some albums i enjoyed in 2020

2020 has been a complete and utter dumpster fire. (no puns intended) the only thing to bring me any solace was music. i could be basic by beginning this post by saying the typical "music has saved my life" mumbo-jumbo, but i will save that for a later time. i wish i had a better excuse for being less consistent with this blog than i wanted to, but, frankly, i don't really have a good reason, so let's pretend i did.

i trust you all have been on your best behavior, staying indoors and wearing a mask and whatnot, and if you haven't...

well, damn that's crazy...

but the new year is almost upon us and i've determined to be on some fresh stuff for 2021 and not just because i upped and moved my entire life 5 hours up north. that's right. i've finally moved to chicago. and if we're also talking accomplishments, let's also just talk about how i consistently went to about 90% of my therapy appointments (thanks, cynthia). i also deleted all my dating apps (also, thanks to cynthia). and lastly, i also unfollowed everyone that i found remotely irritating and am now pretending that they died because their internet presence felt like an attack on my personal well-being. BUT what kind of year would it be without some sort of wrap-up buzzfeed-type list. i thought that i would like to close this year off with some albums that have truly brought me the kind of peace of mind that i never thought i could achieve during a literal pandemic. 

how to gracefully poop in your crush's home

yes, i know that everyone poops. i know that its really not a big deal, but you know what is a big deal: IMPRESSING PRETTY PEOPLE. personally, i am constantly trying not to ruin the slim chances that i have with interacting with and potentially kissing pretty people. its a nerve-wracking experience to enter the space of someone you're attracted to. BUT the idea of my bowels imploding into their toilet is even more nerve-wracking because what if they were to find out that i blew up their toilet? what if i poop and there's no toilet paper? what if the toilet just doesn't flush? what if they told their homies that my poop smells? what if we break up and their cute homies won't take me out after we break up because they think my poop smells?

as a perpetually horny person, that benefit does not outweigh the risk.

chloe and halle's "ungodly hour" is all about disrupting yourself or die trying

 

so, if we're going to keep it real, i wasn't a big fan of chloe and halle's debut, the kids are alright. i thought it was frankly that: alright. it was a very good debut for two teens just making it out in the music industry. it has this sort of youthful, coming-of-age, flair that made it enjoyable and ambitious, but also very forgettable, in terms of everything else that came out in 2018 (sweetener, invasion of privacy, dirty computer, negro swan, isolation, the list goes on-and-on). again, this isn't to say that it wasn't good because it was and still is! it's an album that showcases the very things that got the girls noticed in the first place: their ability to harmonize, synchronize and do the damn the thing without losing each other in the progress. they work together and they work well.  

when the two sisters started their career as musicians, they were uploading youtube covers (all of which are still on their channel). after a cover of beyonce's pretty hurts went viral, they were signed to beyonce's very own parkwood label, which is a feat in itself as that label literally only has like 4 artists signed to it (INCLUDING BEYONCE HERSELF). and when the kids are alright came out they were merely teens and much like the album title states, despite the newfound fame, despite being thrust in the limelight, they were alright. however, instead of lamenting about being conflicted with it all, or being afraid of it, they kept it real.

i love found footage horror with my whole chest

in 2015, i vividly remember going to see unfriended at midnight when it came out. i had just gotten off a very late shift at [redacted], so I drove furiously down the street to the theater, slammed my credit card down on the AMC ticket counter, and huffed and puffed my way into my seat. (middle row, dead-center, period). i remember sweating profusely as i unwrapped my scarf and threw my coat into the seat next to me and propped my feet up. unbeknownst to me, before i almost committed vehicular manslaughter to get there on time, there were possibly only 5 other people seeing the film. the aforementioned huffing and puffing occurred because i thought that i was seeing a masterpiece and wanted to get there early to get a good seat. even though i frequently went found myself in catastrophically empty theaters to see b-movie horror classics like cabin in the woods, you're next, the possession, and shark night, i really thought that unfriended was going to be different.

why? because it was found footage.

now i love found footage horror. i will continue to love found footage horror for the rest of my life because trust me, its evolving. it will come back and i am not talking about with some unfriended sequel....(unless?) however, i saw a video where someone mentioned that found footage horror in the 2000-2010s had the impact that slashers did in the 80-90s and i think this is an impeccable point to be made.

the black girl lives! and more on the "final girls" of modern horror

warning: i'm going to talk about a film that absolutely no one saw or gives a damn about. last year, around january, there was a film that snuck past everyone called escape room. now, there was not a single person who say this film and thought that it was doing something special (myself included), because it was one of those horror films that comes out during "dumb month" season. this "dump month" consists of really terrible horror that most studios have little-to-no hope for in terms of profit. whether it be weather, the lack of spending due to the holidays or the distractions of the Oscars, Golden Globes and the Superbowl, people just don't seem to go out to the movies as much in january and feburary, so to fill up slots, theaters fill up with low budget, b-horror, dump films like escape room. however, again, while absolutely no one had anything to say about this film, i am here to tell you today, that was a lie.  it was all a lie. i have things to say!

film review: never, rarely, sometimes, always

 

starring: sidney flanigan, talia ryder, théodore pellerin, ryan eggold and sharon van etten

written by: eliza hittman

directed by: eliza hittman

release date: jan 24, 2020 (currently streaming on hbo) 

 

now, before i begin this post, i am going to warn you. it gets pretty dark. and by dark, i do not mean in the fashion of YA novel protagonist' warning you about some dark, fantasy tale. this ain't the hunger games. this ain't a wattpad story. this is my story, and i mean, if we're going to be frank, it deals with some unsettling topics like sexual assault. if you're not into all that, you should probably stray away from this. if not, read on.

 

the most beautiful thing about a film like never, rarely, sometimes, always is that it's never really about what you think it is until...it is. its like when you're a kid and you're afraid of the dark. there's a noise coming from the closet, but you know there's no such thing as monsters. they told you that there's no such thing as monsters. they told you not to be afraid and so you tell yourself you're not afraid and most of the time, that feels like the truth. i mean, at least this time it does. so, you get up to face your fears because, what else are you supposed to do and suddenly your standing with there with your closet door wide open, lights on and there's a monster staring back at you. and its only then that the unsettling light bulb goes off in your head that you're staring at the monster in the closet that you were promised wouldn't be there. however, then its also at that moment you realize that maybe the monster in front isn't what was so scary, but instead, its the fact that you'd been told your whole life that monsters weren't real, even though they actually were.

that's what this film is about.

 

although when you take a look at it on the surface level, the film is what it says it is: a film about a girl going to get an abortion with her best friend. that's it. simple, right? well, no. autumn (sidney flanigan) is a teenager who realizes she's pregnant, but that she also has to get rid of it. and this is something that the film gets right because unlike most films about abortion and pregnancy, she, like most teenagers and other young people, don't get an option. they have to get rid of it. so, that sets young autumn on her journey and thus we follow her on this journey. 

 

her next stop: the local women's clinic. its there that the pregnancy is confirmed, but not without the added guilt. "your beautiful baby boy," says the nurse at the clinic as she begins the heart machine (or whatever it is called), as the heartbeat is "most magical sound you'll ever hear."  its all whimsical and fun until autumn tells the nurse that having a baby is not what she wants. the nurse sees autumn's ears perk up at the words "abortion-minded" and she sets her aside to "show her something." we know what it is. she knows what it is and unreluctantly, she watches it, all because she does not know how to say no. eventually she leaves to make plans on how to go elsewhere for her procedure, but not without calls from the nurse who wants to "check in with her." autumn answers her calls while she's on the train to new york for her prodecure, and she talks to the woman for a while and tells her she can call her back later, (even though she will not be pregnant later) again, all because she does not know how to say no.

 

this trend of not knowing how to say no follows the girls during their journey and later, we find her and her cousin skyler (talia ryder) in new york, clueless, broke and all without having said much to each other on the ride there at all. and the girls don't really need to say much to each other. i mean, what is there really to say? hittman is a wonder at exploring the nuances in how people who are not cis-men, especially those that are younger, communicate with each other and themselves without saying anything at all. its in the subtle nods, the empty silences and unfinished sentences that, again, people who are not cis-men learn how to navigate unsafe spaces (i.e: the whole fucking world) around them and moreover, the pressures put on them that force them to into these spaces in the first place.  

 

spaces that they were told repeatedly were safe. 

 

spaces that they know are not safe.

 

when the film begins and we see autumn and skyler at work, we believe that they are in a safe environment. working for someone who cares about these two 17-year old girls at what is presumably their first job. they are not.  

 

when autumn goes in to the women's clinic to get her pregnancy test, she believes she is in a safe haven as that is where scared, pregnant people go for answers; for options. she is not. 

 

when autumn and skyler board the train and meet a young man who taps skyler on the shoulder to talk and gives her his number, they think he's just a harmlessly, annoying "nice" guy. he is not.

when autumn reaches the second clinic, she thinks that she is home free and ready to get her abortion and go on home. she is wrong.

 

why? because they have been fed lies. we have been feeding our young people about how the world is and much like us, the viewers, they, too, are left to fill in the blanks in how deeply embedded this kind of treachery lies in our culture and its treatment of people who are not cis men. 

skyler and autumn are not protected at work. the older, creepy store manger that is twice the girls' age kisses skyler on the hand right where the cameras can't see. he doesn't let the two girls go home early from their shift after autumn has thrown up medication from trying to self-abort because "he will get lonely" without them. a store customer who is twice the girls' age invites skyler to a party as she is ringing out his alcohol at the store. 

 

autumn is not protected at the women's clinic. the first clinic she tries gives her options, leaving out the one she is looking for the most. in addition, they lie to her about how far along she is which forces her to have to undergo a more complicated procedure than she had expected.

autumn is not protected at home. boys leer insults at her as she lamets on-stage via song about not being in control of her body. her step-father taunts her at the table, undermining her success because she's "always in a foul mood". her mother pretends to not see any of this and moreover, the fear in autumn's eyes when she looks at this man.

they are not protected by anyone but themselves. when autumn finds herself bleeding in the bathroom from the first procedure, she is alone. she calls her mom, who worries about where she is, but autumn silently sobs, says nothing on the phone and eventually, hangs up and moves on.

 

when the young man on the train touches skyler on the arm for far too long before introducing himself, she looks down at this hand, blinks, looks back at him and uncomfortably smiles. the conversation continues and before she even realizes it, he's given her his number before she's had a chance to say no. and after they meet up again and skyler asks him for money for their ride home, he guides skyler away from her friend to "find an atm outside" together after she refuses to go downtown to find one with him. all of this occurs with a hand on her back and an uncomfortable look on skyler's face as she turns back towards her friend.

but skyler returns with the money and the girls make it home, but not without the uncomfortable feeling that something has changed. they know this was not a normal trip. it was never intended to be "just another trip." they knew the lies were there. they knew they were not safe. they knew the monsters were in the closet. they knew what they looked like. they knew that the battle would be hard, they just didn't think it would be this hard.

because the girls are street smart. they knew that a procedure had to happen, but not that it would take two separate appointments or that it would cost that much. they knew to call the boy from the train when they didn't have any money left, but they didn't know what they had to do to get it. they knew that getting to the appointment wouldn't be to hard if they figured out how to get there, they didn't know that the questions that the doctors would ask would be so hard.

because as simple as a few "multiple choice" questions should be, they aren't. 

 

Answer, says the counselor at the clinic, Never. Rarely. Sometimes. Always. the questions are easy enough, she says, that is, until they aren't. Has someone ever forced you into a sexual act, ever, in your life? but the answer never comes. 

 

sometimes it never comes. 

 

i don't know. after i watched the film, it wasn't until my partner was lying next to me that i realized i was curled up into a ball on the floor. "what's wrong?" he asked. "can you talk to me?" i couldn't. i opened my mouth and my throat went dry, so i closed my mouth and said nothing. we both laid on the floor until i got up and into our shared bed. he got ready for bed in the bathroom. i watching buzzfeed videos until my legs stopped shaking. he went to bed with his arms around me. i got up an hour later to open the window up because it got hot. i stared out the window for so long that i started to imagine what it would feel like to fall out. we live on the fourth floor. 

 

i closed it back up and started to write this. the words i couldn't say to my partner because i didn't know what to say. the words that autumn couldn't say to the counselor at the clinic because she, too, did not know what to say.

so here's what i am going to say now: when i was 18, i was sexually assaulted at a party. i was drinking, so was everyone. i saw him staring at me from across the room. he was older than everyone else was at this party. he smiled at me. i smiled back. he motioned at me to come closer. i waved back that i was busy. next thing i knew, a small mosh pit broke out and i was thrown across the room -- into the man.

 

he snatched me immediately up and pinned me against the wall and put his face next to mine. i tried to yank my head off of the wall. he pushed against me harder. i said "i had to go." and either the music was too loud, or he didn't care. maybe even both. he shoved his hands into my jeans, into my underwear and inside of me. 

 

it didn't last long. i cried the entire time. no one stopped dancing.

 

when i pulled away from him. i ran into my friend. i told him i had to go. he told me he didn't want to. i told him i was leaving. he told me "no" and shoved me back into the crowd and told me to "have fun." he shoved me back into the man. the man held onto my waist for a few moments after i bumped into him. i ran up the stairs and out the door.

my friend chased after me. we didn't talk until i made it to their dorm bc i did not want to be alone. i told them what happened, asked if i could spend the night. they said no. i walked back to my dorm that night and knocked on another one of my friends' doors. they were drunk and in the middle of showering when i knocked on their door. they let me sleep in their bed while they slept on the floor.

i avoided thinking about it for a long time. for a long time, i didn't think anything bad had happened. i was alive, wasn't i? i was drunk, wasn't i? it was my fault, wasn't it? that really wasn't rape, was it? maybe if i hadn't been out so late? maybe if i hadn't been drinking? maybe if i had been louder? maybe if i had better friends? i found myself googling "was i really raped?"  on my phone several times a day. i thought i saw this man around several times a day. i couldn't report it. i couldn't even remember what his face looked like. i started seeing the therapist i'd ghosted again after i had a panic attack at the library because i thought it was him in the stacks. she had to convince me to let me to take my free sessions and begged me to come see her again next week. i did.

sometimes i feel like it never happened; that i made it all up. sometimes i like to pretend that it didn't happen. sometimes i really do forget that it happened. and sometimes, i remember everything at once and it feels like its happening all over again; that i am 18 again. that i am helpless. that i am trapped in a basement and no one can hear crying because everyone is wasted and the music is too loud. all i knew was that no one was looking out for me and moreover, my friend didn't listen to me when i told him something was wrong and we didn't speak for several weeks after that (until he begged me to "get over it" over the phone, calling me every over day for weeks and showing up outside my dorm, when he knew i would be getting home, to apologize).

but it happened and it could happen again. but i am not 18 anymore. i'm 23. i'm not going to say that i know better because there are not lessons that can be learned when it comes to things like this. i rememebered was thinking for years, even with therapy, that it wasn't rape. that the word rape is such an ugly word. that that could never happen to me. "oh, i was just sexually assaulted," i told my therapist. "that's not that bad right?" not knowing or believing what had happened to my own body and trying to use semantics to downplay the situation. imagine being me, worried about calling a crime, what it is: a crime.

 

what happened to me is a crime. what happens to these girls in this film is crime. but the only person that can protect me, is me. the only person that can protect these girl is themselves and each other, if they can let each other in.

 

sometimes it is hard to let other people in because how can you trust a world that's let you down so much? how can you trust other people when you're living in a world that's constantly preparing you for a battle you can't properly fight. they tell you to be strong, to keep your guard up and build up certain walls as to not be let down, but what happens when you do all of that and still fail?

autumn is constantly trying to figure things out for herself. every other word out of her mouth is some iteration of the words, "i'm fine" or "i've got it", even though she isn't fine and doesn't "have it". when someone makes either of these girls uncomfortable, they sit there and take it. they even smile back because they've been conditioned to be nice and polite even if they're under physical attack: by men, by boys, by other women and other people in general, but most importantly by the system itself.

 

these girls have a whole lot against them, much like most people who are not cis men do from the moment that they're born. and what is worse is that they're lied to every moment of their lives by the very people and systems put in place that are supposed to protect them. its only when she's asked very clearly about how she feels that she realizes that there's a problem in how she's been treated in the first place and the fucked up thing about it all is that she doesn't have anything to say about it.

because what could you say after you've essentially been gaslit your entire life?? and its this point in the movie that demonstrates the kind of pain that generations of non-men have been going through and moreover, will continue to go through if we continue with the very dangerous precedent that's been set in modern America way before the camera has started rolling. this is because this story, while fictitious on-screen, is the very story of many others like autumn and skyler. moreover, its prolific in the way that it encapsulates this very devestatingly unifying story without doing much work at all. 

 

like i said before, its in the glances. its in the silences. its in the closeups of the bruises on her stomach during the ultrasound after she tries to self-abort by punching herself in the stomach. or the girls' hands interlocked as the boy kisses skyler after he gives her the money. the close up on how open sklyer's eyes are and how they keep darting back-and-forth in fear. and how autumn looks at her because she knows there's nothing she can do about it. its in the girls doing their makeup in the bathroom together. and how they eat pasties together and play at the arcade like young people are supposed to be doing, but instead they have to go out of their way to get the help they should already be afforded, but, yet, aren't. and even though all of that occurs, the film seemingly also ensures that without hope, these kinds of stories will only continue to have to be told down the line.

romance vs realism in tennis' swimmer

 

i don't think i ever want to get married (at least in a conventional sense; but i will go on about that later) now, i know that's a big statement to make, but i am not very big on large committal gestures and the overall concept of "til death do us part", "for rich or for poor" and all that nonsense. a lot of this stems from the fact that i am a the point in my life where i really don't want to give too much of my time away from the things i enjoy for my significant other simply because they're my significant other, but moreover, that i really don't have much to give in terms of a marriage.

 

• i'm poor
• i'm impatient
• there are sometimes when i just lie on the floor for a few hours
• i cry a lot 
• i complain a lot 

 

yes, i can clean a bathroom and cook like nobody's business, but i also don't think i could be a housewife because A. sometimes it takes me several days to clean up one mess. B. i do laundry and i really don't fold up it up and put it away until i'm at the point that i need to put my dirty clothes into the hamper because they've been sprawled out of the floor all week. moreover, even though i've been in a long-term relationship for the last 5 years, i truly don't know how anyone could stand this behavior enough to want to marry me. however, i say this mainly as a joke much like i joke with my partner about getting married. i don't want this to come off as me not loving my partner" nor do i not want anyone to think that they don't love me enough to want to marry me. i do love them and we are very committed to each other in terms of how we spend our time together and how we make everything we do together a choice. by this i mean, i allow my partner to do as they please and vice versa. we choose to be together until we don't wanna be. for me, marriage doesn't really deepen that choice or make it more important. some people choose to believe that it does, but i just don't. i don't care about how much a person says they love me as much as they show it to me. 

 

i mean, if a person does tell me that they love me, i do take it very much to heart, but if they're telling me they love me and then go and treat me like trash, do they really??? course not 'cuz they're TRASH.  moreover, if i want to throw an expensive party, get drunk in a big white dress with all my friends, i can do all that without having to call it a wedding. because don't get me wrong, i love spending money on silly stuff. i love wasting my money and then feeling very depressed about what i've spend my hard earned funds on, but, societal connotations aside, marriage just feels like too much frivolous commitment for my tastes.

that is, until i listened to tennis' swimmer.

 

tennis has been one of my favorite bands since i heard cape dory in high school. while their warm, 60s inspired, surf pop sound has remained consistent over the last few years, the thematics of their albums has evolved with time and for good reason. the husband-and-wife duo behind the band, patrick riley and alaina moore, released cape dory in 2011. THATS A LONG ASS TIME AGO. cape dory is drizzled in nostalgia and hope and determination for a better life on some island far, far away. its playful and fun and youthful. its much different than their next release, young & old (a similarly fun album about what it feels to grow up while you're still growing up) and its much different than their next releases ritual in repeat (a more mature album that's less about overseas traveling and more internal soul-searching) and yours conditionally (a more confident rendition of the same self-efficacy demonstrated in the last album). however, the differences between the sounds of those albums and what is going on in this new release, swimmer, is that there's a much more mature understanding in how finding yourself can make you a better person for the ones you love and how it is that kind of love and, thus, matrimony is what's kept the band together for almost a decade. 

 

alaina and patrick are married and they're life partners, but they weren't always this madly in love. they met in college and were strictly platonic friends for a long time before it turned into a conventional partnership/relationship."one day i was just living with him and then one day we were married," alaina stated in an interview with 303 magazine. i think this distinction is so important because often, people do get too attached to these sorts of titles. not to say that they're not important, but i know for me, sometimes when i get into a new relationship, i lose sight of being in a relationship with that person due to the fact that i feel forced to have to call it something for it to feel valid. in reflecting on my past few relationships, i've often been told something along the lines of "you really think i like you less than i do. i like you a lot, but you don't seem to think that i do." and a lot of that is on me because of my #anxiousattachmentstyle and my mommy and daddy issues, but i think a lot of it also comes from me not being real with myself and constantly looking for understanding from people who are not in my relationship because i didn't want to come to terms with my own insecurities. 

 

whenever i felt insecure in a relationship, i would asked my friends about it, looking for validation because i didn't want to feel crazy. either they'd tell me my feelings were valid and that the other person was messing up or they'd tell me that i was acting crazy and that i needed to stop feeling the way that i did, but neither of those helped me understand why i was feeling that way that i did nor did they help me feel any less crazy. yes, i should have been going to the person i was in a relationship about my concerns. yes, i also probably should have been going to therapy consistently. btu did i learn my lesson and grow from all of these mishaps in my relationships? HELL YES, which sort of makes it all worth it in the long run because, here i am, writing about all of this nonsense as sort of an outlet for understanding why i am the way i am. for alaina and patrick, the outlet in which they've come to understand themselves and  their relationship is their music and swimmer is a sort of a smooth-yet-simultaneous contention and tribute towards this dilemma of how you learn how to define your own relationship and become comfortable with it when you have all of these outside obstacles trying to lead you astray.

unlike the personable obstacles that are my friends, swimmer deals with more mature obstacles like death, grief and other insecurities that come with realizing that you're at the point in your life that you can say, "wow, im old" and actually reflect on what that means. the opener, "i'll haunt you" (which feels more like an closer than anything, but that's just me) is an eerie testament to the whole "wow, i'm old." it's about the process of physically feeling your youth leave your body, but not in the way where people think that suddenly you hit menopause and then you're like "damn i'm old. i imagine the process is like "wow, when are things going to change for me. i know they are, so when is going to feel like it?" and then BOOM! you're looking at the world around you and you're like, WOW I HAVE ACTUALLY BEEN ON THIS FLOATING ROCK FOR QUITE SOME TIME, THEREFORE, I AM OLD. 

 

"echoes" sort of deals with this same dilemma as it relays alaina's time in the hospital because what else does one have to do in the hospital other than reflect?? although it brings up memories of the breezy sounds of past albums, its truly a track about mere reflection. as she states in the song, "those days are gone" and she's left to replay them in her head, but now with this sort of comfort in the fact that when you're old, having someone by your side makes looking back all the more worthwhile. the next track "swimmer" continues with the same sort of sentiment, but in looking back at all the things that maybe you didn't do that you wish you had or the times you'd wish you shared with someone. for alaina, a lof of that is learning to swim (HENCE THE TITLE) because as much as she enjoys sailing and the ocean, she doesn't know how to swim and well....SAME. WATER IS SCARY.

 

however, as much as the album is about reflection on how it feels to grow up and moreover, coming to the realization that you are, in fact, growing up, it is also album about how differently people seem to operate once they're older. (i.e: namely in relationships). 

 

"need your love", "how to forgive" and "runner" are three songs that exist as companion pieces to one another about how this process works. "need your love" talks about how fine and dandy love is, but to a point. beacause you literally do not need anyone else to feel whole becuase people will disappoint you to the point where you will probably treat them like they died and that's okay (literally the idea of comparing needing somone to being struck by lightening is either the most bitter or the most brillant thing ever, or both). 

 

"how to forgive" is about realizing that some people are quite frankly trash and may not deserve forgiveness for hurting your feelings. and while your feelings of hurt are valid, you do have to do something about it. i love being petty and if i could hold a grudge for forever, i definitely would because that's just how i am and it would be so "easy", ;like she says in the song, but who the hell is that helping by doing that? one day, you're going to wake up and realize a million years later that you've probably  forgiven this person without realizing it, so why not do it sooner rather than later? 

 

and lastly, as much as "runner" is about love, its also about religion. there are  motifs of "becoming a grain of salt" and the "promised land" and "famine", and all that nonsense and  theyare all godly as fuck. while i could go into about what those sort of religious motifs mean, (which i mean, i can't because i haven't been to church in ages), they really are there to talk about why it's really hard to move on. and that's because trauma and pain never really leave us. yes, we can forgive and forget and we can move on, but it will always be with us in some manner or another. in the bible, this man named lott is supposed to dip with his family because the town is burning. they leave, and they're not supposed to look back and just keep it moving. lott's wife does and she is punished and turned into a grain of salt. 

 

why? oh, because god said so. 

 

but should she have been punished is something that think is up for some sort of debate beacause OF COURSE SHE'S GOING TO LOOK BACK ON HER BURNING HOMETOWN. WHO WOULDN'T?? TF?? and while god seemingly punishes this woman for looking back, i think the song is trying to say that while you do have to do something about these negative emotions and forgiving them would be appropriate, its hard decision to make, and only you can decide what's best for you.

my first experiences with swimmer, were with "runner" and "need your love." although i was particular about "need your love" due to the fact that i felt i didn't need any damn body and that i wholly loved myself enough to not need anyone. i know now that this was a lie. i do need people to love. i have people that i love. we all need people in lives to love. when i first heard the album as a whole, (on valentine's day of all the damn days) i was in a very different place in my life than i am now. i was head over heels for someone, but didn't really know how to describe that feeling. (like you ever stare into nigga's eyes in the club and feel 57 years go by?? YES, THAT KIND OF FEELING. IT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE, LEAVE ME ALONE) i was constantly being told by other people that my concerns and anxieties about these feelings were not valid. and moreover, i was stuffing all these feelings down and not unpacking them because i was afraid to. all of this is a recipe for distaster especially when you are hearing lyrics like "every little bead of sweat / feel it running down my neck / when you look at me like that / feeling like we can't go back" and you start remembering when 57 years passed by in one night at the club and using that as a form of validation and comfort when that's really not what that is. now, i can safely see how damaged i was and how ill-fitted i was for that kind of deep connection. not that i didn't deserve it, but that i could not appreciate it for what it was because i wasn't ready for it. and again, this isn't to say that i am ready to have these sorts of connections now becuase i do still have work to do, but i recognize whatever life throws at me is an oppurtunity for growth in the long-term.

 

and swimmer and tennis' overall career proves that while that process might be long and daunting, its all worthwhile looking back if you want it to be. moreover, it proves that being a romantic at heart can't save you from that process. however, you can save yourself a lifetime of therapy bills and just go along with it and live. and if there comes a point in your life that you decide, "hey i want to be married. im going to get married", awesome! please invite me to your wedding if this post has given you the confidence to go and get married.

if not, that's also okay. we can still have a party anyways.

i got a diva cup and it rocked my world.

so, i "borrowed" a diva cup from [redacted] last week and it was amazing. not the act of "borrowing", but the actual product itself. i've been a big user of tampons for a while now and trust me, that wasn't an easy step. for the longest time, i was very anti-tampon and just preferred the big, bloody butt diaper that i called a pad. however, one day, tampons were all that my roommate had and i was far too lazy, so i snuck a few to get me through my unusually short period (3 days!!!) and went about my day.

now don't get me wrong, it wasn't a bad transition. did i have to use a youtube tutorial made for teenagers to get me through the process of getting the generic kotex rod shoved up inside me? absolutely. however, after about 20 minutes of patiently sitting spread eagle over the toilet bowl and getting to know my bits better than my gynecologist (who am i kidding; i don't have a primary physcian. i'm not a baby), i left the bathroom feeling like an rap video hoe in a young money music video: accomplished, slightly embarrassed and a little chaffed. i did have to venture into the bathroom several times that day to "adjust" because it definitely felt like a paper rod had been shoved up my vagina, which feels just how it sounds.

 

ultimately, after a few tries, i got used to it and could not feel the sucker ever. however, that first time did almost traumatize me and what surprises me is that no one ever really prepares you for putting in a tampon for the first time. all i ever heard about the process was how "easy it was" or how "you'd never use another pad again." they didn't tell me how i'd essentially be giving myself an annual checkup with a foot propped up on the edge of the tub. they didn't tell me that my fingers would probably start hurting from holding my actual vagina open for so long. they really also didn't tell me that tampons should match your flow. how was i supposed to know you couldn't use a super jumbo absorbent tampon with a light little flow like mine?? because i didn't. all i knew is that i put that thing inside me and it made me feel like my vagina had rug burn and it was then that i learned my lesson: always look at the damn box before you buy something that literally goes inside of you.

 

 and so, that leads me to my next escapade at the supermarket: the one where i got the infamous diva cup. it was a weekday afternoon. i made my roommate take me to the store because i could feel the wave coming upon me and i was without any instruments for my menses. i could have taken a few of my other roommates to hold me over until it was over, but unfortunately, she only had those damn super absorbent tampons. as i learned my lesson beforehand, i bit the bullet and made my way to the store.

 

the menses aisle of the store is honestly one of the most exciting aisles of the store and i don't really know why. i'll preface this by saying that when i say "exciting" i really mean colorful. there are only so many colors of the rainbow, but tampon companies really doubled down on the bright, fun colors for whatever reason. maybe its so that people will notice that they're all different. maybe they want to trick people into thinking periods are fun (hint: they aren't), or maybe i'm just overthinking it, but overall, the menses aisle always seems to have a lot going on. while my first instinct was to grab a box of tampons, the diva cup caught my eye for some reason that day. maybe it was the toilet paper pad that i had soaking up the crime scene in my pants or maybe it was the fact that i planned on getting the stores, "buy none, get one free deal", but after twenty minutes of holding it in my hands, i decided to go with the flow and just try it out.

and honestly, its not that bad. its new, so i do get the sentiment of  "i can't wait to get my next period" that frequently comes from the commercials of these products. however, a lot of that comes with the fascination that i am literally pulling a suction cup in and out of my vagina. i'm not one of the white women in the commercials doing yoga in their diva cup or laughing while eating a salad. i am spread eagle over my toilet, yelling over the phone to my homosexual best friend about how hard i'm kegeling and giving strangers the side for staring at me while i'm cleaning my cup in the sink of a public bathroom. however, even though all of this feels terrible, i feel like the white women laughing at a salad in the tampon commercials and that is because i am not ashamed of my period anymore.

 

there's a lot of people that i have talked to in the last few months about how gross they feel talking about their period. and that's so valid because they are, in fact, gross sometimes. do you know how many times i've woken up thinking i've peed myself only to find that i've actually bled through a full pad and my underwear onto my sheets? do you know how many times i've woken up in someone else's bed thinking i've peed myself only to find out i've bled through my skivvies? do you know how many makeshift pads i've made out of toilet paper, receipts and etc. when mother nature decides to spring up on me out of nowhere? (on a side note: do those machines in the bathroom even work?? i've used one probably once in my life. once. moreover, period products should be free. period.) do you know how many time i have googled "can you go swimming with a pad on?" and then gone on to do that thinking that it would be "different this time" when in fact, it is just a bad idea in general. so, its safe to say: periods suck and moreover, i am not very good at keeping track of them, when they're coming, and when i need to get things done. that's a whole fact, but i don't think there's any reason for anyone to feel ashamed about getting them because shit happens. and unfortunately for me, i kind of have to deal with them for the foreseeable future, so i'm not going to let anyone make feel any worse about them than i already do. i'll deal with the sheet stains and dry cleaning bills when i have to, but i refuse to be side-eyed by some Karen in the public bathroom for handling my business for my body in the sink.

but also, if anyone figures out a way to have sex with this thing without turning my partner into a toilet, please, let me know.

why "case of the ex (whatcha gonna do)" is one of the best songs ever made

so, i saw an article about "why mark morrison's return of the mack is one of the best songs ever that nobody ever acknowledges is the best song ever" and for the most part, when i saw it, i nodded my head and moved on. 

 

return of the mack is just an objectively great song. it's fun, everyone knows it, it's infectiously upbeat and funky and it is just literally impossible not to like the song. 

hell, its my go-to karaoke song for those exact reasons. and honestly, i have yet to meet a person who just stands in the corner with their arms crossed when this song comes on and moreover, on the day i do come across this person, is the day i finally get to take off my earrings and tell someone to "meet me outside." (yes, people, it is just that good of a song)

 

however, my defense for mark morrison's banger came to a head when i saw season 4, episode 3 of hbo's insecure. for those of you unfamiliar with one of the best shows of the last decade, (firstly, go get right with the streaming service gods and watch the damn show), insecure is a comedy-drama created by the lovely issa rae about the day-to-day experiences of Black women in love and life in modern LA. it's messy, it's insightful, it's steamy and perfect for anyone looking for a quick binge during quarantine. and while you still might be skeptical, i will lay out my strongest piece of evidence of why you need to be watching insecure here:  

 

BLACK EXCELLENCE!  

this show features Black people making moves both on-and-off screen and was nominated for a whooping 3 emmys this year, but, i digress. this is argument about music.

 

so on season 4, episode 3, issa, our lead character, is posting about the fun times she's having on thanksgiving. she's drinking, laughing and, of course, posting to instagram to let everyone know what's up. however, when her ex peeps her enjoying her life, he decides he's going to run up and fuck up her momentum with a dusty laughing emoji reaction. *cue mya's case of the ex (whatchu gonna do)*

 

not only was this probably one of the greatest music cues in television history, but it got me thinking, is this also one of the best songs ever made that no one acknowledges is, in fact, the one of the best song ever made??

in my opinion, yes, and probably more so, than return of the mack and here's why:

 

mya's "case of the ex (whatcha gonna do)" is iconic. period. its an early 2000s banger whose intro beat sends chills through my spine. when this came on as issa's ex swiped up on her story, i felt that chill and thought: "oh no. the mess. the messiness. they wouldn't!"

 

but, oh, yes, they did. as this song played through the credits, i sat dumbstruck at the experience i had just gone through connecting the song to the situation in the show and really hearing about what mya was going though as she laments about her new boo's ex who is also fucking up her momentum and newfound happiness.

 

that experience is not something i've gone through or at least have seen done in terms of a song like "return of the mack" or any song, frankly. it a simple and super effective choice that showcases the power of the song itself.

 

the songs hinges on a lot of experiences that people come across in relationships. moreover, at the end of relationships, especially when one of you just can't quite let go. not every break up is as clear-cut as it seems. personally, i have only been broken up with once and really, it wasn't by someone i actually dated. unlike what many of us have forced ourselves to believe, situationships are not the breeding ground for love. they are relationships that are undefined and not based entirely on commitments. they owe you nothing and neither do you. is this fair? hell, no, but, remember, if people are trash, they're just going to be trash and there's nothing you can do about it, but leave. situationships are truly often based on convenience or short-term circumstances. moreover, they often do a number on your head and heart because, for whatever reason, both parties usually do not know what the hell they want and then you're left in a lableless, relationship limbo asking yourself this: do they like me? do i like them? do they want to date me? wait a minute, do i want to date them? are they seeing other people? should i be seeing other people?

 

this is what the brain of someone in a situationship often looks like and if you think that this sounds like hell, trust me it is. even though what they want from this other person may not be a romantic relationship, due to the constraints monogamy has on society, we often feel like we should and need to be in a romantic relationship with everyone that we are somewhat compatible with. i, however, rebuke this.

 

and while i will not go into those reasons here, i will, again, just say that its hard not to think this way because of how heavily ingrained into society it is to think this way. in the case of mya and her iconic song, she questions how do you move forward when you're in this relationship limbo and moreover, what do you do when their ex comes knocking and wants them back and you don’t know where you two stand.

 

in mya's case, she is the new boo who wants nothing to do with this ghost coming to knock her out of  lableless limbo and back into the hell that is the dating pool, which is super valid. but as she states it the song, "whatcha gonna do when you can't say no / and the feelings start to show / how you gonna act / how you gonna handle that / whatchu gonna do when she wants you back?"

 

which is tough. when you ex pulls up on you out of the blue when you're doing good, you go through several stages:

 

1. anger - (i.e: WHAT IS THIS NIGGA DOING RUNNING UP ON ME IN MY NEWFOUND HAPPINESS? IT'S ALWAYS WHEN I'M DOING WELL THAT THEY WANT TO POP UP LIKE A DAMN LOST PUPPY.)

2. curiousity - (i.e: WHAT DOES THIS NIGGA WANT FROM ME??? ARE WE CHECKING IN TO BE NICE OR NAH?) 

3. smug - (i.e: so you wanna hit? is that it? that's what you want? i know i was looking good, but damn...)

4. acceptance - (i.e: let me calm down and read this message. it's going to be fine. it's whatever. i don't even care. i'm cool.)

5. (if you're lucky) - recovery - (i.e: figure out what they want and either: a. leave them alone, or b. work your own on maintaining some sort of cordial friendliness.

5. (if you're unlucky) relapse - (i.e: begin the text message/social media stalk and catching up with them in a way that will have you going, "man, what happened to us?")

 

however, again, as mya said "obviously, that shit did not last" for a reason. maybe they were trash at responding to you. maybe they smelled like resin all the time. maybe they just literally didn't wash their ass. maybe they were just an overall garbage person. whatever the reason may have been, it didn't work and now that you're in this new relationship, you have got to handle your shit, so that there's no need to worry about "a case of the ex."

 

because that shit is unnecessarily frustrating. mya literally wrote this iconic song to detail how frustrating it can be and honestly, i have yet to hear a song put it down the way that she does. the lyrical concept of sticking it to your exes is not new ground, but mya's catchy, pop anthem does it in a way that is frankly, just unmatched. like morrison, mya gifted the world this song to let everyone know to get their shit on straight or there will be a problem.

and as the article on morrison states while "best ever" maybe subjective, it also just means that the shit's just good, b. don't be a hater. just listen to the words of the best song ever and handle your shit.

 

(also, exhibit a - z of why this song is the best: this music video)

revisiting solange's "a seat at the table" after you've found your spot

 

 

unfortunately, i was one of the tragic few people that did not listen to solange's 2016 album, a seat at the table when it initially came out. i'll admit it. i was a bit of a hater. however, upon revisiting itconsistently over the last few months, it really does stands as one of the best records released in the last decade. period.

 

if i had to describe the album in a few words, they would be "growth","manifestations," "grief" and "healing". while these are things that may have needed at the time the album came out, much like i lament in my musings on sza's ctrl, i think that for the longest time, i avoided this album because it addressed the very things that i hated about myself. and moreover, instead of confronting them as solange suggests, i decided to take the mental high road and dip out instead.

a seat at the table has often been hailed as a "call and response" to the Black community and seeks to dissect both the misery and joys that comes from being Black. its power not only derives from its quiet discussions on the politics of hair, Black womanhood and the all the other things that have been taken from Black people to keep them quiet and complacent within a society does not welcome them. however, its a call to arms for those who have lifted the metaphysical veil on internalized racism and are looking for somewhere to articulate these frustrations and more. here, solange offers a "space" at the aforementioned table among her ancestors and other fellow Black people for this discussion and simply proposes this question along the way: "where do we go from here?"

 

this is something that i am still working to figure out as i become more comfortable with with my own sense of Blackness. i constantly find myself thinking about my Blackness' role in my friendships, relationships, the music i listened to, the places i visit and just about everything i do. sometimes i feel like i am driving myself crazy thinking about my own Blackness. (wow, this really sounds like an ibram x. kendi book) it feels really extra and unnecessary to have to do that all the time and most of the time it is often just that, extra and unnecessary. but i went so long without thinking about it at all, that its kind of just been burnt into my brain to have to consider certain things anytime i make any decision.

 

let's be frank for a minute: growing up, i was a Black person with very few Black friends. i'd burnt off my hair from years of relaxers and had literal chemical burns on the top of my head from too many trips to "the shop." the shop, for all of you (e.g: white people) unfamiliar with this phrase, is a beauty salon. however, not just any beauty salon, but one that exists in the basement or lower-level of someone's home that they've somehow converted into a beauty salon. more than often, you'll see the standard wash stations, hair dyers and African art that server to disguise the fact that you're getting your hair done in someone's friend-of-a-friend's or aunt's basement. however, after you've sat in the waiting chair for more than 45 minutes from the start of your appointment, been asked to reschedule several times after waiting for more than an hour and had to take many breaks forperson doing your hair to eat or have a conversation on their phone while you still have a head full of conditioner, you'll remember where you are. this was also often a reminder that i was Black and no blowout could distract from that.

 

i would start to cry when my mom pulled up to this person's house because i didn't understand why i couldn't just go to "a real hair salon" like my white friends who went to great clips (yeah, i don't know what crack i was smoking when i was a kid, but great clips is not a hair salon). i would cry even more after my mom beat my ass for trying to undo the bumped end situation that i had going on in my hair (seriously, it just did not hit). however, through all the tears, i sucked up the chemical burns atop my skull and my crunchy dorito ends because, in the end, my hair looked like all my white friends' hair and that made me happy. however, many years later, upon hearing "don't touch my hair" for the first time, instead of feeling empowered about my mane and its connection to my identity as a Black person, i felt slightly attacked.

 

the song weaponizes its lyrics against the people trying to take away the of bodily autonomy of Black people. namely regarding the issues that Black women face when trying to preserve some form of individuality through their hair. the song reclaims the Black body and sets boundaries in place for those trying to disrupt that connection. 

"don't touch my hair / when it's the feelings i wear/ don't touch my soul / when it's the rhythm I know / don't touch my crown / they say the vision I've found / don't touch what's there / when it's the feelings I wear"

however, i couldn't the same for my body and my hair because i didn't feel that connection. my identity was built around trying to emulate the white people. i straightened my hair. i dressed in only aeropostale and forever 21. i was loud enough to stand out, and cartoonishly so, but not aggressively so as to, again, fit in with the white people me. because if they let me into their space, i won. i knew it wasn't right, but it made me comfortable. moreover, listening to solange confidently address her body and hair as her own made me jealous and uncomfortable about the ways in which i had so desperately changed myself to fit into a crowd i never belonged to in the first place.  

 

but acceptance is the hardest part and once i fully began to see myself for who i was (a thick-lipped, big nosed, kinky curly haired Black person) and who i wasn't (skinny, tall, white, etc), i was free.

or at least i thought i was until the murder of George Floyd on May 25, 2020. i don't want to say that the murder of this unarmed Black man awoken something in me, but it incited something me that i didn't quite recognize and moreover, a feeling that made even more uncomfortable than my first run-in with the album. 

 

and that's anger.

 

now i've been angry my whole life and i have a plethora of things that never fail to grind my gears on sight. the dan ryan between the hours of 12 pm - 3pm. fast food salads that cost more than $4. white women wearing box braids or durags. white women who just stand in the way when the can clearly hear you saying "excuse me." however, upon listening to one of the best tracks of the album, "mad", i recognize now that some of that anger is kind of justified. Black people are dying at the hands of the police. our culture is constantly being jacked from us and we're being told that we're not enough. we don't have a place at the table and more than often, we're made to feel as if we don't deserve one. and as a result, we're scared. we're angry. and more importantly, we're tired and there's this constant state of paranoia surrounding these feelings. why am i so mad? should i feel that way? no one else feels this why so why am i so pressed? do i keep pushing or should i just push it all down before "it gets all up in the way" like lil' wayne laments in the song. before i heard the song, i really did think that this was all in my head. for most of my life, i only hung around white people who never had to consider these things. no one was having these kinds of conversations with me, so, ultimately, i felt crazy thinking about these things all the time, but i wasn't crazy, i just wasn't ready.

it is in this album that solange welcomes me, and other like-minded individuals, to a table and i, even as reluctant was i was at first, eventually took my seat. it was a process and an experience, and one that i am still working on, but one that i have finally acknowledged as valid. in a world where racism still runs rampant and is destroying lives and communities of Black individuals, its really important to be able to fight back. its something that has to be done when Black people are dying at the rate in which they are. whether it be by the police, policies keeping them from fresh food and proper housing, or even if it is just the mental destruction of the Black mind and its individuality, Black people are under attack and i no longer have the privilege of shying away from that. its time to get uncomfortable and time to do something about it. 

why does everyone in chicago hate ketchup so much?

someone recently came over to my apartment and we ate food. it was good food, but at some point, they asked me i had some ketchup they could use. i, being the lovely host that i am, got up and searched my fridge, cabinets and just about all over my kitchen for ketchup. but, unfortunately, i did not have any.

 

and while they were truly astonished that i did not own any ketchup because of the mere principle of the situation, it confused me as well. not just because i deliberately remember buying ketchup a few weeks ago because my roommate asked me to, but because i couldn't quite remember the last time i actively put ketchup on anything or moreover, even enjoyed it as a condiment.

 

then i remembered: oh, i'm from chicago. 

so before we continue, i would like to say that: i am actually from chicago. i was born in the city of chicago. i will not be providing my birth certificate for legal reasons, but just know: i am not from rosemont or schaumberg, or elmhurst or naperville (god, fuck naperville) or whatever chicagoland suburb that most people like to pretend they're not from when people want to know about chicago.  

i know this is such a simple dichotomy, but its an important one. riding the green/blue line into the city every weekend from the suburbs does not mean you are "from chicago." knowing where maxwell's is does not mean you are "from chicago." however, if you have  survived a trip to the harold's on 87th street and also, at some point, had someone expose themselves on the cta, i will consider your case. personally, i have not lived in chicago for some time, but i will forever be indebted to my birthplace for the things that are associated with it and thus, me as a result.

i never really knew that wherever you are from really crafted your identity and the way that people see you. that is,  however until, i moved away from my birthplace and had to tell other people about it.when people hear that i am "from chicago", they begin to associate various things with me. whether it be the food, da bears, lori lightfood or moreover, the crime, it either makes people very curious or very concerned for me. this is not the same for who live in the "chicagoland" area, or moreover, the suburbs, because don't have to deal with these sorts of things where they're from. they can simply take the metra or the cta and just get safely back home until they want to come back into the city once things have died down.

 

however, regardless of where you are from, everyone in or around the chicagoland knows this: never, ever, ever put ketchup on your hot dog. 

 

moreover, when you google the words "chicago", "hot dog" and "ketchup", one of the questions that appear under the "people also frequently ask" section  of google includes "is ketchup illegal in chicago?

 

of course, it is not illegal to eat ketchup in chicago. refusing to wear a mask during a deadly pandemic is not illegal in chicago. wearing those disgusting foot shoes in public is also not illegal in chicago.

 

but should they be?  

absolutely. 

 

but will people do whatever they want as long as they won't get arrested for it?

 

they sure will. 

 

therefore, you can go ahead and eat ketchup on a hot dog, but does that make it okay?

well, that depends on who you ask. i don't actually know because i truly have never given it that much thought, but, let's take a walk to figure out what the hell is going on together.

so, there could be a number of reasons why a city is just across-the-board against a simple condiment, like ketchup. it could be just mere taste. is could also be pride because there is such thing as the "chicago style hot dog." it could also be fear from the kind of citywide gate-keeping that keeps people from wheaton from going around and telling people that they're "from chicago."

  

so i decided to do the thing i know best and... ask the internet. 

 

i put up a poll on instagram and many people from the city had things to say about their feelings on ketchup. these responses ranged from "it's just not right" to "it's childish. grow up" to various "scientific" explanations on its properties as a condiment and how it affects the other things on the hot dog itself. while i didn't ask for all of this, it is interesting to think about if we consider all that comes on the aforementioned "chicago style hot dog." so, if we break down the chicago dog, it consists of the following:

• yellow mustard
• white onion
• sliced tomatoes
  
•  dill pickles
  
• green relish
  
• celery salt 
• the dog itself
  

from the responses in my inbox, the reason that ketchup is not on this list is because it is far too sweet and messes up the sort of acidic combination that chicago dog has going on with mustard, pickles, relish and so forth. 

 

someone also mentioned the redundancy of adding ketchup to a chicago dog because there is "a whole damn tomato" already on the hot dog, which i get, but i also don't get it because ketchup and tomatoes taste hella different, but i digress. 

 

the last point that i will bring up is that some people truly believe that it is childish to put ketchup on a hot dog. see, while i find it to be childish to believe that ketchup and tomatoes are the same thing, (just because they really aren't. i really don't know how else to explain this) i personally do not fully believe that ketchup itself is childish. do children consume it? yes. do full grown adults also consume it? yes, absolutely. but again, does that make it right? again, depends on who you ask.

 

for the most part, ketchup is considered childish because kids put it on everything. for the life of me, i will never understand why kids put ketchup on chicken nuggets. they cover their food in the mess and it's weird, but, again, i digress. the point i am trying to make here is that kids cover their foods in condiments so that they can't really taste what they're supposed to be eating and with this in mind, if you decide that this is what you want to do, you are essentially just being a big ass kid.

now, with all this in mind, i will say to say that everyone from chicago hates ketchup because that would be a lie. do a majority of people from chicago actively hate ketchup? yes, they do. do i personally walk around chicago fearful that someone will snatch my food out of my hands if they see me with ketchup on my hot dog? absolutely, because they will. will you piss some people off if you, too, walk around with ketchup on your own hot dog? yes, you will. 

 

and if you think that i am wrong, please visit exihbit a:

 

but at the end of the day. just do whatever you want. a place is just a place. a hot dog is simply a hot dog. if you want to take the extra precautions and eat a hot dog secretly in an alleyway because you're afraid of being chastised, go ahead. if you want open have people scowl at you while you eat a mess of a hot dog in public, be my guest. if you want to a 35 minute conversation with a stranger and explain to them that you don't actually live in chicago, but rather, 20 miles away in a town no one has ever heard of, that is fine as well.

 

 i don't even eat hot dogs of any kind. i personally think that all kinds of hot dogs are actually just kind of gross anyways. they're literally mashed up parts of random animals and moreover, the shape of a hot dog is just weird. that's the real problem if you ask me, but, then again, you probably didn't.

how (not) to introduce your boyfriend to the people you're sleeping with

i once saw a quote on instagram, twitter or some random social media site that read, “why have one boyfriend, when you could have three” and i thought that was the most ridiculous thing in the world. who the hell needs three boyfriends? personally, i can’t even comprehend how people have more than one pet, much less having to spend their precious time and energy with multiple romantic partners throughout the week. a million years ago, when i was first introduced to the world of polyamory, i, too, bought into the idea that opening my relationship meant that i could basically have a different lover for every day of the week.

wrong.

this is because as much as i would like to describe myself as a people person, if i spend too much time with a person, i will grow to detest them. this isn’t to say that i hate everyone that i know because i don’t. It’s just that upon letting people into my life, there will come a point that i will treat them like they stole my bike. therefore, my aforementioned plan on building a well-rounded  “hoetation’ was about as successful as the time i attempted to cut open a reddi whip with a pair of scissors. the shit does not work.

although it took me more than probably socially acceptable to realize that there was not just actual cream within a reddi whip can, it did hit me quite early on that the “hoetation” was not something that was going to work for me. for those of you that do not know what a “hoetation” is, it is roster of regular sexual partners that you engage with. this can be weekly, monthly, annually, or even biweekly if you’re feeling particularly fancy about penciling in your, ahem, appointments. but, the point is you see these people regularly to some extent and they can be shuffled around and rotated like a pokemon team lineup.

this, again, is something that i quickly regarded as unhealthy for me because i do tend to get attached to the people i engage with sexually. however, did i trick myself into “testing out the waters” for a few months to see if i really was unfit for such a lifestyle? absolutely. was i duped into buying a dude juul pods semi-weekly, thinking that it was just a thing that “friends did for each other”? sure, did. did a man have sex with me for three minutes while i watched the office because it was playing in the background? yep. did i send out a poll to my instagram story to decide whether or not i went over to this man’s house? who wouldn’t? did 18 out of the 20 people who viewed my story vote “no”? i mean, why the hell wouldn't they?

if this did not clue you into the fact that i am absolutely clueless when it comes to dating, then i am going to pray that this blog gets sponsored by warby parker, because we both need to get our vision checked. (please, warby parker, sponsor me. my parent’s vision insurance ran out last year and i am getting really tired of super gluing my glasses back together every few days.) 

in all, besides the fact that my relationship with red flags can be summed up with this image, i did have another problem with my proposed “hoetation.” 

 

 

my partner.

 

now, being new to polyamory, i initially assumed that my be-all and end-all was with my partner. while i slept with and dated other people, i, again, assumed that there wouldn’t be another one of him. I mean, how could i handle another full-time partner when i was also in a full-time relationship with my job, my dog, my friends, and hbo’’s sunday night lineup? obviously, that also has to mean that someone would want to be in a relationship with me, but how could i even begin to find another person that would:

• be good at sex (or at least be willing to go down on me at some point)

• be somewhat consistent at responding back to my text messages (i will allow up to a 48 hour waiting period. any time after that and you're just pissing me off)

• finish up whatever freaky stuff we’d be getting into in time to watch euphoria and big little lies on hbo (both of which my current partner refuses to watch)

obviously, besides the fact that my current partner had very specific taste in television and we didn’t have sex, i already had the perfect person. how could i replicate that? moreover, how could i replicate that and bring that into my already formulated routine with my current partner? so, of course, i did what any normal twenty-something would do when faced with such a challenge: i forced it.

so here is a list of tips that you should keep in mind while trying to craft your own homely, hoetation.

tip 1: let your partner(s) know what is going on, even if it's not “serious.” whether it be one of your friends, a random hookup from an app, an ex or someone you’ve actually gone on a few dates with, your partner should know what is going on with you. obviously, this does not count if you have some “don’t ask, don’t tell '' situation going on (which is kind of wild, but you do you), but communication is important. you don’t want to end up in a situation where you’re a party with several people you’re sleeping with and they’re all confused as to why you’re cuddled up with one of their homies in the corner. I have had a few of these conversations and they’ve all gone quite well, but that does not mean there could not have been some room for improvement. trust me, if jada pinkett smith ended up at her own red table due to an “entanglement”, so can any of us. you don’t have to disclose the dirty intimate details if you don’t want to, but giving each other the head’s up at an appropriate time is the least you can do.

tip 2: do not idealize or overextend yourself for the folks you’re banging casually. they do not deserve it. no, not even THEM. i have a mental illness that causes me to idealize people. this can be friends, family, celebrities, strangers and most importantly, romantic and sexual partners. whatever in my brain causes this to happen also makes having any sort of relationship, whether platonic or not, complicated. although time has sort of enabled me from doing this with my current partner, it makes me often feel like i need to value these “idealized” people more than everyone else because these relationships feel fresh and new. It’s exciting, sexy and fun, kind of like how a single woman in Lifetime thriller feels right before things start to get dark. But you don’t want to be the single Lifetime woman who stops listening to her friends because she caught some dick. she ends up in the trunk of a car and has to be saved by friends and a random cop. you, friend, have to save yourself. for me, it takes some time to realize how much i’ve started to idealize a person. however, by the time I even begin to realize this, its probably gotten too far. at that point i am staying up till odd hours to answer “u up” text messages and booty calls because ‘they might need me for something important.`` they absolutely never do and they more than likely never will. moreover, what is so important that this person would need to contact someone they’re casually sleeping with at 3 AM? do they have friends they can call? family? a national crisis hotline service? If not, then you might need to leave this person alone because you need help them. obviously, if they literally have no one else to support them, don’t be a dick. help them out, but not at the risk of your own mental sanity. unfortunately, casual sex and the occasional snuggle can not save someone or suddenly make them realize that you’re the thing they’re missing. whomever they need to call is there for them, but it does not and should not always have to be you. go to bed and respond to them during one of your early morning bathroom breaks or, and i may be reaching a bit here, leave them on read for a few hours. moreover, if i’m not trying to answer my partner’s texts at 3 AM, why answer them for someone who doesn’t know your birthday or your last name?

tip 3: it is absolutely okay to exist in labeless limbo. not everyone deserves a fresh, brand spanking title for your relationships with them. sometimes, it is okay to introduce the guy you’re sleeping with once a week, as your friend. obviously, refer to mistake #1 and fill your partner(s) in with the fact that this is someone you’re sleeping (or doing whatever else) with, but they can also be categorized as simply a friend, even if there are other things going on between y’all. other titles include: friends with benefits, bed buddies, etc, but, remember, a label does not define your relationships, you do. you ascribe meaning and value to the people in your life. other people may not understand what you’re doing with these people and honestly, you may not understand it either, but a label does not need to be adding to that stress. It’s a word. don’t give it more power than it needs to. and don’t let other people demand that it means more than it does. 

tip #4: don’t rub it in that you’re getting “some.” and monitor how often you talk about the people you’re banging. i am guilty of getting a bit overzealous on the details with my partners. sometimes i am in bed with my partner, gushing about some song my other partner showed me or some film they showed me or some tik tok they showed me. however, it’s all fun and games until someone gets jealous, feelings get hurt and now, you’re the asshole. don’t be the asshole, or whatever mitski said.

like i said before, these situations could have gone over a lot better had i done a few (or all) of these things, but at the end of the day, who knows? maybe they would have broken up with me once they saw me eating pasta with my hands? maybe they would have realized that we were actually meant to be together and we would have crafted a polycule, moved in together into some small home in a little cul-de-sac in the suburbs and had a ton of babies? maybe a global pandemic would have occurred that stopped me from seeing them anyways and i would have to do a lot of personal growth and learn to love myself and be comfortable being alone? 

whatever happens, its all apart of god's plan, or whatever drake said.