Try a Little Tenderness

Here is some unsolicited advice to people who are single.

People:

Seek a partner who is KIND.

Kind to you. Kind to their relatives and co-workers. Kind to wait staff, cashiers, homeless people, customer service reps, and complete strangers.

Someone who smiles when a smile is literally all they have to offer.

Someone who treats everyone equally, whether they're wearing a Rolex or somebody's cast-off clothes.

Seek a partner who accepts others' flaws (including yours) and owns theirs.

Never settle for anyone who tries to substitute wealth and status for empathy, humility, and kindness.

I'm not religious, but I do believe we all have a soul. It's where our core decency resides.

People with deformed souls definitely exist.

It's not your job to redeem them.

Hold out for kindness. If you can't find it in someone else, please embody it in yourself. You won't regret it. I promise.

Edit: This is also advice for people who are in relationships. If you are not with a kind person, leave. At least, consider leaving. You deserve more. YES YOU DO.

YOU DESERVE MORE.

Signed, The Most Fortunate Woman in the Blogosphere.

If I Said What I Meant

A male co-worker and I were talking about the resignation of Senator Al Franken today.

Hate Stuart Smalley, love Al Franken.

My co-worker said something along the lines of:

"So is this where we are now? That anyone who is accused of anything has his career ruined?"

I pushed back on this statement. But I also didn't push as hard as I wanted to. Because of the whole "women who advocate for women are radical feminists who probably should be permanently banned to the menstrual hut" mentality that I struggle against every damn day of my life. Male readers: When men self-censor their opinions, it's strategic. When women self-censor our opinions, it's tactical.

Let that sink in. OK?

Anyway, with your indulgence, here's what I would have said if I'd felt comfortable doing so.

"Dude. This is not about 'anyone who is accused of anything.' This is about men who have sexually harassed women being accused of sexually harassing women. If your default mindset is 'Bitches be making shit up' or 'Ladies need to understand how men are' or 'He's a good guy so he gets a pass on treating women as slag heaps,' then this concept probably is foreign to you.

"Millions of men interact with women every day. Those interactions may be friendly, productive, professional, cool, difficult, or hostile. Because that's how human relationships work, regardless of sex.

"But many women - like many members of minority ethnic, racial, and religious minority groups - are routinely, systematically assumed to be somehow less intelligent, less capable, less qualified than the default white male, based entirely on a biological trait over which they have no control. Even if you don't personally participate in this evaluation, you're not allowed to pretend it doesn't exist.

"Imagine if your capability for any particular task - and not just that, but your very opportunity to be considered capable - first had to pass the hurdle of whether someone of your gender could 'handle' it. Imagine if you were automatically excluded from consideration because someone was afraid they couldn't refrain from being 'offensive' toward you.

"Imagine if the people most responsible for your personal and professional success believed it was their right to charge you the price of silently suffering sexual bias/harassment/abuse in exchange for achieving what others get to achieve through hard work and merit.

"Now imagine that society is finally supporting you instead of the abusers. Believing you. Advocating justice for you.

"Can you understand that this historical moment is not the time for mercy? That there is no 'let and let live' mentality that applies here? That it's absolutely not enough to name and shame the perpetrators of systematic abuse of women instead of meting out real consequences?

"I understand that this new wave of holding men accountable for their actions is making you, as a male, uncomfortable. But let me assure you: This isn't about you being a man. This is about the segment of men who are abusive assholes.

"There are also women who are abusive assholes. Let me make it clear: I'm not anti-man. I'm anti-discrimination. Nobody gets a pass.

"But the last time I checked, Kevin Spacey, Bryan Singer, Al Franken, Roy Moore, and Donald Trump were all men.

"As a woman, I simply want justice. Blind justice, as our laws demand. Meaning that wealth, power, influence, or having a penis does not constitute an exemption from being a decent human being.

"No mercy for assholes. To use the popular parlance, I'm sorry if that triggers you.

"This woman is not apologizing for your discomfort."

Yeah, that's what I would have said.

Thoughts?

It's Not About One Celebrity

My thoughts on Kevin Spacey, you guys.

Full disclosure: I adore Kevin Spacey as an actor. From The Usual Suspects to American Beauty to Glengarry Glen Ross to House of Cards to Baby Driver to his famous imitations of celebrities like Christopher Walken and Bobby Darin, I think he is a monumentally talented person.

But Hollywood...and America...and the world...are having a moment right now.

A moment about finally acknowledging that the human experience - the business realm, the religious realm, and especially the entertainment realm - revolves around sexual discrimination and abuse.

Even if we could put aside for a single damn moment that the current President of the Goddamn United States is on record as boasting about his ability to grab women by the pussy...

...there is still the sobering reality that millions of men in power see fit to get their ugly, misogynistic, misanthropic rocks off by intimidating and exploiting people they perceive as beneath them.

I've experienced this in my own life...thankfully, to a degree less blatant and obstructive and violent than many others have endured.

That doesn't for a minute mean I downplay or dismiss the experiences of others. I accept and acknowledge the good fortune that has blessed me in this and many regards.

We all suffer in our own ways, which does not in any form diminish the sufferings of our fellow humans.

And I think if more people accepted that, we'd all be a damn sight better off.

Anyway, the flood of women (and men) coming forward about their experiences of sexual harassment/intimidation/assault is profoundly disturbing.

Also, profoundly inspiring.

And while everyone is innocent until proven guilty, I think we all should agree that it doesn't matter...

...what their name is...

...what their job is...

...what their reputation is...

...what their power is relative to anyone else's...

Wrong is wrong.

Abuse is abuse.

Silence is damning.

Complicity is immoral.

Assault is assault.

And protecting the reputation/career of any individual is less important than vindicating a victim of predatory behavior.

Maybe you don't agree.

You're wrong.

Protection of abusers at the expense of victims is so outdated. So pathetic.

Innocent until proven guilty, yes.

That's the American way.

But slut/whore/weakling until proven victim?

Let's shutter that nonsense right now.

If we can do nothing else to preserve what America is supposed to be about in 2017, let's show compassion and empathy to those who need it most, and stop automatically giving the benefit of the doubt to rich white men in power.

Full disclosure.

I am in love with a middle-aged white male. He is kind, respectful, and empathetic toward everyone he meets. I've seen that in action many times.

So don't even fucking say it can't be done.

We can all choose to be good. All of us.

Like or share if you make that choice.

Do As I...Oh Shit Whatever

It's nearly 9:00 p.m. here in Baudelairestan, and my Precocious Daughter has just gone out for the evening.

Because she'll be a grown-ass adult in a few months, and she can do that.

I don't feel old at all, thanks.

Bestest Friend and I used to go out on the weekends - she would drive us in her sweet little orange Beetle because I didn't have my license, just as PDaughter's bestie is driving tonight for the same reason. We went to the movies, to concerts, to bookstores. We met Douglas Adams. We saw Julian Lennon on his first tour. It was the Eighties.

Apropos of nothing, Donald Trump had bad hair and a
butthole-mouth even way back in the 80s.

We didn't drink. We didn't do drugs. We didn't have sex.

We were good girls. We waited until AFTER high school to do those things.

So anyway, I asked PDaughter what she and her bestie were planning to do. And it turns out they're going to Lake Lavon - a popular lake about 30 minutes outside the Dallas Metroplex urban sprawl - to watch the stars.

And of course I immediately assumed that meant they were going to drive out to the country to drink, do drugs, and have sex.

You guys. I worked in a video store in 1985-86.
I know the lingo, aight?

But I know better.

If my child - who is planning to apply to Columbia, Yale, and Berkeley in the next few months - and her best friend - who is younger than PD but has already completed her first year of college - say they're going to drive to the country to look at the stars, then I f*cking believe them.

Whatever they actually get up to, I believe them. Because they're amazing young women, and I choose to trust them.

Now, if she abuses my trust, and does something illegal/stupid/dangerous, I'll come down on her like bricks on whatever it is bricks typically come down on.

But I refuse to keep her on a choke chain simply because of the possibility that she might do things that other teens have done that have been less than optimal.

Her mother drinks, and her father smokes dope, and she has been pretty much openly contemptuous of both of us for those habits.

And even if she weren't, what am I supposed to do? I'm the poster child for Doing The Things Your Parents Said Were Awful, after all.

Literally all I want is for PDaughter to have a good time and come home safely later tonight.

She'll be legally an adult on November 24th. Advice on how to live with an adult child is sooooo welcome.

Thanks. 

<3

Feeling Alright

I went to the doctor today and got the dosage on my happy pills upped. Doubled, in fact. My prescription is written six months at a time, and with luck that will be just the right window for my new normal to have kicked in. Not that I'm suddenly pretending to know what the future holds. But I'm pretty certain I'm justified in expecting the turbulence of this year to slop over into the next, at least temporarily.

I prefer happy.

I was also talked into getting a flu shot, something I've never done before. Gonna be honest: The only reason I agreed was that they said it would be free because I was already there for the prescription consult. With money tight, the idea of getting something for free - even a needle in the arm - sounded OK to me. I think I've only had the flu once in the last decade, but, you know, free. And the nurse who administered the shot was so skillful that I barely felt it. Also, she was wise enough to not show me the needle until after she was done.

There's a fine line between professionalism
and insanity. Trust me.

And I was persuaded to make an appointment for a physical, which will take place next week. I haven't had a physical in...well, I don't even know. It's been a ridiculously long time since I've had a Pap smear or a cholesterol test or any of those things that indicate whether Death is stalking me somewhat closer than I'd like.

There are a number of reasons for that. But mostly I think that at some point, and problably longer ago than I realized, I stopped thinking of myself as someone worth taking care of.

One of the biggest long-term problems in my marriage was related to my spouse's laissez-faire attitude toward life. When we met, I was hyper-responsible and obsessed with following the rules - basically a little old lady in a young woman's body. His ability to live in the moment and relax was a revelation to me, not to mention very attractive. On the plus side, he taught me that it's OK to not take life so seriously all the time and to believe that things tend to work out fine in the end. I'm grateful to him for that. But on the flip side, his attitude didn't mature over time, and I grew to resent having to be the responsible one, and I allowed irresponsibility to become the default. Home repairs, car maintenance, financial management...I couldn't manage it all, and his flexible demeanor could turn very rigid when he felt pressured or criticized. So I emotionally retreated to a place where he wouldn't feel that way. As a result, there was never any money in the bank, never a plan to update the house, never a car that didn't die before its time because of neglect.

My health care became another casualty in the war of attitudes. Fortunately, I'm a very healthy person overall. But problems can develop at any time. The thought of that was too scary to contemplate, especially since illness is not simply debilitating but very expensive. And my spouse, unlike me, has had a number of fairly major health issues over the years. Eventually I began to tell myself that, since he was more likely to get sick, it was probably better if I didn't go looking for problems with my health. I stopped having well-woman exams, ignored appointments to have blood work done, and at the age of 47 have yet to have a mammogram.

There's a hereditary component to my lack of self-care, too. I'm not ready to go there. Let's just say I now recognize patterns in my life that didn't seem obvious when I was younger.

In any event, I'm reclaiming the right to take care of myself. (Or possibly claiming it for the first time.) It's not just for me; it's for Precocious Daughter, too, who needs a mother and a positive role model. I want to be both. I want her to be proud of me.

I'm going to take my meds, and safeguard my health, and allow myself to matter enough to make these things a priority.

It feels strange to have these thoughts. But it feels good. I'm all about feeling good.

Therapeutic Elixir, I Assure You

Tonight I am drinking until my jaw unclenches.

Bruxism. It's a thing.

Work today was ridiculous.

Last night I got about three hours of sleep. And they were punctuated by horrific nightmares in which my spouse and various dogs physically attacked me and gun nuts attempted to shoot me to death for opposing their views.

So I'm tired. Also, clearly I don't handle working with contractors very well.

Tonight I'm trying not to think about selling my house or getting everything done at work or whether my spouse will try to kill me the way I dreamed he did.

I'm just relaxing and drinking.

My jaw feels much better than it did earlier today. Less clenchy, you know?

Ain't nobody got time for that

Tomorrow I can worry about home repairs and budgets and spouses and contractors and co-workers and ridiculous clients.

Tonight I'm making sure my upper and lower teeth don't grind.

It's a pretty good feeling.

Poll question: How do you de-stress? There's no such thing as too many coping mechanisms, after all.

Share and I'll write about it. Tell me why your method is better than vodka. I dare you.

In the meantime, I'm going to go to bed early and hope for better dreams.

G'night, Drunkards.

A Question

Let me ask my Drunkards this question:

Have you ever physically abused a romantic partner?

Or been physically abused by a romantic partner?

What led up to it, and what happened afterward?

I want to know, because I think it's a lot more common that any of us are led to think.

And if your answer is "No, absolutely no," let me ask you this: Have you ever emotionally/mentally abused a romantic partner? Or been abused in such a way? I'm honestly interested.

You can email me at cbaudelaire(at)always-drunk.com if you don't want to comment publicly. I don't want to judge, I just want the information.

I don't think we as a society know the truth.

I promise, your admissions are safe with me.

If you share them, I'll share a few of my own.

OK.