Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
OH, my ovaries.
After many years of lesbian domesticity, I recently joined the ranks of the boygirl sex world. While I'd previously dated boys (ok fine, boy singular but he was so overwhelming I'd like to think I've been with many) its been many years since getting my period signaled a flood of relief throughout my being that I would not have to put my pro-choice politics to work. While I'd always been aware of how lucky I was in that respect, it's only now that I've come to understand just how lucky I was. Not only is straight sex is way more expensive than gay sex, it demands way more preparation and upkeep. It's really truly ridiculous.
Since I'm relatively new to the world of contraceptives, I thought I'd throw in my two cents. Cause I mean, what else do I have to do? It is commonly understood that the available forms of contraceptives out there are a pitiful offering. Even under a gay rock, I shared in the common rage and frustration. How many times have you heard some poor dear lament, "How the hell is it possible that in the year 2007, with all the medical and technological feats that have been made, we are really no further to ever getting decent birth control?! Why are they working endlessly on creating never-ending erections and getting horses to give birth to cloned sheep, and not putting a little more thought into something that we really fucking need!? Why is it so expensive? Why is the responsibility and the expense all on the woman? Why do all the options suck? Why is it ok for my health insurance to not cover this? How come its legal for pharmacists to not sell me my prescription on personal grounds? Why do I have to put my hormones, my emotional health, my weight, my physical health and my few hard earned dollars on the line? How is it possible that the same government that is steadily dismantling Roe v. Wade is also making it harder for me to protect myself from ever needing to make use of the law? What on earth!!!!!?"
I don't know the answers to most of those questions and I want to change it. But in the meantime, I want to make sure that I can change it, instead of changing diapers. Not including the rhythm method and plain old prayer, we're looking at 6 options:
1) condoms
2) pill
3) patch
4) shot
5) ring
6) iud
Since condoms are really annoying when you're only sleeping with one person, that's off the list, so really it's 5 options. First off, the pill. Many people are quite content with the hormonal route and to them I say "goddamn i am jealous." But having learned the hard way with a brief but crappy flirtation with ortho-tricyclin, hormonal methods of birth control are not for everyone. Nevertheless, my problem with the pill goes beyond the emotional effects: it requires a level of daily responsibility that I am certainly not incapable of, but would rather not have to deal with. Remembering to take it each day at the right time? That's just annoying and causes a very low grade but constant level of vigilance and stress. I'm not having it. Plus, raise your hand if your partner has ever chipped in for your prescription co-pay. yeah.
The patch and the shot are more attractive in the daily upkeep department. But like the pill, they both work by making major alterations to your estrogen levels. If I could protect myself from pregnancy without gaining 30 pounds, getting countless y.i.'s, and sacrificing a certain level of emotional and mental stability, oh how I would. Many people can. Since I can't, that scratches off the patch and shot.
Leaving me with only 2 options: the ring or the iud. I prudently opted for the more temporary, less invasive and more technologically advanced option of the nuva ring. Since it too works by releasing hormones, I was initially quite anti-ring, but my doctor promised me that it was such a localized small dose that there was no way I'd be emotionally affected. A few weeks later, I'm waiting for a meeting with a psychiatrist to figure out why I've completely lost my mind. I assumed it was a separate chemical issue. But I'm looking online to find out if I'm the only one on the ring who has had her period for almost an entire month nonstop and lo and behold, a message board with dozens of women saying "WTF!? My doctor said it wouldn't affect my emotions, but why am i spiraling off into voids of anger and depression at random?" and I'm reading this and thinking, "um, hello lily! perhaps its time to cancel the psychiatric appointment?' So I scrapped both the ring and the psychiatrist, and slowly emerged from my hole of sadness. a few weeks later I am sane, but protectionless.
Which left me with one final option: the iud. So I did it. I feel so retro! I feel so sore! But I'm crossing my fingers that just this once protection could be easy and reliable. is that so much to ask? i think not. It certainly does not answer the questions of finance and inequality: 500 uninsured dollars paid entirely from my nonexistent salary. And while it promises 5 years of total ease, it was still one of the more painful procedures I've had done in my life. Still, I am hopeful. While it got a bad rap somewhere in the 80's, the negative rumors have been fairly unfounded and every doctor and article I've consulted has agreed that it is the most effective option out there and the simplest to use. So we shall see.
I suppose it's a bit odd that I've now shared the trials and tribulations of my uterus with a bunch of total strangers, but i feel like this is an issue that is often grappled with but rarely questioned. It's not enough to sit around with your lady friends saying, dude, this sucks. yeah, it does. yeah.
Because DUDE: this more than sucks. What on earth? I know I'm clearly on a very extreme end of the hormonal-sensitivity spectrum, but I wanted to offer my experiences because I'm pissed off and its not just pms. It's the whole goddamn system. Something has to change. What are we going to do about it?
Since I'm relatively new to the world of contraceptives, I thought I'd throw in my two cents. Cause I mean, what else do I have to do? It is commonly understood that the available forms of contraceptives out there are a pitiful offering. Even under a gay rock, I shared in the common rage and frustration. How many times have you heard some poor dear lament, "How the hell is it possible that in the year 2007, with all the medical and technological feats that have been made, we are really no further to ever getting decent birth control?! Why are they working endlessly on creating never-ending erections and getting horses to give birth to cloned sheep, and not putting a little more thought into something that we really fucking need!? Why is it so expensive? Why is the responsibility and the expense all on the woman? Why do all the options suck? Why is it ok for my health insurance to not cover this? How come its legal for pharmacists to not sell me my prescription on personal grounds? Why do I have to put my hormones, my emotional health, my weight, my physical health and my few hard earned dollars on the line? How is it possible that the same government that is steadily dismantling Roe v. Wade is also making it harder for me to protect myself from ever needing to make use of the law? What on earth!!!!!?"
I don't know the answers to most of those questions and I want to change it. But in the meantime, I want to make sure that I can change it, instead of changing diapers. Not including the rhythm method and plain old prayer, we're looking at 6 options:
1) condoms
2) pill
3) patch
4) shot
5) ring
6) iud
Since condoms are really annoying when you're only sleeping with one person, that's off the list, so really it's 5 options. First off, the pill. Many people are quite content with the hormonal route and to them I say "goddamn i am jealous." But having learned the hard way with a brief but crappy flirtation with ortho-tricyclin, hormonal methods of birth control are not for everyone. Nevertheless, my problem with the pill goes beyond the emotional effects: it requires a level of daily responsibility that I am certainly not incapable of, but would rather not have to deal with. Remembering to take it each day at the right time? That's just annoying and causes a very low grade but constant level of vigilance and stress. I'm not having it. Plus, raise your hand if your partner has ever chipped in for your prescription co-pay. yeah.
The patch and the shot are more attractive in the daily upkeep department. But like the pill, they both work by making major alterations to your estrogen levels. If I could protect myself from pregnancy without gaining 30 pounds, getting countless y.i.'s, and sacrificing a certain level of emotional and mental stability, oh how I would. Many people can. Since I can't, that scratches off the patch and shot.
Leaving me with only 2 options: the ring or the iud. I prudently opted for the more temporary, less invasive and more technologically advanced option of the nuva ring. Since it too works by releasing hormones, I was initially quite anti-ring, but my doctor promised me that it was such a localized small dose that there was no way I'd be emotionally affected. A few weeks later, I'm waiting for a meeting with a psychiatrist to figure out why I've completely lost my mind. I assumed it was a separate chemical issue. But I'm looking online to find out if I'm the only one on the ring who has had her period for almost an entire month nonstop and lo and behold, a message board with dozens of women saying "WTF!? My doctor said it wouldn't affect my emotions, but why am i spiraling off into voids of anger and depression at random?" and I'm reading this and thinking, "um, hello lily! perhaps its time to cancel the psychiatric appointment?' So I scrapped both the ring and the psychiatrist, and slowly emerged from my hole of sadness. a few weeks later I am sane, but protectionless.
Which left me with one final option: the iud. So I did it. I feel so retro! I feel so sore! But I'm crossing my fingers that just this once protection could be easy and reliable. is that so much to ask? i think not. It certainly does not answer the questions of finance and inequality: 500 uninsured dollars paid entirely from my nonexistent salary. And while it promises 5 years of total ease, it was still one of the more painful procedures I've had done in my life. Still, I am hopeful. While it got a bad rap somewhere in the 80's, the negative rumors have been fairly unfounded and every doctor and article I've consulted has agreed that it is the most effective option out there and the simplest to use. So we shall see.
I suppose it's a bit odd that I've now shared the trials and tribulations of my uterus with a bunch of total strangers, but i feel like this is an issue that is often grappled with but rarely questioned. It's not enough to sit around with your lady friends saying, dude, this sucks. yeah, it does. yeah.
Because DUDE: this more than sucks. What on earth? I know I'm clearly on a very extreme end of the hormonal-sensitivity spectrum, but I wanted to offer my experiences because I'm pissed off and its not just pms. It's the whole goddamn system. Something has to change. What are we going to do about it?
Saturday, October 13, 2007
If these phones could talk
I got rid of my text messaging when I was living in Portland last fall. A variety of factors led to the decision: zero social life, zero money, several ex-boyfriends, etc.
Back in New York, I heard from friends on a daily basis about how much they hated having to call me. How much easier it would be if I just had texting.
It was only once I started dating someone that I finally caved and picked up (flipped open) my phone and called Verizon to sign up for a modest monthly texting plan. My friends saw right through me, but they texted anyway.
It felt good to be back. My motorolla tried to fill in the words before I finished typing and I had to be careful to correct it. I'd want to type "good" and the phone would just assume "home." I'd dial 43, it would give me "if," and I'd select "he" instead. It took time, but it eventually adjusted.
I'm no longer seeing the guy, but I'm now used to texting. My phone has kept track of the transition. It has returned to banking on it being "home" rather than "good." I'll go for "on," and it will give me "no." I recently tried to say "my" and, I swear to god, it made the leap to "oy." That pretty much says it all.
Back in New York, I heard from friends on a daily basis about how much they hated having to call me. How much easier it would be if I just had texting.
It was only once I started dating someone that I finally caved and picked up (flipped open) my phone and called Verizon to sign up for a modest monthly texting plan. My friends saw right through me, but they texted anyway.
It felt good to be back. My motorolla tried to fill in the words before I finished typing and I had to be careful to correct it. I'd want to type "good" and the phone would just assume "home." I'd dial 43, it would give me "if," and I'd select "he" instead. It took time, but it eventually adjusted.
I'm no longer seeing the guy, but I'm now used to texting. My phone has kept track of the transition. It has returned to banking on it being "home" rather than "good." I'll go for "on," and it will give me "no." I recently tried to say "my" and, I swear to god, it made the leap to "oy." That pretty much says it all.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
What I Tell Myself to Feel Better
I have recently begun my third experiment with online dating. I guess it’s what I do in the fall. Fall 2005 was match.com, Fall 2006 was jdate, and now I’m 10 days into nerve. So far, no luck.
Even in the year 2007, when it sometimes seems rare to hear of an adult couple who got together after college without the aid of the internet (You met at work? Really? At a party? Wow…), the consensus about online dating still seems to be that it’s an easy way out. It’s for people who don’t have game. Those of us who, for whatever reason, have trouble communicating to people we find attractive or interesting (or, ideally, both) that we’d like to see them again. The internet allows us to skip all of the strategizing and innuendo and eye-batting. If I contact you through a dating site, it’s not because I’m just being nice or I think you might be able to get me a job or because I just need a social crutch at a party where I don’t know anyone. I’m contacting you because I might want to date you, period.
No doubt there is some truth to that perception of the internet dater, but things are changing. Single people who have no trouble meeting other single people at bars and parties have joined the online dating community (in New York, at least). I have a number of outgoing friends—male and female—who’ve given it the old college try. When they first told me I was surprised. Aren’t these my friends who have a gift for meeting strangers, who are energized rather than drained by putting themselves in new situations and making themselves available to new people? Why would they resort to using a dating site?
The answer is that although it may be easy for them to get a date offline, that doesn’t mean it’s easy to get a date that they want to see more than once or twice. Meeting someone you really, really like is hard and rare, and the internet is becoming just another real physical place where you could meet someone new or bump into someone you already know. (Anyone who’s tried online dating recently will tell you that they’ve recoiled from their computer screens coming across the profiles of exes, family friends, or coworkers in the same way that they would avert their eyes or suddenly change direction when seeing someone unexpected on the subway or the street.)
The internet may still be an easier way to “put yourself out there”—a phrase so often used by friends in relationships when they’re asked (or not asked) for dating advice—but it does not change who you are. Speaking very generally, those who are bold and flirtatious at parties are bold and flirtatious online too—they’ll contact a lot of people, write long emails full of question marks and exclamation points, and welcome that moment when the connection is made and the phone numbers are exchanged. Likewise, those who are shy and reserved at parties are shy and reserved online. They wait to be contacted, and when they are they hesitate to share too much too fast. The prospect of talking on the phone or meeting in person is terrifying and put off as long as possible. And those of us who are friendly enough and enjoy being social but have lazy or pessimistic tendencies and are good at making excuses don’t really change once we go online, either. We can write a good profile and a witty email, but maintaining our virtual dating lives can end up taking a lower place on our priority lists. Whether that’s because of unrealistic expectations or insecurity or cynicism or what is a whole other blog posting.
So the good news is that the stigma attached to meeting someone great on the internet is fading away. My friends who are in relationships that were conceived online will kick themselves for telling everyone they met on the PATH train, because maintaining the lie takes so much unnecessary energy. The bad news is that it turns out there really isn’t any way to make meeting a great person easy. At this point in life, we are who we are, on- or offline. For most people, what you get out of the search represents only a fraction of what you put into it, and often the real pay-off comes simply by getting lucky.
Even in the year 2007, when it sometimes seems rare to hear of an adult couple who got together after college without the aid of the internet (You met at work? Really? At a party? Wow…), the consensus about online dating still seems to be that it’s an easy way out. It’s for people who don’t have game. Those of us who, for whatever reason, have trouble communicating to people we find attractive or interesting (or, ideally, both) that we’d like to see them again. The internet allows us to skip all of the strategizing and innuendo and eye-batting. If I contact you through a dating site, it’s not because I’m just being nice or I think you might be able to get me a job or because I just need a social crutch at a party where I don’t know anyone. I’m contacting you because I might want to date you, period.
No doubt there is some truth to that perception of the internet dater, but things are changing. Single people who have no trouble meeting other single people at bars and parties have joined the online dating community (in New York, at least). I have a number of outgoing friends—male and female—who’ve given it the old college try. When they first told me I was surprised. Aren’t these my friends who have a gift for meeting strangers, who are energized rather than drained by putting themselves in new situations and making themselves available to new people? Why would they resort to using a dating site?
The answer is that although it may be easy for them to get a date offline, that doesn’t mean it’s easy to get a date that they want to see more than once or twice. Meeting someone you really, really like is hard and rare, and the internet is becoming just another real physical place where you could meet someone new or bump into someone you already know. (Anyone who’s tried online dating recently will tell you that they’ve recoiled from their computer screens coming across the profiles of exes, family friends, or coworkers in the same way that they would avert their eyes or suddenly change direction when seeing someone unexpected on the subway or the street.)
The internet may still be an easier way to “put yourself out there”—a phrase so often used by friends in relationships when they’re asked (or not asked) for dating advice—but it does not change who you are. Speaking very generally, those who are bold and flirtatious at parties are bold and flirtatious online too—they’ll contact a lot of people, write long emails full of question marks and exclamation points, and welcome that moment when the connection is made and the phone numbers are exchanged. Likewise, those who are shy and reserved at parties are shy and reserved online. They wait to be contacted, and when they are they hesitate to share too much too fast. The prospect of talking on the phone or meeting in person is terrifying and put off as long as possible. And those of us who are friendly enough and enjoy being social but have lazy or pessimistic tendencies and are good at making excuses don’t really change once we go online, either. We can write a good profile and a witty email, but maintaining our virtual dating lives can end up taking a lower place on our priority lists. Whether that’s because of unrealistic expectations or insecurity or cynicism or what is a whole other blog posting.
So the good news is that the stigma attached to meeting someone great on the internet is fading away. My friends who are in relationships that were conceived online will kick themselves for telling everyone they met on the PATH train, because maintaining the lie takes so much unnecessary energy. The bad news is that it turns out there really isn’t any way to make meeting a great person easy. At this point in life, we are who we are, on- or offline. For most people, what you get out of the search represents only a fraction of what you put into it, and often the real pay-off comes simply by getting lucky.
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