Let's Just Go to Stepford, I Hear The Ladies Are Real Nice There

The other day my friend, Javier, told me he is often afraid that our conversations are going to end up on this blog… I guess he was right!

On Sunday, some friends met at my place before going out to a hungover post-Halloween-party lunch.  Javi was half an hour early.  He called me and without even muttering a greeting he said, “Come unlock your downstairs door already.  The sun is really bright.”

So, in the midst of barrel-curling my hair (you know the look, half of my hair piled unceremoniously on top of my head in a ratty mess, the other half falling down my back in too-tight ringlets in desperate need of combing out) I walked down the stairs in the dark because even the dim stairwell lights were too harsh in my hungover state.  I opened the front door.

I immediately recoiled from the light. 

I might have even hissed at it.

“Yeah. I wasn’t lying!” He said as he pushed through the door and joined me in the safety of the dark stairwell. 

After we trudged up the stairs, I went back to my routine of getting ready and trying not to puke.  Javier paced/sat outside of the bathroom and talked to me about his dating woes.

Like most of my male friends, Javi is straight (because having 50 straight males in her life who are just friends is exactlty what every straight female wants).  He’s also well-educated but likes to say the word “fuck” a lot and drink often.  In short, he’s just like me. 

Well… except for the male part.  I’m penis-free. 

*ahem*

He’s also mostly enlightened about equality and not misogynistic.  Which is why this statement coming out of his lips caught me so by surprise:

“I just need a quiet girl who will do everything I want and won’t fight with me.  Is that so much to ask for?”  He laughed when I glared at him and he added, “Please, the thing that sucks about this town is that all of the women I meet are intelligent and independent as hell.”

I told him they just don’t make ‘em like they used to and suggested that he go back to 1950 because I’m sure this town was full of that type of woman back then.  Then we talked a little bit about time travel (because I’m an easily side-tracked nerdy girl) but eventually it came back around to the idea of relationships.

“Every woman I meet wants a man who is the same way – willing to do everything she says he should do without question.  We all want a lap dog.”  He said to me.

And he was kind of right, as far as I was concerned.

Now of course we don’t all really sit around thinking “If only I could find a mindless automaton to hold me when I cry and keep me sexually satisfied.”  Well... most of us don’t, anyway.

But there is a certain truth to the idea that many of us are looking for someone who will fit perfectly into our already-established lifestyles and habits without us needing to change or modify or adjust anything we currently do.  But of course this is never the case.

When branching out into a new relationship both parties need to be aware that changes and compromises are going to have to happen on both sides – because we aren’t all just mindless sex-bots designed solely for the purpose of giving blow-j’s.  We’re thinking, feeling, motivated, dreaming, wishing, hoping skin sacks that need freedom and stimulation in order to grow into the totally kickass human beings we’re capable of becoming. 

A lot of times when I start to date someone and he asks me what my plans are for the weekend I panic, thinking, “How dare he threaten to take up my precious weekend time??”

How absurd is this?  I want to be in a relationship but I don’t want to sacrifice any of my free time to do it.  I want a man who will respond to a little copper bell that I can ring anytime I feel like doing couple-y stuff and leave me alone when I want to be without him.

*sigh*

What I really need to find is someone who meshes so well with me, with my friends, with my need for alone time and together time, that I don’t feel like I’m sacrificing myself – or at least like the sacrifices I’m making are worth it in the long run.

Or maybe I just want a sex-bot.

Much Love,

Annie Jay