I have officially sold out, on so many different levels.  I am now ‘officially’* in a relationship.  Coffeeguy (who shall be referred to as ‘C’ from here on out) and I finally managed to get our acts together.  It only took four months of dating for us to reach this point, but hey, maybe that’s what I needed.

So, I lasted exactly 8 months without officially having a boyfriend, but the majority of that time was spent dating and hooking up at parties.  I think actual single time would be about 2, possibly 3 months, max.  Turns out I’m not so capable of being single and independent after all.

And C is fantastic, for the record.  But he’s not the most feminist friendly person I’ve ever met.  I have, in fact, heard him utter the word ‘feminazi’ on one occasion.  So I’m trying to work through my/his^ issues there.  However, he is kind and considerate and pretty much awesome, so I believe he has the capacity to learn.  And in fact when I pointed out the inherent sexism in a riddle he was telling the other night, he seemed to understand it from a new point of view.  So yay.

But anyway, taking things slowly at the moment.  And no, there won’t be a whole bunch of blog posts on him because it doesn’t feel right.  When/If this ends, I have plenty of blog fodder.  For now though, I’m keeping it out of here because I feel like it would be a mistake.

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*It’s on facebook, that’s how you know it’s official

^Your perspective on exactly whose issue this is will vary.

My life, at the moment, is incredibly hectic.*  Whilst browsing for Christmas presents online (during my lunchbreak because I have no other time to do this!), I found an awesome site with lots of awesome calendars on it.  This is when it occurred to me that having a super awesome organiser calendar could improve the quality of my life.

Except, all the super awesome organiser calendars have the word ‘mum’ in the title.  WHY?!  There’s so many different things wrong here.  Why is the mother the one automatically in charge of organising the family?  Why is it assumed that if you’re busy and need organising tools, you’re a mother?  Why can’t single people need the help?  Why can’t childfree people live busy hectic lives?

And, finally, why is this only one little, tiny example from a much bigger and more widespread problem?  Why can’t this be the biggest issue in my day?

Also, if any of you know of any super awesome organiser calendars, send me a link?  thanks!

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*and yep, that’s why there have been no blog posts recently, oh observant ones.

I’ve been pretty slack with the posting lately.  If it makes you all feel any better, I’ve also been slack with uni work, keeping in touch with (most of) my friends and family, slightly slack at my day job, and 100% slack at house work – meaning I haven’t done any in a good long while.  I have been thinking of posts to write for months and months, I just haven’t written anything.  And sometimes, by the time I sit down to write the post, it’s no longer relevant.

However I am sick of how many bookmarks I have crying out for the blogging they were intended for.  So I’m doing a link roundup with a (very!) brief summary, instead of full posts on each.  Here you go readers, entries that are written better than mine would have been anyway:

Not long after posting this, I came across Chally’s response to this other post.  Thought it was an interesting post and much more eloquent than I could be.

In the same vein as my t-shirts series, I found this at The Frisky – a site I cannot help but read daily.  Quite an awesome find that was.

After posting about my habit of nicknaming the boys men in my life, I found this, also at The Frisky.

And four awesome reads I’ve had sitting bookmarked for way too long:

‘The Terrible Bargain We Have Regretfully Struck’ at Shakesville

‘Sex is not just a book by Madonna’ at The Hand Mirror

An Interview with Liz Funk at Blue Milk

‘Not good enough’ at Wallaby

Trust me when I tell you that I have not done any of these links justice by dumping them into one post like this, and that you should just go read them.  They’re worth it, or they wouldn’t have lasted this long in my bookmarks menu.

I’ve never had an official policy on comments for this blog, because I’ve never needed one.  I’m still not going to implement one, however the following comments were never, ever going to be approved to be published.  They will be posted here, though, just to make sure no one misses them.

If any of you feel like letting jjhatts know what you think of their shit, feel free.  I’m not sure they’re worth the time, but someone certainly needs to wake this troll up.

On a post about unacceptable use of endearments by strangers:

Is bitch acceptable?  Would it be offensive too you if I asked if you wear panties everyday at work? If it would, then I’m not asking. Also do you hang out every once in a while after work at any particular place? I’ll let you buy me a drink.

On the post about being asked to be a fill-in receptionist:

Did he tell you specifically that he’d like you too work customer service for a little while because you have a vagina, or do you just THINK the world revolves around your vagina?

And the one that really proved this *person* is an utter scumbag and total troll, from the ‘Rape is always Rape’ post:

She took her clothes off, she wanted too fuck. No means no, she didn’t say no, so they fucked. If I’d been there I would have gone for sloppy seconds.

For the record jjhatts, you’ve been added to the spam queue and your comments will not be approved on this blog.  Take your ball elsewhere to play.

Interesting* random story from my life.  I’m terrified of annoying people.  I hate being seen as an annoying person (probably because I am quite annoying ) and this influences my actions and behaviour in most situations.

I’m talking about friends here, not strangers.  People in my life that I know, but am not in a comfortable rhythm with.  There are some friends (this would include you, K) that I call repeatedly until they deign to answer my call.  Gotta love that redial button.  There are friends that I call whilst drunk at 2am to have a total whinge about an argument I just had at a party.  And then I hang up on them mid conversation and go back to the party.  (sorry K! lol) 

But with friends I’m not 100% comfortable with yet?  No way.  I hate calling them because I hate to interrupt their day/life.  I hate when they miss my calls cause it feels like it could be an irritation in their day.  I hate messaging them first.**  I hate doing anything that would be annoying or come off as needy. 

I think I react like this because I AM a needy person.  And that sucks.  I don’t want to be needy, and I don’t want to be annoy someone to the point that they stop talking to me.  Or wish that they could stop talking to me.

I kind of miss out on a lot of things this way, so possibly, now that I know how much I’m over reacting in most situations, I hope I can stop it in future.

 You may have noticed, but there’s not much point to this post and it’s possibly not very interesting to people who don’t know me, but I was thinking about it and wanted to post it.  So  there it is

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*YMMV

**I hate saying hi if I happen to run into them while we’re both on dates at the same place…

I haven’t started the anti-depressants yet.  Since getting home from my trip (just over a week ago), I’ve been… happy?  I missed everything about my life so much while I was away that I’ve been forced to conclude I actually am fairly ok with where everything is.

I have a massive circle of friends, all of whom love me.  I love my job.  I love my brother and sister and they’re super supportive when I need them to be.  I love my house!  Everything seems pretty good. 

I’m not saying it’s all perfect, but I’d hate it if it was.  I’m just saying I like where my life is at the moment and where it’s headed and I’m fairly ok with everything.  I haven’t felt overwhelming sadness or frustration since I got home.  That’s the longest I’ve gone without those in a long time. 

So is it happiness?  Will it last?  Who knows.  But I’m holding off on the pills for as long as I can.

Over the last couple of months (and possibly longer, but most of my life pre break-up is kind of blurry) I’ve put myself in some not-so-good situations.  Some have been detailed in previous posts, some I’ve chosen to keep to myself because of embarrassment at my sheer stupidity, but none have been particularly smart.  And yet, through all of these incredibly bad decisions, nothing bad has happened to me.

I’ve been planning to write this post for a while, but on Saturday night I wound up in yet another one of these situations and it all hit home how careless I really am.  I was a party with a bunch of people from uni, most of whom I’ve never met before however there were a few friends mixed in there, and I got drunk.  Incredibly, sickly, drunk.  I ended up staying the night at a friend’s house, and hooking up with his roommate.*

I said a number of times that I would not be having sex with him, (see future post) and he continued to try and persuade me to change my mind.  The thing is, I’m fairly sure he’s stronger than me and there came a point where this realisation made me slightly scared.  There I was, in bed with a drunk guy who was very probably stronger than me, with absolutely no way of getting out of it if he pushed it any further.  And yet, nothing happened.  I got some sleep, woke up and drove myself home once I was sober enough to do so.

So when we live in this constant state of fear, based on all the stories we hear, are we really just being too paranoid, as all the anti feminists would have us believe?  I’ve been in beds with drunk, aroused men; I’ve been out drinking with four strangers (sailors!) in a random country where I had no friends – they were actually feeding me tequila shots at one point – and nothing happened; I’ve wandered around on my own at night, both in my own country and in others and nothing has happened; I’ve left drinks unattended in public places (parties included) and I’ve accepted drinks off strangers with no ill effects (hangovers excluded).  Am I just incredibly lucky?  Should I go buy a lottery ticket?  Or are the dangers not as bad as they seem?

I still maintain an unhealthy level of paranoia about all guys and all situations.  It wouldn’t seem like I do based on my behaviour, but I do.  I drive my brother up the wall by forcing him to talk to me on the phone whenever I have to walk anywhere on my own at night.  He insists I’m overreacting, but he does it anyway.  I lock my car doors when I’m alone.  I do everything  I possibly can to ensure that I’m safe.  And then I don’t sometimes, and I’m still ok.

Now, the logical part of my brain is telling me the only difference in any of these situations was the absence of a rapist/murderer/mugger.  I’m just curious how I’ve been so lucky to have that absence every single time, when the risk of getting harmed seems so incredibly high through everything I read.

Any thoughts or insights readers?

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*a fact which was probably more responsible for the way I felt the next day than the alcohol was…

This is the post where I come off the worst, although I don’t think I come off particularly well in any of them.  Post 2 is about EN.  And there should NEVER have been another post on him, so clearly I fucked up.  Big time.

Before I left for Europe, I started missing EN.  I did the best I could to ignore this, despite some strong urges to see him.  Then, my lift to the airport came down with the flu and was unable to take me, something I found out only a couple of hours before I was due to leave, and EN offered to take me.  I gave in to the desire to see him (and the desire to not deal with Sydney public transport with my luggage… yuck…) and agreed.  And it was great to talk to him again; not many people know me as well as he does and even less have known me for the same length of time as him.  The floodgates were opened.

When things started to go wrong on my journey over*, it was 1am Sydney time and he was the only friend awake.  We messaged each other for hours until I started to feel better again.  I was at breakdown point with a mixture of frustration, stress, irritation, homesickness and loneliness.  Iàm struggling to think of one other person who could have helped me to the degree he did.

And then there were other reasons to message or call, and so we did.  Every day.  Several times each day.  The depression I’m trying so damn hard to fight kicked in severely and he provided good comfort.  At one point I started to think about trying again with him – a thought process strongly helped by my sister’s insistence that we could work it out and that love is hard and you just need to deal with your issues.  I considered it long and hard, but was conflicted – a state of mind made worse by the Coffeeguy situation (this was pre Monday).

As soon as I managed to snap myself out of the fog that is my depression, I knew that I wasn’t ready to go back to him.  I still love him and I miss him and it’s damn hard.  But it’s not the right time, and I’m not ready and I can’t do it. 

Unfortunately, the constant contact combined with my behaviour for the duration of my trip means he isn’t aware of how over this still is.  So, an awesomely awkward and heartbreaking** conversation awaits my return to Sydney.

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* I have the worst fucking luck with travelling, no joke.

** For both of us, I would imagine.

There usually comes a moment in most new relationships or friendships where a feminist realises this new person she’s invested so much time and energy and trust etc in doesn’t view her as a human.*

It’s odd, because we know this to be true of most p-indoctrinated people.  Things would not happen the way they do if the majority of the world viewed women as equal humans.  But it’s just so heartbreakingly different when it smacks you in the face in your personal life.

The latest moment for me (and it’s been so long since it’s hit me this hard I thought I was becoming immune to it) was from Coffeeguy.  He seemed like such a great guy on all our dates and in all our conversations.  No red flags in anything he said, no problems, nothing that would unsettle me enough to remind me I live in a patriarchy.

On our last date before I traipsed off to the other side of the globe he mentioned something about restaurant chain ‘Hooters’.  It was a casual, throwaway reference but it unsettled me.  The implication in what he said was that he frequents the chain a lot.  I spent a lot of time wondering if this was enough to stop seeing him, or if it was my brain looking for any excuse to get out of this thing once and for all. 

Luckily, before I had to answer any difficult questions like that, I found these posts by him on a forum he frequents:

Why aren’t there any hookers in [football team]?
What use is a hooker that can’t swallow!!!

I hear the [football team] are bringing out a 30 year commemrative jersey for 2010. They are replacing the [team] logo with a tampon, because it’s the worst period they have ever had.**

They’re not the worst jokes I’ve ever heard, and they’re also not the most antifeminist/antiwomen comments I’ve ever come across, but they hit home hard at just what his opinion on women must be if he can make jokes like that so casually.  Interestingly, these were on a thread full of jokes about that football team, and nobody else on there was even close to being this vile about women.

There is no way I can see someone who thinks these jokes are appropriate.  Which is kind of almost a shame.

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*basic foundation of radical feminist thought that women aren’t viewed as human.  I don’t want to argue that assumption here, I’m not a feminist 101 blog.  So if you don’t agree, go cry about it on your own blog.

**his spelling and punctuation, not mine.  Also, said football team are known as ‘chokers’ as they seem to make it to the finals quite often and never manage to win.

Hello from Milan! I’m now killing time in an airport hotel until I leave to go home tomorrow. I didn’t have enough time here to actually see the city, but I had too long to sit around doing nothing. And by nothing I mean that assignment that’s becoming quite urgent and really needs to get done. So, I have a new mini-series for you that was inspired by large amounts of time to think whilst on holidays. I’m hoping it remains a mini-series and doesn’t get extended because that would be bad news for me! The best way to read these posts* is individually, forgetting about each until the wrap-up at the end.

Ok, part one: Coffeeguy. And yes, to those avidly following along at home, he has been demoted back to a nickname.

Coffeeguy and I have had eight dates in total, so far. They’ve been pretty good, but he has yet to make a move. At all. Not even a hug goodnight. I’m well aware I should have just done it myself by now, but never having had to before I find myself physically incapable of doing it. I’ve tried to break past this mental barrier with no success. So I wait.

The time period surrounding the dates has been a rollercoaster of insecurity, elation, defeatism and a whole bunch of other emotions. The words ‘I give up’ have passed my lips so many times that certain friends no longer believe this is ever going to actually be over**. For good reason, clearly.

I was annoyed at the timing of my trip in relation to the timing of our dates, and put it down to insecurity over the thought of Coffeeguy finding someone else in my absence. That was an error on my part that shows a massive lack of insight into my own personality. I was annoyed because I knew, deep down somehow, that three weeks away from him, particularly three weeks in Europe, would lead to me not being interested anymore.

It was hard to find a good time to contact him (different time zones and all) and one day (Sunday, timeline will be important later), I left a message for him on Skype. When I logged on that night, Skype told me he had blocked me. This kind of shocked me and seemed like a cowardly way for him to tell me he wasn’t interested, BUT I had a huge feeling of relief at the same time. It was finally, definitely, done.

Monday I went out and had a fanfuckingtasticlly awesome time and put all thoughts of him out of my head. So when I logged on Tuesday and he started talking to me as if nothing had happened, I checked Skype and he hadn’t blocked me. It was a technical error.

I’m now in a position where I’ve moved on and no longer see him in the same light, nor do I want anything from him anymore. The problem is, I’m the biggest coward and I’m not gonig to be able to tell him. It will be interesting to see how this plays out when I get home. Fingers crossed he’s moved on too and there’s no need for anyone to say anything!

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*More to the point – the best way to read them without forming negative opinions of me…

** You still reading this, K? Shouldn’t you be writing that thesis of yours?