Dazed And Confused
Posted this when I woke up this afternoon, then deleted it, then reread it a few times and decided that even if it is a bit harsh it was still worth putting this stuff out there. Take it with a grain of salt and the knowledge that I was in a particularly ouchy headspace after a rather odd incident and yet another night of schmoozing and flirting wildly and getting a cab home by myself, and this is not slagging anyone/s in particular just an attempt to articulate the way . I'm not mad, just sad, and still trying to fathom how the hell this is all supposed to workand why I always seem to end up losing.
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Ah, what a couple of trashy trashy trashy nights! Mostly absolutely joyous and gigglypants, moshing to Acca Dacca and lushing about with random strangers and wild abandon, but somehow at the end of last night it all turned a bit odd with certain people and I don't know why. Maybe it was the Scotch, or the wacky tobakky (not consumed by me in either case), just an intoxicated misunderstanding... Hmmm. Dazed and confused and unsure of what to do about any of it.
Obviously most of the reason I am not very much out there playing the field lately is that I need a nice big break from the world of relationships. But a small part of it is that I just can't be bothered competing with the same ten people for the same five people. I don't want to engage in games of who can be sluttier, prettier, funnier, laugh louder and sparkle more and be more assertive and show more cleavage and dance more seductively and... sure, its more subtle and discrete and polite and artistic than it was in high school, but at the end of the day its often the same bloody game in the same bloody lounge room at the same bloody party with the same bloody hips wiggling up against the same bloody bulges in the same bloody jeans and the same bloody cocky boys watching the same bloody princesses parade before them. Yes, its all more grown up and mostly not vindictive or malicious or bitchy but at the end of the night when the bottles are all empty and the cabs are being called... Everyone is still looking for love in all the wrong places, nobody wants to be left alone in the corner when the lights come on and the music stops, nobody wants to walk home alone.
Maybe I am just a sore loser. Maybe I am just exhausted. Maybe I am just paranoid. Or maybe I am right, and for all we try to find other ways of relating sometimes we still fall back into the same old patterns that were drilled into us from an early age.
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Ah, what a couple of trashy trashy trashy nights! Mostly absolutely joyous and gigglypants, moshing to Acca Dacca and lushing about with random strangers and wild abandon, but somehow at the end of last night it all turned a bit odd with certain people and I don't know why. Maybe it was the Scotch, or the wacky tobakky (not consumed by me in either case), just an intoxicated misunderstanding... Hmmm. Dazed and confused and unsure of what to do about any of it.
Obviously most of the reason I am not very much out there playing the field lately is that I need a nice big break from the world of relationships. But a small part of it is that I just can't be bothered competing with the same ten people for the same five people. I don't want to engage in games of who can be sluttier, prettier, funnier, laugh louder and sparkle more and be more assertive and show more cleavage and dance more seductively and... sure, its more subtle and discrete and polite and artistic than it was in high school, but at the end of the day its often the same bloody game in the same bloody lounge room at the same bloody party with the same bloody hips wiggling up against the same bloody bulges in the same bloody jeans and the same bloody cocky boys watching the same bloody princesses parade before them. Yes, its all more grown up and mostly not vindictive or malicious or bitchy but at the end of the night when the bottles are all empty and the cabs are being called... Everyone is still looking for love in all the wrong places, nobody wants to be left alone in the corner when the lights come on and the music stops, nobody wants to walk home alone.
Maybe I am just a sore loser. Maybe I am just exhausted. Maybe I am just paranoid. Or maybe I am right, and for all we try to find other ways of relating sometimes we still fall back into the same old patterns that were drilled into us from an early age.
Labels: mental health, rambling
posted by Zoo at 12:57 pm
2 Comments:
I don't think those things are mutually exclusive. I think we can be both grown up and responsible in our pleasure-seeking and still playing out the uncomfortable dance of too-many-after-too-few, or who's the prettiest princess who wins the dance floor, or who jostles and wiggles their way to the front of the line. It's just a matter of recognising when it's happening, and turning it off, because good god is there anything more depressing than the beautiful potential of a roomfull of outrageous happy queers turning into a something as bland and banal as a pubescent popularity contest?
I don't often comment on your blog, would normally wait to see you pop up online & chat, but this struck a chord of familiarity. We are/are worth so much more than to be defined by ridiculous petty 'successes'- we don't get gold stars for each fabulous new person we pick up, the gold stars don't double in value if we got them when someone else missed out. It's not about being the *most* fabulously dressed, it's about being fabulously dressed & having a ball. Rarr. I think I'm still far too susceptible to this stuff but recently have been flinching away from it- if I feel like the game is even beginning to roll into motion I abandon it, step away, go do something else. It hurts too much to let my beautiful friends & beautiful community turn into a competition.
See you soon
xxx
ah, so glad i posted that after all. i was a bit scared that i would be exposing myself as some sooky lala who was just being pathetic and petulent 'cos zie didn't win the last few rounds...
thanks to you both for your comments! feel much better now :)
hugs sweeties
x
z
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