Blog for Choice Day 2010

January 22 is the Anniversary of Roe V. Wade, which also makes it the 5th Annual

Blog for Choice Day.

What is Blog for Choice Day, you ask?

Each year, NARAL Pro-Choice America poses a question to pro-choice bloggers before the anniversary of Roe v. Wade, and then asks them to blog their answer on January 22.

Blog for Choice Day provides us with an opportunity to raise the profile of reproductive rights in the blogosphere, all the while celebrating Roe's 37th anniversary. Plus, it's a great way to let your readers and the mainstream media know that a woman's right to choose is a core progressive value that must be protected and advanced.

In honor of Dr. George Tiller, who often wore a button that simply read, "Trust Women," this year's Blog for Choice question is:

What does Trust Women mean to you?"

And here's my answer.

For as long as I can remember, I've supported the right for a woman to choose whether or not to have an abortion. Additionally, for as long as I can remember, I could not fathom myself actually having one. Furthermore, for as long as I could remember, the decision was never one I had a personal connection to.

Until a few years ago.

While studying abroad on summer, one of my flatmates had an unwanted pregnancy. She found out after 2 weeks into the program which meant she wasn't really close enough to us to want to share, but because her family, friends and then boyfriend where all stateside, she only had us to turn to. We stayed up with her for hours talking, consoling, praying, crying, and researching. It was awful.

But watching her go through this, and experiencing it with her, showed me just how powerful the choice really is.

I explained my position and she told me her's. While she may have chosen a solution I wouldn't have chosen for myself, she had the choice. It broke my heart to hear her decision, but I trusted her. I was there for her the entire time and even though I was upset, I knew she made the right decision, for her.

Trusting Women to me means having confidence in the reasoning capabilities of women to make a sound judgement about an aspect of their lives which we cannot truly fathom. It's not a light hearted decision, by any means. It is a deeply painful, gut-wrenching, agonizing, laborious, emotional, intellectual, and in many cases spiritual decision.

But in order to make it, there has to be a great deal of trust.

Women need to trust other women to be able to talk openly and honestly. Doctors, Spiritual leaders, psychologists, families, friends, and the United States Government need to trust women to made this difficult decision. There must be trust.

Trust. Women.

The Learning Curve

Yesterday one of my girlfriends called me because it was the anniversary of the end of a very painful relationship.

In talking with her, I couldn't help but think about the dating learning curve. Supposedly, as we get older, and the longer we're on said curve, we learn things. We get better a picking partners. We get better at handling sticky situations. We grow.

But the thing about the learning curve is, you eventually stop learning.

Which is kind of depressing when you think about it.

If we really follow a relationship learning curve, then when does it end? Logic would say it ends when you keep dating variations of the same person. Well, that's certainly a check in my book. But I refuse to believe I've reached my learning peak.

Or maybe I have?

In my years of dating I've learned:

• If someone offers to pay and you weren't expecting it, refuse twice. After the third time, you're gonna end up footing the bill.
• Cheating is relative. Just because you think it's not an issue doesn't mean they don't.
• If you're using the phrase "I'm over them", you're actually not.
• You can't always be right.
• You will always have to explain drunk texts.
• Violence (emotion, mental, or physical) is never tolerable
• Your actions are dictated by their interpretation and you're lucking if that aligns with your intention.
• When your feelings change, change the relationship. Immediately.
• Everyone has different bases
• Being 5 minutes behind is fine, being 10 minutes late is tolerable, being 15 minutes late is pushing it, and anything more is high maintenance.
• Food is the way to the heart (unless you're ano)
• They're not worth your family (open to interpretation) hasn't met them.

Eh, it's a start. Maybe when I'm 30-something I'll have the makings of a thesis.

Age: The hidden barrier.

When did it become kosher for 30-somethings to hit on 20-something?

Last night some of my new girl friends and I hit the local bar for a night out on the town. Flash forward to 3AM and we're in a hot tube with random 30 year old men.

Yeah, I'll back track, don't worry.

The night started great. Pre-gamed, chatted up potential drink buyers, not so innocently flirted with seemingly cute guys, you know, the usual. But some how between free beer number 1 and free shot number ?, the men started getting older. Much. Much older. It should have been a red flag when this obviously older, balding man solicited me to go smoke a cigarette AND when he more than kissed my hand when I declined, but the "how you doin?" shots were kicking in.

This guy was clearly older. In fact he was clearly too old.

But the hot tub guys?

I know we're in a small town and the pickins are slim (as evident by the fact that one of my girl friends has acquired a slightly younger "bo-fro") but come one. Why is it that every guy I meet is either painfully to young or depressingly too old?

Where are all the 20something guys?

(Oh, that's right they're in LA or Houston dating my girlfriends.)

I've always been attracted to older guys, but that's when they were guys. Now that I'm in my 20s there are no older guys. There's older men. And old me. As if my sex life needed yet another barrier to entry.

So the question then becomes, how old is too old?

That answer is two fold.

1. Parents are too old.
2. According to Degrassi, you can date someone as young as half your age plus 7.

(Which means that for me, the hot tube men were a no go on both accounts. Thanks for clouding my judgement bud light.)

Hopefully this blog will make me remember to say no to the 5 P's: Police, Passing out, Pregnancy, Parents and Patriarchs.

It's Just a Little Touch

This might come as a shock to some, especially given the topic of this blog,

but I really don't enjoy being touched*.

Allow me to explain.

It's not that I don't like being touched, it just that, well I don't want most people to touch me. It's not a germ thing, it's an intimacy thing. People have different levels of intimacy and for me, cuddling is more intimate than sex. Which means, hugging is more intimate than kissing. Blame it on college, alcohol or what have you, but that's the truth.

Take the typical love interest scenario in college. Either you met via a friend, met in class, or met at a party. None of these situations really gives you the opportunity to get to know someone. Again looking at the real world, it's either via a friend, co-worker, or at a bar. Again, not getting that real introduction.

By now I've made it more than clear that getting it is getting it. I generally operated under the assumption that anyone I meet is either going to be a fling, a friend. If you're at least mildly attractive, you hit the fling track. If you're at least mildly interesting, you're hitting the friend track. And if by chance you happen to be both, you go down the secret hidden track called, maybe I could, potentially, link myself to you in a non-platonic, could be romantic way, maybe.

No matter what track you're going on, the touching takes a while. Take the fling, if it's just sex, we probably aren't getting very close. And with the friend, it takes a while for me to get comfortable with new people to allow them to touch me.

I've been asked why this is multiple times and I blame it on my string of previous relationships.

Yes it's a defense mechanism. My heart has been broken by people who I've let get to close. By people who I trusted enough to let them in to my personal space. And healing those broken hearts was some of the hardest things I've ever done. So why go through that again. If I keep people at a distance literally and figuratively, I don't get hurt.

So, unless I touch you, don't touch me.

*None of this applies when fermented beverages are involved.

New Year's Eve = Drunken Mack Out

New Year’s Eve is my favorite secular holiday.

There’s glitz, glamour, booze, friends, and the infamous drunken mack-out.

As one who leads a transient lifestyle, I’ve come to appreciate the confidence and lapse of judgment that alcohol has to offer.

DISCLAIMER: Despite the previous statement, I’m still a Vagina Warrior. Consent is ALWAYS necessary and abuse is NEVER OK.

That being said, allow me to explain. It’s like that country singer whose name escapes me at the moment said; alcohol does help people get laid. And if you’re only in a certain place for a limited time, it can help you tremendously.

Let’s look at my current relationships status. Single. Let’s look at my current life style. Moving every 2 months. Let’s look at my stance on safe sex. Get it.

So what’s the problem?

The problem is (excuse the SATC reference), try as I might, I’m not Samantha Jones. There’s a little bit of Charlotte in me, which means, even my casual sex is usually more emotional that it probably should be. But, like Samantha Jones, my career is coming before my desire to land Mr. Right (hell, don’t even believe that’s a valid search anymore).

Fortunately, thanks to some pretty key encounters in the local watering hole in Silverton, OR, I’ve found the solution. AL-co-hol (The aforementioned singer was Brad Paisley).

And to prove I've thought this out longer than the average drunken derogatory term for loose woman, I'll use NYE to illustrate why alcohol and mack-outs really are a perfect relationship.

Take my NYE experience.

Me and some friends hit up a party in Harlem.

We arrived at the party later than usual which meant everyone else was a pre-game and 3 drinks in at best. There also happened to be at least 3 cute members of the male species there. Ordinarily, I'd chill with my friends and just talk about how attractive these other guys were. BUT, It's NYE and it's really all about the NYE kiss.

So out comes the tequila.

Now contrary to popular belief, or a last fortunately for me, tequila doesn't make her (read my) clothes come off. Tequila is the magical elixir that reminds me, a "Kiss is Not a Contract", but it's very nice.

R. Kelly might not have seen anything wrong with a little bump 'n grind, but I'm still a little more old fashioned.

Which explains why my NYE consisted of multiple mack-outs not multiple positions.

So NYE '09 wasn't the sex-crazed night that one would expect this blogger to have.

but there's always NYE 2010!