by Laurelin

Fucking YES! It’s almost here, that holiday we all know and love. The holiday where those in relationships are made to outdo last year’s crock of god knows what and those who are single are bitch slapped with loneliness from the second they wake up in the morning until the second they close their eyes at night. God, I fucking love Valentine’s Day.

I suppose I do like the concept. A day for love, a day to be thankful for the one you love and the one who loves you. A day meant to remind us all that unless we’re in solid, committed relationships, we are alone and unloved. I never understood why Valentine’s Day couldn’t just be marketed as a holiday to appreciate the little things as well as your amazing momentous relationship. What about everything else? I think you should find something to fall in love with every day. There are so many things to love, and yet with the hustle bustle of every day life these things are often forgotten.

I love so many things I sometimes feel like my heart could just burst through my ribs, like that scene in How the Grinch Stole Christmas. This year, I’m going to take Valentine’s Day and remember all the things I love about my life even though I don’t have anyone besides a cat to wake up to every morning. Speaking of that, I love the way my cat never wants me to get out of bed. She’ll meow and stretch out on my face to get me to scratch her just a second longer. I love my coffee maker. I love my WWE sweatshirt; it fits perfectly and is still warm and fuzzy even after being washed over and over. I love coffee from Refuge Café down the street from my apartment, and I love catching the sun at the perfect moment as it goes down and perfectly silhouettes the Boston city skyline as I start to walk to work.

I love noticing how every day I’m getting a little better at my pull-ups. I love finally reaching that point in running when I find the perfect clip and I don’t feel like I’m going to die anymore. I love wrestling. I love to write, to read, I love bartending and I love beer. I especially love that first sip of a cold Coors Banquet once everyone is finally out of my bar and I can catch my breath, shut off the fucking jukebox and regain my sanity.

I love the way this one guy smiles: his eyes squint just a bit and I love his dimples. I love the tiny tattoo another has on his left wrist underneath his watch; I love the freckle another has on his left shoulder blade. I love pulling into the driveway of the house I grew up in on Christmas Eve. I love eggs over-easy and French toast, never pancakes. I love Tuesday nights and the sound of the ocean.

Valentine’s Day is February 14th, but there are also 364 others in the year and so much beauty in every day. What’s not to love?

[..]

by SG’s Team Agony feat. Rin

Let us answer life’s questions – because great advice is even better when it comes from SuicideGirls.

Q: Recently I’ve been dating this girl who I thought was the girl of my dreams. She drinks, plays games, is great with kids and her family, and loves me, or I thought she did.

When she returned she didn’t even tell me she was back. I asked her about what happened to us over the internet and she responded back in a tone that had no sympathy for me at all and sounded like I was dating Spock from Star Trek. I guess what I’m wondering is what should I do when I approach her about it online. We got into a fight and she told me that I wasn’t really long-term type but only short term. To tell the truth I’ve done everything to be there for her and now i have no clue what to do.

A: Well, to be perfectly frank, if she was really the girl of your dreams, she wouldn’t have ditched out on you like that. My best guess is that things got too intense for her and she ran. Intensity can be so overwhelming!! Because she started avoiding you after one of your ‘best days together’ it seems likely to me that she got scared.

Saying you’re “short term and not long term” seems like kind of a cop out on her part, but this girl doesn’t sound like she has any interest in discussing her emotions or giving you any reasons. There’s probably nothing you can do about that. It sucks, it’s unfair to the emotional commitment that you put in, and it’s not the way a caring person deserves to be treated. But sometimes that is just the way shit falls apart and there’s nothing to be done.

My advice is to approach an online discussion not expecting anything.
She’s shown you that she doesn’t want to talk about what happened, and you can’t force her to justify dropping you/giving you the cold shoulder. It’s so shitty, but showing her that you care and you want to be there for her is unlikely to change her mind. This girl has already decided she doesn’t want what you have to offer. She probably has issues with intimacy, long-term dating, or something similar, and she will only deal with that stuff on her own time.

The best thing you can do is pick up your heart, work on healing from this ordeal, and do things that make you happy. Work on being the best you that you can be, so that you when run into a dream girl who is the real deal, you will be ready to be an awesome partner to her.

Rin

Got Problems? Let SuicideGirls’ team of Agony Aunts provide solutions. Email questions to: gotproblems@suicidegirls.com

by Laurelin

I remember in high school being obsessed with this one guy. Jackson was the epitome of everything I thought was cool: he rode BMX bikes and wore baggy jeans and flannel t-shirts with different band shirts underneath like NOFX and Pennywise. He didn’t drink or do drugs or hang out with the cool kids, but he was always smiling and surrounded by people. He was different and I liked that.

We wound up dating for a while (it seems like a long time, but in retrospect it might have only been a few months; time is different now). He broke up with me at the end of my freshman year and I was devastated. My first heartbreak, my first bitter taste of a feeling I would in time become so familiar with. That being said, there is nothing to be done but move on, keep going to class, keep on smiling like nothing was wrong. Eventually I lost interest in Jackson and the feeling faded. I was moving on and Jackson was nothing more than a blip on my radar. That is, until Jackson started dating Jill.

Suddenly I missed him with a fierceness that can only be likened to the hunger a vampire feels after waking, born as a creature of the night for the first time. Suddenly it seemed like there was no one else, that Jackson was the only one for me, no one else should have him, especially not Jill. Who was Jill? Where the hell did she even come from? She was nothing like him; she didn’t even LIKE the music that he liked, the music that he and I liked. It was all consuming, and soon Jackson was all I could think about. I wanted him back. I remember that feeling like it was yesterday; unhealthy obsession.

My cell phone buzzes and I glance down. My heartbeat increases when I see his name. This one I think I’ll write back to, this intriguing man who isn’t really like anyone I’ve ever met before. This has been one hell of a week for me and my buzzing cell phone, which is filled with messages from people I never expected to hear from. I have spent a lot of the past year unable to move forward constructively when it comes to a few kinds of relationships in my life and for whatever reason I have just totally and completely moved on. I simply woke up one day and stopped texting, stopped calling, stopped inviting these guys out with hopes of rekindling romance. I just stopped chasing them. And the second I stopped, all of a sudden they noticed.

If anyone had told me that these guys would be saying the things that they have been saying to me in the past few weeks I would have laughed. If you had told me they would be showing up at my bar, sitting and hanging out until closing and then asking to walk me home, I wouldn’t have believed it for a second. Now, as I choose to go home alone, I acknowledge that they only want me the way I wanted Jackson back once I saw him with Jill. They liked me chasing them and once I stopped they finally looked back, circling back like a dog with a lost bone, sad that the game is finally over.

[..]

by Laurelin

One of the perks of having an online column is literally being able to go back in time. Exactly a week, month, and year to the date your words are still there and you can instantly remember what was going on in that moment. So many times those memories are just… lost, and I realize suddenly how lucky I am to write the truth, to write with honesty and more often than not, pain, because I can look back see how I’ve progressed. Tonight I look for last year’s post, and I am a bit squeamish. I have a sinking suspicion that nothing has changed. I don’t feel different. I feel… used up and empty. To quote Bilbo Baggins, “I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.”

On this day last year I wrote “Life Beyond the Bar Scene: Winter is Coming.” I was clearly not over my ex and I was using other people in an attempt to replace him. It wasn’t working. I remember feeling lost, confused, alone. Fast forward one year, and I have managed to actually get over the ex I was writing about. He and I didn’t speak for about six months, and while I think part of me will always look at him as the one that got away, they were the best and most needed six months of my life. Erased. Deleted from everything, hidden from Facebook, he quit working at my bar, simply… gone. I ached, and then one day I didn’t. Life goes on, what do you know!

He walked into the bar two months ago, after all that time, and I remember stopping dead in my tracks. I had almost forgotten what he looked like and that moment of recognition hit me like a wave crashing into a small vessel in a storm. I hugged him and said I was happy to see him, and for once, I was.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you on your birthday,” he said. And I knew he had remembered it and had not called because it really didn’t matter.

“That’s okay,” I said. “I didn’t call you on yours either,” and my lower lip didn’t tremble when I turned away. I couldn’t believe it. I smiled, and when he left I waved, turned back to my bar and carried on. He was never really far from my mind, but it was almost like he had finally found a place in the archives, a place that didn’t hurt.

A new year is coming and I don’t feel any different, but I am. I think I only feel used up because I think I should feel that way. Looking back I’m suddenly pretty sure I just lived the best year of my life. I went on a ten day Caribbean cruise in January. I scuba dived shipwrecks, got over my fear of karaoke, and held baby monkeys in diapers. I danced like no one was watching even when everyone was watching and I screamed “Discount Double Check” and did Aaron Rodger’s touchdown move zip lining across the rainforest in Antigua.

I dated. I discovered dating was not for me and I discovered that while men can be mean and break my heart, I can be mean and break their hearts. And I was sorry, sometimes more than others. I got up on stage and I read stories naked for the first time in March and again in October. The first time I was so scared I could have just peed right there on stage and the second time I walked with confidence, read with pride, and now I can’t wait to do it again.

In April I ran my first Tough Mudder and it was a ten mile muddy uphill journey of insanity. I didn’t train much and when I got back, that was it. I started running. I joined a Crossfit gym and I vowed that I would no longer blame every aspect of my hectic life for the wobbly parts of my body I didn’t care for.

I got promoted at all of my jobs, I turned 30, my friends are brilliant and I still find time for the little things: cat naps, cuddling with pets, reading, movies, martinis, and the occasional misstep into romance, which as my readers know has yet to work out. Used up and empty is often a result of this; but it’s not all I am. It can’t be.

When you think about it, each day since that post one year ago is just that: one day. It’s just another ordinary day, when added up makes an ordinary week, ordinary month, and yet somehow… a totally extraordinary year.

[..]

by Symbol

I’m 6’6”.

I’m 6’6” and on average somewhere around 275lbs. I routinely get compared to Vikings, characters from medieval fiction, and the occasional professional wrestler. The average height of the women I usually end up in relationships with? About 5’2”. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been involved with someone taller than 5’7”. That’s not from lack of trying. I just don’t seem to be able to find, or perhaps attract, taller women.

I went on a few dates with a woman who clocked in at 5’10” this summer and it was wonderfully strange –– I’m so used to having to bend to kiss. The level of height disparity I normally deal with renders paired dancing completely out of the question, and there’s a variety of other things that can’t be done when you’re more than twice the size of your partner.

I’ve dated a lot of women in my life, and they all seem to share the same dominant characteristics, they’re tiny women who know they want and go after it –– me, in this case. I remember having a conversation with one of my exes, Heather, about why she was attracted to me (and to large guys in general), her response was something I completely wasn’t expecting. I’d known that she’d been sexually assaulted in the past and basically, for her, the safety she felt with a guy my size was second-to-none.

This got me to thinking a little and, in an unintentional homage to High Fidelity (one of my top 5 favorite movies of all time), I dug around a bit and got in contact with some exes, at least the ones I’m still on speaking terms with (read: the ones that didn’t cheat on me) to find out what their respective stories were.

There wasn’t a common trait really, and I feel a little foolish for thinking there might have been. In almost every case it was a combination of things: sense of humor, appearance, conversation. Safety was a big one though. It resonated with more than a dozen of my exes, but it still wasn’t unanimous.

However, what I did discover during these inquiries, which started out innocently enough, was more disturbing. I found out that less than ten percent of the women I’ve been involved with had not been sexually assaulted prior to getting involved with me. Now, if you’ve read my other posts (the White Knight one in particular) you might not be surprised by that, but I was. With very few exceptions, I had no idea that any of these women had this particularly history during the time we were together, so it wasn’t my subconscious trying to find women who “needed” protecting.

This got me thinking more about the “safety” quality that had been brought up, which in turn got me thinking more about former living conditions and such. I have distinct recollections of the majority of my ex-girlfriends sharing a couple of qualities that, in retrospect, make a lot more sense:

1. More than half of them hated being home alone.
2. Almost all of them hated sleeping alone and/or going to bed alone.

I didn’t pry into the specifics of the sexual assault stories my ex-girlfriends had newly revealed, though several of them felt the need to explain in more detail. In almost every case, it was either a relative that went too far, or someone who had taken them out on a date and didn’t take no for an answer.

After I got over that grim revelation and reigned in my sudden need to run out into the streets and dispense vigilante justice, I started thinking about all the women I know and the ones I’ve been interested in. The fact is, I simply don’t know a lot of tall women. And by “a lot” what I mean to say, really, is any. I think I’ve known two tall girls in my whole life; one I wasn’t remotely attracted to and the other hasn’t been single a day in her life.

I suppose it stands to reason that if being tall is a trait that women find attractive, it’s a trait that men find attractive too. But here’s where that theory falls down: I’m obviously attracted to women regardless of height, or else I’m a terrible masochist that has spent the better part of twenty plus years “settling” for short women (and that’s totally not the case, honest!).

I’m really not sure what I’d do if I was presented with a tall, available woman. To be clear, by tall I mean 5’9” and above. I seem to keep coming across women on dating sites that list their height as 6’. I’ve even seen one that was 6’1”. They’re never people I’m interested in for one reason or another. (One was a smoker, another openly mocked vegetarians in her profile – both deal breakers for me.) Since there seems to be an entire world of women 5’11” and above out there, who are these women dating?! And what part of the world are they living in?

“Scandinavia” seems to be the response people usually throw back when I (jokingly) ask that question aloud. But surely I don’t have to travel to the other side of the world just to find women that are eye level?

On the other hand, when I think about it, I see tall women all the time –– but the tall women I see are always holding hands, have linked arms, or are emitting some other obvious body language that is designed to communicate “I am taken.” I take signals like that pretty clearly and so they just usually don’t register.

Sure, I’m guilty of seeing a really long pair of legs and following them up, but the moment those legs become part of someone who is clearly unavailable they just sort of ghost off of my radar (sadly). I’ll let you in on a little secret though, whenever I see a tall woman the first thing I do is check her feet. An old acquaintance of mine, herself a tall girl, got me into this habit. She’d always check other tall girl’s feet to see if they were really tall, or if they were cheating and using lifts, platforms or heels. Nothing pissed her off more, as a tall woman, than seeing another women cheating her height (so she said).

For me, I think a partner in the 5’7” to 5’11” range would be ideal. I have one friend who, for whatever reason, I always think is shorter than she is. Every time I see her I find myself pleasantly surprised by how tall she is. I can’t explain why –– she’s just taller in real life than in the memory I have of her. It’s strange, I know.

Again, I want to be clear: I have no problem with shorter women. I love women of all heights, sincerely. It’s just sort of become something of my own personal “white whale.” …And now I find I’m immediately regretting using the term whale in conjunction with any kind of search for women.

Surely Laurelin can’t be the only tall women out there that’s looking?

Related Posts
A Guy’s Perspective: The Legacy Of A Violent Upbringing – The White Knight Syndrome
A Guy’s Perspective: Good Friends Are Hard To Come By (Especially After 30)
A Guy’s Perspective: Falling in Love (And Other Deadly Sins)

by Laurelin

I hung his picture last week. I hung it in the kitchen above the stove, the space was perfect and as I pounded the nail into the wall I wondered if this was the right thing to do. It had been shoved in the back of my closet for one year and two months and today I hung it up, finally ready to not vomit when I looked at it. It’s a nice picture. It’s not a photograph: the kid fucking painted it. It’s hands down, the best gift I have ever received in my whole life, and for one year and two months after my 29th birthday the only creature that saw it was my cat when she tried to climb the vertical plastic shoe rack from Target in the back of my closet.

So, last week I hung the picture. I hung it, and when I walked in to the kitchen today to make tacos there it was above the stove as I sautéed the onions. I made tacos. I ate the tacos at the black and silver high top 50s diner style table in my kitchen and they were delicious. The painting watched, and when I was done I smiled and I knew that I had finally done the right thing. That chapter of my life was in plain sight and finally over.

It’s weird not having anything to harp on. Not having that nagging feeling of heartbreak, not having that sinking feeling as I lock the house and head to work or to the bar I hang out at. This feeling of freedom, to see these men and actually be happy to see them, to no longer have to fake it till I make it. My smile is genuine, my invites to events aren’t because I want to win them over but because once we were all friends and finally I am not a fucking idiot, and I can take this for what it always should have been: friends, co-workers, anything but what it was.

It’s like a veil has been lifted from my eyes and I can finally see, and I pray that I can constructively move forward. What did I learn from that last relationship? What did I learn from the last bartenders who broke my heart and what did I learn from the bartenders whose hearts I know I broke? As much as we think we can’t, we always put the pieces back together. We are able to one day not make the same mistakes over again, finally able to look at the bigger picture. And one day, hopefully, we can take that picture out of the closet and hang it in the perfect spot in the kitchen, right above the stove.

[..]

by SG’s Team Agony feat. Salome

Let us answer life’s questions – because great advice is even better when it comes from SuicideGirls.

Q:I have been married for almost three years, and I do love my wife very much. I have multiple fantasies where I’m having threesomes or four-ways with groups of men and women or both. I have tried numerous times to explain this to my wife but she wants NO part of it. 
I want more not only for myself sexually but more for our relationship. 
How can I get my point across to her? Should I leave her and explore my options on my own? Or should I just forget about these fantasies?
Sexually Confused in the South

A:Dear Sexually Confused in the South,

You say you love your wife very much and want more for your relationship, but I am skeptical. You are asking for advice on how to press your wife into something that, right now, she has made it clear she does not want to do.

I hear a lot about you and what you want in your question, but nothing about what your wife wants. If you are approaching this as “Honey, this is what I want, give me permission and let me drag you along,” then of course she’s going to be resistant. Sex is something you share with your partner and anything new you try should be something you explore together as equals.

Try initiating a conversation with her about what SHE wants. Don’t use it as a jumping off point to try talking her into your desires again; just ask questions and then listen to the answers. Ask her what she likes in your sex life now, and what she’d like more of, or less of. Ask her if there’s anything she’d ever wanted to try or wondered about doing, but hasn’t brought up to you. If you do this respectfully and honestly, she may surprise you. You may get some of the variety you need in your sex life, she gets to explore her own fantasies, and hopefully you will make her feel safe and secure in the idea of exploring new sexual territory with you.

However, this doesn’t mean you should jump right to “we did what you wanted, now I get an orgy.” Introducing additional partners into a relationship can be an incredible experience, but it can be extremely complicated to pull off. The relationship dynamics have to be right, there has to be total trust, honest and constant communication, pre-established ground rules, and a way for either partner to end the encounter or situation quickly and without fear of judgment or bad feelings. Group sex, swinging, polyamory, open relationships, or any other shade of non-monogamy are not for everyone. It would be unfair of you to demand this of your wife if it is truly not for her, or if she might be up for it but you are unwilling to put the effort into building a strong, loving and trusting relationship that will not be damaged by opening it up.

Before you can think about taking a step as huge as having sex with other people, you need to make sure your relationship is as strong as you can make it – and even then non-monogamy may not be the right choice for the two of you. Only at that point is your choice actually between subsuming your fantasies out of love for your wife or pursuing your fantasies in a life without her.

Salome

Got Problems? Let SuicideGirls’ team of Agony Aunts provide solutions. Email questions to: gotproblems@suicidegirls.com