarity.

I won the AF Excellence in Teaching Award and a Professional Development Grant (didn’t get my raise, but that’s under appeal). My collection on Atwood came out. My article on Sherlock came out. An autobiographical piece will be published soon, and I’ve just had a scholarly article accepted for the premiere issue of a Sci-Fi journal. I got an edition of the Atwood journal out and launched the online platform for it. Melissa Bender and I will submit our book collection to McFarland in a month, and I’ll turn in my essay on The X Files in two weeks. Denise and I are moving forward on a new Simpsons collection.

And then there are my friends. My house is full a couple of times a week. There have been good meals, good tv, good wine, good cocktails, good happy hours, good trips.

My friends, I am so thankful for you, and I look forward to our next year together.

Yesterday, I was messaged by a man in the Bay Area. I was surprised by the message, since OKC said we had a 30% enemies factor (OKC calculates things based not only on my answers, but on the answers I say are acceptable for a partner, and on the importance I give such answers). He and I are “enemies” for a variety of reasons–he had several answers that indicated he’s the jealous type (like answering “yes” to “is jealousy healthy in a relationship?”); he said he’s looking for someone to have children with, that “marriage is a necessity when a couple loves each other,” that creation theory should be taught alongside evolution in science classes, etc.

I explained that we weren’t suited for each other. He tried to say that he didn’t actually believe any of those things I had objections to (he wasn’t the only guy with that defense yesterday–one guy said, “oh, the questions aren’t important”). He kept asking for my number, but I think we all know how I feel about offering up my number to some stranger.

I then explained that he is also too far away (he was offering to meet halfway–in Fairfield). (Yesterday was long distance day. This guy, a guy in Pittsburg, CA, a guy in Reno, NV, and a guy in Clearlake, CA all tried to convince me that distance is not a factor [when I get to decide what factors are in my own damn dating life!].)

We’ll pick up the conversation there:

Me: I admire your persistence, but I’m not interested in dating you. I don’t want a long distance boyfriend. I hope you find what you’re looking for!

Him: Good morning Is not long distance relationships You are the first real woman in here I really like that [sic]

Me: My profile is very clear about what I consider long distance–if I’m not willing to do the drive, then I’m not going to date you. . . . I answered your first message because I’m polite, and I answer everyone who leaves an actual message. In that first message, I indicated that I’m not interested in dating you. You’re making me regret my politeness; please take my no for an answer.

Him: Im open to talk about Politeness I have not negative think Ok let’s met in your town this week ? What day is with for you ? ​[sic]

Me: I have told you in every single message that I’m not interested in dating you. I’ve asked you very politely to take my no. I will not be answering any more messages from you.

Him:

Update: 12 days later, he wrote me again: “Good morning beautiful woman How are you today?”

Not sure if he’s hoping I’ve changed my mind or if he doesn’t remember that’s he’s tried and failed with me already.