I am now home after just leaving Tootsie's. Don't ask.
The hangover is gone so I guess it is time to write about my Valentine's Day activities and festivities. A day of disclaimers, possibilities and other assorted nonsense.
Let us start off with some of the nonsense. Seems that the administration is getting a bit jittery about our upcoming Sex Fair. There were talks of shutting down the fair, not selling vagina chocolates, and completely cutting out our Consent Tent.
We were not allowed to table yesterday and sell our vagina chocolates to the student body. So many weird emergency committee meetings - meetings that had none of the organizers present, mind you.
Things are full speed ahead with the exception of the Consent Tent. One of the more controversial aspects of the Sex Fair with a very simple intent. You and your partner/friend/willing stranger write your names on a consent card and choose the activity of your choice, which you agree to do for 90 seconds.
Now I know you creative folks can imagine the things that you can do within the privacy of a stand-up tent for 90 seconds. Well the administration can imagine and are scared for their collective asses. I was only slightly scared that I would have no one to consent with - Maria has now agreed to tap dance with me for 90 seconds in the tent. I am no longer worried. :)
We plan to have the tent unless they tell us otherwise and provide documentation on how they came to their decision. I want this damn tent more than anything at this point.
I say that if they want to shut down our consent tent we set up an impromptu tent state, everybody get in the tents with giant signs in front of them saying "We Consent!"
Interestingly we had a meeting with Mel Tyler today. I walked in a couple of minutes after the start of the meeting, silently set down, whipped out my reporter's notebook, and started writing. At this point he got this super stiff with a mean look on his face. He starts to grill me about who I am and what I am doing there. Am I a reporter or a student? I simply state the my name is Jovan and that I am a member of Feminists United and I also work for the University News. He demands to know if I am there as a member of the press or Feminists United. Hilarious. I keep my cool - I always keep my cool in these situations. He looked like he was about to start frothing from the mouth or get up and snatch my notebook from me.
It was quite lovely to have that power to make certain people so uncomfortable and upset that they very visibly lose their composure. He then speeds through the meeting and promises to pay us for the missed sales out of his very own pocket. We have our sex fair and wait on word of the tent. So far a win.
The rest of my V-Day was filled with classes and doing last minute readings for them. I really had no plans or expectations for this day - I never do. i wore a skirt but not for V-Day, I kept trying to wear the damned thing but never got around to it. I was super cute with my short khaki skirt, knee-hi brown/orange argyle socks, my light brown argyle running shoes, and a light pink striped polo. Must also mention that I had my big silver hoops in. Black women with fros and silver hoops are hot by default.
During the afternoon Kylie brought me two white roses and a Care Bear valentine. Very nice but unnecessary. (This is the second time in two weeks that people have just given me roses. Im more of a lavender girl. Roses are nice but so common. :P)
I bought myself some Chinese food and quite time at my office desk. Class was dull as usual. I swear my class is filled with glass-eyed cows.
I rushed out of class to find a computer. People kept sending me messages and reading them from my cell phone is a long and arduous process.
Starting messaging back and forth with a certain woman of interest. I was told that it was fine we date but "it has to be slow and stealthy ninja dating".
Fine. (That is not a pissed 'fine' but a slightly amused 'fine'. Text leaves so much to be desired sometimes.)
I understand caution; I understand that dating is a terrifying experience that lesbians tend to avoid at all costs. I also understand that lesbians - or at least all of the lesbians I come into contact with - are scared of me. Not in a Im-gonna-get-beat-up scared but there is an irrational fear that I am trying to tie them down into matrimony and joint pets. I am getting a complex and V-Day only helped to increase this. More of that later.
While working that out Maria and I talk and decide to skip Afentra's VD Party where we were supposed to volunteer for Planned Parenthood. Hell it was 5.30 and I had no intentions of going. My new plan for the evening was to go home, reheat my Chinese leftovers, smoke a bowl, and watch Kung Fu Hustle. This sounded like a divine V-Day plan that I could get behind.
That was not to be.
Maria and others had plans to gather the singles together and see the Burly-Q Girls at the Brick. Sort of a FU VD type night. This was something I could get behind as well.
I take care of the dishes, put away my Chinese leftovers, and walk to Maria's place. After Maria finishes preparing for our outing we walk upstairs to Destin's apartment. We all hop into Diana's ride and head out.
Once there we get our drinks and Jacob joins us. I decided to start out with a pepsi and vodka. The show starts, we are having a great time. The Burly-Q Girls put on an awesome show. I continue with more drinks. I am then drunk. Drunk as fuck to everyones amusement.
I am a sassy and sometimes sexually vulgar drunk but I am no fighter. I know when we need to move to a new topic or when I need to start moving my body. It is truly a beautiful disaster.
At one point I actually squirted lube on this guy - Jacob was a bad influence. When I get drunk I get really really honest. I don't think Im mean really but I get more direct. At one point Diana and I are talking about women and getting laid. I think I said something to the effect that I wasn't asking forever but someone who would eat my pussy, occasionally have dinner, and have good conversations with. (This is drunken frustration at this point.) I shout 'damn bitches' or something like that and point at Destin. She looks at me like 'what' and then runs over. I say I didn't mean bitches in a mean way - which I didn't. It was more of a funny how-fucked-up-is-that way. (Imagine me trying to write this while drunk. Im not seeing it!)
She is hugging me and rocking me side to side as she apologizes for her behavior and blah blah blah. I drunkenly tell her that she shouldn't have done that because when we first talked I made sure that I got across that we were friends and that the sex was secondary. This goes for any of my friends/dates/misc: If you have a problem with me or anything else, talk to me. Don't freak out and run away.
She kept saying that she likes me and I am awesome but she is damaged goods.
I tell you girls are dizzying. I'm not sure what people expect of me or how they see me. I like to think I am a rational person and it personally offends me when people act or treat me like I am irrational. Not sure if that makes much sense but that is how I feel. And we all know feeling are not rational.
We are all damaged goods. I am damaged goods.
If you live, breathe, love, interact with other human beings it is a given that you are damaged goods. There is no one who is a perfect person who is in a perfect mental place with a perfect life. I do not believe in that.
They keep telling me that I can do better, that I am better than they are. I reject that as false.
What happened to that part in dating where you try to 'sell' yourself to the other person. It's as if I were to go into a used car lot to ask about this cute little car. The salesman goes on to tell me that its a lemon, I really do not want it and that I can find a better car somewhere else. Well that is no way to get business or sell that damned car.
You can be honest about yourself without trying to bludgeon and scare people away. The truth will do. Do not over-blow the bad but don't undersell the good. Everyday it is my goal to be true to myself and to share that with others.
I am not perfect. I am not beautiful. I am still learning, still growing up.
I have some stuff together but its all put together with gorilla glue and duct tape.
I would hate to think I put across this image of wanting everything to be perfect when all I want is for everything to be ok. Ok isn't the most exciting states of being but its better than being suicidal and better than turning a blind eye to the bad of the world.
I am not trying to rush into another relationship. I am not going to shun someone's company because I may actually like them.
I think that is my main problem, I can understand so much from opposing sides. Understanding where someone comes from keeps me from demanding what I really want. This is not just in romantic relationships. I tend to be a bit too accommodating sometimes. Not sure if that is something that will stop anytime soon.
The rest of the night went by with more drinks and laughter. Trying to hook Maria up with a certain someone. Hey, even if I am not getting any I am happy to hook others up. Just don't bring that sappy lovey dovey bullshit my way or I will projectile vomit over the offending couple. There is only so much I am willing to accommodate.
Back to Destin's to smoke and drink a little more. Went through Pancho's drive thru on the way back. Somehow the whole car ended up singing Kanye West's 'Golddigger'. Please people it is truly embarrassing when people discover that I can sing this shit word for word.
As soon as I get in the apartment I leap back onto the big chair and invite the kitty to sit with me. Everyone is dragging behind, still in the hallway. Destin leans over me, grabs my jacket and tells me that she really likes me. I'm not quit sure where the hell that came from. I think I told her that I know. Don't confuse me when I'm drunk.
I take the beer that I am offered. Decline the meaty pizza - I have decided not to tempt my stomach to empty its contents everywhere.
Music, talking, laughing. I have kicked off my shoes and am on the floor - the tailless cat keeps my company. Flirting going on the other side of the room. Gradually one by one people start to leave. A drunken me, tailless cat, and Destin. After a while, Destin, the perfect 'gentleman' herself, puts on her shoes to take me home. I wasn't expecting anything else.