the point.

i’ll never understand
why the loud makes me want to cry
why labels in grocery stores make me nervous
why I feel alone in crowded rooms or
why my bed feels safer even on perfect days

i could tell you theories
simple guesses about predisposition or childhood
hypotheses I’ve come up with entirely on my own
on quiet nights when the stars smother me and
no one is around to reassure me that I can breathe

i could blame my parents for fighting when i was small
my mom’s mom for choosing alcohol over her or
my dad’s parents for arguing in front of him
i could blame my grandmother’s mother for using
violence rather than love or my grandfather’s dad for
deeming him unworthy or his parents for focusing on war

i could blame the boy at the lake house who went too far
the person who taught him it’s okay to go too far
the person who taught the person before that and
whatever son of a bitch set it all in motion

when I exhaust the long list of people, I could blame
the stars in the sky for making me wonder why i exist
blame the universe crafting this raging ball of chaos
blame God for being as forged as Santa on a sled
blame people who believe in miracles when in reality
some people get lucky and some people don’t

but then I’d be missing the point
which is, there is none
no rhyme or reason or person to blame
no clear cut ‘he did that’ and ‘she did this’
there’s only a planet with people doing the best they can
people being shit on by pigeons and stomping on ants
with no motive other than we are small, so very small

maybe I’ll never know about the loud noises and
why I feel so lonely; maybe it doesn’t matter
one day, a girl might blame me for the things
I did to her, or to her mother, or to her grandmother.
I hope if she does, she stops to realize that I love her even if
I hurt her, and I’m thinking about her in these moments
so far before she even exists, which has to mean something

so maybe people, with their flaws, just don’t know
anything other than crazy, fearful love;
having been pushed out into the world,
told to do the best with what they have
without much to go by. we all seek answers
only to come back empty handed, for there are none

but I’ll tell you this:
I’ve never met a human void completely of hope
I’ve never met one that didn’t love someone or
something, even if it is whiskey or cigarettes.
regardless of what makes us tick,
we all work towards better things;
even with restless souls and twisted minds,
we know hope and love and maybe that’s the point

Hook Up Culture Burn Out

I am an early riser and I go to bed early, many times even on weekends. Although it was much more common during my Penn State days, I occasionally will wake up to a text sent by a person that probably had a little too much alcohol in their veins, insinuating that we get together, even though it’s 12 a.m. on a Tuesday night. In short: “booty call.”

Now, it’s not incredibly common for me to receive these lately, as I am nearing 25 and many people have grown up… or maybe just picked up on the fact that I’m not that type of person. Apparently, this person did not pick up on it.

So, this morning I woke up to this gem. In the past, I’ve usually chosen to let it go, ignore it, or laugh it off. However, I’m a little tired of that. Maybe it’s because I find myself actually “growing up” and learning how to respect myself, but I have such little tolerance for this type of disrespect anymore.

As you can see, I let it fly. I was hesitant to post this entry because I know it can be perceived a few different ways. It can be perceived as attention-seeking and it can be perceived as a ‘bitchy’ thing to do. However, I started to realize as the day went on that anyone who thinks that this type of text message is okay can think whatever the hell they want about me.

I want to say that while I haven’t lived a life full of amazing choices when it comes to getting together with the opposite sex—we all make mistakes—I was disgusted when I read this.

I am no stranger to the hook-up culture of today’s generation. I lived it. I went to Penn State. I am a single girl in my 20s. As I near the quarter-century benchmark of my life, I’m really just over it. Let this be a public service announcement – I’M OVER IT. My guess is that I’m not the only one.

Now, this is not me saying that I do not support exploration of sexuality in females, because I definitely do. I just feel that in my life right now, I can make my own choice on how I choose to deal with these types of matters. This is not an invite for exploration of sexuality, this text was a straight-up “Let me use you for sex and make you think it was your idea.” If the person did not want me to perceive it that way, they should have thought it out a little more.

The name that is blacked out is a female I have had not one conversation with in my life. The sender of the text message is an acquaintance that I have been flirty with in the past, but never once have I given the impression that this was an activity I was interested in. For Christ sakes, we have never even hung out.

As a smart, talented and sometimes naïve individual, it made me a little sad to be reduced to a sleazy text message at 11 p.m. I am a complete feminist, and if you cannot even pick up on that very important detail about me than you probably should not think that this is going to happen for you.

I questioned my reaction for a little bit – was it too harsh? Maybe I should have just blown it off, knowing in my mind that this is just an asshole that has no impact on my life. I agree with that last statement—this particular individual has no bearing on the outcome of my life whatsoever. I still felt the need to speak up for myself as well as share this experience because I think it’s something females go through too often.

I’d be lying if I said I never initiated a hook-up with someone. I have. The only thing that saves me from feeling contradictory is the fact that this person was so blatantly disrespectful in their initiation: “I heard you want to get with me.” Yikes. Naw, bro, I don’t. Your overbearing ego thinks that. In fact, it may be that you want to get with me and you just did not have the guts to come out and say it. That would have been at least a little bit less grimy and pathetic.

Speaking out about this is important to me, because I’m burned out by our hook-up culture. I’m burned out from the feeling that the only way to get to know someone is to casually hook up with them first. I’m burned out from pretending I do not feel things, because I do. My morals and beliefs match up better with people who believe in committing to long term relationships rather than people who only believe in sex. I’m so tired of pretending this behavior is okay because not doing so will cause people to dislike me or think negatively about me.

If hooking up is your thing, for all means go for it. Just try not to send me a sleazy-ass text for me to wake up to before my morning run. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll be happy that you gave me negative energy to burn off as I work out and you nurse your hangover, but I probably won’t continue to respect someone who does not respect me.