I’ll admit to several things:

First: I now DO want to date. I want a serious relationship. I’m not afraid to admit this now, even though many people find it desperate to do so.

Second: The type of relationship that I want is going to probably be a bit atypical…

Third: I’m an incredibly strong, vibrant, and feminist woman who…er…may want to be “Taken In Hand”. Yeah, yeah, stop looking at me like that.

There’s something about a man being a man that is incredibly sexy and right to me. I don’t want someone “sensitive” who runs around in a dashiki, getting in touch with his feminine side (there’s more to that story, but I’m saving it for a short fiction piece, heh). I want someone who isn’t going to be cowed, overwhelmed, or frightened off easily. A man that takes the lead. A man that courts me and has actual power, rather than a manner of being that seems kind of lazy and complacent.

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Perhaps it was the cranberry juice talking. I think it was boredom, and a bit of masochism.

Whatever the story, I decided to peruse WealthyMen.com and HotEnough.org, pretty much for shits and giggles. After all, who would date one of the asses from these sites? This trial took place over about 4 days.

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Stop trying to change yourself for a relationship that’s not meant to be.

In our pursuit of perfect, blissful union, it’s tempting to want to tweak a couple of things to speed the process along. A trip to the salon to change your mousy brown hair to a deep, sensual red is nice. A new wardrobe that makes you feel saucy? Great idea.

A new pair of boobs and lipo to catch the attention of that Abercrombie model wannabe? Not so much.

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A good number of first marriages in the US end in divorce - around 50%. After divorce, most families with children end up with the mother as the custodial parent, and the father in a very limited non-custodial role.

My father is a pretty well-known jazz guitarist. He has chubby cheeks and a huge grin, just like me. We both wiggle our right legs if we sit for too long, and we both have big, loud laughs. We’re even both Tauruses. And, like him, I was a brilliant singer blessed with a great singing voice. I so dearly wanted to be an opera singer, a working musician, just like my father.

My mother wasn’t a fan of that idea, though. From a very young age, she enrolled me in a very serious ballet school with a pre-professional company track. Yet, I always had an interest in learning how to play guitar, or even bass (my grandfather also plays, but was always a hobbyist/fill-in player). Classical music and singing fascinated me, but it was pretty sometimes to get the support that I would need to make a career happen. Oh, she believed that I could do it. But she wasn’t going to be helping me along that much.

I remember when my father left home. I also remember the screaming, then cussing, and the stony silences that would follow their arguments. Those are the obvious memories.

The non-obvious ones? That strong women don’t need men. They don’t need romance. Creative people, musicians especially, are deadbeats. And, men will never, ever stick around- even if you love them.

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OK…this whole thing about feminists needing to hide away with hairy armpits and uncut hair needs to DIE.

I found a really neat blog entry by candyposes, who is a nude model that actually got turned down for a job because she’s a feminist. What, does the photog think that she’s going to snap and plaster him with NOW stickers?

The new wave of feminism is still trying to decide if it stands for open sexuality and the frank appreciation of the female form, or if it stands for restriction, censure of our own drives for pleasure and appreciation, and glorification of sensuality. We need to come to a consensus. No wonder girls are confused with what they see in the media today!

There are so many conflicting messages. Look at the Paris Hiltons of the world. Look at them showing off their coochies to all and sundry, with no real reverence for what they have between their legs. Then, look at the other side…women who fight against the rights of sex workers, or deride exotic dancers, or call miniskirts slutty and degrading. Neither view helps, and the reluctance of the old garde to acknowledge the reality of the new hobbles feminism from really becoming a solid part of American society.

Anyway, visit candyposes’ site, Feminism Without Clothes. She’s got some lovely pics, and she’s very interesting.

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