Pool Hall Revolution

There is a bar in Savannah that offers free pool on Tuesdays and Thursdays and I decided to make this part of my weekly routine. I grew up with a pool table in my house and my Dad taught me to play at a young age. My Dad loved three things; pool, cards, and bowling. He passed away when I was 19 and since I was a hopeless bowler and found cards to be too complicated, pool became the legacy I was left with. Instead of passing on the torch he passed on his custom-made pool cue with pearl inlay.

So every Tuesday is now date night with B&B Billiards. At first I’d like to think I blend in pretty well but when I start racking up at a free table its as if every man in the room feels a disturbance in the force.

Competent with a pool cue she is.

Or is she? When a girl plays pool in an establishment primarily frequented by pool players, they are going to size up her game. I could care less what these guys think about my game but it’s still intimidating. Is this how a man using a public restroom feels?

Fortunately unlike a public restroom (sorry guys) this is a pass or fail test and you only have to be slightly better than horrible to pass. While I may not be an excellent pool player I’m not a shitty one either. Lucky for me being not-too-shitty seems to carry a lot of weight as the men appear confused, intrigued, and admiring…simultaneously. Is this how a Christian youth group leader in a gay pride parade feels? I am not trying to start a revolution and I have nothing to prove but sometimes it feels good to show that I'm not afraid to play with the boys.

Also it’s no surprise that I enjoy playing a game where I can bend over provocatively, handle a long stick and repeatedly bust balls all night long. You could drown in that kind of sexual symbolism.

So where does that leave me? The Madonna/Whore complex enters new and interesting territory when you add some competition to the mix. On the one hand I am being respected and admired for my mastery of the game; on the other hand I am unintentionally flaunting my sexuality with the help of some not-so-subtle body positions and object metaphors. I am literally the ball buster and the tease, at the same time. Even Houdini couldn’t pull that off.

Maybe this is what third-wave feminism should look like.

In summary, the man who invented this game was very sexually frustrated and the secret to being a badass bombshell is to be slightly better than horrible at playing pool. If you can get through a game without completely embarrassing yourself you’ll have it made. If you can’t manage that then rest assured; there will always be a guy out there who is man enough to let you win.

And if you find one who is man enough to NOT let you win please let me know, because I’m still looking for him. :)

Can I Interest You In Some Sarcasm? Using My Attitude With Less Abandon

Lately I have been ending a lot of conversations with the disclaimer that, “I swear I'm not a bitter man-hater or anything...” This will be after an hour long diatribe that verbally castrated the entire male gender for some type of obviously moronic behavior that for some asinine reason they have refused to acknowledge or make any effort to remedy. It is all well and good to say I am not a man-hater but the case is destroyed when all evidence clearly points to the contrary.

I really don’t want to be that girl.

It upsets me that somehow, without my knowledge, I may have become that girl. That at some point this attitude infiltrated my everyday conversation and became uncontrollable, making it virtually impossible for me to say anything about a guy that doesn’t drip with sarcasm and condescension.

It feels like I am engaged in an epic battle of wills; demure, optimistic, romantic me vs. raging bitch me.

This point was driven home (like a knife through the heart) when a male acquaintance hit me with the following: “You know, when a woman hates the fact she is single it is incredibly unattractive. Her dissatisfaction floods out her eyeballs.”

Floods. Out. Her. Eyeballs.

Lock your doors. Take cover. Protect the children. There is a psychotic woman with single ladies syndrome FLOODING OUT HER EYEBALLS on the loose.

I enjoy being single but that isn’t the point. That isn’t what hurt me so much about this statement. What hurt me is that I was obviously being enough of a bitch that this guy had to resort to the oldest trick in the book, the “she’s angry because she is single” cliché. It’s the man’s go-to comeback and I have heard it so many times it doesn‘t even phase me anymore.

Well I thought I had moved past these meager defenses. I thought that I had learned how to have civilized conversations with men that didn’t have to end in boy vs. girl mudslinging. It’s like when you were a kid and you said, “I hate you,” and the person responds, “I hate you times ten…” finally ending with, “I hate you infinity!”

“She’s just angry because she’s single,” is the man’s version of “I hate you infinity.”

When it gets to this point nothing I say matters anymore. I might as well be talking to a wall, which is no big deal because my diatribes are not for anyone else’s benefit nor or they meant to impress anybody (clearly, as I am sure there isn’t a self-help relationship guide called “How to Attract the Perfect Guy by Outright Insulting His Gender"). Most of the time I don’t even think before speaking…we all just need to vent once in a while.

But my anger is a righteous anger and that is why these comments will fly out of my mouth with or without my meaning them too. To stop expressing these opinions would be betraying my sense of social justice. It would be betraying the moral model that dictates how I want to live my life.

I also think that on an unconscious level I say these things in front of my male peers so they can learn a thing or two from a female perspective. See firsthand how fed up women are with the current state of things. I know when my male friends have talked about the controlling, back-stabbing, non-appreciative women they have encountered they strike the fear of God into me.

Because I don’t want to be that girl either.

That being said, my moral model DOESN’T need a side of sarcasm. Because if I don’t start curbing my attitude, how is anyone going to take me seriously? Because if I have to resort to angry soapbox speeches to make my point, what does that say about my credibility?

I hang out with some amazing, stand-up gentlemen who are doing their best to navigate a difficult social landscape. I hope that I can temper my attitude enough so that when I express my opinions, I can paint them a credible picture of what the not-so-stand-up gentlemen look like.

Because thank God, I know they don’t want to be that guy.

The Pursuit of Happiness: But Who Pursues Who?

Sixty years ago there was a formula to dating that was simple and straightforward. Boy meets girl, boy asks girl out for a milkshake, boy and girl drink milkshakes, boy takes girl home, then boy decides whether he enjoyed girl’s company enough to buy her another milkshake at a later time. If he did, he would call her again. He would "pursue" her.

This is somewhat archaic terminology glorifying the fact that men love the chase. Evolution will never get rid of this hunter/gatherer mentality. Yet somehow, this formula has not stood the test of time. It’s now unclear who is supposed to be pursuing who.

Putting yourself out there first is scary and rejection sucks. The benefit of the old formula was that this unfortunate responsibility was squarely on the man’s shoulders. A lot of women, including myself, selfishly wish it would stay this way but that is nothing more than reverse sexism. Equal rights means equal opportunity for rejection.

However the dilemma is this; women in general get a lot more attached a lot earlier on than men do. Even more dangerous, women tend to project feelings onto a potential relationship that are not even there. We convince ourselves that this “amazing guy” we met 10 days ago could be the one. Sure you haven’t gone on an honest-to-goodness date yet, but his text messages are SO sincere.

Then there are all the go-to excuses we use as to why a guy we feel a connection with WON‘T pursue us:
“He’s shy.”
“He’s intimidated by my professional success.”
“He’s intimidated by my ability to name all 50 states in alphabetical order. That’s why we went dutch on the bill, because he likes me but was intimidated and all.”

Obviously.

How do we avoid these inevitable justifications? We go on the defense. We choose to take the, “If he likes me he’ll pursue me” approach. Sit back, relax, and let them do all the work. Not necessarily the wrong decision, but is it the fair one?

Not really, but men are not great about asserting themselves if there isn’t anything in it for them. Within minutes of meeting you they have probably already decided whether you are friend-material or relationship-material, but they won’t come out and say which one you are because they don’t want to hurt your feelings. So, their actions end up speaking louder than words. We depend on them to make the first move so we know there is mutual interest and that our feelings are not a convoluted attempt to make something out of nothing.

Also if they aren’t man enough to ask you out, they may not be man enough to date you. Just putting that out there.

Unfortunately there is not a perfect solution to this problem, which is why I miss the “formulaic” 1950’s boy asks out girl approach. But, IDEALLY, I think we should get over ourselves, stop fearing rejection, and pursue someone if we are interested in them. Stop letting the boys have all the fun. If the attention isn’t immediately reciprocated, drop it and move on. If it’s meant to be, aggressive pursuit by either party should be pretty unnecessary. No rocket science involved, no endless re-readings of the Facebook message he sent you last week… "Is this a I’m-teasing-you-because-you’re-like-a-little-sister-to-me message or a -I’m-flirting-with-you-because-I-want-to-suck-face message?”

It’s a you-really-need-a-therapist-so-I-don’t-have-to-listen-to-you’re-unhealthy-obsessing message.