But that’s not romantic to me…

It is Valentine’s day today.
Every year I explain to people around me that we don’t “do” Valentines Day. By that I mean there aren’t flowers or gifts in our household. I object to being told when I should be nice to the special people in my life. I also MASSIVLY resent the constant messages of “What Women Want” from the media around this time of the year.
For me, what would make my day special is for the man in my life to attend my sports training and cheer me on, meet my team mates, and get to know a little more about who I am, and what I am capable of.
For him, the morning is a lovely time full of promise and hope (I’m more of the try-to-sleep-through-it brigade) so me getting up super early to cook breakfast and take that special time to be together without a big rush will make his day really nice. Neither of these things are in any of the numerous advertisements for how to “really treat your partner” on Valentine’s day, and yet, there it is… our perfect day.
So for all that I mock it… perhaps Valentine ’s Day is a really good time to set this stuff up with a new partner, or reinforce what makes you happy with a loved one. Because not everyone shows love in the same way, and not everyone accepts love in the same way. This is pretty damn cool, and it makes total sense given how unique each person and their life experience is.

I’m a super lucky lady, the man in my life is a really good guy when it comes to little gifts, and flowers. Unfortunately when I met him, flowers still stank of obligation and emotional bribery. Because of a history of a stalker and a boyfriend who would only buy flowers to give himself more time to wiggle out of trouble, they meant nothing more to me than someone trying to control me. I needed to gently tell him that I knew what message he was trying to send, but until I got a little more comfortable with him, and felt safer, flowers didn’t always send that message.
He knew he loved me, and wanted to tell me that.
But his message did not resonate with how I identified “love”
So message sent needs to equal message received.
It’s not romantic, but it does mean a lot more genuine happiness. And that sure doesn’t come in a box with a bow.
For me it comes with the smell of chlorine and a victory hug after training.

So how’s about we fuck up the sales records and tell the people we love, that we love them how THEY want to hear it.
I can’t wait to hear how it goes.

A new year.

A wise man stood in the middle of a crowded room and told a joke. The
audience laughed like crazy. After a moment he cracked the same joke again and a little less people laughed this time.
He cracked the same joke again and again, when there was no laughter in the crowd, he smiled and said,
“When you can’t laugh on the same joke again and again, then why do you keep crying over the same thing over and over again”

I realised last night as I read through some of the fervently angry, or frustrated, or heated replies to Rachel’s post on the hand mirror, that if people can get that angry at cupcakes… I hate to think what actual stressors are like.
This year is year of the dragon, and I will be trying to let trouble run off me like water off a dragon’s back. Consequently, this blog will be monitored tightly, and I will continue to only be dealing with trouble in my own posts, not borrowing from others, or fighting battles with people I know don’t want to learn.
If this makes me lazy, or limited, or privileged or whatever, I don’t care.
Because the internet isn’t everything.
That I wake in the morning with a smile for my loved ones, THAT matters.
That I can deal in a functional manner with conflict and challenges at my job… That matters.
That I continue to work outside my usual paid job as a volunteer, giving back to my community – that matters.
That I have effort left for me, the people I love, and the communities I contribute to… That MATTERS!!

So by all means, let’s meet up in the real world. Grab a drink, do some knitting, go hiking, go down and scuba-dive.
But I am done wasting time repeating the same motions, for the same negativity.

Happy new year.
Xoxo
Scube,

Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
- Albert Einstein

I'm not just a vagina who likes men.

Hi,

My name is Scuba. Danger. Nurse. – yes my middle name is danger. I am THAT awesome!!
I was born with a fully formed vagina.
As a child I self identified as female with occasional yearnings to be a boy, when I realised I couldn’t climb trees that well.
As an adolescent I developed late at around 16, with acceptable female hormone levels and a socially acceptable female mammarys.
I became attracted to men once the hormones kicked in. Previous to that they were there to take me for bike rides and make dinner (dad) or fight (every other boy).
I occasionally feel that being a lesbian would be an acceptable choice for me when I see a petite masculine featured woman, but don’t really feel like the sex stuff with them, which makes it all a bit half hearted really.
I am in a long term, committed relationship with a man, and if the cysts on my ovaries are not an impediment I would like to one day become a mother by means of sexual male-female reproduction.

Are you confused about why I shared all of this?
It all seems a bit freaking pointless really, since it tells you exactly jack about who I actually am.
It tells you nothing about my hopes, dreams, personality, ethics, morals, lifestyle, and sense of humour, strengths or weaknesses (unless you count climbing trees).

So why do people who are Gay/lesbian/bisexual/trans have to explain every facet of their lives?
Why, when someone comes out as Trans, do people feel an explanation is due as to what “level/stage” they are at?
Why do people feel that if someone is not straight, they can quiz someone on when, where, how and what they like as if they should validate what they feel?

People are people, no matter who they love, and what their junk is.
Let people tell you who they are, in their way, on their terms.
Find out the usual way, by leering at strangers in bars, and comparing notes on your favourite films.
Because my vagina and sexuality tell you zilch about which film stars turn me on, and whether I want kids or can have them, or what I want to do with my life.

Judge people by the sum of their parts. Not their parts, or who they bump parts with.
(sorry had to do it!)

Date Rape - (It’s not what you think)

There are no triggers to follow.

Disclaimer.
I am fully anticipating receiving at least one angry message about making light of date rape, by misusing the term.
I wish to first explain I am striving in my life to prove that feminist is not a bad word or a derogatory term and I apply the label to myself with pride.
Part of that is appreciating the diversity that comes with any group of people, feminists included.
And I’m a feminist with a dark sense of humour. So like it, or leave.

My partner and I have gotten to that lovely stage in a relationship where we have to organise to be romantic; otherwise we tend to work on our own computers, occasionally discussing plans for the weekend and negotiating chores.
What usually happens is around Thursday we divvy up the things we have to do on the weekend (work, rehearsals, training), stuff we have to do that is fun (birthdays, dinners, shows etc), and the stuff we want to do without being told to!
A separate section of this process is the negotiation of “date nights”. These are special; we wash prior. We don’t read the paper, or books. We turn off our cell phones. We find something we both want to do, and try to play nicely.

Organisation has kind of gone down the tubes in our house, due to the Man working all hours, and me being at the theatre or training most nights of the week.
So we trudge through treacle all week and know that we will both be busy all day on the weekends.
And all of a sudden it’s Saturday night.

A few weeks back we had nothing planned by the time we got to Saturday night.
We had a shower, got some food, and saw a movie.
We were walking home hand in hand and I said
“What a lovely date.”
He looked stricken.
“This is a date?”
I thought about it...
“Well, we are both clean, and outside the house, there is no one else along, and we are being nice- so yeah, I think so.”

“But I haven’t put much effort in! I wasn’t trying! You ought to give me a warning before we go on a date so I can bring on the A game.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I hadn’t noticed.
“It’s ok, we had a nice night, it counts, go with it.”

He seemed genuinely concerned that I had tricked him into unwittingly having a lovely evening...

Odd.

Turns out, he is smart enough to know that date night is important enough to me that if he didn’t play the game I would be upset.
And if he doesn’t know there are expectations for an evening he could miss them by accident.

Fair enough.

I took him on a date, he didn’t consent, he wasn’t trying, and he had no chance to consciously agree to dating me and having fun.

Is that date rape?

What is this thing called Love?

“L is for the way you look at me
O is for the only one I see
V is very, very extraordinary
E is even more than anyone that you can adore
Love is all that I can give to you
Love is more than just a game for two
Two in love can make it
Take my heart and please don't break it
Love was made for me and you.”

I’m not a particularly romantic woman; I will pass on the flowers and take practical help.
Skip the compliments and have someone who will stand by my side when the going gets rough.
Screw presents - I want that man who is the one person in any room that I want to spend the whole time with because we never tire of learning more about each other.
Don’t bother whispering sweet nothings... I would rather have a man who lets me speak my mind, and still stands up for their own beliefs and ideas.
I don’t want empty posturing in front of the lads, but someone strong enough to give me my freedom, and not abuse theirs.
I don’t need someone strong enough to carry me over the threshold, but someone strong enough to trust me to hold their heart in my hands and not crush it in my rush to live life ‘my way’.

The lyrics are “L-O-V-E” Originally Nat King Cole’s song; one of my favourite songs in the world when sung by Natalie Cole.

Please don’t misunderstand this posting; anyone who knows me knows I’m lucky enough to be dating a true romantic who is very sweet. My lack of romanticism should not reflect on him.