Loneliness: Alternate Narrative

"At the end of his life, he went to Bolivia in search of the 'center that irradiates the energy of space', but he died in Peru, alone and in total poverty."

--Excerpt from a biographical blurb on Simón Rodríguez, a Venezuelan poet, from here.

"Oh no, not another learning experience!" --bumper sticker

Some people are prone to loneliness, and I've always been one of them. When I was younger, I was the stereotypical mildly autistic child who "yearned to connect with others--but didn't know how!" Now, my social skills are better, but I still tend towards loneliness. In the anime series Honey and Clover, one of the characters says that loneliness is like a tide, moving in and out in the course of one's life. A while ago, I said that I wanted to see more loneliness depicted in pop culture. Honey and Clover is one of the more eloquent depictions that I've seen. It manages to achieve a few moments of actual profundity.

[Image: Characters from Honey and Clover]

The dominant narrative about loneliness is that it must be avoided at all costs, and that it might even kill you. I've found neither of these things to be true. It seems like loneliness is a cyclical, inevitable part of life, especially for people with certain temperaments. As a younger asexual, I was very concerned about being lonely due to my orientation. But the thing was...I'd been plenty lonely while I still identified as straight. It didn't kill me as a fake heterosexual, and it won't kill me as an asexual. I was worried about loneliness in the future. But it will come, and pass, and come again, regardless of my orientation.

When I read the blurb about Simón Rodríguez, I seized on the words "die alone", since that can be such a scary-sounding thing. But it didn't sound like his biggest problem. A lot of the poets in the compilation died in unusual/dramatic ways. Dying alone, one of the tamer ones, seemed oddly fitting. While there's a lot of joyful poetry, something about that medium just seems to correspond to loneliness. Loneliness, not to be confused with depression, is one of the primary motivators of my creativity. It makes me want to reach out and express myself, which I tend to do through writing. Lonely times, for me, have often been times of discovery. They're times when I have no choice but to look inside myself, and good things can come from that.

This post feels weird to write, and may feel weird to read. There's this American idea (although I doubt it's uniquely American) that bad feelings need to be completely obliterated in order for us to have satisfying lives. But I feel like this idea sets up an impossible goal that only makes us feel worse. Loneliness sometimes beats the alternative. In Hello, Cruel World, Kate Bornstein writes: "I hate being lonely, but loneliness would be a better feeling for me than, say, hopelessness. To my way of thinking, anger and loneliness are a lot closer to being free to live the kind of life that I'd want to stay alive in (95)". Of course, everyone experiences emotions differently. For instance, while many people enjoy feeling excited, I don't, because it feels too similar to anxiety. Most of us have probably felt lonely at some point. Do you think there's anything positive about loneliness?

(Here's a discussion on the topic that's already happened; it has some good thoughts and even an Aztec Camera reference! I'd still like to have our own, though...)

Complete!

Yes! This sort of relates to my last post.

It's not frequent, but I do experience aesthetic attraction. I can find people "sexy", although my definition of this might be different than that of other people's. I have no desire to even interact with "sexy" people, let alone actually sex them up. I just note their attractiveness and move on. Aesthetic attraction always makes me feel vaguely uncomfortable, but it never happened enough for me to figure out why that was. So recently, when I noticed an especially good-looking person, I tried to capture the moment. Sitting with my nonsexual attraction, I just felt sad. My exact thought was: "I'm incomplete". I know, it's melodramatic, but sometimes my mind goes there.

For sure, it's another incident of internalized asexohating, but I also wanted to talk about the tropes underlying this specific thought pattern.

The thing is, I had landed right into a cultural theme that I believe is damaging to everyone: The idea of sex (and sexualized romance) as completion. That's why we have all these baseball metaphors for sex. It's the end goal of attraction. It ties in with the magic night trope, in which "scoring" at the end makes the night a success. By finding a person sexy and nothing more, I'm messing with the script, and the idea of sex as "consummation" or "sealing the deal". But I don't think there's much about sexuality that's actually so neat and linear. We like stories, and there is no story in my random aesthetic attraction. I try to make one up, about my incompleteness, but it isn't true.

For me, part of dealing with internalized asexohating is not only having pride in being asexual, but in being able to frankly admit the aspects of being asexual that are frustrating. And most importantly, why they're frustrating. The answer never turns out to be "because asexuals are somehow inferior". As for my aesthetic attraction, I feel like it defies logic. Whether it's some innate sense of logic or a cultural sense (or whether these can even be separated), I don't know. But the truth is, a lot about sexual orientation doesn't make sense. And we do have a very limited cultural view of what is "logical" when it comes to orientation and attraction.

Random aesthetic attraction: my silent protest against the baseball model of sexuality. (*wink wink*)

Questions

I was thinking...maybe part of how we choose to identify has to do with which people are asking the questions that we most want the answers to.

*see the comments for further explanation!*

Sexual Fluidity

Let's talk about sexual fluidity! If you're asexual, and maybe if you're not, you've probably heard the phrase "sexuality is fluid". I'll be open about the fact that I don't really understand it in a lot of ways-- that's actually the point of this post. "Fluidity" can imply many different things, but no one ever really goes into what exactly they mean when they use the term. If someone asked me how sexuality is fluid, I'd probably say something like, "Well, I guess it's common to not be 100% asexual, 100% heterosexual, and so on for any other orientation." There are, as we hopefully all know by now, many gray areas.

However, I'm not sure that's what most people using the term mean by it. The idea of someone's sexuality changing a lot over a lifetime isn't something I can personally relate to, at least not yet. My feelings towards sex, romance, and whatever else that comprises a sexuality (or lack thereof) have always been about the same. Only my ability to understand and explain it has changed. And from my brief time on Earth, I can't say that I've noticed human beings to be especially fluid. Most of us seem pretty stubborn and set in our ways. Even people who are constantly seeking the new can be stuck in their own rut, where they have trouble changing enough to stick with one thing.

Another issue I have with the term is that it seems like it's mostly queer people who ever mention it. Maybe queer people are just next-level when it comes to this stuff, but if sexuality in general is fluid, then heterosexuals are just as fluid as everyone else. There's this idea among asexuals that in the future, there's some chance of us becoming sexual. However, no one ever says that one day, sexuals could become asexual. It seems like kind of a double-standard, sometimes.

And last, "sexuality is fluid" is a very absolute statement. If asexuals have taught us anything, we should know that there probably isn't anything that sexuality is for everybody.

So that's my confusion; let me show you it.

If you comment about sexual fluidity (and I hope you do), please include in your comment what the concept means (or doesn't mean) to you. Thanks in advance!

What Became of Class?

"If you've got letters after your name, or someone else to take the blame, you've got privilege".
--Television Personalities

Okay, you should definitely read the title of this post in the manner of the song from Chicago. In the comments to a previous post, Slightly Metaphysical mentioned that "there have been some comments on AVEN that asexuality is a white identity". It's a statement I've heard implied before. Okay, once. But still, it's something that's being asked, somewhere. I've been lucky enough to meet a lot of asexuals, and I've seen racial diversity in those I've met. As much as exists in my particular area as a whole? That, I don't know. As far as the question goes, I find it impossible to even guess at it directly. To do that, I feel like I'd need some sort of data both about asexuals and about the racial makeup of other queer identities. I think it's a multi-pronged question, but there is one small (?) prong I feel confident tackling. And that's class.

I don't think it's that surprising to state that at least in America, race tends to map onto class. In different regions of America, you'll find people of various backgrounds who predominate as "the poor". The constant is that the higher you go in terms of socio-economic class, the more white people there are. Of course, there are non-white people who are affluent and there are plenty of poor whites. However, when I look at the very rich people in my area, and then look at the people in poverty, I am generally looking first at white people, then at people of color.

So while class and race aren't permanently married, they can be connected statistically, and this is an idea you'll have to consider buying into in order for the rest of this post to relate to asexuals and race. My thesis here is that while I may not be able to prove (or disprove) a racial divide in people who identify as asexual, I may be able to prove that there is a class divide.

First, a fact: Most of the information available on asexuality is on the internet. And a lot of people still don't have access to the internet. "The digital divide" is a reality even in America. When poor people do have internet access, they might be using public or shared computers, and would have to accomplish the essentials rather than doing exploratory research on sexuality. If you're a low-income person, you might not have a job that requires you to use a computer, and you might have not learned to use one. This especially applies to older people, if the advent of computers happened when they were already out of school.

There's also the fact that when you're in poverty, you might not have all that much free time. Time-saving conveniences cost money, so being poor usually takes up a lot of someone's time. Since asexuality is the lack of a feeling, I think it can be a lot harder to realize you're asexual than to realize you're gay or bi. For me, I don't think it was a coincidence that I discovered I was asexual when I was able to spend some time in relative solitude, away from my everyday life. A lot of people in poverty don't have that opportunity. College is a prime time for people to question their identities, including sexuality, but you have to be able to afford to go there, at least in the US. Your income doesn't affect how thoughtful you are or how much you question. But, there are certain environments that are more conducive to those things than others. Being in poverty can include a lot of urgent worries like unsafe living conditions or medical problems you can't afford to fix.

I think one reason for the class disparity isn't that AVEN (the place from which most info on asexuality springs forth) is inherently classist or anything but that it just doesn't have the resources to target particular groups of people beyond the media that comes to us. Hopefully, this will change in time. I think that in the future, people of all classes will know about asexuality, however, right now, I think that knowledge of asexuality is largely skewed towards people who are relatively more affluent, or at least come from families fitting that description. I know some readers will be thinking, "Well, I'm asexual, and I'm poor". But it's not individuals I'm talking about here, it's general trends. And of course, people who weren't able to find out about asexuality due to class-based reasons (or any reason, I guess) won't be reading this and commenting here. So that's my theory...or at least, one potential circuitous route.

Dating and Race...the 20+ Questions Edition

Over at A Year of Online Dating, there's been a bit of a discussion going on about dating and race, originally inspired by the social experiment at Hi, My Name is Kia. On Kia's blog, she'd posted a link to an article written by OkCupid, an online dating site, about patterns of response based on race. Reading all these things had me thinking about the topic for days on end. I'd been toying with the idea of writing about attraction and race for awhile, but reading these various other accounts finally gave me the impetus to do it. I think it's a question that deserves to be discussed more, even though it's seen as a bit taboo. I was hoping the asexual viewpoint might be a potentially interesting one.

I guess when talking about race, a disclaimer is needed: I'm white, so my insights are going to be limited by my own experiences. I hope I don't bungle a discussion of race too badly-- but I feel like as long as we have the intent of an honest and respectful discussion, talking about race is probably a positive thing, even if it isn't possible for one person to see it from all angles. And another disclaimer: I'll be talking about data that no doubt has many sampling errors...something I know asexuals dislike (and I'm only half-kidding).

That aside, what OkCupid's article showed was that white men were the most "in demand" (they get the most messages, but respond less often) and that while 7% of white users thought interracial marriage was "a bad idea", 45% of white people in general-- and 54% of white women-- said they would strongly prefer to date someone of their own race. And white people were the group who were most disapproving of interracial marriage. Until reading this, I would have assumed that one compelling reason to marry someone of your own race might be to share a cultural background. However, I'm guessing that most randomly selected white people would share no cultural background whatsoever. One commenter on OkCupid had this to say:

As a nonwhite male, it doesn’t come as the slightest shock to me at all that white men get the most attention and respect from women of all nationalities and races. After all, the richest, most powerful nation in the world (and also the entertainment media capital of the world) is predominately white, and thus white males have become the symbol of strength, virtue, and status/celebrity all the world over.

And as your resident pop-culture interpreter I think there's some truth to that, although I don't think it's all that simple, either. For example, when people talk about the "Sexiest Men Alive", it's always white men that they're talking about, unless Denzel Washington is in the mix. Of course there are attractive people of every race. Maybe we notice this walking down the street, if we live in diverse areas. But the attractive people who are constantly in our face thanks to the media, and who we are told, again and again, are the most attractive people...they are almost always white people. We all know the media can affect how we see our own bodies, so how could it not affect the way we see others? Of course, again, not that simple, but still something to think about.

All that said, over the years, I've heard people say that they do, or don't, find various races of people attractive. I'm sure you've all heard the same thing. It seems like such a pervasive viewpoint that I wonder if the fact that I don't really understand it has to do with being asexual. What is it about me that puts me in the 46% of white women that would be willing to date someone of another race?

• Is it because as an asexual, my dating pool is already so minute that to segment it further by race would be insane? And subconsciously I know this?
• Does it have to do with my upbringing, the many places I've lived, or the friends I've had growing up?
  
• If I was attracted to more people, would I only then start to notice trends based on race?
  
• Is "who I'd be willing to date" a moot point anyway, considering that I've only ever been on two "real" dates?
  

I might as well just accept the fact that I'm the lord of rhetorical questions, and hit you with some more:

• Is this discussion really about attraction (which to the best of my knowledge, seems to happen without rhyme or reason), or how people label it? What compels people to declare that they are (or are not) attracted to entire races? Is there a difference between noticing "Hey, I tend to only find Asian men attractive" and then checking only the "Asian" box when you're searching for people OkCupid?
  

It's also worth noting that who you you find attractive and who you're willing to date may be two very different things. On the OkCupid forums, I found a post from a white woman who was consistently attracted to Latino men to the exclusion of all other races, but decided to only date white men. Lolwhut? Yeah...I don't know.

The question thing...I went with it. But psych, I'm not done yet. So, do you guys think that asexuals are more likely to date outside their race, or to be willing to do so? How about white asexuals vs. asexuals of other races? And do we even know enough asexuals in romantic relationships to be able to answer the first question? I think I could say a lot more, but I'll hold off for now. I hope that nothing I said here offended anyone-- and do I get any awards, medals, etc. for being the first person on the internet to say that? Kidding...again, only sort of.

(PS-- As a mixed-race friend once told me, "No matter who I date, it's interracial dating". So there's another take on it...)

More Questions, More Random Theorizing

This post is about another question asexuals get asked with some frequency:

"If you could become sexual, would you?" is often asked by people in the media, and sometimes asked by other asexuals. Again, there seems to be an assumption underlying this question: That if asexuals were suddenly sexual, our lives would change drastically. However, I'm not so sure that would be the case. Of course, I can't speak for everyone-- maybe some people's lives would be radically altered under that scenario. But let's say, for a moment, I took "the magic pill" and suddenly I was really the heterosexual woman that I'd thought I was before discovering asexuality.

So here I am in this scenario-- I'm sexually attracted to men now. However, I still wouldn't have a sex drive. And I would still be weirded out by the prospect of having sex. Whether my attraction would be strong enough to override that is unknown. I don't think I'd be any more eager to date than I am now, since as I've said before, I'd be a 25-year-old with the dating skills of a 14-year-old. I'd be no better at navigating those confusing social rituals than I am now. I've felt non-sexual attraction before and never acted on it, so why would I suddenly start acting on sexual attraction? And since I'd have lived for 25 years without sex, it wouldn't be astounding for me to live even longer without it, focusing on my other interests like I'd always done. Who I was attracted to would change, but is there any way to know that my priorities would be any different? If I'd always been straight, maybe I would be a different person now. But this is about questions people ask, and "What if you'd never been asexual?" is not one of them. Am I making any sense here?

I think this question also speaks to the way that people, sexual and asexual alike, tend to overemphasize our differences and downplay our similarities. The media tends to not help at all when it comes to elucidating this point. However, what I tried to show in my example is that these radical differences aren't necessarily the case. In some cases? Sure, but not all. There are sexual people who don't have sex, who have no sex drive, who are repulsed by sex, who are aromantic, etc. And I've seen people in all these categories post on AVEN. And then there are the apparently vast troves of non-asexuals who are just not obsessed with sex. Like us, these people are rarely portrayed in media or pop culture either. I'm not saying that the people of the world are going to get together and start a love train any time soon, but I just wanted to raise the idea that "being sexual" may not imply being all that different.

Visualize Success (But Don't Believe Your Eyes)

So here I am, still writing about the same book (Sex Is Not a Natural Act), even though I haven't read any more of it. (I want to...but I just keep watching The Wire instead.) But, the book does bring up my pet concept, which is that sex and romance are increasing in importance (and as methods of distraction) as people become more estranged from communities, culture, and social change. Does this concept have a name? I really wish it did, because then I could look it up and find more information, something I could spend many happy hours doing...if it had a damn name! As it is, I just have to settle for getting excited when it randomly pops up, as it did in Michael Lerner's Surplus Powerlessness (link is to my post on the topic). In the chapter "Am I Normal?", Leonore Tiefer gives her opinions as to why people are so preoccupied with whether or not they're normal sexually. In a list of "large social changes in how we view marriage and life" helping to make sex more of an urgent issue for us, Tiefer includes "People are relying on personal relationships to provide a sense of worth they lack in the public sphere due to increased technology, mobility, and bureaucracy" (11). Tiefer also quotes Gunter Schmidt, from a 1983 forward to a book on sexuality:

[Sexuality] is supposed to hold marriages and relationships together because they scarcely fulfill material functions any longer; it is supposed to promote self-realization and self-esteem in a society that makes it more and more difficult to feel worth something and needed as an individual; it is supposed to drive out coldness and powerlessness in a world bureaucratized by administration, a world walled up in concrete landscapes and a world of disrupted relationships at home and in the community...All discontent-- political, social, and personal-- is meant to be deflected into the social and relationship sector in order to be compensated. (25)

This statement is extremely similar to some of Lerners'-- they should probably get together for coffee or at least a nice, long Skype chat (to name their concept?). But all matchmaking aside, this unnamed concept relates to something I've been thinking about lately, which is how to define "success" for myself when society is always telling me I've failed. As I touched on here, I'm not especially interested in excessive money, in power, in fame, or in marriage and children. I really don't give a damn whether I have a huge house, a nice car, expensive clothes, or the latest gadgets. And I can't expect to be changed by romantic love for someone, or to have that experience give meaning and purpose to my life. For whatever reason, the ideas Schmidt talks about just don't "work" on me. Would I rather they did? No, not really, but it bothers me how many people are probably knocking against this unnamed concept, wondering why they don't quite fit in, asking if that's all there is, and then thinking they have some problem. Can we blame the ascendancy of sex and romance as all-powerful and all-encompassing for social change being so hard?

There's one clear song to sum up this post: This, especially the third verse (maybe someone saw that one coming). I guess it's a depressing song, but it also kind of makes me laugh because it's so over-the-top. Let's break out the booze! Or, okay, the tea.

Part II...

Just starting off the new year with a little administrative notice...Rather than posting 2-3 times a week, I'm going to chill out a bit and start posting 1-2 times a week. I still have a lot to say, but I don't want to burn myself out! My "homies" list has been growing, and I don't think anyone is going to suffer from a lack of asexual reading material. Everyone is giving their opinions on the past decade (or remarking that it hasn't been a decade really), but since New Year's has always been my least favorite holiday, it seems appropriate to not go that route, but instead, to continue last year's train of thought, now delving into portrayals of masturbation in film. The following theories are all pretty casual, more of a "hey, does anyone else notice _____?" than something I've spent a ton of time examining. That said...

We all know that sex in movies used to be portrayed as dirty and illicit. In the past, censorship was a lot stronger, and it wasn't uncommon to see characters who'd had sex get "what they deserved" by being killed in the end (sometimes, this still happens). Today, masturbation is often censored out of films when explicit sex is allowed to stay. Contemporary sex educators (when they're allowed to) are forever telling us how good and healthy masturbation is. However, if you look at film portrayals of masturbation, it's seen as the dirty, illicit act sex used to be. In film, what generally seems to be the case is that well-adjusted characters have sex, and the more depraved characters masturbate. Masturbation is often used to illustrate that a person or situation is growing truly desperate. What effect these portrayals may or may not have on how everyday folks view masturbation, I really don't know.

I was expecting a trove of serious articles about these film portrayals, but a web seach turned up very little. The closest I got was this list from The Onion called "14 Tragic Movie Masturbation Scenes". Out of the films covered, I've only seen 3: American Beauty, The Squid and the Whale (a great film that more people should have seen), and Little Children. I could have sworn that I've also seen Mulholland Drive, but I can't remember anything about the plot. Kevin Spacey's now-iconic scene in American Beauty pretty much sums up the trope I'm talking about. The article says: "Masturbation sums up the death-like routine of his suburban life." A more current example is in the movie Precious. There, a character who is an abusive mother is shown masturbating, an activity we see her engaging in when she should be caring for her daughter. That we see this deranged character masturbating instead of, say, out cruising for sex, is supposed to show us how low she's fallen and how self-absorbed she is.

It seems as though in movies, sex is used to advance the plot (or to titillate viewers) and make some statement about the relationship between characters. However, masturbation is a solitary activity (unless you count the "Caught With Your Pants Down" trope). For that reason, it seems to only be used as a vehicle for a laugh or a means of showing what a loser a character is. I think that when you start to analyze movies in-depth, it really becomes apparent how dissimilar they are to real life situations. We all know movies are full of sex-- is this because everyone's really obsessed with sex, or because sex is a good shorthand for a filmmaker? And then, to what degree does life imitate art? All questions worth thinking about, perhaps, on your next movie night.

Spotlight On the "Forbidden" Topic

I've written 420 posts, and there's one topic I've never covered, although it doesn't seem to be an unpopular one-- masturbation. I haven't covered it because to me, "do you masturbate?" is the most annoying question that sexual people ask asexuals. I gotta say, before coming out as asexual, it wasn't a topic I thought much about. Nor did it ever cross my mind that some people would find the subject of whether or not another person masturbated a compelling one. But after coming out, I was asked the question again and again, and it came from everyone from near-strangers to family members. People who I never would have thought might broach the topic were suddenly broaching it, apparently because I was asexual. Well, if I hadn't thought about masturbation then, I certainly have now-- I've had little choice. So I'll try to have a frank discussion here without getting too awkward...always a danger on these grounds, but we'll see how I do. However, I'm going to use phrases like "genital stimulation", so be forewarned.

Back to the oft-hated question at hand: "Do you masturbate?" I can't know what everyone asking this question is thinking (and I don't want to), but it seems like people asking the question are, frequently, assuming one or all of these things:

1. That masturbation is inherently sexual, and, relatedly:
2. That if they can get an asexual to say that they masturbate, then the questioner has found a logical flaw in asexuality, and everyone just loves to find a logical flaw, don't they?
3. That they're really clever to have found such a well-hidden loophole!
   

Well, to target assumption #1, I would argue that masturbation is not inherently sexual, although this is already getting too complex for what a questioner would hope was a simple yes or no. True, there are quite a few reasons why it seems inherently sexual, among them:

• People say it is. However, I think we all learned in childhood that "because I said so" doesn't really prove anything, no matter how many people say it.
• It involves your nether-regions. However, there are plenty of reasons to dig around down there, like peeing, that aren't sexual.
• Some people think of sexual fantasies when they masturbate. However, I remember reading some informational book about "growing up" when I was younger, and it mentioned that some people would masturbate and think of beautiful landscapes. And I don't know what most asexuals would think about, if anything, but it probably isn't a sexual fantasy.
• You might have an orgasm. But I don't think orgasms are inherently sexual, either. I know, someone's head just exploded on that one. But why are they more sexual than a sneeze? Just because they're caused by gential stimulation? But like we said, not everything that goes on in and around your genitalia is sexual.

As many asexuals have bemoaned, some people think cuddling is sexual, others don't. When a parent kisses a child, that kiss is (we hope) not sexual, but if people are playing tonsil hockey, it might be. I've never been asked, "Do you kiss people?", probably because a lot of people know that kissing isn't inherently sexual. But I don't think masturbation is any different from kissing in that regard. It can be sexual, and it can also be nonsexual. I'm sure some people would disagree with this, but to me, the idea makes perfect sense.

Now, on to assumption #2. It wouldn't be true to say that only sexuals ask us "Do you masturbate?", because there is also an asexual-on-asexual variation. On AVEN, there is often someone asking if asexuals who masturbate are "real" asexuals. Ignoring the unnecessary elitism of that question, I think there is a better answer than "Yes", and that is, "Why does it matter?" If someone wants to consider asexuals who masturbate to be something else, perhaps autosexual, that's only a distinction being made in that person's own mind. Because to the outside world, not being interested in sex and not being attracted to anyone are the things that set you apart. In terms of how you move in society, whether or not you masturbate is irrelevant.

It's interesting too, on AVEN, how people describe their experiences with masturbation. A lot of people seem to describe it as "scratching an itch" or a grimly-undertaken chore to satisfy their directionless sex drive. However, isn't satisfying a drive usually pleasurable? I wonder if some people take the grim chore angle because they're thinking that as an asexual, they're not supposed to enjoy something "inherently sexual" such as masturbation. And even if they did see masturbation as a sexual thing, and enjoyed it, it still would be irrelevant to their asexuality, as I previously mentioned. Sure, maybe it would have an effect on their self-identity. But in the scheme of things, I don't think masturbation alone is enough to change someone's orientation. Experiencing sexual attraction could change the trajectory of your life. Masturbation, not so much, unless you get involved in some kind of freak accident during the act.

Assumption #3? Pause while I laugh for a few minutes...sorry people, but there have been many, many others standing where you stand. Just assume I've heard everything already and maybe we can move forward with a little more dignity.

And because it's just too much fun to tackle "forbidden" topics, I'm coming back next time with the pop culture angle...stay tuned. Until then, here's a picture I thought was pretty amusing:

Kinda cute, right?

Adulthood and its Discontents

The most recent episode of The A Life, about asexuality and school, got me thinking about my own life between the ages of 6 and 18. We're all told that "adulthood" (and I do air quotes here for a reason) will be better than school, however, it's astonishing how similar "adulthood" is to childhood. I've found myself wondering why I've stayed so long at a job that has convinced me that hell is really on earth (Warning: Hell isn't red, it's beige). And I think it's for the same reason that women may not fight their attackers: I've been set up to think and behave a certain way, and I can't easily slough it off, even if I want to. All throughout school, this is the message I was given:

"Sit down, shut up, and do as you're told. If you have a problem, keep it to yourself. If you have a valid concern, which you won't, there's nothing that can be done about it. If you follow our unwritten rules perfectly, you will be rewarded with neglect. If you dare to question anything you will be tormented and abused. We're right, you're wrong."

And this is supposed to be our "preparation for adulthood" and for the workplace? What kind of horror is this "adulthood", that it would suit us well to become silent victims of circumstance? While some lucky few among us might be told to think for ourselves in school, that message can be easily lost in the strength of the message above. It's astounding that I'm capable of even one independent thought, and it's not surprising that I second-guess myself constantly and feel comfortable beating myself up. Adulthood is a range of ages beyond 18. "Adulthood" is a means of social control. Adulthood has something to do with freedom, responsibility, and citizenship. "Adulthood" has something to do with accepting your fate and your "place", the place that was marked out for you in elementary school.

I took a break in the middle of writing this post. I was going to come back and do a more explicit tie-in to asexuality, but in the meantime, I'd read a few pages of this book A People's History of the United States. And in the couple of pages I read were some criticisms of school as a breeding ground for yes-men. Oddly enough, observers in the 1800s had similar things to say about school as I do. Howard Zinn writes:

...the spread of public school education enabled the learning of writing, reading, and arithmetic for a whole generation of workers, skilled and semiskilled, who would be the literate labor force of the new industrial age. It was important that these people learn obedience to authority. A journalist observer in the 1890s wrote: "The unkindly spirit of the teacher is strikingly apparent; the pupils, being completely subjugated to her will, are silent and motionless, the spiritual atmosphere of the classroom is damp and chilly"

...Joel Spring, in his book Education and the Rise of the Corporate State, says: "The development of a factory-like system in the nineteenth-century schoolroom was not accidental." (263)

From an early age, we're trained to be on "search and destroy" mode for people's differences. At the risk of sounding like a bad movie review, it's a testament to the human spirit that there are some tolerant and open-minded people in the world as it is, even if there might not be as many of them as we'd prefer. The dichotomy of destroyer and destroyed is something I would like to leave behind with the 1890s.

Lucy Sullivan Is Getting Married

Recently, I picked up an unrepentant chick-lit book called Lucy Sullivan is Getting Married. The basic premise is that a woman, Lucy, who isn't even dating anyone goes with her friends to a psychic who tells her she'll be married in a year. Her friends' fortunes come true, so Lucy starts believing that hers might as well. (Yes, it's silly.) I'm finding, that like "Cougartown", what I expect to be offensive about something is often not at all the thing that ends up offending me. While I expected to be offended about byzantine ideas of sex and romance, what bothered me more was that the vast majority of characters were gross stereotypes of every kind possible. However, I'm not done with the book (it's absurdly long), so there might be byzantine ideas of sex and romance still to come.

At any rate, I'm glad that no man will ever read this book, because between its pink covers is a manifestation of what I am told men fear most about women: That we view every man we meet as a potential husband. True, it's germane to the particular plot of this book. And true, it can't be said that all women do this, and I would wager that the number is lower among asexual women. However, this is one stereotype that I won't argue with...much. I still remember when I told a friend about a huge crush I had on a certain guy years ago. It hadn't even been established whether he reciprocated my feelings or not, but my friend said, "I've met his parents and they'd be great in-laws". Maybe we haven't taken it to that degree, but I think most women have had similar marriage-minded thoughts about men they barely know at some point or another. Following is my attempt at an explanation.

Like so many other strange things that women do, I think this phenomenon can largely be attributed to the double-standard that women are subjected to; the most well-known one being "He's a stud, she's a slut" for being promiscuous. As people, we're told to be goal-oriented. Go for what you want! Visualize success! But when we get off work and commence the romance mission, we're suddenly supposed to go with the flow. Take it as it comes! Don't scare the guys away! True, there are many books marketed to us that advise women to see finding a husband similarly to the way a detective stakes out a house. However, I would argue that this tactic might indeed scare the guys away and defeat your purpose.

From an early age, we've grown up with girls tittering about how their names would look attached to some boy's. Maybe for a few of us, this was a genuine interest. However, I believe that since this interest was a more socially condoned one than, say, science (and noooo, I don't have personal experience with this at allllll), the practice spread to most of us. And gossiping about your glorious future with boys can make science look like a lonely life compared to all the fun the other girls seem to be having, with their bonding, giggling and trying at being "mature". So maybe that's part of it-- a method of female bonding through peer pressure, where it hardly seems to matter what particular boys or men are involved.

I think these premature thoughts about marriage might also be a holdover from an earlier time, which does imply that we might not be doing it forever, unless our old motives have simply been replaced by new ones. I know that in Jane Austen books, women were supposed to be enthusiastic about unions with men they hardly knew. It's a relatively new thing, being able to spend a lot of time with a man who isn't a relation and who you might not end up marrying. But we have yet to start acting like times have really changed. How's that for a byzantine idea? No offense to anyone from Byzantium.

Things Asexuals Like: Doubts

This post is going to be a strange amalgamation of "Things Asexuals Like: Overanalyzing" and the last post, in which this one was promised. Anyway, I hope to make something more than no sense whatsoever.

Asexuals like to doubt asexuality, either their own, or in general. Is asexuality really so awesome that we have to constantly wonder if it, or us, are "real"? (Okay, maybe it is.) As weird as it is to quote myself, here's something I wrote on Apositive:

Did anyone here ever NOT wonder if they were a "real" asexual? I ask because it seems so pervasive, and yet I can't remember ever doing this...Maybe this is just my personality, because I tend to get VERY into things and I've always been pretty insusceptible to "peer pressure". It's very hard to just BE asexual. But since asexuality is an orientation, presumably like any other, it would then follow that most of us will, indeed, be asexual forever and no matter what. If this isn't the case, then there is some fundamental difference about asexuality. We're always like, "yes, but what if we find that we're not asexual in the future?" No other orientation that I know of thinks like this-- it's exhausting, really.

Granted, I see the doubting because I have access to places where asexuals are doing it. Outside of the asexual community, it is fairly taboo to talk about questioning your sexual orientation unless it's with someone you know and trust very well. In our culture, indecision or anything resembling it is seriously frowned upon. For instance, I never told anyone that I "might not be straight"-- I went directly from identifying as totally straight to identifying as totally asexual. Maybe everyone doubts. But there is just something about asexuality that makes it seem more ephemeral than other orientations. Why does it sound so strange (at least to me) to say with certainty that I'll be asexual forever and no matter what and until the edge of doom, when I blindly assumed as much about my former heterosexuality?

As the great Josef K would say, It's Kinda Funny. Even at times when I really wished that I wasn't asexual, I knew somewhere in my heart that it wasn't a throwback to heterosexuality I was after, it was an ability to find love as an asexual person. It was always the world I really wanted to change, but that's such a monumental task that of course, at times I get gripped by a desire to be someone else. My heterosexuality largely existed in the background, like a program you're not aware is running. But my asexuality has totally taken over my consciousness and has changed my life in multiple ways. So maybe it's not that asexuality is more ephemeral, it's that it's actually more in-your-face. Of course you'll entertain doubts about something in the process of constantly analyzing it-- as, like I've said, we are wont to do.

I have one theory as to why we tend to doubt our asexuality. I think, among other reasons, it could be because at this point in time, there are no people who have identified as asexual for their whole lives. Either we came out rather young and have most of our asexual lives ahead of us, or we came out later in life after identifying as something else. Sure, there are probably a few older people who found the word "asexual"despite the odds and went with it, but it's hardly an entire generation of asexuals. Out of everyone currently identifying as asexual, there are probably only a small handful of people who have been out for, say, over 10 years (which is not very long anyway). Maybe we doubt because, simply enough, seeing is believing. I can only wonder what the next generation of asexuals will think about all our doubts.

The Hot Ones

Earlier this month, Pretzelboy wrote a really intriguing blog post called "The only criticism of asexuality that actually bothers me". This "criticism from below" (ie, from people with a prior knowledge of asexuality) states that it's very difficult to know for sure that you're at the lowest levels of sexual desire when we have so little idea what the median is like. He writes:

Most of us have absolutely no idea what other people are actually like sexually. We have no idea what 50 is like and no idea what 10-20 is like. Rather, we are bombarded with images and messages about sexuality in movies, on TV, in magazines, and on the radio that give us wildely over-inflated ideas of what "sexually normal" is. People get ideas about "normal sexuality" from their peers. But not just from any peers--they get these ideas from their peers who talk the most about sex. And it's probably the people most interested in sex who talk the most about sex.

I can definitely relate to this. People tell me "love isn't like the movies", but how am I supposed to know what romantic love towards other people is like besides the information I get in movies? The curious people on the low end of the sex or romance spectrums have little to no way of discerning what real-life experiences of those things might be like. I long to ask people-- what attracted you to your partner? Why is that relationship so important to you? How do you think romantic love is different from other kinds of love? Why do you stay with someone who is so obviously wrong for you?, etc. However, these questions, if actually asked, would range from bizarre to rude to possibly TMI. And these are the tame questions. I don't think I want to know the minute details of my friends' sex lives. And most people aren't comfortable sharing those things, especially with an asexual who might not be able to relate to what they're saying. However, this leads me with nowhere to get the information about what the average experience of sexuality is. So of course all I know about sex is from a few highly sexual friends and the media. Maybe asexuals should start a research project to get this information from people, where they can answer anonymously. It would definitely be a needed service.

In the post I referenced earlier, Pretzel gives an example from his own life about not being able to know what other people are thinking about sexuality. He writes:

I was long confused about not understanding what it's like to think someone is "hot." I didn't even have much of a sense for "pretty" until I was in my 20's, so I was really confused about conversations about the matter, and I was even more confused about how there was no recognition that people like me even exist [...] Since identifying as asexual, I've found that a number of other people (who aren't asexual) don't get hotness either, and they often expericne a good bit of confusion over the matter. Had I known about this when I was younger, I might not have felt nearly as much of the sense of wierdness that led me to identify as asexual.

It's funny because I think I do know what "hot" is...just more asexual diversity, I guess, although I wonder how many asexuals fall into either camp. I thought it might be a nice piece of edutainment for me to try to define different levels of attractiveness in people. I'll give it a shot:

Beautiful/Handsome: If you were scouting for a modeling agency, these would be the people you'd pick up. They might inspire a head-turn because they're just that aesthetically pleasing. You may or may not be attracted to them.

Cute: You sort of can't decide whether to be attracted to them, or to go "aww" and pinch their cheek. They probably have above-average looks, a boyish/girlish charm and an appealing personality.

Sexy: This person is exciting, cool, and maybe a little unconventional (see the discussion of "sexy-ugly" in the movie Kissing Jessica Stein). I think people who ride mopeds are kind of sexy. While these people have a certain mystique, you don't necessarily want to have sex with them.

Asexy: I'm not sure if we will ever pass someone on the street and be knocked out by their asexiness. To me, "asexy" signifies an intellectual attraction or the hotness that comes from being asexual (which you wouldn't know just by looking at someone).

Hot: "Hot" is where everything comes together, at least in my mind. You find the person aesthetically pleasing. They're cute, they're sexy, and if you had to actually be stuck in a secret elevator with any of these people, this is who you would choose.

I remember writing in my journal years ago that if I ever met another asexual person, I would probably find them unbearably attractive. In a word, hot. Obviously, now I've met other asexuals, and I haven't ripped the clothes off any of them. However, if I needed any evidence that asexuality is actually an orientation, it could be this: That we might be most attracted to other asexuals. Sure, plenty of us are in relationships with people who aren't asexual, but isn't it true that most of us would rather be single than date someone who's totally incompatible sexually? Maybe "hot" is elusive for me because it's something that I'm most likely to apply to the rare fellow asexual. I remember a friend whispering to me about a guy I thought was pretty hot: "No one knows this, but he's still a virgin!" Coincidence? I don't know. Come to think of it, I've never been attracted to anyone whose sexuality was completely known to me. If Alan Rickman was a raging nymphomaniac, would we still like him so darn much? We all have our ideas of what we find more attractive than anything else; to me, it's the idea that someone "understands me". And who more, perhaps, than fellow aces? Not to freak you out or anything.

In Praise of Confusion

Last week, I was interviewed by a reporter from The Chronicle (howdy!) for an article about asexuality and AVEN. I was asked some good questions that made me think. One point the reporter brought up was that although there may be a definition of asexuality, it's not really that concrete or obvious, and this is confusing. I agree, it IS confusing, but I realized later that the potential confusion over who is and isn't asexual might actually be a good thing. I'm no fan of intentional vagueness, but sometimes unintentional vagueness can leave you with a rich heritage, if you don't fight it. Along these lines, the first thing I think of is Judaism. In all my studies of religion, I've found Judaism, my own religion, to be the vaguest. All the prayers seem to say the same thing: God is our God, there is one God. I always wanted more information about God, but I never got it. I think it's because of this vagueness that Judiasm developed such a long tradition of lively discussion and debate on spiritual matters.

So it is with asexuality. The asexual community is one of the only places (and I just say this to be inclusive, because I know of no other place) where people are having discussion on the nature of sexuality, and on what defines their orientation. Of course, this discussion can be tinged with angst or anxiety, but for me, it served to expand my knowledge of myself, other people, and society in general. When I identified as straight, do you think anyone ever talked about what that meant? The answer, obviously, is no. Being heterosexual was supposed to influence the trajectory of my life, but it was never defined. For someone who feels as little attraction as I do, "liking guys" wasn't clear enough. In what way was I supposed to like guys? How few guys could I like and still be straight? What actions were supposed to accompany attraction? I would never know the answers. In my teenage years, I didn't have enough experience or information to even articulate these questions, although they hung out in a shadowy way under the surface of my "default" sexuality. It's my time with the asexuality discussion that's enabled me to come up with them now.

Since we're forming an asexual culture as we go along, I can say that I think it would be a shame if we rushed to some ironclad definition of asexuality. I like that there's no asexuality police ready to kick people out of the club for doing some "non asexual" activity. I know not everyone enjoys the confusion, but at least the asexual community is a place where it's okay to be openly confused, which is not a common thing to find. No one will foist an orientation on you, which is also rare in this world. Sexuality is fluid, we say, which can be both confusing and comforting. Questions can lead to more questions, and I think that's what really changed me; I acquired a new attitude where I don't accept "the default" anymore (although this is sometimes very annoying!). I hope we can remain a group where that lively discussion goes on, long after asexuality is well-known.

Standing In the Way of Control

The song on the radio

makes you shiver

and want to curl into a ball.

Makes you want to be 17

and forget the future shrinking.

Life was so open then,

now it's closing in.

--Trembling Blue Stars, "Idyllwild"

"I'm 28. I'm too young to wear a suit to work everyday."

--Eric, "Entourage"

I guess it's inevitable that "growing up" would become one theme in this blog. Part of it is my own situation, being 24 and having been at a transitional time in my life for the past few years. The other part is that asexuals are often accused of being childlike, of being late bloomers or immature. Of course, this warrants an exploration of what "immature" even means. The Beauty Myth got me thinking about “normal” things (ie, complaining about cellulite) that actually function as forms of social control (in the case of cellulite, distracting uppity women from their potential power). This made me think of our common notions of being “grown-up”, which Edge of Everywhere also wrote about somewhat recently.

When I think of growing up in the typical way, two things come to mind: Self-denial and independence. Naomi Wolf, author of The Beauty Myth, would definitely agree about self-denial as it relates to adult women. Mature women, we are told, watch what we eat, wear shoes that hurt our feet, spend our hard-earned cash on cosmetics, and aren't allowed to relax and accept that we have a few wrinkles. More universally, we're supposed to acquiesce to jobs that range from uninspiring to expolitative, because that's what adults do. We strive for money and prestige out of some vague idea that we're just supposed to. We're supposed to give up our own dreams for the benefit of children and spouses, which usually doesn't end up benefitting anyone.

And then there's independence. As adults, we're supposed to support ourselves fully with no help from anyone else. (Of course, our employers are extremely fickle forms of support.) However, is this ideal something that's actually good? Independence can also mean isolation, which might be the last thing we need. As always, my heartily asexual passion for community is coming through. Independence is personal power, but community is political power. Guess what the "world order" wants and doesn't want us little people to have?

I'm not just making this up. Independence hasn't been important to all times and places. For example, Joanna Macy writes about Buddhism, "The Buddha called our interconnectedness paticca samuppada, dependent co-arising...perceiving all existence as a dynamic, self-sustaining web of relations..."

Don't get me wrong, independence can be good. Independent music and movies are (often) good. Energy independence is definitely good. And the Independent is a good concert venue here in San Francisco. Independence can feel really good. But I think that sometimes, all the emphasis on it can unnecessarily drive people apart.

The more I think about it, the more it seems like our ideals of "growing up" are just another way to funnel youthful rebellion into existing social norms. If that's maturity, I don't want any part of it. We all had different childhoods, so I don't see why we can't all define adulthood in our own ways. Of course, the world order doesn't want that, but obviously, I really don't care what it wants.

New Zealand: Advanced Society

I'm not sure how far this news has penetrated the asexosphere, but this is major, so I'll talk about it:

A New Zealand soap opera called "Shortland Street" is currently featuring an asexual character. This is huge, because the character, Gerald, actually self-identifies as asexual. He looks it up on Wikipedia and everything! It's set in one of those television hospitals where no one ever does anything remotely medical. Apparently, Gerald is currently dating his first girlfriend and finding that he isn't interested in sex. A way-cool New Zealander has compiled relevant clips of the show on Youtube here. I have to say, these videos are among the most awkward things I've ever viewed in my life. I know that asexual awakening can be difficult, but I've never actually seen it occuring outside myself, if that makes sense. I doubt anyone who's not asexual outside of New Zealand will ever see this show, but I hope that it will be enlightening to at least a few folks over there.

Granted, there are plenty of inaccuracies (you don't get "diagnosed" as asexual), although I guess everyone who comes out is faced with some people that have...strange...ideas. However, there are many statements made in the show that are correct ("Most asexuals feel there's nothing wrong with them", etc).

Also, it's interesting that Gerald is so...well...*gay*. You can't really use accurate gaydar over television, and especially not cross-culturally. But if I saw Gerald walking around in San Francisco? TOTALLY GAY. I just hope he's actually asexual; I don't want those "BUT YOU MUST BE GAY" adherents to have any more fodder for their claims.

I also find it interesting that the first representation of television asexuality is male. I just can't avoid thinking about how gender plays into representations of sexuality. Sure, you could say that there was a 50/50 chance that the character would be male. But it's hard for me to imagine this character being female. And I think I know why, for once. We've progressed somewhat in terms of sexual equality between men and women. But when it comes to sex, I think men have an autonomy that women still lack. A man can identify as asexual because his sexuality is identified by himself alone and exists internally. However, a woman's sexuality is identified through her actions and relationships with others. Women are supposed to have a sexual "utility" that men don't need to have. Queen Christina wanted to "die a bachelor" instead of "an old maid" because being a bachelor implies an element of choice that being an old maid lacks. Old maids are seen as hopeless, but "confirmed bachelors" are an intriguing challenge. I'm not saying that asexual men have it easier; we all have our own issues to contend with. I just think that bringing up ideas of inequality anywhere they exist is the first step to true equality. And because theories without action items annoy me, here's what women can do: Start using/reclaiming all male or unisex sexual/relationship descriptors that imply choice. What are some other ones we can use? Is that a strange idea? I hope it makes sense.
And, watch the Shortland Street videos! (But don't say I didn't warn you about the awkwardness.)
Your confirmed (?) bachelor,
Ily

Get Auties

We had a meetup on Saturday, and I'm happy to say that it went well. We had 4 people show up, which is twice the number we've been getting lately (I kind of don't want to say that-- can't be revealing our weaknesses! But, at least you know it will be a cozy, welcoming group that you don't have to be intimidated about joining!). I was especially pleased that we had two new people. New people, especially if they're enthusiastic, are probably more important than the number of people alone. Everyone seemed to express some interest in hiking, so I think I'll plan some low-key hiking for our next meetup.
We talked about many interesting things. One of these was an attempt to figure out why some groups seem to have a much harder time organizing than others. One meetup-goer had noticed that bisexuals seem to have an especially difficult time organizing themselves. I have a few theories as to why this might be:

They're already covered in the LGBT umbrella.
They're a more diverse group than Ls or Gs-- they're any gender and some bi folks can pass as straight, while others can't or don't want to.
Many people see bisexuality as being a phase. (For the record, I don't.)

If I had to choose an orientation that was "closest" to asexuality, it would be bisexuality. The diversity of people who so identify is a great strength, but also a barrier to community-building. Evangelical Christians seem to organize effortlessly because they all have similar views. Not so in our case. However, I've noticed another very diverse group that seems to be better at organizing than asexuals are: People on the autistic spectrum. They've had major successes in many places, and I'm learning a lot from some of these groups. For example, there are about 3 autism-related groups that meet in my area, and each of them draws anywhere from 10-30 people per meeting, who sometimes travel very long distances to be there.

I have no idea why autistic people are better at grassroots organizing than asexuals. You'd think that wouldn't be the case, but you'd be incorrect. Maybe it's because autistic folks often need assistance to get by in a society that's built for other people. What I do know is that there are a disproportionate number of autistic spectrum denizens on AVEN. I also know that the autistic spectrum is misunderstood by almost all. Many think autism is a pathology; many autistic folks think it isn't. "Coming out" is an issue for those who can pass as "normal", however, in the case of autism it's called "disclosure". I've heard autistic people call themselves "neuroqueers", and I know that awareness and education are major parts of their movement.
This is starting to sound real familiar, isn't it?

Work Song Trilogy

"Success was survival, and kid, it still is."
--The New Pornographers

Sometimes I can really relate to Harvey Firestein's character in Torch Song Trilogy. (I know, frightening, but I've done worse.) Especially the part when his mother says something like, "Why does everything you do have to be so GAY?" It seems like when you're part of some misunderstood minority group, your identity as such becomes an entry into every equation. When Woody Allen in Annie Hall thought someone asked him, "Jew eat?", we were witnessing the same phenomenon. It's just a theory, and it might seem silly, but people seem to have an urge to know what makes them different. Especially in the case of orientation, since no one knows what the heck really causes it, and probably never will.

To probe this idea a little further, I'll put myself onto the couch for a bit. Like:
Pretty much all I've been thinking about lately is my job situation. Millions of people seem to be fine with boring, ho-hum jobs, but I desperately want a job I can have a religious zeal for, and I'm miserable considering anything else. What makes me unable to tolerate entry-level job hell? Here's a few ideas:
1. I have a short attention span/am lazy/am a total wuss and can only handle something that doesn't feel like "real work". (Not likely, by the way)
2. Everyone's as frustrated as I am, I just complain more. (Probably true)
3. I have a major independent streak and zero tolerance for "the man", which pretty much precludes me from all traditional business. (Probably sadly true. This Xerox machine kills fascists!)
4. Because I'm asexual, I'm making my job into a surrogate "significant other". If I can't love someone romantically, I'll just channel any "romantic" notions I have into the work sphere. The energy that other people invest in dating has to go somewhere, doesn't it? (No clue. It's convenient to blame asexuality for everything, as it can't defend itself. But how valid is this?)

See what I mean?

Old Issues, New Coke

I once knew a rabbi who would start all her sermons like this: "So, I was driving in my car when..." To that effect, I was biking to work the other day, wondering why asexuals couldn't just eschew dating alltogether. (I know, dating again...) Then, this popped into my mind:

"You can change a product, but tamper with a beloved brand, and the public will kill you."

--Lesson from Ily's publicity class

[Above: Oh no they di-n't. Possibly the biggest marketing failure in history.

Yes, my professor would be proud. It occurred to me at this moment that dating is actually a brand, much like the Coca-Cola Classic that was almost killed by the fabled New Coke. As a people, we haven't always dated, much like we haven't always craved Starbucks Frappachinos (guilty) or sworn by Firefox (again, guilty). But somewhere in between arranged marriages and first-wave feminism, dating became one of our society's most idealized behaviors. Just like we long to cruise in a Mercedes or step out in Manolo Blahnik shoes, we love the idea of a romantic dinner at which sparks fly between near-strangers. Successful brands are ones that we have deep emotional connections to, and dating is no different. And like any good brand, dating makes a crapload of money. Thousands of businesses-- maybe even yours-- depend on dating for their livelihood.

However, dating's branding isn't impeccable. Rather than being geared at a target market, it's being foisted on all of us. This is not only annoying, but sloppy business. So everyone, their mom, and their dog is telling you to date-- so what? What if everyone told you to eat Big Macs, but you're vegan or saw Supersize Me? Wouldn't you just laugh it off? Well, dating is very similar.

You might not be able to change the brand. But, you can always change the product.

It's possible to radically change dating, while at the same time letting people believe that their idealized notions are a possibility. This might all seem monumental, but doesn't it make you feel better to know that dating isn't the lost 11th commandment...it's just a brand? That it's just like Coke? Does that make it a little less intimidating? I hope so.