It is terrifying to wonder if your own sexual interest was ever seen as too aggressive, if you missed the cues that she wasn’t interested, if it’s going to come back to haunt you years later. I myself have had a brush with this very situation.
It’s scary. It absolutely is.
Well, as real a fear as this might be, I realize now that it entirely misses one key detail — a detail that changes the entire way men should be responding to this …
To some random person who might have been observing us, we were one of “those” couples – people who had nothing to say to each other in real life, who only knew how to interact with others via text, or social media.
I could almost feel the condescending looks bathing down upon us.
Imagine a wall of soldiers lined up on a battlefield. If every soldier is properly armed, they will be able to hold their ground against an invading army. Now, imagine that a few soldiers slack off and leave their shields at home on battle day. It’s not hard to grasp that if enough soldiers are missing their shields, the army as a whole isn’t going to stand much of a chance defending itself.
This is exactly how vaccines work. Each individual person who gets vaccinated is a single shield against an invading horde of terrifying viruses lurking all over the world. If everyone is vaccinated, everyone’s shields will form one single impenetrable wall, and diseases won’t be able to spread.
You and me, we’re not all that different. We’re both acting on the same need for self-protection. We just have different solutions.
And frankly, I don’t think it’s an irreconcilable difference. We just have to start with our shared beliefs and accept that life is about compromise. It’s about you and I respecting each other’s needs and being willing to bend. And once we do, we can all sit down and have a beer together. (Or wine, or whiskey, or even Fireball. I can compromise on that, too.)
The chance that a Syrian refugee we let in turns out to be an ISIS agent is a negligible risk. This is what it actually looks like when Syrian refugees are accepted into a western nation. As such, not only is closing our borders ultimately ineffective in preventing terrorism from striking our nation, it’s also wholly unnecessary.
If you truly fear terrorist attacks on American soil, barring Muslims from entering the country is pretty much the most misguided solution you can go with.
To be clear, the rainbow does not appear anywhere on a user’s visible site. If you have a site at WordPress.com, no one viewing it will see anything different. The toolbar is visible only to you, and only when you are logged into a specific editing section. It’s a simple, subtle nod to Friday’s news.
Well, you would think that it’s a simple, subtle nod….
The amount of offense some people took at the rainbow was disheartening. We were accused of “cramming” our values down people’s throats, of being bigoted and intolerant. A few outspoken users even pointed out how there’s such a double-standard in that businesses aren’t allowed to deny service to gays, but WordPress.com can push its pro-gay agenda.
If you could successfully hide a part of yourself — have a good life, employment, faith, and family — why would you change? What would make you risk it all? What price would you pay to be authentic?
This is the central question posed in Presenting Lisa, a film about the transformation of a man named Larry to a woman named Lisa.
I consider myself lucky. I live in a society where outright racism is generally not tolerated. Unlike my parents’ generation, I don’t worry about some stranger on the street calling me a “chink” or a “jap” or a “gook” (which, strictly speaking, I’m only one of those three).
Then again, that just means that racism is more insidious now. Instead of blatant insults, I’m sometimes left questioning what someone meant by a certain remark. Today’s prejudice has mostly been reduced to microaggressions — socially acceptable comments that are still subtly derogatory.
I am not taking a black-or-white stance (get it?) on this issue. Instead, I will wade into the muddy gray waters this topic inevitably swirls up. I will weigh the pros and cons as logically as I can. I will share the information my personal research has uncovered, as well as the insights I gained as an educator at SeaWorld. And yes, I will explain why I do ultimately support SeaWorld’s endeavors.
One of the things that I have been thinking about is how great it feels to be in my thirties. I’m halfway through this decade and I have to say that it is SO MUCH better than my twenties. No question about it. It’s not that I didn’t completely enjoy that time of my life, but I have to say that now I feel more confident of who I am. That’s probably one reason why I am able to write these words and stand by them.
So here is my top five list of why it’s great to be a childfree woman in her thirties, instead of a confused girl in my twenties:
When you meet someone for the first time, you have everything in the world to talk about. Your relationship, whether professional, personal, or romantic, is essentially a blank state. You get a chance to fill that slate with all sorts of wondrous conversations.
And yeah, you rarely have to worry about hugging (assuming you’re an awkward hugger, like me). Handshakes are perfectly acceptable on the first meeting.
But when you meet someone for the second time?
Now, there are expectations (not the least of which is whether or not the other person has upgraded you to hugging level). Here’s a partial list of all the things that can take a turn for the disastrous when you meet someone for the second time:
Guy: Soooo… what kind of Asian are you?
Girl (visibly scowling): Uhhh… the American kind?
Obviously, this was not the way to try to start a conversation with a strange woman, let alone hit on her. Let’s face it, this guy’s biggest mistake was… well, everything. But the interesting thing is, she actually tolerated him until he asked about her ethnicity.
So why was that her cue to check out? She put up with everything else (barely) up to that point. Why did this particular question send her darting away?
Doctors and modern medicine are the cornerbacks in the game of life. Their job is to play defense, to prevent you from getting sick. And in true cornerback form, when they do their job, you’ll only wonder if you even needed them in the first place. But the one in 100 times that something does goes wrong, boy, will you cry foul.
And that’s why disease prevention is such a tough sell for people. The problem of modern medicine is that people only take notice when it fails us. There’s even a psychological term associated with this state of thinking: negativity bias.
So what can we do about this?
The researchers concluded that this is how women show aggression towards other women they see as sexual threats. While men “compete” for women via direct aggression against each other (you know, shot taking, arm wrestling, breaking beer bottles over each other skulls, and any other type of contest that purports to broadcast the length of our penis), women “compete” for men in more indirect ways — by insulting and ostracizing them.
Whether or not you agree with the conclusions of the researchers, this “mean girl” behavior clearly exists. The internet abounds with women hating on other women’s outfits. And worse, it’s considered snarky and witty.
Last night, I was given a gift. It was my second of the week — and one that the teachers of young children rarely receive.
I had been surprised to hear from the parents of a child I worked with 30 years ago. At that time, I was a resource teacher for the state of Arizona, specializing in children with developmental delays, ages zero to five. Their son had been one of my students. In fact, he had been one of my favorite students.
When did all my skirts gain an extra 10 cm of length? Why was my underwear drawer filled with things in cotton? Why did the bookshelves hold only kids’ books, law books, and my husband’s books, while all my favourite volumes of poetry were shoved to the back row? And my computer files? Three categories — Kids, Household, and Work.
From where I stood, thrill-seeking now looked like a disease. Itchy, embarrassing and contagious. Still, I would have been fine — if it were not for Will.
They say, “Home is where the heart is.” But what if your heart is in more than one place?
They also say, “Home is where you hang your hat.” But what if you prefer to hang your hat in the same place every day?
These two old sayings seem to be at odds with one another. The former offers comfort by implying that wherever your heart longs to be is home, while the latter aims for embracing life, saying home is wherever you currently are. I have found both of these to be no comfort, and in fact, total crap.
That early success gave me a boost of confidence, but in some ways, it spoiled me for later life. I felt devastated when my college graduation wasn’t a repeat of the adulation heaped on me four years earlier. I cried that even though I was graduating summa cum laude and Phi Beta Kappa, I hadn’t been singled out for any individual awards. Being just one of many names on a list — even a fairly short list of the most elite students at my small, but well-regarded college — wasn’t good enough. It felt like a letdown, like I wasn’t personally valued by the school and its leaders.
I was angry — at myself for falling short in some way, for the fact that my best hadn’t been good enough, and at the school for not giving me the send-off I felt I deserved. I somehow convinced myself I had a right to feel betrayed, because I had taken out loans to attend a small private school in order to feel special and get individual attention, and the school wasn’t holding up its side of that unspoken bargain.
If she felt awkward eating alone, that was her insecurity, not mine. And yet, because I looked up to her, her insecurity became my insecurity. In trying to make a point, she unwittingly made me ashamed of my introverted tendencies. I wasn’t traumatized by her comment, but it certainly made me second-guess myself. For over a decade.
Editor’s note: Peter Loggins is a legend within the swing dance community. He’s also an old friend and a source of inspiration. Aside from dancing, Peter used to be a competitive runner, skateboarder, and snowboarder, and is one hell of a tattoo artist. He is, in short, one of the baddest badasses you’ll ever meet. The confession below, which he