The Art of Letting Go & Letting Down

Posted on by egoandorgasm

Sloan: One thing that I’ve had to face since I began dating again 6 months ago is the fact that not everyone I like is going to like me back and not everyone that likes me is someone I’m going to be excited to see again. When you’re in a long-term relationship, you fantasize about the rich and wonderful dating and sex lives that people not coupled up are having. After a few years of coupledom, you forget about all the nonsense and drama and rudeness and flakiness that single people have to deal with on a pretty regular basis. The dating scene can be great and it can be brutal. Often, it’s both concurrently.

This summer, I was dumped three times by guys I liked quite a bit. I also had to tell several men that I wasn’t interested in that I wouldn’t be seeing them again. I won’t even list out all the guys who have ghosted, or all the mutual fade-outs, or all the missed connections that have been sandwiched in between. It’s been a rough go of it and I’ve learned a lot – both about myself and about what I’m really looking for in a relationship.

Analysis:

How do we go about getting out of intimate situations in a graceful way, even when we are hurt or when we hurt someone else?

Sloan: Something that I’ve been thinking a lot about in the wake of all these romances is the art of letting someone go or of letting someone down. They’re not mutually exclusive and often overlap, but I tend to see them as separate entities. I think one involves more regret and hurt and the other more guilt and hesitation.

Letting Go

The art of letting someone go involves walking away from someone you’d rather not have to say goodbye to at all. Either you like this person, or you love this person, or you are in lust with the person. And either they just aren’t feeling you too, or they are toxic, or they are just not bringing the same level of enthusiasm to the table as you are. Whatever it is, you know you need to let them go. Sometimes this is forced upon us when someone else breaks it off. Sometimes we need to walk away first in order to avoid a bigger disaster down the road. Either way, it’s never easy to let someone you like go. It’s even harder to do it gracefully.

  1. Remind yourself that you can’t force someone to be into you or to be ready for a relationship.
  2. Really spend some time thinking about the problems and red flags here. I’m sure this person is great, but what about the things that indicated this wasn’t the right person for you? What were you ignoring?
  3. Keep your dignity. Don’t beg. Don’t try to argue your case. See #1 for why not.
  4. Distract yourself. Go out with friends. Go out with other guys. Try to stop thinking about this person. Do not sporgulate.

Letting Down

The art of letting someone down involves walking away from someone that you know you just aren’t feeling. For whatever reason, you’re not into this person. He might be great – and you may have an urge to keep him around “just in case” you fall for him. You probably won’t. If the chemistry isn’t there, it isn’t likely to develop. And it’s unfair to keep someone around in case you want to get serious with them later. No one wants to be someone’s safety pick. You don’t, right?

  1. If you’ve gone out with this person less than three times, it’s fine to let them down via text. (Sloan: I like to use some variance of “I’m just not ready to date someone yet, but I had a great time with you.” It’s hard to to argue with and people tend not to take this personally. And yes, I lie when it’s socially responsible.)
  2. If you’ve gone out with this person multiple times, or had sex with them on multiple occasions, it’s probably best to call or do this in person. And yes, this means putting on your big girl pants. Ghosting or fading out isn’t really the solution. (Viv: This is really true.  The urge to just disappear is strong, and I have to confess that I have done it more than once in the last few months and had it done to me.  But when I have been strong enough to look someone in the face or explain myself verbally over the phone, it has always gone well, and I have left the situation feeling fairly confident that the end result is mutual respect.)
  3. GOLDEN RULE: Put yourself in their shoes. Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want done to you. Try to be as nice about this as possible.
  4. THE CAMPGROUND RULE: Dan Savage is right. Try to leave the campground the way you found it. Do no damage on your way out. Pick up your baggage when you leave.

Filling in the Gaps: How We Use Men to Compensate for the Holes in Our Lives

Posted on by egoandorgasm

Viv: I have been in my new city for nearly two weeks now.  I know very little about the place, but my apartment is sunny and spacious, and my neighborhood is friendly and full of interesting nooks and crannies.  On top of this, my new job is proving to be challenging and interesting while still providing me with time to explore my new world.  I am happy.  And yet, I am restless occasionally.  I miss my friends back in my old city across the country.  I miss my routines.  I have gaping holes in the fabric of my daily life, and I can feel them.

So, in order to create a sense of normalcy, I have begun to date again.  In fact, I had two dates during my first week in town and two in my second.  Not only have I been dating, I have also started sleeping with a man, let’s call him Al, and I have to admit it has been terribly fun.  Al is not really my type.  He works with his hands half the time, and he has a regional accent from living near his hometown his entire life.  But he has his own business and lives in a beautiful cottage on a beautiful island, and he has ambitions that match or even exceed the scope of the ambitions of anyone I have ever respected.  I think he has a good chance of achieving his goals.

However, Al is not my future.  I know this clearly.  And the two other men I have been out with, let’s call them Roger and Darrel, are not people I can see myself with, long term, either.  They are men from Tinder, and they are available, as am I, for friendly relations.  I am spending time with them, when, arguably, I should be focusing on so many other things.  One could make the case that I should be focusing on myself.  And, while I am doing many things that lay the groundwork for a satisfying life in this new cosmos, I am still, consciously, going out of my way to spend time with strange men.

Sloan: Since my big, bad breakup back in March, I’ve been living alone for the first time in my life. And I felt all those holes that Viv is talking about, even though I didn’t move or get a new job. Nothing changed and yet everything changed. I, too, turned to Tinder and OKC to fill the gaps in my life. My summer was a whirlwind of insanity (more on that in a future post) and it distracted me from my feelings of intense loneliness and anxiety. But now the dating has died down and I’m in a lull and I’m asking myself if I want to start back up or just accept that my new life can feel pretty lonesome sometimes.

Analysis:

Why do we engage in this behavior when we are wise enough to know that it won’t come to anything? 

Sometimes we undergo changes that destabilize our settled existence.  Divorce, moving, breakups, new jobs (or all of the above)- these experiences and so many more can leave us with holes.  And we can fill these holes with many things- extreme sociality, extreme introversion, workaholism, hobbies, alcohol…..  Knowing that we could be doing anything within the time created by these holes means that we have the power to choose what we want to use the time for.

Viv: I have chosen to use these holes for more practice dating for the time when I want to settle down with someone again, and I recognize that dating is as good a way as any to get out and learn about my new area.  Would I have seen the gorgeous cove below Al’s home if I hadn’t ventured there to spend the night with him? No.  Would I have gone to a downtown cocktail bar alone without Roger to suggest it and take me there? No.  These men give my new city a texture that I couldn’t manufacture by myself, in a place where I don’t yet have friends.

Sloan: Viv is more advanced than I am. I think I want just sex and then end up in these complicated situations. When in all truth, I need to be single for a bit while I sort through my emotional baggage. But I think I’m finally starting to see how to do what Viv has been so adept at – dating without attachment. It’s not easy, kids. It takes practice.

Are we using these men to fill the gaps in our lives? 

As ever with the most complex questions, the answer is yes and no.  Yes, we are being opportunistic with apps like Tinder and OK Cupid.  They bring these men to us, and we allow them to squire us around town for an evening or afternoon.  But as with our normal dating, we hope that our connections with these people will be real, even if they aren’t deep and even if they don’t lead to commitment.  They get to spend time with us too, and we are very good company!  We go out of our way to make these men feel comfortable and welcome in the moment, and the goal is always mutual fun.  And if the date intimates that they have expectations that differ from ours, then we let them know, directly or indirectly, that we are not here for the long haul.  However, friendship is never off the table.  We think this is fair.

Sloan: Most definitely yes. But that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s wholly a bad thing. I do use men to fill the gaps in my social life. But I’m assuming that they don’t mind so much, because they are typically getting something out of the interaction as well. I’m open and honest and I try to protect them as much as possible. My problem is more the separation of sex from “limerance”. I tend to fall for people too fast, too soon. But, in theory, there’s nothing wrong with going out with men just to go out and enjoy yourself. As long as you can keep everything straight from the get-go, which is easier said than done.

Viv: I lean more towards no.  I like to give as good as I get, and I never expect a man to pay for me for anything, though they usually do turn down my offers at first.  However, if I see someone more than once or twice I become more insistent that they let me pay for things. And if I get the sense, as I am getting with Darrel, that they might want a real relationship after meeting me, I scale things down immediately until I get the chance to have the conversation about expectations.  Since we met for a quick drink one evening last week, Darrel has been texting me non-stop and making jokes about our future.  I am wise enough to know this doesn’t necessarily mean much in the scheme of things (men like to be liked as much as women, and they will go well out of their way to get a positive response from you even if they aren’t especially interested), but I get the sense that Darrel is perhaps a tad more naive than most of my Tinder dates thus far.  Like Sloan, I will have to make sure to be careful of his heart, and that might mean telling him I won’t see him anymore.  He’ll thank me later.

Can I keep up this dating pace and accomplish all my professional goals while taking on this new town in my own terms? You better believe it.

Limerance: The Obsessive Love of Love (or that time a famous guy dumped me)

Posted on by egoandorgasm

Sloan: In July, I started dating a semi-famous person. I say “semi” because he’s more famous in Europe than here in the U.S. At first, it was terrific. In fact, it was too perfect. He was handsome, funny, smart and quick with his retorts, and fun. We enjoyed each other’s company. The first date lasted 4 hours. The second lasted 9 hours. The third lasted 48 hours.

There were dinners and walks for ice cream. There were phone calls. There were text messages. There was banter. There was sexiness. There was HEAT.

I started falling for him fast. For the first time in forever, I felt actual butterflies in my stomach at the prospect of seeing him. I started to sweat every time I was on my way to see him. I was jittery for the first few minutes when I was with him.

On the third date, he took me to a special childhood place for him. And we spent the weekend together. It was magical. He gave me a massage and the best oral sex of my life. We showered outdoors together after frolicking on his private beach all day. We went out to dinner and talked about everything that mattered in our lives – parents’ deaths, lost loves, career fears. I felt like we were two sides of a zipper syncing up that weekend. I let myself go.

The last night, there was a full moon on the beach. We stood there, gazing out over the Atlantic, and I knew I was in serious trouble. I was speeding toward full entanglement. And because of where he was in his life, and his fame, I knew this wasn’t a good idea. But I did it anyway.

A few days after our return to the city, I got a text from him saying that while he had a lovely and intimate time with me, he just didn’t feel like he wanted to get into anything more serious right now.

When I got this text, I was out with a 27-year-old tech guy. I was drunk. You can guess what happens next. I have revenge sex, and then, once this wonderful guy leaves, I cry my eyes out. I get into my tub at 1am and feel very, very sorry for myself. And then I entirely lose my mind and text the famous person 12 times. YES. TWELVE. Each an escalation of sadness and despair and patheticness. I basically *begged* him to stay friends with me and still see me.

Needless to say, this wasn’t my proudest moment. I woke up in a sea of shame and regret. And I never heard from him again.

In the following weeks, I’ve thought a lot about why I felt so rejected. I felt like I had offered my best self to him and he had shoved it back in my face. And that hurt. I reacted badly. But I was/am determined to learn from this and not to repeat it.

I mean, I didn’t really know this guy at all. Three dates, no matter how intense, do not a relationship make. So what was I reacting to? What loss was I experiencing? I started to realize that there might be a bigger problem at stake in all of this. I began wondering:

Are certain people prone to being in love with love?

Analysis:

It’s taken me 25 odd years of dating and marriage to finally realize that the men who were jerks, who disappeared, who cheated on me, who broke it off, who didn’t want to be in a relationship with me in the first place, who ignored me, were all doing me a huge favor.

I shouldn’t have spent so much time being sad or angry or hurt, I should have been grateful and relieved.

In actuality, they all saved me from being with them – either at all or for one minute longer, thereby wasting more of my limited time on this planet and probably saving me years of future regrets.

I’ve been divorced twice, and in more long-term relationships that were marriages in all but paper, but I didn’t realize what real regret looked like until I started talking to people who had been married for 10-20-30 years before separating. That loss and sense of regret and failure is a lot harder than anything I’ve gone through – by magnitudes.

I think the early loss of my family (they died in an accident) primed me for limerance. As Barthes wrote, “it is my desire I desire, and the loved being is no more than its tool.” The object of my love has always been absent, even when I have had a body in bed beside me. No wonder, then, that I have cycled through love affairs the way others change their overcoats with the seasons. No wonder that I have sought out not requited love, but the type of love that is always already receding and ungraspable. I find pleasure in the pursuit of love and in the pain of rejection because it is familiar. I have loved best the people who did not love me back.

But I think this last relationship’s end, with the deep soul searching it instigated (one may substitute “life crisis” here, since it is just as accurate), has produced something new. An emerging awareness, at least, of old patterns. A tallying up and closing of old romantic accounts. An instigation of apologies to the men I have hurt (because hurt is never just something one receives, but also something one doles out – however unintentionally).

I’ve come to see that even the worst of the men in my life have been beneficial in some ways. And I’m suddenly thankful for the ones who broke up with me or rejected me before things got too far. I can honestly appreciate that they gave me a huge gift in their going.

Viv: This is a beautiful moment of reflection, Sloan.  Limerance.  It explains so much that is culturally complex (and cheap) about love today: “the state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person, typically experienced involuntarily and characterized by a strong desire for reciprocation of one’s feelings.” This is not “true” love, I have decided, only the approximation (“puppy love”), and, sadly, as close as some people get to love (as we become consumed by social narcissism).  Fortunately, we know that so much more exists (for me, Love has as much to do with community and family and world as it does for me individually).  But does ones partner know that? That is another question in itself.

Smart, Single, and Aging: Why Do We Obsess About The Way We Look?

Posted on by egoandorgasm

peter-lindbergh-01.nocrop.w1800.h1330.2x

“Nothing ages worse than a beautiful woman’s ego.” – 80s-90s supermodel Paulina Porizkova

Sloan: When my last boyfriend broke up with me and moved out, I was about to have a birthday. I’m still in my early 40s, but suddenly I felt OLD. Like purple dress old. Like support stockings old. Like saggy, dimpled butt old.

I started hitting the pavement – running at least 5 times a week for 5 miles – and doing ballet. I did lunges while waiting for the elevator and down my hallway. I did squats at various times throughout the day. Because MY BUTT. Duh.

Post-breakup, I looked at myself in full-length mirrors the way copyeditors look at pages of text…closely, scrutinizing each error. My butt was too dimpled. My thighs were saggy. My stomach was a small pooch. I am over 40, so of course I don’t look like I did at 20. But I wanted to. No, it’s worse than that – I felt I *needed* to – because I was about to go back onto the dating scene.

Men are visual creatures. This is both common folk knowledge and research-backed fact. They look first and find the inner beauty second. (I would argue that a lot, if not most, women do the same thing, perhaps with differently weighted values attached to inner versus outer attributes.) My guy friends and former boyfriends are always trying to tell me that what’s special about me is not my looks. So why don’t I believe them? Why do I mourn the transition of my face and body? Why do I worry so much about aging?

Maybe it’s because “You’re so hot” is one of the things uttered the most from the men I’ve dated. My looks have always been a driver of my success with the opposite sex. So now that I’m single and aging, I am naturally worried that I’ll be at a disadvantage on the dating scene. I’m worried that I’m slowly becoming invisible. The real trouble is that I’ve always played the beauty card. It’s part of my identity and how I exist in the world. I don’t know how to play the dating game without it. But I also know I’m going to have to figure out how to start relying on things other than my beauty to attract men. My “hot” days are numbered.

Viv:  I am younger than you, Sloan, but I feel ya.  Big time.  I am no longer an awkward looking 25 year old.  Now I am an awkward looking 34 year old.  I have lines on my face, crows feet, and dry hair.  Dry hair!  I am in the best shape of my life, post divorce (I run and do ab work as though it were my job), but this only seems to keep the dreaded “thickening” at bay.  All the exercise does not reverse the aging process.  I wear more makeup now than I ever have before (to look like I am not wearing any makeup, of course), and I get my nails done in a lazy attempt to look “put together.”  What does that even mean?

I still have men tell me that I am “hot” all the time, but this doesn’t phase me and I don’t seek it out.  Truth be told, I want someone to tell me that I am beautiful.  Now that I am older and wiser, hotness doesn’t impress me anymore.  Hotness is a dime a dozen.  If I keep up my efforts I know I will remain hot.  But the ephemeral quality of beauty is something else again.  I think that I have had it at some points in my life, but I can’t say if I have it now, and I don’t really know how it happens.

Analysis:

First, let’s just get the research out the way: Looks really do matter.

They matter in terms of career, or how much you will make and what type of job you’ll get (see this and this).

And in terms of relationships, men do, on average, care about looks more than women. Just ask UCLA researchers:

“Because for men, the attractiveness of their wives is part of the deal,” said Karney. “For women, that’s not part of the deal. The deal that women get isn’t being with an attractive man. It’s being with a protective man, or a wealthy man, or an ambitious man, or even a sensitive man. So they didn’t care as much about the appearance of their husbands.”

Apparently, we also tend to couple up based on our looks. Models tend to date models. The rest of us sort ourselves into some approximation of rank by beauty. And, unsurprisingly, looks matter the most to those of us who have them. People who are considered less attractive tend to rank partners based on attributes other than looks.

So are we just shallow when we worry about aging? Do looks really matter that much?

Yes and no. Yes and no. On some level, looks matter because we need to be attracted to our partners. And we need them to be attracted to us. (Sloan: I’ve been in relationships in which I wasn’t physically attracted to my partner and a few months or a year in, we basically stopped having sex altogether.) That being said, looks aren’t the only thing that matters. And we all know that. (Sloan: I’ve also been in relationships with men who were gorgeous, but hollow or warped or broken. I think I stayed with them because their looks hid their terrible personalities for a bit. But ultimately, it would never work out with someone if I could only look at them and not talk to them or laugh with them.  Viv: Yes, I once dated a man sheerly for his beauty.  He was vain, selfish, and insecure.  But I liked how other women would be so envious of us.  That thrill lasted a couple weeks, and then I got over it.)

Sloan: I’m vain, not shallow. I think there’s an order of magnitude between these things. I’m smart enough to know that my beauty – such as it is – is part of my privilege. I am aware that I am attractive to men and I’ve leaned on that fact both in my career and in dating life. So now that my looks are fading – slowly, but surely – I am worried that I will have to learn a different way of relating to men. Right now, I enjoy a lot of attention. In the future, I expect I’ll enjoy less of it. And I might have to work to get dates. And that scares the shit out of me.

My best male friend asked me the other day when I was going to stop defining myself by my looks and I looked him dead in the face and replied: “Probably never.” And I meant it. Beauty is a curse as much as a blessing. It takes a lot of work to redefine yourself as you age. And to not to overdo it at the dermatologist’s office.

Viv!! Please do not let me go crazy on the Botox and fillers!!!

Viv: Not to worry, I won’t let you get space face.  I myself may never go the Botox route, but I will surely keep up my vanity and note the signs of aging as they spread over my body.  But I don’t think aging will take away my beauty.  I really don’t.  If I am beautiful (and this isn’t something I can judge for myself because I tend to only see the things that bother me when I look in the mirror), it is because I am comfortable in my skin (and dry hair), and because I have confidence when it comes to engaging with others.  And the older I get, the more interesting I look.  My face tells a story that some people are drawn to.  This is a quality that I expect will only strengthen in the coming years.  I also realize that not everyone can see this beauty and I am OK with that.  I still have an amazing butt.

How to Have (and Ruin) the Perfect One-off Date

Posted on by egoandorgasm

There comes a time in a woman’s life when she wants to have some romance, but she doesn’t want a relationship and she doesn’t want to drag out the connection. This can be accomplished in a number of ways. She can turn to a “friend with benefits”, she can chat up an actual friend she has had her eye on, or she can go to the internet and land a date.   Often times these strategies can go horribly wrong. Your friend with benefits wants to become more than friends. Your actual friend gives you the cold shoulder. Your internet companion flakes on you before you even have a chance to meet up. However, every now and again the stars align and the perfect opportunity for a one-off date presents itself. Ladies, please take this opportunity.

Viv: I had the perfect one-off date last week with Steve. You may recall that I went out with him a while back and we discussed our ethnic ambiguity over a few drinks. Well, after a couple weeks of sporgulating (he is not a prompt texter) I managed to get him out again on a quiet Wednesday night in the neighborhood. He was aware that my time in town was limited, and after some mild chit chat about race and pornography he asked me why I wanted to spend some of my precious last moments in town with him. I wasn’t expecting this question and so I hemmed and hawed a bit and said that I just liked meeting new people and that this kind of behavior wasn’t unusual for me. After a bit more thought I added that I was having pretty emotional goodbyes with my friends, and that it was a pleasant diversion to be out with someone I didn’t know well. In sum, I could have fun with him without crying and enjoy the city I love so much. He let it go after that.

After a couple drinks he asked if I wanted to go for a walk, and while crossing the street a few blocks later he asked me if I wanted to go have a beer at his house nearby.   We both knew what this meant.   He added that I didn’t have to come home with him if I didn’t want to, and I replied that I was aware of that, but I wanted to go anyway. So we went to his place.

And here the date took an unexpected turn to the romantic. Steve’s house is not your usual bachelor pad full of random furniture, dirty dishes, and big screen TVs. It was a beautiful home with lots of comfortable and amusing features as though it had been decorated by a precocious middle aged Italian lady. A few of his roommates were home and they were in the mood to hang out, so we had a few beers on his large back patio. It was odd enough to actually hang out with real people in a relative stranger’s home (as opposed to making an immediate retreat to the bedroom), but odder still, Steve brought out guitars, and he serenaded us with his favorite songs from our 90’s youth. He doesn’t have a great singing voice, but this didn’t stop him. He was genuinely charming. It didn’t feel like a show for my benefit. It felt like a sincere moment of shared enthusiasm amongst friends. We all laughed.

After his roommates went to bed a few hours later we made out in the kitchen. He was a warm kisser. Then he showed me his room, and then we had sex. It was short and sweet and comfortable. I realized I didn’t want to stay the night and wake up with him at 6am (when he had to be up for an early meeting), so I told him I liked him, gave him a few kisses, and hopped in a cab. I smiled all the way home and texted him goodnight.

Sloan: Three years ago, I met up with this British advertising guy, let’s call him Jack, after we messaged back and forth a few times on OKCupid. He was incredibly funny and smart and handsome. We hung out at one of those places in NYC that don’t have a sign on the door and you have to know about it to even notice it’s there. For the whole night, Jack kept me laughing. Our conversation ranged from what stand-up comedians were our faves to how most ads are just god awful to his sneaker obsession to our worst first-date stories. By the end of the night, it felt like we had known each other for years and were good friends, even though we had only met a few hours earlier.

When we left the bar, neither one of us wanted to go home yet, so we went to a pizza place. At some point, over our pepperoni and veggie slices, he boldly said that he wanted to take me home, but that he had friends visiting from Italy and flopping on his couch. We had a short conversation about where we were both at in terms of relationships (neither of us wanted anything serious) and what we wanted (good conversation and good sex).

I took him home and we had some of the hottest sex I’ve ever had in my entire life. I’m serious about this. Because we connected so well, we both relaxed and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. There was no awkwardness or self-consciousness – just pure pleasure. He slept over and we had morning sex, which, as a side note, I’m not usually that into, but for this guy I made an exception. (I’m tempted to describe the sex because it still stands out in my mind, but I won’t because that’s not the type of blog this is….but suffice it to say, Jack was what my friends and I used to call “sex on a stick”.)

When he left, I remember thinking: “I’m probably never going to see this guy again.” And while I was mostly OK with that, I did feel a little bummed out. The sex was too good not to want a second experience. But it was clear that Jack and I had just had the perfect one-off date, so I wasn’t surprised when he sent me a cute thank you text and then I didn’t hear from him again.

Analysis:

Why are occasional one-off dates a good thing for our egos and how do you have one?

A good one-off can accomplish a number of tasks at once. It can remind us that we are interesting and attractive people. It can remind us that we are capable of engaging the attention of another for a few hours and of being engaged by another. It can make a drab week more exciting. The sun shines a bit brighter the next day. Food tastes better. And, most importantly, it can show us that we don’t need the promise of an extended relationship to trust another person in the moment. We can let go of our apprehensions and relax in someone’s arms, even if we may never see them again. This helps us chill out when we do finally meet people we want to see more regularly and seriously.

There is no one way to set up a perfect one-off, but here are some ideas: Choose a man you like well enough, but not someone you know well or someone from whom you have any expectations of long term romance. It helps to make sure this person is not someone you normally see in your regular life. Realize that you will likely never see this man again and be OK with that realization. Once you are on the date, be open. Make sure the person knows you are not expecting a relationship (Viv: I had a natural out because my move was immanent. It may be slightly more difficult to say “I don’t want a relationship”, but I am sure there are charming ways to make this clear). Make sure to share enough about yourself to make the person feel comfortable and relaxed. Don’t hold back, but don’t promise more than you are willing to give either. Be romantic yourself or let the other person be romantic with you. Do the goofy thing that seems silly but is actually fun. Go for a walk, sit next to one another in a booth instead of across from one another. Sing. Have dessert. And when the time comes, kiss with feeling and don’t be shy. Look them in the eye. At the end of the experience, thank them for their time and let them know they are appreciated, even for a very brief moment of connection.

Once you are gone, keep further communication to a minimum and remember the experience fondly. And whatever you do, don’t let yourself daydream about this person. Don’t imagine any “future” with them. It’s also not a fantastic idea to try to repeat the perfect one-off date. It’s a one-off for a reason. Just enjoy it for what it is.

Viv: Since this date with Steve I am currently having a case of the “do as I say, don’t do as I do’s”. It was a perfect one-off. I was grinning from ear to ear and I did not text Steve afterward…..until he texted me a few days later to ask how my packing was coming along. This threw me off. It was a one-off! Why is he texting me? And why is he texting me with something so benign? I assumed he might be putting the feelers out to see me again, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to ruin the glow from the last date. So I replied with something equally innocent and then started sporgulating. He didn’t reply for two days, and when he did it was only a bland description of his weekend. But by then I had been thinking about seeing him again, and I decided it wouldn’t be a horrible thing to try and fit him around Doug in my last few days in town. I had some windows open in my schedule, and so I texted him to see if he might have a window that could overlap with one of mine….. And now we are possibly going to meet up tomorrow.

I may have ruined this one-off for myself by asking for more. In the future, I will resist the urge to extend a perfect one-off with a man I don’t want to seriously date and just let it go without suggesting a future meet-up. My ego shouldn’t need more attention after one sweet date. But for now, I am sporgulating again, and really looking forward to another round.

Sloan: Jack is back. About a week ago, we got back in touch (oh, the joys of the internet era) and have been texting back and forth a little. He remembers every detail of that night we spent together and maintains that it was one of his best sexual experiences as well. Now that we’re both single again, we’re tempted to get together and do it again (and again and maybe again). But I’m worried that if I go out with him, I’ll get too attached. I’m not in the same situation I was three years ago and he’s still smoking hot and very funny and really smart and creative. I’m also not sure I want to ruin my memory of our perfect one-off date. There’s a little bit of pressure there now, built up over years of remembering that night – and each other – fondly. Then again, I’m not sure I can resist the temptation to go out with him again. If I do, I’ll be sure to post about it though (Viv: oh yes you will.  And what gives about not being into morning sex? That is the only reason to sleep over!).

Dating After Divorce

Posted on by egoandorgasm

Divorce.  Ugh.  Oof.  Sigh.  This experience comes in many shapes, sizes, and bittersweet flavors.  It can be positive and empowering or devastating and crippling, or more likely some confusing combination of those feelings.  No one has the same experience of divorce, and there is no magic solution for recovery in terms of jump starting or easing into your romantic life and moving on.  And yet the urge to connect with another person often rears its head at some point in the process of separation and disentanglement from a life partner.  Or the urge to have sex with someone who is not your spouse.  Or the urge to pay attention to something beyond your pain.  Whatever the motivation, we have found that dating after divorce is not at all the same as dating before we were married.

Viv: I was married for 2.5 years before I separated from my husband, let’s call him Harvey, though we were together for nearly 5 years.  All told it was a brief relationship in the scheme of marriages.  And yet the experience was still the most painful and challenging of my adult life.  In many ways I am still in recovery.  My official divorce is still pending and it is likely that I will be grappling with issues of trust for some time to come.  I have been separated for 10 months, and I have not seen Harvey in all of that time.

When I first met Harvey I was in transition.  I was in my late 20’s, fresh out of graduate school and about to embark on an adventure across the country in a new city at a new institution.  The world was my oyster, though if I am honest, I still harbored feelings for my recent ex-boyfriend (another 5 year relationship), and I was apprehensive about what the future would hold for my new life.  Harvey was my 8th date on a 10 date challenge I was doing for fun with my friends.  I didn’t think too much of him when we met.  He was handsome, but also a bit squat, hairy, and he seemed more nervous than most of the men I was dating at that time.  I would later learn that he suffered from anxiety and crippling insecurity, but back then I was puzzled by his nervousness.  He seemed to compensate for it by being overly enthusiastic about me, about my life, about my family, and about my friends.  He gushed about every aspect of my existence.  Despite my initial annoyance with this behavior I was flattered, and I let his desire for me sweep me away.  We began a cross-country relationship.  I discovered his adorable sense of humor and his deep seeded need for stability.  This seemed to match my own goofy sense of humor and love for family, friends, and community.  We fell in love, and I forgot about my initial reservations.

Harvey and I had a healthy relationship for 3 years, including our first year of marriage.  This is in large part because we lived on opposite coasts for most of this time, and when you have a lot of space from your partner you relish the time when you do see them.  We thrived in a way.  We did our best work.  Harvey’s commercial career in tech exploded.  I published in a top journal.  But after a while, despite my efforts, my nonprofit career stagnated.  I quit my full-time gig, which seemed to hold no real promise of change, in order to travel back to the other coast to move in with Harvey as man and wife (something he insisted upon), to support his rapidly growing business venture, and to begin to think seriously about starting a family.  What I didn’t quite get (It seemed weirder that I wasn’t living with my husband) was that in the process of moving in with him I became dramatically underemployed and dependent.  I was too naive to realize that this was a dangerous choice.

Our world rapidly fell apart after I moved in for good.  I was voraciously independent so I never felt comfortable with our arrangement, and Harvey did not have the capacity or maturity to respect someone who was circumstantially dependent on him.  We began to fight severely and frequently.  He stopped supporting my goals, he ignored my contributions to the household, and when I was lucky enough to win a prestigious research grant to temporarily work overseas, he was irate about it.  He felt that I wasn’t doing enough to support his stressful career choices and that I would essentially be abandoning him.  I left for the research anyway (after cutting the time I would spend abroad in half to try and accommodate him) in order to hold on to my career dreams.  He began to spend a great deal of his time with a younger female friend of the family (someone I introduced him to and who attended our wedding).  By the time I came home for a visit after about 6 weeks away they had already admitted that they had feelings for one another.  The marriage never recovered (despite counseling), and Harvey left me soon after my research season ended.  Yes, he left me.  I was too stubborn to quit and I was determined that I would not be the one to say the words.  I moved out after they were finally said, and a few months later I found out what I had already suspected: he and our friend were in a relationship.  He officially filed for divorce last month.

The feeling that you are losing the person you love (or in my case gaining the realisation that the person you loved and the person in front of you now are two very different people) is viscerally like having your internal organs ripped out one by one and smashed on the cement combined with the numbing sensation that you are watching all of this gore and violence from a great distance.  Your whole world is shattered.  You implode.  I also lost his family, my own family was hurt and confused, and my community of friends was thrown into turmoil.  The dust is still settling.  I have never wept so much in my life.  It was the kind of grief that consumes your whole body as when someone you love dies.  I gained new wrinkles and gray hairs.  In truth, I may never look the same again.  I have been forever marked.  It was a brutal initiation into adulthood and the unpredictable vicissitudes of life.

Sloan: I want to pipe in here to say that I’ve been divorced twice, but didn’t experience what Viv did. In both cases, I was in an open marriage and was dating at the time I divorced, so my experience is of a different, but equally complicated, sort. That being said, I am 5 months out of a relationship with someone. We lived together and I loved him desperately. When he walked out on me, I felt exactly as Viv describes so beautifully above – I was devastated and broken.

Analysis:

How will you know when you are ready to date again after your marriage ends and why is it healthy to do so?

As we mentioned, there is no formula for moving on from divorce or the end of any serious attachment relationship.  Each person has different needs, fears, and expectations.  The worst thing you can do is leapfrog from one bad relationship into another, or use another person as a security blanket to compensate for your loss.  That said, if you are in a healthy mental state, you are ready to move on, and you are wise about your choices, you can gain a lot of perspective from practice dating.

Practice dating is simple: You go meet someone for a beer or coffee, you chat with them, you flirt, you ask questions.  The point is to reflect on your own reactions to this other person’s mannerisms, behavior, opinions, and attitudes.  After the date you take time to assess a number of factors.  What annoys you about this person? What reminds you of your ex? What do you like about the person and why? Where are your points of vulnerability and anger? What are the things you find you most have in common with another person?  What are your own behavioral responses to the other person and why are you having them? How does it feel to be out on a date? In essence, practice dating means seeing a number of people while constantly reflecting on the experience, learning what your trigger points and needs are, and figuring out how to move forward via trial and error.

Sloan: Many people will weigh in on whether or not you *should* be dating after a bad breakup. I am of the opinion that those people are talking about themselves, not you. There is no magic number of weeks, months, or years. Every person is different.

For Viv and I, it has been important to practice date for the moment we’re ready to really be in something again. For others, they need solitude. Either way, dating again is tricky, but I for one am back on the horse.  (In a future post, we’ll explore trust issues and what it’s like to have sex again after a long-term relationship.)

Viv: Remember, there is always a bright side.  I don’t have to be committed to a man who doesn’t respect me, my dreams that I have tirelessly pursued for years, or the community I have worked so hard to build in the world.  I don’t have to be married to his insecurities.  I get to date again, and feel beautiful and sexy in spite of, or even because of, my new wisdom and new wrinkles.  I moved out of our apartment, and 3 months later (thanks in large part to the support of my incredible family, wonderful friends, and amazing therapist) I was on Tinder, swiping for fun.  A couple weeks after that I met a jolly man I could joke with, and we went out a few times and slept together on one warm Saturday night.  I also started dating 2 other men about that same time.  I only told one of them about the separation (he had gone through a divorce years ago so it felt safe).  Now I date all the time without commitment (something I never would have done prior to this marriage, when I was essentially a serial monogamist).  I experience real joy.  I can’t handle a committed relationship yet, but I am practicing for the time when I am ready to be vulnerable and welcome someone into my life.  In the meantime, there is laughter, learning, and sex.  I value these fleeting moments of companionship.

I may never see Harvey in person again.  That is sad considering how close we once were, but he earned his absence from my life.  The good news is that I landed another (much better) full-time position in a new city back on the other side of the country, and I am moving in weeks.  My independence has been restored.  My senses of identity and of my relation to the rest of the world are stronger than ever.  I’m back.  Brace yourselves.

Tindering Over 30: Not Actually a Dating Apocalypse

Posted on by egoandorgasm

A recent article in Vanity Fair by Nancy Jo Sales (http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/2015/08/tinder-hook-up-culture-end-of-dating) describes the dating life of 20 somethings around the country. According to this piece, young women are perpetually glued to their phones, feverishly Tindering during dinner, while having drinks, and throughout sorority meetings.   They are addicted to “hook-up culture”, and mobile dating apps allow for an endless stream of “fuckboys” to come over and ravish them and/or exploit them. They have to play the perfect text game (read not act too interested), and they have to have sex with men they meet online (who themselves are sleeping with upwards of 100 women a year) and pretend they want nothing more. If they “catch feelings” for someone, it is perceived as a sign of weakness. All this is referred to in the article as our society’s current “dating apocalypse.”

The world depicted in this article sounds truly awful. However, this world is not what we are currently experiencing in our own app fueled dating lives. Instead of a dating apocalypse, we both think of our dating lives as healthy, interesting, and even, dare we say it? Fun.

Viv: I love Tinder. There. I said it. My warm fuzzy feelings for the app stem from the fact that it (and a few others) saved me from having a sexless Spring while my soon to be ex husband and I worked out the terms of our divorce (still pending at the time of this writing). I was able to meet truly nice people, have a few beers and a few laughs, and occasionally have sex without attachment (though never on the first date). None of these men had to know I was recently separated or recovering from the greatest emotional upheaval of my adult life. Without Tinder I would have been stuck with trying to date friends of friends, who would have known about my separation, or I would have to be spending an egregious amount of time in bars, looking attractive and available. This doesn’t work well for me, as I would vastly prefer to spend my free time with my friends while wearing grandma chic, and I have been known to kill men with the evil eye if they interrupt our conversations in order to chat us up.

I also love Tinder for the people I meet there that I don’t end up sleeping with or even kissing. I have had great one-off dates full of lively conversation, good food (I always offer to split the bill if we get to food- no “tinder food stamps” here), great drinks, and even some emotional intimacy when I am in the mood. At one point I met up with a man for cocktails who was also recently divorced. He looked handsome in his Tinder photos, and he was just as handsome in reality. We talked about his ex, his kids, and the realities of dating when you have children (I do not have children, so I was fascinated by this aspect of his life). This man held my hands, touched my hair, told me I was beautiful, and thanked me for a great experience. I never saw him again after we parted ways at the door of the bar, and I think that made the evening we had even more significant. It was just the kind of thing I needed that day.

Sloan: I am ambivalent about Tinder, if I’m honest. I used it for a bit and then turned it off because I was tired of the barrage of messages from the guys I had swiped right on. But, that being said, I don’t think it’s part of a “dating apocalypse” any more than I think Facebook is the end of civilization as we know it. I think that, as a culture, we love, love, love to bemoan the passage of the “good, old days” of everything that has been impacted by technology – and that includes love and romance and sex. Certainly Tinder and OKCupid and Ashley Madison (let’s not forget that gem) have changed the game, but they haven’t reinvented it.

I had a few dates off of Tinder and I’ve actually made a few friends (without benefits). I sexted with a hot, young pilot I met online and I’ll probably never repeat it even though I had fun doing it (I have a “try everything once” motto). I’ve had sex with Tinder guys a few times, too, and don’t regret a single second of it. Like Viv, I tend not to hook up on the first date and I’ve never met a guy off of Tinder (or any other dating site) that had an issue with that. I think that maybe our experience is different because we are more experienced game players. Or “playettes”, if you like (shout out to Blackstreet).

In sum, I tend to use OKCupid more than Tinder. But if I needed a fun night out without strings? Yeah, Tinder would be my go-to app. And I’m not embarrassed to admit it. Tinder is like the paprika of my dating life; it’s an interesting flavor, but I wouldn’t want to have it with every meal or overload on it.

Analysis:

Why is our experience so different from the women depicted in this article?

The obvious answer is that we are no longer in our 20’s. As 30- and 40-something women, we know we don’t have to sleep with someone to get them to like us, we don’t pay much attention to texting “rules” (though we certainly do sporgulate over men we think we like), and we aren’t attracted to fuckboys, even though we do sleep with men without commitment. We enjoy the affirmation, thin though it may be, that apps like Tinder can provide, but we don’t count our conquests or talk dirty to people we have never met (Viv: this is not strictly true. I have totally sexted with strangers on Tinder, but I have never ever gone on to meet those sextees in real life). With age comes maturity (for some of us) and a lessening (slightly) of the hormonal urge to fuck our brains out all the time. We are not looking for husbands on Tinder, and we are ultimately in control.

The men we match with on these sites are also older (though Sloan likes ‘em young!), and this means that by and large they are not crude walking dildos (and when they are we swipe left). We get that they probably would like to sleep with us sooner rather than later, should all go well with the meet and greets, but we don’t get the sense that we are a knotch in anyone’s belt. Before we sleep with someone we have to have the reasonable expectation that they will also want to see us again, but that is not at all the same thing as wanting to be their partner. We tend to pick men that seem to get this distinction (though we have been wrong on occasion). In other words, we don’t go for men who seem to be overtly suffering from “pussy affluenza”. (Sloan: I tend to date mostly 20-something men and I get at least 3-5 great dates out of them before we have explosive sex, girls. So it’s not necessarily as simple as hit it and quit it….)

Lastly, we don’t Tinder all the time. Ok ok, we swipe around a few times a day, though we can go for long periods (Days! Weeks! Months!) without opening the app at all. We would never swipe during dinner (unless of course we wanted to let our dinner companions swipe for us to gain some variety out of our match options), and we generally frown on swiping in public places. We do not need the world at large to know we are Tindering because we enjoy (and our careers rely on) the illusion of gravitas.

Can we just say the words “pussy affluenza” one more time?

The Demi Moore Effect: Why 20-something males want to date 40-something females

Posted on by egoandorgasm

Sloan: About a month after my second husband and I decided to get a divorce, a 22-year-old former NYU student asked me out. He had found me on OKCupid and messaged me. Despite his age, I found myself attracted to him. I was 40 at the time and I felt weird about going out with him, but I said yes.

We went to The Comedy Cellar (where we saw Louis CK – a highlight of my dating career). We went to my favorite bar. We went to watch a game. He was polite, handsome, funny. I took him home and discovered that I had forgotten what a 20-something guy is like in bed. In effect, athletic. Their bodies just work without them worrying about it. They’re in shape. They’re enthusiastic. After a few dates, he found a girl his own age that he liked and we called it off. I had a great time with him.

In essence, I broke the seal. After this guy, I kept dating 20-something men. In fact, I developed a taste for 20-something men. Heck, I lived with one for nearly two years in a serious relationship. (And, just for the record, age was not the factor that broke us up. More on that in a future post.)

When I’m out with a younger guy, sometimes I still get self-conscious when I see people my own age looking at us. There’s some judgment there, often, or envy. I can’t tell which one, since they are so often mixed up with each other. But I’m comfortable dating much younger men. Especially during those time periods – like right after my divorce – when I didn’t want to get into anything serious. There is rarely anything “serious” that comes out of a 40-something/20-something pairing.

But it’s not just about sex either, folks. It really, really isn’t. Most of younger men I’ve dated are smart and interesting and they are often bored by women their own age. They want stimulating conversation. They want a woman who isn’t going to freak out if they don’t text her back immediately. They want a girlfriend who isn’t hustling them down the aisle. They want someone confident enough in herself that she can toss her clothes off, rip their clothes off, and ask for exactly what she wants. I’m not saying that all 20-something women are the opposite of this, but it’s a lot harder to be this type of woman when you’re younger. I was a bundle of insecurities in my 20s. Now I’m not. I’m fun and I know what I want. That’s a huge turn-on for a 20-something guy.

Lest you think this is a freak effect, I get asked out primarily by 27-year-olds. That’s the average age of the men who message me on OKCupid. I’m still hot, so I’m sure that is part of it. But they are responding to the PhD as well. I think that there has been a societal shift in our cultural acceptance of older women/younger men relationships. I think it started when we collectively pondered the Demi Moore-Ashton Kutcher marriage. Demi Moore (and Madonna – let’s not forget the queen) did a lot of trailblazing here to normalize this age difference. And, quite frankly, I love her for it.

Analysis:

Why is age an issue? 

I’m going to start my exploration of this question with another question: Why did we coin the term “cougar” to label women who dared to date younger men? There have been many articles on why this term is offensive and what it might indicate about our culture at large (primarily that we are frightened of sexually aggressive women). I hate the term and I instinctively recoil whenever it is applied to me.

But why should I care? Does my own dislike of the label indicate that I, too, have a problem with the age difference?

As a scientist and researcher, I’m trained to look at the history of the phenomenon I’m studying. And the reverse age gap has a much shorter existence than the older man/younger woman. The older man/younger woman relationship makes us uncomfortable because it highlights the power differential between men and women and reflects a time when females held little sway over the path of their own lives. For centuries, women’s lives were dictated by their marriages. And it made a lot of sense to marry an older, established (read – wealthier) man if you were a young woman.

So the younger man/older woman relationship muddies those waters and makes us rethink our assumptions. There’s the argument that women are finally “getting theirs” by dating younger. But I’m not so sure that’s true and I’m absolutely sure that’s not the whole story. The power dynamic between younger men and older women isn’t necessarily the same (again, unless we are talking about the mega-rich woman like Madonna who may be dating a much more socially disadvantaged youth). I don’t support the men I date (in fact, they usually still pay for everything) and we’re fairly equally matched in everything apart from life experience.

When I was in a relationship with someone who was 27 (when I was 40), I worried that I would get too old for him. That he’d want to have children. That he’d eventually want to be with someone his own age (and his new girlfriend is his own age). But gradually, I became comfortable with the dynamic and the age difference often didn’t matter at all. Sure, he didn’t get my cultural references and hadn’t heard many of the songs I loved. But we could talk deeply about politics, religion, art, life. I sometimes forgot that he was 13 years younger than me.

We’re maybe a decade into this new couple dynamic and I think it’s too early to tell what it means or how it will work out. But new research suggests that slightly older women in relationships with younger men are happier overall. The couples report higher satisfaction with their relationship dynamic and share equal responsibilities. That sounds good to me.

Viv: I am just going to pipe up briefly to say, “All hail to you, Sloan!”  But now that I have said that, I have to admit that as a 34 year old woman I am currently repulsed by the idea of dating a 20-something man.  I have all my dating apps set to search for men in a range from 30 to 40, and I am thinking of bumping the minimum up to 32.  This is clearly because my soon to be ex husband was (is) very immature and I am still in recovery from being close to someone who didn’t (doesn’t) have the capacity to make grown up decisions.  Perhaps my feelings will change as I get farther away from this experience?

Dating While Ethnically Ambiguous

Posted on by egoandorgasm

Viv: Last week I had a date with a man, lets call him Steve, who asked me why I had my hair pulled back in all my online profile pictures (we met via a mobile app that allows you to use up to 6 photos).  We had shared a couple cocktails at this point and he must have been feeling more relaxed and inquisitive.  I thought about it for a moment, and then replied that I thought my natural hair was probably too interesting for that particular dating site (which is invitation only and typically full of white male MBA grads).  I then explained that I was mixed (black and white), and that this often lead white men to puzzle over my ethnicity.  Steve replied that, yes, he had been confused himself, and had settled on the idea that I might be Portuguese (where there are in fact a great many people of mixed heritage, but most Americans don’t know that).

This is only the most recent example of men asking me why I look the way I look.  When men ask me this, I know they are really trying to figure out “who I am”, or more crassly, “what my race is.”  To most white men I look exotic.  I have dark curly hair, strong brows, hazel eyes, olive skin leaning towards orange, and freckles.  Sometimes they ask me what my “nationality” is.  To this I reply, “very American.” If they are persistent they pause and regroup and then ask, “Oh yeah, but where are you really from?”  If I am feeling charitable I tell them I am mixed.  And invariably they say some version of, “Oh! I never would have guessed!”

I have been ethnically ambiguous for white people my entire life and I am used to it.  I expect comments and questions and requests to feel my hair (though often times people just do it without asking).  However, when dating, this ambiguity can become tricky.  As a woman who looks exotic rather than white girl next door, I can become hyper sexualized by white men who know instantly that I am not “marriage material” but who are happy to discover what I might be like in bed (though at my age I am much more aware of this and usually able to nip it in the bud).  I am also often asked to explain why I don’t look more black, and it is awkward and sometimes uncomfortable to explain that my father is very white and that my mother is a light skinned black woman who is probably light skinned because of illegitimate white ancestry in her very religious black Southern family.   If I am feeling especially annoyed, I provide an off the cuff lecture on the social fact of race in America.  There are usually no second dates if the man has to hear the lecture.

Analysis: 

Why is ethnic ambiguity an issue?

First of all, being myself isn’t an issue.  I am happy with the way I look and proud of my family heritage and of my parents for sticking together through an era of discrimination.  But it does become an issue when I can feel men trying to put me in a box or pin me down as being one “kind of person” or another based on “where I am from”.   Race (what people are often actually referring to when they say ethnicity) is a social fact in America, race and sex have a long and ugly history, and, unfortunately, the effects of this history are still very much with us.  Making oneself vulnerable via dating can highlight this history and amplify prejudicial assumptions that would otherwise go unspoken.  When a white man tells me he never would have guessed I was black or mixed, I feel unseen, or worse, like a walking impossibility.  There are many of us ambiguous people out there, we are the result of complicated and often unacknowledged historical events (sometimes involving rape, forced migration, slavery, oppression, and segregation if you look back far enough) and the white community’s lack of awareness or imagination only serves to further hide this history.

On the other hand, I do like talking about my family and my background to those who are genuinely curious and who “get” the fact that having this conversation on a first date is more of an ethically ambiguous issue than an ethnic one.

So what happened with Steve? It turns out that Steve was himself “half” Chilean, and he pointed out that many people assume he is not totally white but cannot pin down his own ethnic (or racial or national) origins.  He did not belabor the point that he never would have guessed where I was “from”, and he smartly added that he thought I was very attractive in any case.  Then we went on to talk about a host of other things.  I did not feel any desire to give him a lecture.  We had another drink, he drove me home on the back of his motorcycle, and I smooched him on the street in front of my apartment.  Let the sporgulation begin.

Sporgulation: Waiting for a Guy to Text You

Posted on by egoandorgasm

Sporgulate (verb): to become preoccupied over the fact that the person you texted two days ago, one day ago, several hours ago, ten minutes ago has not yet texted you back.

Sporgulation can begin immediately after sending a text, or it can manifest itself over time as it slowly dawns on you that the textee has had plenty of time to read the text and is making a choice not to text you back in a timely fashion, or worse, to not text you back at all.

Sporgulating can take many forms.  The most common form consists of repeatedly checking the phone to see if the textee has replied.  The best time to sporgulate in this way is when you are supposed to be focused on something else that is far more important.  Other common forms of sporgulation include sending multiple follow up texts to the textee even though they have not replied to the initial text, talking at length to your friends/coworkers/roommates about the fact that the textee has not yet replied to your text, and imagining a variety of hypothetical scenarios that might explain why the textee has not yet replied to your text.

Sporgulation is a waste of time.  We repeat, it is a waste of time.  But we do it anyway, even though we know better.

Viv: I have been dating someone for about a month, lets call him Doug, and it all started with me asking Doug out on a mobile dating site.  I gave him my phone number via the site, and he immediately texted me to find out when we could meet up.  Since that initial prompt response, however, it has been a total sporgulation game.  We meet up and have a good time. We have beers. We make out in public. We have great, healthy sex.  And then one of us leaves in the morning and I wait a couple days.  Silence.  I text something cheerful, like, “That was so fun last Thursday.  Are you free for more fun later this week?”, and then the real sporgulation sets in.  Doug can take hours to respond, sometimes over 24 hours.  I check my phone every 15 minutes.  I am convinced I will never see him again. I begin to chastise myself for even texting him at all. Isn’t it the man’s job to ask me out? But didn’t I set the precedent by asking him out? Who is attached to normative gender roles anyway? Its 2015!  And then he gets back to me and suggests a date and we meet up and repeat the good time and I assume he was just busy…… Until I start to sporgulate all over again a couple days later.

Sloan: I’m juggling 7 guys right now, which basically means I’m texting them or we’ve gone out on at least one date and there is potential for more. All of them text me. Some of them text me a lot, some a little, some almost never, some just enough. When it comes to texting, we’re all like Goldilocks – there’s a perfect amount of texting for each one of us. The problem is that no one but us knows exactly where that sweet spot is located, so we’re that much more likely to sporgulate, get really, really irritated at someone, or, you know, piss off a lot of bears. One of the men I’m currently juggling, let’s call him Mike, is driving me to sporgulate. I like him more than the others; so much more than I’m forcing myself to keep dating everyone else right now just so I don’t obsess over Mike. I met Mike in real life and our first meetup was fantastic. Except that I wasn’t sure whether or not it was a date – it was “coffee”. The second time we met up it became more clear that we were in “more than friends” territory, but I’m still not sure how interested he is. So. Sporgulation. I send a text to Mike and then put down my phone and try not to obsess about when he’ll text me back. Meanwhile, 6 other men are texting me and I don’t spend more than a minute thinking about their messages or my responses.

Analysis:

Sporgulation is clearly more about the sporgulator’s mental state and emotional needs than about the actual conversation taking place via our handheld devices. It has nothing to do – whatsoever – with the person sending (or not sending) the texts in question.

But what drives us to sporgulate?

Is it human to sporgulate? Is sporgulating even a new phenomenon, or has it simply intensified with our new technologies? Certainly, people sat by their landlines hoping for the phone to ring. They also waited impatiently for the postman to deliver a potential letter from a beloved. So what’s new?

The speed and level of connectivity is new. Social scientists and psychologists have been researching whether or not we feel more or less connected in the era of Facebook, Twitter, and texting. The answer is ambiguous. On one hand, we use social media and mobile technology to stay on the grid, to connect with far-flung friends, and make plans. On the other hand, social media and mobile technology can drive us to compare our lives to others’ lives (and come up short), spark #FOMO (fear of missing out), and drive up our anxiety to peak levels.

So sporgulation is, at its root, about our own insecurities and our attempts to connect with people we do not yet know if we can trust.  It is a side effect of our experimentation with attachment via technology.

Viv: I like Doug but I don’t know Doug yet.  I am in the process of moving away and getting a divorce and this means I do not ask Doug searching personal questions.  I don’t reveal much that is deeply personal about myself either.  Doug and I do not have a level of trust built up that can sustain long periods of comfortable silence.  Each time we see each other may be our last time together.  But we are connecting on intimate physical levels that can lead to attachment the more we sleep together (he spooned me last week and it felt like nestling in a bed of kittens), so the situation can reach high levels of emotional confusion.  Unless we break it off or we choose to have a more personal conversation about what we are doing together, the sporgulation is likely to continue.  I am OK with this.  Like Sloan, I am also dating several other people, in part to mediate the attachment I might feel for Doug.  And again, like Sloan, I don’t find myself sporgulating while texting with other men.

Sloan: I can relate to you, Viv. I like Mike a lot – but I don’t really know him. We haven’t had sex yet, though we’re on that track and it’ll probably happen soon. Once that happens, I’ll be in sporgulation central. The only hope for me is to work on my own insecurities and try to remind myself that I’m great whether or not Mike likes me back. I’m going to have to have a conversation with Mike, eventually, about what this is, expectations, etc. But for now, I’m riding this wave. Whenever possible, I’m going out without my phone, i.e. actually spending time by myself without the baby blanket of instant connection with my network of friends. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating. The bonus is that it really seems to lessen sporgulation. Note that I said “lessen” and not “get rid of.”