Let's Talk About Sex

I try to avoid writing about sex on this blog because it's such a complicated and personal subject. But there are some things that just need to be said, and this is one of them...

Today a friend of mine linked to this article on Twitter, about how young people are dating less and just hooking up more. In fact, it says that hooking up is the new dating.

"Hooking up" basically means having a one-night stand. But, the article emphasizes, the upside is that these one-night stands are most likely happening with people they already know, instead of some random drunk at the bar. (Although I hear that the random drunks are still in the running too.)

The article talks about the pros and cons of this issue.

The pros?

Hooking up emphasizes group friendships over the one-pair model of dating, and, therefore, removes the negative stigma from those who can’t get a date. As [professor and author Kathleen Bogle] put it, “It used to be that if you couldn’t get a date, you were a loser.” Now, she said, you just hang out with your friends and hope that something happens.

Oookaaay...? So people who normally can't get a date might have a better chance of hooking up in a group setting? Umm... I'll take the optimistic route and hope this means that you're developing friendships with people first, and through that, someone might be more interested in you than if they barely knew you. Because by hanging out with you they learned how great you really are. So, instead of asking you on a date, they ask you to go into the back room to hook up. Because they like you for who you really are.

Sorry, I just can't do the optimism thing in this case.

Then it goes on to give the cons...

The cons center on the issues of gender inequity. Girls get tired of hooking up because they want it to lead to a relationship (the guys don’t), and, as they get older, they start to realize that it’s not a good way to find a spouse. Also, there’s an increased likelihood of sexual assaults because hooking up is often fueled by alcohol.

I was surprised when I read the first sentence. I understand what it means by gender inequity because it's true, girls make hooking up emotional and guys typically do not. But I thought the first con would be that people are giving themselves away too quickly! They are taking things out of order, risking not only confusion and heartache, but also sexually transmitted diseases and pregnancy!

And speaking of pregnancy... I am obviously not one to judge. In fact, I admit (begrudgingly, because my pastor is reading this) that I've done exactly what this article is talking about. And that's why I can say without a doubt that this whole hooking-up-instead-of-dating thing is dangerous. I have experienced the emptiness, the shame, the fear, the mixed messages, the whole roller coaster of emotions that can come from such an activity. I have been burned by men I truly cared about. I have burned men that truly cared about me. I have paid for those experiences in relationships that came after them. And I have lived through every unmarried woman's worst nightmare... seeing that little blue line on the pregnancy test.

So to know that this is becoming a regular occurrence in our culture? Breaks my heart. Because I don't want another woman to go through the crap that I went through. I want women to never have to wonder if the guy likes her for her awesomeness, or because she is awesome in bed. I want both women and men to be able to wake up in the morning and not regret what happened the night before. I want men to man up, dangit, and ask women on real, legitimate dates again. I want the blurry lines between lust and respect to be sharpened again.

I could go on all night but I won't.

To be continued...

Baggage Unpacked?

It's been a while since I've written a new installment to my Baggage series. And I can honestly say it's because I simply ran out of things to write about. I've told you the whole story, and that basically leads me to this point right here.

However, I do want to talk a little bit about the transitional period between my break-up with Paris and this point right here.

Shortly after it officially ended, I became a "scoper." I was constantly scoping my workplace, my church, the grocery store, the alleyway... you name it, all in search of my next boyfriend. I found myself looking at guys I'd never been attracted to and thinking, "He might work for me." During this time, I probably would have justified that a serial killer was worthy of my attention.

The problem with this was (well, there were many problems, but...) these guys who were all wrong for me were beginning to notice that I was scoping them. Maybe because of my whole Free Square thing, I don't know. But it put me into an awkward position, and I felt a bit trapped.

One day it all seemed to be spiraling out of control, and I did not like that one bit. So I stepped back and looked at myself from an outsider's perspective. At that moment, my outsider body was saying to my real body, "Tsk, tsk, Juliet. If you keep this up, you're going to make the same mistakes all over again. You're not looking for a man to love, you're looking for attention—and from any Joe Schmo who will give it to you. Just take a chill pill and STOP LOOKING, for heaven's sake."

If any of my friends had given me this constructive criticism (and some of them did try to), I would have brushed them off, insisting that I was completely composed and knew what I was doing. But when it was myself knocking some sense into me? This time it stuck.

So instead of thinking about my next potential date, I started focusing on the amazing life I already had. I poured into Julietta, spending as much free time with her as I could. My relationship with her grew exponentially. I took on a more active role at work, I started making new friends, I began exercising again. I also began smiling again. A lot.

I finally learned, for perhaps the first time in my life, how to find fulfillment in something other than a man. And as a result I was—and still am—experiencing a joy that I never knew existed.

Of course, as I've discussed before, everyone wants to be loved. And I'm sure it's obvious by my writings on this blog that I still desire a relationship with a good man. But it's different this time. First of all, the interests I have developed in the past couple of months have come naturally—not because I was seeking them out. (BTW, this sort of explains why I'm so hesitant about the online dating thing.) And also, I refuse to let myself fall for the same crap that I fell for in the past. I am not going to settle. Ever. Again. I'm stating that here so that you can all hold me accountable to it. Because settling for less is a lot easier than holding out for more.

But holding out for more sounds like a lot more fun.

Thanks again for letting me unpack my baggage in this format. It feels so good to get all of that junk out of its crammed suitcase. Here's to an open slate, and enjoying life at this point right here.

Free Square

Two years ago I went to a women's health conference that featured a fabulous motivational speaker named Victoria Moran. In her speech, she encouraged us to identify our "free square." The free square, as you know, is the term used in Bingo for that box in the middle on which every player can put a free chip without having to do anything. I've always thought it was nice of Bingo to do that. How many other games offer you a handout before play even begins? Move over billiards, I prefer to hang with the more generous Bingo, thank you very much.

Anyway, in this woman's speech, she metaphorizes (totally made up that word) the "free square" as the one thing that naturally comes easily to people. For instance, Victoria's free square is that she meets famous people all the time—and in random ways, not just because she's a public speaker. I have a friend whose dad wins radio contests on a regular basis. My sister always seems to find the most amazing items at the most incredible discount. (Like, discounts come to her.)

The free square is that odd little quirk that comes easily to an individual, all throughout one's life. Victoria said it was like "the universe's" way of giving you a little extra nudge. And she encouraged us to figure out what our free square is so that we can maximize it to better our lives. 

After hearing the speech, my aforementioned sister and I were trying to identify my free square. After a few minutes, lil' sis perked up, her eyes wide. "I know what it is," she said with conviction.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Men."

 

I thought about that for a minute. And then I remembered that ever since I was young (except for the very awkward middle school years), whenever I liked a guy, he would inevitably end up liking me. It's weird. He might not even know I exist, but once I decide I like him, within a matter of only a few days, he's paying attention to me in some form or another. And I'm not pushy about it or anything. Sometimes I don't even say a word. It just happens.

HUMONGO, GINORMOUS, BEHEMOTHIC DISCLAIMER: 

I realize that I sound extremely conceited to say these things. But I honestly think it has nothing to do with who I am externally. I am not saying that I'm hot to trot nor too cool for school. I really think this is just a natural thing. To borrow Victoria's universe-type terminology, it's the "aura" I give off. And I can't possibly brag about my aura because it didn't show up by my own doing. It's like how cashmere sweaters cost my sister $5.00 when they cost everyone else $500.00. She didn't do anything special to receive that discount; it's just chance. And it makes me sick.

 

The problem is, I don't think I've maximized my free square in the way that Victoria encouraged us to do. Because the whole drawing-men-in thing leads to relationships, and my past few relationships have certainly NOT come as easily to me. So what I need to do is be a little more exclusive about who my free square invites in. I need to push away those Bingo chips that are cracked or missing a portion, and instead I need to accept only the bright and shiny chips.

I love metaphorizing. Sigh.

What's your free square? Figure it out and leave a comment about it, because this fascinates the heck out of me.

Unpacking my Baggage, Part 6

The months following my un-engagement were confusing at best. I'm sure anyone who's been through a major breakup will agree that it's similar to grieving the death of a loved one. For a while you're in shock, then you're angry, then you're just plain numb... 

I experienced all of these feelings and more, which is fine, except that Paris was still pursuing me heavily. In my (many) moments of weakness, I'd cave under his charming nuances, and before I knew it we became that on-again-off-again couple that I've always rolled my eyes at.

He would convince me that he'd changed, and in many ways he really had. I could tell that my leaving him (the first time) really opened his eyes to some of his ridiculousness. But every time we tried to get back together, little red flags would start flying all over my head and heart, and in a panic, I would end it. And then we'd start talking again. And then I'd end it. Again. Each time was more emotional and dramatic than the last. I was a wreck.

All this time, in the back of my mind was a sermon I'd heard a couple of years ago, from a pastor who was preaching on relationships. Two things he said stuck out to me often, in the form of the aforementioned red flags:

1) If you are one of those couples who go through huge ups and downs, are constantly breaking up and getting back together, you should end the relationship for good because that's never going to change.

2) If he makes you cry now, he will make you cry twenty years from now, and every year in between.

These things are so true, and yet it took a million and one times for me to get it through my thick head. In hindsight, I know that there are many reasons why I kept going back to him. The most base reason is because he really was soooo desirable. But also.... ugh, this is the first time I'm admitting this "out loud".... but I was afraid that if I let him go, he would move on with his life and forget all about me. And at the time, that was an unbearable thought.

It was when I finally came to terms with this that I knew I needed to end it. For good. And for real this time. My reasons for wanting him were purely selfish. That wasn't fair to me and it certainly wasn't fair to him. I was leading him on, essentially, out of my own insecure motives.

So finally, on a warm July evening, I told him that that we both needed to cut all ties completely so that the vicious cycle wouldn't continue to repeat itself. I told him that it was over. As in, over over.

And I haven't seen Paris since.

Unpacking my Baggage, Part 5

Exactly one year ago today, I got engaged.

We were having a good couple of weeks, Paris and I. Our fighting had diminished, and he romanced me in a way that almost made me forget about all of our previous battles. So when he proposed, I eagerly said yes. In the midst of the celebration, Paris and I exchanged an emotional pact that we would put the hard times behind us and let goodness prevail.

Not three days later, the goodness was gone.

Several people told me that the engagement period can be "challenging." I think those people were referring to the struggles couples face when they want different things for their wedding, or they can't decide on a place to live, or even serious things like how to raise children. I'm sure they weren't talking about full-out character defamation, which was the "challenging" issue I was facing. At first, I desperately transferred my friends' everybody-goes-through-it advice to my own tumultuous relationship with Paris. I repeatedly told myself that this is normal, just a bump in the road—the same things I had been telling myself for the majority of our relationship.

I prefer to keep the specific details private, but I do have a little something to say...

I think that we too often dispense and receive advice that no one's perfect, every couple has problems, don't expect too much of your mate. And I agree with all of these things. I've said them myself. However, if you are in a relationship that makes you ashamed to look at yourself, that makes you cry multiple times a day, where the problems never go away but only build with momentum... a relationship in which the picture of your future is one where you are literally and figuratively silent and huddled up in the corner... GET OUT OF IT. Don't keep making the no one's perfect excuse, don't tell yourself that every couple has problems, don't give him or her the benefit of the doubt. 

Just get out.

I came to that realization pretty late in my relationship with Paris, but not too late. About three weeks into the engagement, I finally came to my senses that this could be dangerous business here. Yet I had so brainwashed myself into believing that maybe it wasn't as big of a deal as I thought, that maybe I was just being a drama queen. In turn, indecisiveness nagged at me like a disapproving mother. 

So I asked God for a sign. Now, I don't normally do that. I think asking God for "a sign" is trite, selfish, and it belittles what God is truly capable of. However, in this case, I got on my knees in complete despair, because I did not know What. To. Do. Essentially, by asking God for a sign I really was asking for help.

And one night, my sign came, clear as crystal. And along with it came an almost apathetic confidence that pushed my indecisiveness aside so that I could DO THIS.

So, in the middle of the night, I scooped up Julietta, and we fled far, far away from Paris.

Kissing Frogs

Last night I went to a Carrie Underwood concert. I found that I can really relate to Carrie. Except for the whole hot-blonde-superstar thing. But she and I seem to have a similar track record regarding the kinds of men we date. Except for the whole hot-famous-athlete thing. (Speaking of... a very reliable source told me that Carrie is NOT dating Michael Phelps like everyone is saying. Rather she has been seeing some Travis guy from The Bachelor. Apparently he was at the concert last night but I didn't see him. I know you were all losing sleep at night, thinking about Carrie Underwood's love life. I'm happy to be of service.)

Carrie has a song that best explains this track record that she and I share. It's called "The More Boys I Meet" and it comically expresses the frustrations of dating one dud after another. 

Here are the lyrics:

This boy here wants to move too fast
He sees my future as having a past
Well, I don't think so
I don't think so

That guy there, well he's playing a fool
He thinks he's funny and he thinks he's cool
We'll I don't think so
I don't think so

Cheap date, bad taste, another night gone to waste
Talking about nothing in so many words
It's not like I'm not trying
'Cause I'll give anyone a shot once

And, I , I close my eyes
And, I kiss that frog
Each time finding
The more boys I meet the more I love my dog

Here's this guy, thinks he's bad to the bone
He wants to pick me up and take me home
Well, I don't think so
I don't think so

Cage fights, PlayStation, X-Games, Raider Nation
Oversize pants with an ego to match
It's not like I'm not trying
'Cause I'll give anyone a shot once

And, I , I close my eyes
And, I kiss that frog
Each time finding
The more boys I meet the more I love my dog

Why can't they be like the ones that mean everything to me
The warm and loyal, open and friendly
It's not like I'm not trying
'Cause I'll give anyone a shot once

I close my eyes
And, I kiss that frog
Each time finding
The more boys I meet the more I love my

I close my eyes
And, I kiss that frog
Each time finding
The more boys I meet the more I love my dog

The more I love my dog

I hear ya, Carrie. You and I are on the same page. Except for the whole I-love-my-dog thing. Don't even have a dog. But I'm working on that. Right after I get a multimillion-dollar record deal and an Olympiad boyfriend.

Unpacking my Baggage, Part 4

So it was when I finally gained some confidence that I met someone with whom a true relationship would form. This was my first real grown-up relationship. It also broke my nine-month record. When that happened I thought it'd be this grand moment for me, but by that point I realized that it didn't really matter as much as I had always thought.

(Note: I will be writing about this particular boyfriend periodically and, for the sake of confidentiality, I'll be referring to him as "Paris." This goes with the whole Romeo & Juliet theme. Paris, if you recall, was the man that Juliet was SUPPOSED to marry. That is, before Romeo came along to sweep her off her pretty little feet. Also, my daughter will heretofore be known as "Julietta." You know, like "little Juliet." Cute, right?)

I had actually known Paris for a long time but didn't know him well. We reunited at a friend's wedding, where the sparks started flying the moment we laid eyes on each other. In the months after we started dating, we would recall that night over and over again, how it was so obvious that fate had brought us together. There were so many signs, so many similarities between our individual thoughts and actions that night. I had never experienced that kind of connection with anyone before, and neither had he.

Our relationship was long-distance at first. We would talk on the phone for three hours a night, easily, and we'd see each other any time we possibly could. He made surprise visits often, which thrilled me. He also made me several mixed CDs with "our songs," and wrote elaborate emails about how much he loved me. He had an unprecedented passion for music, politics, food, adrenaline and me. And he was extremely good-looking. I was IN HEAVEN.

Paris was great with Julietta, and she was crazy about him. She was drawn to his endless supply of energy and enthusiasm. Sometimes I felt left out, watching the two of them have so much fun together. Yet at the same time I was grateful that I had found this seemingly perfect guy who loved my daughter and whom my daughter loved.

All that time that I'd been searching for the right man, I'd foolishly believed that, when it comes to Julietta, the guy just had to be someone who really cared about her. So when Paris had passed that test, I thought the coast was clear. However, I learned the hard way that a person can love my daughter till the day is long, but if he can't accept ALL of the nooks and crannies that come with our unconventional little family, chaos will ensue. 

Before I knew it, Paris and I were fighting almost every night. And they were not you-left-the-toilet-seat-up-again fights. I'm talking hard-core, earth-shattering, heartwrenching fights. The kind that would leave us more confused coming out of it than going in. The kind that never seemed to have a solution, no matter how desperately we tried to find one.

But we still loved each other with a passion, and we still believed that we were meant to be together. I think we were also stubbornly determined to make it work, whatever the cost. We were insistent on fitting that square peg into the round slot. 

So, what did we do?

We got engaged.

Unpacking my Baggage, Part 3

Many people have asked me what dating is like as a single mom, and I never really know what to tell them. In many ways, it doesn't seem to be all that different from regular-person dating. Of course, there are some things I am more aware of. I'm very careful about who I introduce my daughter to. I don't want her to get attached to every Tom, Dick and Harry who so much as looks at me. Also, there isn't a lot of room for spontaneity in my relationships, what with the whole childcare issue and everything. 

But the real question, I think, should be directed at the men who have dated me. I'm still surprised by guys' reactions when they find out that I'm a single mom. When I first had the baby, I guess I expected that men would run far away from me. And some did, of course, but most didn't. Most guys didn't act phased at all that I had a child. Some even thought it was cool. This was such a relief—and a shock—to me.

But usually, a switch would eventually take place. At first everything would be great, but when they learned the truth of what it really means to date a single mom, all hell would break loose.

It didn't help that I transformed from being a cool commitment-phobe to a clingy husband-hunter. Becoming a mother made me want so much more for my life. I learned how to love another human in a way I had never experienced before. And I wanted to transfer that over to my romantic relationships. I was so intent on having the other necessary component for a happy little nuclear family as I knew it, that it made me over-eager. 

Guys aren't all that crazy about the over-eager.

After about three years' worth of rejection and disappointment, I started to get my life together in every other area of my life (i.e. moving up in my career, moving out of my parents' house... you know, independent woman stuff). And in doing so, I finally gained the confidence I had been lacking when I was too busy forcing a cookie-cutter life upon my boyfriends.

It was at this point that I realized I didn't NEED a man, dangit.

And that is precisely when a man showed up.

Unpacking my Baggage, Part 2

I've been boy-crazy since I was, like, four. I don't know why. I guess it's just the way the good Lord made me. But whatever the reason, my affection for boys has dominated my life for pretty much all of my life.

I've had many boyfriends, my first being when I was in 5th grade. Since then, I've dated more guys than I can count. I used to think this was normal, going out with someone for two months or so and then simply moving to the next one. But then I got to college and realized that most of my peers had maybe only one or two boyfriends/girlfriends in their whole lifetime, and these relationships lasted for two, sometimes three, sometimes more years. 

This was a big wake-up call for me. I felt like I was missing out on something big. At that point in my life, I had never known what it was like to be in a relationship for longer than 9 months. So I became obsessed with breaking that record. Because otherwise, I feared, something must be seriously wrong with me. I also became obsessed with the length of other people's relationships. I wanted to know if there was anyone else out there like me, who operated by the "shorter is better" mentality. When I'd meet someone new (girl or guy), I'd ask how long their longest relationship was. Most responses ranged in the one-to-two-year range. Upon hearing that, every time, my disappointment was palpable.

After much soul-searching, I learned that the reason I wasn't experiencing this kind of commitment in my relationships is because all that time, I'd been looking for the "high" that I thought a boy/guy/man could bring me. And as some of you may know, a "high," by nature, always comes down. It never lasts forever. So when one high ended, I'd skip the scene and leave it clean, in search of my next "drug." 

There was one time when I was so in need of something exciting, something to bring me fulfillment, that I became careless. And, well, my carelessness resulted in something that would change my life forever. 

That's right, I got knocked up.

Having a child obviously changed my world. Better yet, it took my world by the feet, turned it upside down and shook it, until all of my preconceived notions about life and love were emptied out. Then, it gently flipped me right side up and slowly began filling my world again, with a whole new consciousness.

That's when my romantic relationships took a turn, and mostly for the worse. Stay tuned...

What's in a Name?

It took me more than two months to figure out what to name this silly blog. I've always felt a lot of pressure about coming up with good names. It all goes back to when I was in second grade and I was in this club called Awana, which is like the Christian version of Girl and Boy Scouts. There was a contest where we had to enter a name for the local chapter's newsletter. I came up with "The Awana Chronicle," which was chosen as the winner. The leaders gushed all over me, like I was some sort of genius. They even gave me a sweatshirt. Ever since then, I've felt this tremendous responsibility to live up to my legacy as an Award-winning Name Creator. I know how child actors feel. Really.  

So that's a long way of saying I had issues with settling on a name for this blog. But finally I landed on Juliet Seeks. Here's why it seemed to work...

As you know, Juliet is a character from one of the most well-known love stories of all times. And if I'm going to be writing about love, well, it's a natural fit.

Also, I can relate to Juliet. While I may not be rich nor royal, I have had my fair share of Romeos. And I, like Juliet, have a tendency to choose the wrong men. I can totally picture myself doing what Jules did... I'm at a party filled with all kinds of young, polite, handsome men, and who do I go and fall in love with? The one who is the bane of my family's existence. I'm like a magnet to tragically flawed men. But everyone has flaws, I justify. And part of loving someone is accepting their flaws, right? What could happen? 

Famous last words. Because something does happen, every time. Things may start out well but quickly get kind of shaky, then all sorts of crap starts spiraling out of control. And before you know it the relationship is on its deathbed, brought there by a knife and a little poison.

Yeah, Juliet and I are disturbingly very much alike.

As for the other word in the title—seeks—well, I'll tell you what it is I'm seeking: A single white male who enjoys walks on the beach and....

Kidding.

In all seriousness, I'm seeking what we all seek. We all want to be loved, maybe even more so than we want to love someone. We want for that love to last, to reinvent itself, to continue to charge us. And this goes beyond romantic love too. We seek after love and acceptance from everyone who is important to us: our parents, children, friends, bosses, pets...

I'm also seeking answers. To questions like, why do relationships (and more specifically, marriages) end? How do we keep them from ending? Why is it that we always want what we don't have? And what is the reason behind people's tragic flaws, anyway?

This is what is on the mind of a young woman who falls too easily for the wrong men. This is what Juliet seeks.