Tag: questions

What the deuce?

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I’ve been spending these past days discussing art history and poetry, and I am now invited to a couple of art auctions? What the deuce?

A stranger I ran into on the street sounded remarkably similar to someone else I used to know. And I mean ridiculously, remarkably similar. The same mousy demeanour, the same accent, identical vocabulary, everything. So I did something a younger me wouldn’t have even contemplated: I rudely walked up to her and asked her if she knew this other woman.

Turns out she did; they were sisters! What the deuce?

A day or so before I left Oslo, my favourite pair of shoes completely fell apart. And I mean utterly, completely fell apart. The nature of the failure was very strange, but “No worries,” I told myself, and packed a pair of sturdy boots for my trip.

I show up here, and within a couple of days of walking around town, my “sturdy” boots fall apart too. Rubber and leather and metal (how the hell have I ever gotten on a plane with these things?) everywhere.

Has my gait changed so much these past days? What the deuce?

I don’t know what’s gotten into people around, but they keep trying to set me up with this Danish girl. Granted she’s really cute and fun to hang out with, but why are these guys pushing so hard? Is there something about turning older that brings out the inner matchmakers in women? What the deuce?

Questions for the audience

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Or at least, what’s left of it.

Reduced viewership

What do you think it means when a woman tells you she’s “not sure” if she’s single? Does it make a difference that she brought up the topic and volunteered this information to me? (We all know I’m too chicken to speak my mind on the matter.)

What am I then supposed to do?

  • Do I go, “OK, that’s uhh… good to know.” (Not how I feel.)
  • Do I probe for more information? (Scary, and the thought of what I’ll find out puts my tummy in knots.)
  • Should I speak my mind? (Potentially too forward.)
  • Must I sit back and wait until she figures things out for herself? (Might blow my opening while I wait.)

Life ought to come with some sort of instruction manual; one with really pretty and colourful pictures, so it has a prayer of being read.

Dipping toes

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I awoke last night in a cold sweat.

Actually, I awoke once many nights ago but I’ve just been too lazy to write about it. In fact, I wasn’t even in a cold sweat at the time—I just threw that in there for effect.

Like I was saying…

I awoke in a panic late last night, extremely conscious of my own singleness. After unsuccessfully racking my brain for the thoughts that concluded in my anxiety attack, I promptly shifted my focus to how I was going to remedy my situation.

And that’s when it started: I began cataloguing the list of people in my life I’ve genuinely been attracted to (at one point or another).

Now, I don’t have a really clear idea how that intellectual exercise helped me, but I’m now desperate to know from them the answer to the obvious question: “Are you married/betrothed/taken… or aren’t you?” And so, I’ve decided to take the bold step of just asking them. I intend on doing this via e-mail because that makes it all cold and impersonal, just ripe for this sort of occasion.

I think it’s going to read something like this:

Dear Admiree,

I’ve always had a bit of a crush on you, but never the guts to tell you so.

Hoping I’m not too late,
Me

Of course, there are some shady aspects to this plan. In particular:

  1. I intend on sending this same letter to about three different women.
  2. In every instance, I’d be utterly devastated if I were to find out they’ve moved-on with their lives and want to have nothing to do with me. And this is where I believe my great plan falls apart.

In any event, I think the reason I’m bringing this up here is because I want to run it by you first. Just what would you do if something like this arrived at your doorstep?

Respectable whores

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Through a sequence of events that aren’t particularly significant in themselves, I’ve been pondering the following question: Is a feminist stance in favour of prostitution feasible?

Some reading-up on the matter has unearthed what appears to be a fairly contentious debate (see, e.g., [1]).

In summary, “radical feminists have tended to see prostitution as the ‘absolute embodiment of male patriarchal privilege’ and have called for its outright rejection,” while “pro-sex feminists, often drawing on the writing of sex-workers themselves, see prostitution as a form of erotic labour whose conditions require scrutiny, but which is not inherently incompatible with a feminist stance.”

While I form my own opinions on the matter, I thought it’d be interesting to open-up this topic for discussion.

Suppose the woman enters the profession of her own free will, and is comfortable in separating her private life from her work. Suppose she retains sovereignty in conducting her sexual interactions. Suppose she deems it a viable form of employment—preferable to the low-paid and unsatisfying jobs she’s otherwise found herself in the past.

How far would you need to push such conditionals to become in favour? Or would you stay staunchly against regardless?

[1] “‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore,” Dee Amy-Chinn, Feminist Media Studies 6 (2): pp. 175–190.