Moments I will never forget...

As is clear with Marie's situation, being stared in the face with death can make truth very easy to see. All of a sudden your ducks are perfectly in a row and you know what's number one on your list of importance. My paternal grandfather's passing was one of those moments for me. Even though it was not the first family death I had to deal with, it was the first one that was a surprise at an age where I really understood what was going on. At that moment I realized I had no control. I was packing up my room inside a house I shared with 4 other people, just graduated from college. My boyfriend and I were leaving in the next few days to drive to Arizona to drop off all of my things to my parents house. He was coming with me to spend more time with my family and meet my grandfather. Unfortunately he never got to do that.

My grandfather's passing started me on a path of learning to let go. His death coincided with my boyfriend and I moving away from one another. He was moving to California, me to Arizona to finish up an internship and find a graduate school.We had no idea if we would be able to be together forever. For the several months after my grandfather's death and graduation, I had several defining moments, and many of them were shared with my boyfriend.

I being a control freak HATED the "not knowing" aspect of our relationship at the time. I had to learn to live moment by moment and soak in my boyfriend's face, laugh, smile, hands, hair, everything so that I would at least have the memories. We basically spent the next three months together because we didn't know where the road would lead after August. We spent 5 weeks in Italy hopping from town to town. There are millions of defining moments floating around in Italy that we experienced. One, in particular, was in Gubbio. We were sitting across from one another eating rabbit for the first (and I think only) time. My boyfriend mentioned that he was glad we had decided to come to Italy together and that we were still in a relationship, even though we had both known for quite a while that we would be moving a part from one another. I think we had both considered just breaking it off during the school year knowing that it would hurt so much more the deeper in love we fell when we had to say goodbye. But, we stuck with it and as bittersweet as that dinner was, me crying and smiling eating my rabbit, drinking my wine, laughing at myself--it was so worth it. We will always have that moment.

Dealing with my grandfather's death and the possible end of my relationship just hammered into my head that

1. I don't really have control.
2. Worrying about the future keeps you from seeing what is right in front of you.
3. Don't take anything for granted.

We ended up living apart for 9 months, I decided to get my Masters and got into a school that was in the Bay Area. We are so so so lucky that the two of us can live for our own selves and still be in the same town. I know a ton of couples that are forced to live miles away from one another to fulfill each one's individual dreams. But, that's what you have to do. You can't take care of someone before you take care of yourself.

We still have defining moments and I know we forever will.

I would love to hear any moments you all would like to share.

Marie, my thoughts are with you and your husband.

Thanks all.

--Lauren

Defining Moments

What makes a defining moment in relationship with someone else? What is the trigger that makes you know what you truly want (and, sometimes, whether what you have is it)?

This is on my mind because this past week, I experienced one, although it feels less defining the further in time we get from it. But essentially, it goes like this:

On last Tuesday evening at about 10:45 pm, my not-quite-51-year-old husband had a stroke.

It wasn't a "falling down on the floor losing consciousness" kind of event, but it was clear enough to both of us what was happening. We were just sitting in the living room watching TV, when suddenly he turned to me and asked, "Are my eyes crossed?" One eye was looking forward, the other appeared to be trying to escape from his head and was pressed hard to the outside corner of his eye socket. Slowly the errant eye relaxed, but his vision remained jumbled and confused; he would later describe it as like trying to look through the side of a prism. Then the dizziness and headache came.

We called 911. Paramedics were at our home literally within 60 seconds, and given the clear nature of his symptoms, elected to take him to the Stroke Center at Alta Bates Hospital. Another strange synergy of good luck: Alta Bates is literally four blocks from our house.

He stayed in the emergency room until they determined the "acute" phase had concluded; about 5:30 am he was transferred to Kaiser Hayward where he received wonderful care and every 'graph, 'gram, and 'sound known to human kind. Slowly his brain began to recalibrate itself to read the information his eyes were sending it; this process is still continuing almost a week later. He was discharged on Saturday after all testing showed no ongoing threat to his health other than very high blood pressure. He is likely to regain full function within six months.

In those early hours, though, we didn't know the extent of the damage, whether it was reversible, or if he was likely to have a second larger "event" that would take him past some point of no return. And standing in the cold outside the emergency room at Alta Bates, I found myself feeling an enormous range of things: guilt that I had ever been angry with him over anything, anger that this was happening to us, but above all, a determination to work with it. And, strangely, a part of me that had been pushing for more of a "partnership" decided I might as well be prepared to do everything, since I might not have a choice in the matter eventually.

The emotional reaction is fading somewhat, and this is good, really; had I stayed in that state I would not be able to nag my husband now to take his meds and measure his blood pressure and lay off that last cup of coffee. I'm really hoping he himself will see this as a "wake-up call" of sorts, the Big Cosmic Thump in the Head from the Universe, and take the challenge to move beyond his comfort zone into a new and better reality. I'm rooting for this to make us stronger together, somehow, and better. Because I know for sure now, even though I sometimes wonder how it is that I'm with my husband, I really don't want to be without him.

Have you had a defining moment? How has it shaped you and your attitude toward relationship(s)? What delusions did it shatter, or what sexiness did it reinforce?

'Til next time ...

--E. Marie

what my relationships taught me

So, there must be tons of stuff that my relationships have taught me. Right? Tons, like...uh...well...

Hm.... Can't think of anything at all off hand. Because everything I think about that my ex-boyfriends taught me is what I don't want in the next boyfriend. Geez, that sounds terrible. And I'm sure it's not true. Actually, I can say that all my exes without exception are basically good people, we were just poorly matched.

So what has all the dating I've done taught me? Honestly, I don't have a great overarching lesson here. Except maybe to always be yourself, because however pretty the facade, a some point it will crack. I think it was Chris Rock who said, "You don't go on a first date with someone, you meet their representative." So I find myself often representing myself as the person who I would like to be perceived as being. My representative smells better than me, is tidier, is more patient than I am, and shaves way more often.

But what a self defeating practice. While there is nothing wrong with running a brush through my hair, I would do well to remember that the whole getting to know a person thing would be much easier if I actually let them get to know me.

But getting back to my original point, I guess it is good that my exes showed me what I won't stand for. Because that in turn, helps me understand what I do stand for.

And as my grandma would say, "if you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything."
-Heidi

This or That? There is much more to it

I was talking with an old friend of mine the other day about relationships and marriage and she said that even though she felt she and her now husband knew each other extremely well and were totally honest with who they were before they were married, marriage was not what she expected. It wasn't one of those cases where the people within the marriage completely did a 180 the day after the honeymoon, rather, according to my friend it stems from what she feels she was told about marriage her whole childhood. Not necessarily with words, but with images, mainstream media and the like.

Does anyone else out there feel as though they have experienced something similar?

I guess my ideas about relationships came from watching my parents and all of the romantic comedies I went to with my girlfriends when I was about 14 or so. What I think is most hilarious about life is that what you think you want and what you really need can be so different sometimes. And you can't tell the difference until sometimes its too late.

I suffered the same symptoms as Marie when I was younger, mainly in high school, falling madly infatuated with those unreachable guys. Guys that partied way too much and did all the wrong things, that I myself would have never done because I knew it would lead somewhere I never wanted to go. Then why was I looking for it in someone else? How would that help me? This is where the romantic comedies come in. They follow such a formula that most of them end where in the final act the man comes running after the woman trying to explain to her that he now realizes how awesome she is and that he's changed for her. (I have also mentioned this in the post entitled The idea)--In that post I cover what I learned from a relationship that didn't turn out so well. I'll keep this post focused on my successful relationship.


There are so many things I have learned from various relationships I have been in. Not just romantic relationships, but friendships and family relationships.

One thing I have learned from the relationship that I am in right now is that it is okay to ask for help and to be vulnerable. I grew up super independent, watched my sister, a blond haired, blue eyed beauty go into the construction world with her head held high. She has now worked for the same company over 12 years and has impressed them numerous times on the way. My mom is unlike many woman I know, loving when she has the house to herself so she can be lazy and watch stupid TV. So, I have been so stubborn most of my life, believing that I can take care of everything myself.

I always believed I would be a career driven woman with no time to take care of a husband, he would have to do it himself. Now that I have been in a committed relationship for about 6 years, I realize that I am not giving up my independence or female strength just because I want to take care of someone. I just happen to be deeply in love and want to show it in as many ways as possible.

On another note, I still sometimes have a hard time asking for help, but have an awesome boyfriend who reminds me that he loves me and is always here for me. He is one of the very few people that I completely trust and so over the years it has been easier and easier to be vulnerable around him.

I think at times that I have been sent many contradicting signals from American culture. Its as though I had to choose to be a full on soccer mom, baking goodies and being part of the PTA or I had to live alone, eating meals for one the rest of my life with an awesome career. I feel as though our culture tries to label things and generalizes so much sometimes that it can be difficult growing up and trying to find yourself.

I think I had to find my own happy medium. And I think I have.

Let us know what you have learned from being in a relationship! We would love to hear from you.

Thanks all, have a great Thanksgiving.

--Lauren

Welcome to Big School

For a long time now, I've understood that life is just Big School; in essence, everything you experience is an opportunity to learn something. Sometimes the lesson is a big lesson that startles you and changes your course in some way, sometimes it's so small and subtle you won't even realize you've learned something until long after the fact. But if life is Big School, relationships are Master Class.

I can honestly say I've never had a relationship that didn't teach me something, although sometimes it was a repeat lesson ("Men Like This Are Not Good for You" seemed to take awhile to get through and thus bore repeating far more times than one ever would have believed absolutely necessary). But looked at as a whole, the most important lesson I have learned from my relationships is this:

There is only one person on earth who can make you happy ...
...and that person is You.

There is an equally-important corollary lesson, namely: Perception is Everything.

I'll probably get a lot of shit for saying this, because this is a really hard lesson to learn and lots of people really don't want to hear it. It's easier for us to put the responsibility on someone else, especially when we are hurting: he broke my heart or she is upsetting me. That's certainly not to say that you aren't suffering a broken heart, or that you aren't upset. It's likely that if you're feeling this way, you truly believe someone else is the cause of your agony; Goddess knows I wasted a lot of my life convinced of it. But it's important to step outside of this circle and ask questions that are meaningful and be clear before we assign responsibility, because where we assign responsibility, we also assign power. Taking back that power is scary, because it involves giving yourself permission to be and do and feel all kinds of things you may have just spent a lifetime telling yourself NOT to be and do and feel.

One of my own personal stumbling blocks was an intense belief that I wanted someone to "take care of" me. Somewhere along the line I had become convinced that a person who loved me would in fact perform this function—not too unreasonable an expectation if one is thinking of mutuality and safety and trust, but of course I had my own largely-uncommunicated very special definition of what that involved. It should be no surprise to anyone (although it was always a total surprise to me) that the string of astonishingly dymanic beautiful hyperintellectual long-haired guitar-playing egocentric Bad Boys to whom I was attracted never quite made the grade. In fact, they generally landed somewhere closer to the "what was your name again?" edge of the spectrum rather than on the spot marked "My True Love." I began to recognize them as a type, which I laughingly labeled GSNF (Great Sex, No Future). But even though I could spot them a mile away and really knew what to expect from them (er, that would be nothing much), I remained hopeful ... and hurt ... much of the time.

I gradually figured out that it was my responsibility to choose a type of man who was actually emotionally equipped to give me what I needed. So, good for me, the first part of the lesson was learned. But remember there's a corollary lesson. To make a long story short, my perception of what I needed was dramatically different than the reality. And once I found someone who wanted to take care of me in a way that met my specifications, I suddenly discovered that I really didn't want that at all.

I have moved past that particular stumbling block for now, but there are always more lessons waiting in the wings (or, as my groovy astrologer calls them, "more goddamn growth opportunities"). I wrote a bit about this earlier, in the post entitled Great Expectations; my current challenge is wrestling with my own expectations of "marriage" and "love" and "passion" versus the reality of those things. I'm a little bit nervous to think that my marriage (and love and passion) will really be for me only what I make it, but I'm trying to be excited too, because with this responsibility comes the power to construct relationship in a way that is truly meaningful to me, in a way no one else can make it.

Assignment: Take on the challenge of your own life. Dispense with panic. Consider perfection. Don't forget to breathe.

—E. Marie

Heidi's "sexy" pictures

I took on the challenge this week to find a "sexy" and "non-sexy" picture of me from my computer files. What an interesting and strange journey it is, and a good homework assignment for us all, I think.

First, trying to find a "sexy" image.


Well, I came up with lots of pictures of me trying to be sexy. Case in point: this image of me headed out for fetish night at at a club with a friend. It's certainly a very striking little outfit. But is it sexy? Well, not really. It's just dress-up. Fishnets and a whip are definitely sexual, but this photo doesn't seem to capture what sexy really is.









Okay, next sexy contender: me in gloves, pearls and ball gown. Well, this isn't quite it either, is it? This is sexy with accessories all over again, just a more upscale version. Maybe a little"classier" but it's still about dressing as sexy instead of just plain being sexy. This sexy stuff is harder than it looks.









Well, what about this one? Featuring some of my lovely high heels from Frederick's of Hollywood. When I see this picture, all I think is "Ow." You should have seen the blisters they gave me. No one shows you the pictures of that, do they? Plus, look at this picture. It's just my legs. My head, face, and heart are not even in the frame. I'd rather not be the kind of sexy that is so compartmentalized that it takes my personality out of the picture (quite literally in this case).





So let's try to find a really UN-sexy picture of myself. that should be easier, right? How about this: me in a mask working on some sculpture. Well, though my hair and make-up may not fit the mold of sexy, I look pretty competent and confident holding that reciprocating saw, and those are two traits I think are pretty sexy in anyone, male or female. So, I'm afraid there is a little sexiness in this after all (and I won't even get into the whole power tool symbolism thing).






Or how about this for un-sexy?What could be un-sexier than dead fish?

Hmm. nope. This is a funny image, and funny is sexy to me too.









Once we get past the cliches, it seems that sexy is much broader and deeper than I imagined it was. It's a nice discovery, in that I tend to worry so much as a single woman that I am coming off as attractive and sexy. maybe I don't need to worry so much about the clothes and the shoes.

So let me share with you the sexiest picture of me I found in my whole archive of photos. Here it is:
it's a photo probably taken in 1993, when I went on a youth group trip in High school. I was 14 at the time, awkward with braces, acne, no boobs and big old glasses. That's me, in the front passenger seat, blowing a kiss.

And look how happy I look. How confident. How fearless and carefree. I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I was just being me at the time. Silly, flirty, funny, plain old 100% Heidi.

Now THAT's sexy.

-Heidi

The two extremes of sexy

The more I think about whether or not I am sexy, the more I realize that the definition for myself is entirely different from the definition I gave just a few weeks ago. As unfortunate and lame as that is, it's the truth. It is something I have been working on most of my life.

So, like I said in my post defining sexy, I believe sexy is something that makes you weak in the knees, that knocks you off your pedestal, snaps you out of your own zone for a second. But, when it comes to self-defining sexy, and answering the question, "So, does that mean I'm sexy?" the parameters change. All of a sudden it becomes way more about sexual attraction and if I'm pretty enough to get hit on by a stranger. I hate that this is what happens, but it does.

Is there anything wrong with more than one definition? In my case I believe the problem is that my focus is narrowed when it comes to myself, rather than making the definition about both, the sexual attractiveness that I possess and the abilities I have to surprise people in a good way, I only allow myself to be judged by how tight a dress I can squeeze myself into.

This is something I am not at all enjoying admitting. I am one of those girls that doesn't like to be a typical, stereotyped girl. I hate that I sometimes have body issues. I don't want to care about other people's opinions of me, in terms of how I look. But, sometimes I do.

Sometimes I do feel sexually attractive. It's usually the week before my period and I don't think it's my brain that is convincing me, but rather my biological clock.

Reproduce reproduce reproduce.

I don't think there is anything wrong with wanting to be sexually attractive. I love when my boyfriend tells me I'm beautiful. The thing is I know he's not just talking about my outside features, but also my heart and mind.

So, where does that leave me? I feel a bit like I am going in circles. I think my answer to the "Am I Sexy?" question at this point in my life might change on a daily basis. Perhaps even by the minute.

I guess I will leave it with the answer,"I'm certainly working on it." That's the best I can do at the moment. I want to be sexy, I think sexy is an awesome idea. I just want to live by my own definition and forget the pressures I've come under by this culture I live in. That is one of the main reasons I think this project is so great. Finally, women and men get to be honest about what really gets them going. When I first began considering sexy it was very much on the surface and all about the butterflies. But, the more I am open to thinking about it and talking about it, the deeper it becomes. And the more I realize that American culture is kind of shallow and forces people to be one thing or another and tells us that sexy can only be one type of woman and one type of man.

This blog is for everyone out there to let everyone else know their own perspectives and life stories revolving around relationships and being sexy. Please share with us and teach us.

We can all learn from one another.

I leave you with an image that is all me, the real deal. This to me, is what sexy can become if we only let it.




--Lauren

Who's Sexy Now?

I'm too sexy for my car
too sexy for my car
Too sexy by far ...

And I'm too sexy for my hat
Too sexy for my hat
What do you think about that?

Right Said Fred
"Too Sexy"

This week, I found myself inspired by Heidi's post about her personal efforts to bring "sexy" back ... to herself. To that end, I have a question: Everyone out there who thinks they're sexy, please raise your hand.

Now, think for a moment. Did you raise your hand? Do you think many other people did?

I didn't raise my hand, because I was typing. If I hadn't been typing, I would probably have given it a half-raise, or a categorical raise. Because after thinking about this question for awhile, I've come to the conclusion that the way I evaluate my sexiness has changed over time. As a young person I tended to evaluate my own "sexiness" through the eyes of others, but as a mature woman, my focus is more turned inward, still taking into consideration the reactions of others but less concerned with cultural hoo-hah and primarily emphasizing my opinion of myself. I'm wondering if this is common, and if it has an association with upbringing or parents or culture or geography or age, and whether it can be connected specifically with any one of the other of the myriad other things that influence us across the course of a lifetime.

I was a shy teenager and young adult who always had body-image issues; I was frustrated with my weight and considered myself fat, although now at 30 years later and probably 50 pounds heavier, I find I don't feel fat anymore and my body self-consciousness has diminished into a trickle of irritation when I don't look right in some article of clothing I'm particularly fond of. Now, when I fret about being overweight (and intellectually I know I'm overweight, I just don't feel it with the life-or-death level of concern I struggled with as a teenager), it's usually from a health perspective. I am, after all, une femme de certain age, as the French so charmingly call it. Body weight is attached to all sorts of real health concerns, and in true Baby Boomer fashion, I want to stay healthy and active far into my "Golden Years." But when I was in my teens and 20s, my interpretation of "sexy" was clearly associated with maintaining a certain weight and dressing a certain way. It was associated with self-confidence, with male attention, and with being able to project a certain individualist point of view. Even though I didn't have a name for it then, "sexy" was definitely associated with my "juice," with where my whole lifeforce movement came from. If my pants were tight enough and the right person was looking at me in the right way, I definitely felt "sexy," but I also felt strong and confident and powerful and whole.

Now, I find "sexy" is more of an attitude for me, and it has far more to do with personal power and intelligence and wit and engaging the energy of a particular person or room full of people as it does with physical attractiveness of a sexual nature. I'm not self-conscious about my body anymore, despite the fact that I am quite sure its naked form probably appeared far more pleasing by generic standards 20 years ago than it does today. Yet it was not all that long ago that a man looked at me in that delirious, primal just short of drooling and wiping his mouth on his sleeve "I've lost control of my wits altogether" sort of way. He was most definitely NOT reacting to a low-cut neckline or flash of thigh, a stiletto heel or a skin-tight mini; I was dressed in my normal relatively schlubby fasion--I probaby had on a pair of boots, an old loose pair of jeans and a sweater or sweatshirt of some kind. The turn-on wasn't coming from my surface trappings, it was coming from me, from who I was, from my brain and my heart and my attitude and my personality. He was lusting after the real me rather than some generic visual interpretation of "sexy."

That, to put it mildly, is an incredible rush.

I began writing this as a "deconstruction" and fully expected to find myself largely unsexy for all the reasons my young self believed me to be so. But as I made photographs of myself and considered what I have learned and what I had to say, it became apparent that my definition of how to be "sexy" has changed. In this case, the delusion is my own—at some point I forgot to worry about looking sexy and just began being sexy. So I'm going to ask that question again, and this time I'm going to stop typing, because I'm going to have to raise my hand.

Question: Are you cognisant of a change in your perception of your own sexiness over time? What does your internal assessment seem to be attached to? Assignment: Take or make three pictures of yourself; represent your physical body and your emotional/intellectual body. How do you feel about them?

Talk to us!

—E. Marie

bringing sexy back?

This is a tough one. I thought I was bringing sexy back by embracing my flaws and flaunting them. Case in point: My big ole' size 12 feet. By buying hyper sexy 5 inch heels I thought I was saying, "Yes! I am sexy! I am invincible!" I scoured Fredericks of Hollywood for shoes that have affectionately been called "fuck me shoes". Sure, they made me 6'4" tall, and sure they were totally impractical and gave me blisters as I tottered down the street, but I felt like I was sexy.

Until the bunions set in. Why must sexy be uncomfortable? Or artificial? Why do I feel compelled to buy something to be sexy? Sexy, at times, is actually quite silly.

But no matter how many times we tell ourselves that we are all beautiful and sexy, we find ourselves plucking our grey hairs, painting our toes, and holding in our stomachs.

I don't think popular culture is quite to blame for this one. It just means we all have more work to do in bolstering up ourselves and our partners to assure them that what we find so sexy about them can't be paid for with a credit card.

-Heidi

How to make your own "sexy"

I would say one of the main driving forces for today's popular ideas of sexy would have to be apathy. I believe most people work at the very least 40 hours a week and are so very tired at the end of the day that the last thing they want to do is think. This to me is a very very very sad state of affairs.

What is life for but to live? How can one live if one does not feel or think? I get it, working sucks most of the time. I understand that after working and then coming home to a house that is piled with clothes and dishes the last thing you want to think about is what it means to be sexy. So instead you have someone else tell you.

Stop it.

Let's all just take a deep breath and think for ourselves. Do not believe that sexy is all about the physical. Do not believe that there is one type of sexy woman and one type of sexy man. This world we live in thrives on diversity so why would we want to limit ourselves when it comes to feeling and thinking sexy?

Let's all work together to find our true definitions of sexy.

I would love to hear what you all have to say in terms of what influences our culture in terms of the direction and definition of sexy. Also, please send me your own definitions of sexy.

At the same time let's find it in ourselves to make sexy. Start your own new sexy trend that comes from within and has been influenced by you and your needs. Think about that and let me know what you come up with.

Thanks!
Lauren

Bringing Sexy Back

I'm so disappointed.

Justin Timberlake promised he was bringing sexy back and then all he did was make a few more records and wear a fedora in public. At least he had the good sense to make fun of himself in a very high-quality way (SNL's priceless "Dick in a Box" video short), but oddly enough both of those songs make an interesting and entirely unintended point: the public notion of "sexy" is a stuck somewhere between a hackneyed stereotype and something bordering on obnoxious.

Sexy is complicated; it means many different things to different people. In a way, the notion of "packaging" someone or something in the general media as "sexy" is completely absurd. Our entire art project really underscores that as well; sexy IS a highly individualized illusion and once you deconstruct it (de-illusion, becoming "delusion" for the purposes of this blog) you wind up with a mishmash of ideas, concepts, perceptions, personal predilections, situations and beliefs that won't translate into much meaning for anyone else. In Madison-Avenue speak, "sex sells," but "sexy" in the general media or the public eye goes far beyond Celebrity Fuck Lists and the Half-Naked Anorexic Startlet Of The Month hawking products.

People don't tend to deconstruct sexy automatically, though, so when the HNASOTM appears with her deodorant or aftershave or whatever, the Average Joe just takes in the presentation and doesn't argue with the message that this is what "sexy" is all about. Problems only appear when Average Joe hooks up with Average Jane and, well, that's when you get the "Dick in a Box" variation, if you know what I mean. The intense marketing of Viagra is another telling element: apparently an entire generation of men have been fooled into thinking side-by-side bathtubs outdoors (!) and merely having The Little General come to attention for hours at a time will make their women swoon with delight.

Uh, no. What dweeb writes this crap?

In real life, I think we all know (well, all us straight women know, at any rate) that The Little General doesn't come into play until we're at the very end of sexy. This is why Playgirl seemed to be a big hit among my gay male friends, but none of my straight female friends found it all that interesting. The male reaction to a centerfold of a member of the gender of interest seems to be to stare, oogle, ooh and ahh, and to study closely. But straight women opening up copies of Playgirl looked at the centerfold and said "Hum. I've seen one of those before and it looks about the same as all the other ones. He lists 'nature' as one of his turn-ons. I wonder if that means he'd be willing to clean out the cat box?"

I wanted to make this post more specific about who or what is doing the greatest disservice to "sexy" in the public eye, but the longer I thought about it, the more I realized there are too many candidates just to single out a few. Frankly, the real disservice to "sexy" is being done by those of us who are too busy to think about it, too wrapped up to question the messages we get from advertising and magazines and movies and society in general, and too repressed (or insecure or embarassed or troubled or whatever) to LIVE it. Ultimately, "sexy" is not the same message as "sexual"; I can have a sexy relationship with someone without having any kind of sexual relationship with them. Essentially, I think we, the People, need to find it in ourselves to do whatever it takes to bring sexy back ... it's just too big a job for Justin Timberlake to handle.

Here's your question of the week to ponder or post about: how do you bring "sexy" back into your life? How do you tune out or filter the sex-equals-sexy messages we are bombarded with? And for parents: Do you do anything to help your kids sift through those distinctions?

Think sexy ...

--E. Marie

The man I imagine

I've screwed up many a potential relationship obsessed with the "idea" of what that relationship should be.

Oh God. I'm the Queen of that.

How many times have I fallen in love with the idea of who I think a man might be, without asking him who he truly was. Or worse, how many times have I fallen in love with the idea of love?

A shy girl like myself doesn't like to ask questions; she'd much rather observe and postulate, thus circumventing troublesome self expression and allowing a little bit of snooty "wise sage on the mountaintop" self aggrandizement to seep in.

Its funny, so often I am too busy being defensive, guarded, self obsessed, insecure, and/or petty to realize who the other person is. And no wonder.... who could see another person from underneath that mountain of expectations and emotional baggage?

Instead of worrying about compatibility and respect, I worry about spinach in my teeth and whether our last names might sound good together someday. God forbid I fart in front of someone. Or allow him to be as full of faults and idiosyncrasies as I am.

Insecurity and fear creates isolation, which means the other sex becomes foreign and unknowable. Which leads to fear.

Hello vicious circle.


-Heidi