Empowerment & Getting Naked: Bedmates?

What is it that I don't like about strip clubs?

Last night my partner went on a stag do. Of course, they went to the strippers. I knew this would happen, I laid down my rules & he had permission, yet why, now do I have this awful uneasy feeling eating away at me?

What is it? 

Why are there no male strip clubs? Why don't women feel that they need to seek out this form of 'entertainment' to such an extent as men do? When I think of all the sorts of riske entertainment for women, all that pops into my head is stuff like the Chippendales & male strippers on hen dos with lots of drunk women shrieking & giggling like school-girls, taking it as a great laugh & a hoot & not thinking much more of it, but when the roles are reversed, when it's blokes going to so called 'Gentlemen's clubs' & so on I think of ego & chauvinism. Men don't hoot & giggle, men leer & lick their lips...Don't they?

This is the image I have engrained in my mind but I'm not sure it's entirely like that. I would like to find out & you know what, I think one day soon I may do that. I would like to see if their is any truth behind the notion that these girls find stripping empowering, or do they only find this empowering because society has taught them that?

But back to my question - is it this that bothers me? Men & women are very different creatures indeed, that is for sure. I'd say that I'm quite a sexual person, more so than quite a lot of my friends, at least. I can be excruciatingly shy in a room full of people, but between the sheets (or wherever else) I have usually found I'm fairly confident once I get into my stride, as it were. Anyway, no more detail or else you all who don't wish to know will start bleeding from the eyes. My point is that I have always felt secure because I have always felt I have most control & confidence over the sexual aspect of a relationship. I am by no means beautiful or sexy in the conventional top-shelf magazine sense, yet never has this held me back. I think the reason that I feel least secure about my man striding into a strip club & getting an eyeful of a room full of magazine-beautiful & -sexy women in all their glory is because by choosing to walk right in there he is not only accepting society's warped view of what 'a woman should be' (whether he realises it or not) but wolfing it down like the very different creature that he is. Simultaneously, he is removing an enormous chunk of the control I hold & allowing me to fall back into the clutches of my insecurities. 

But what about me? Why should there be no other aspect of life in which I can feel empowered? Now I'm certainly not suggesting that a woman should not have empowerment through sex - hell, sex is more than enjoyable & should be for both parties - but what I am saying is that of course that shouldn't be my sole source of satisfaction, & because - at the moment - I am so insecure about magazine-perfect women taking the control from me then I have done exactly the same as my partner & accepted society's view of 'what a woman should be'. If it is true that strippers only do their job because they are accepting our society's harsh terms, rather than questioning them (I said if, remember, I am yet to find this out first hand) then am I not just a stripper with a more specific & non-paying audience? Hell, if I'm going to feel these insecurities, I'd at least like to get a bit of cash for my troubles.

It's a vicious fucking circle (not a vicious fucking-circle, that's an entirely different blog post).

I don't know what to do or think. I'm working mostly on assumptions, deductions & what I've seen in the media. Anxiety doesn't help matters either. Can anyone enlighten me here?

Of Single Days Gone By

Perfect. Everything about his personality is what I would wish for in any friend, & any potential bed-mate. He’s intelligent & talks in a tone edged with wisdom. He is clearly a thinker. Though what is it that doesn’t sit quite right when he tells me with enthusiasm: “Oh, absolutely! You’re so right there – nobody else can make you happy, it’s down to the individual!”?

I struggle to tell whether his zeal comes from finding someone who shares his opinion on self-fulfilment, or whether he is aiming to flatter me.

“You seem as though you have it all figured out.” he says, with just a hint of awe that softly jabs the pit of my stomach. I feel embarrassed. I do have it figured out, don’t I? 

On paper, he is perfect. He ticks all the boxes. So why, oh why, can’t I appreciate how pleasant our evening has been; how refreshing it is to speak with someone who is on the same wavelength? He clearly is, yet I constantly have this underlying feeling that something is missing. He puts me at ease, yet I think that ease is exactly the problem. He does not challenge me. I feel no stir of apprehension. There is no niggle of doubt that this person may prove me wrong. He would simply concur & discuss the point further, as though it were fact.

I’d like to explore. I’d love for someone to have a point of view that was new & exciting. Sure, you have to share opinions & views on some things – there must be common ground – but wouldn’t it be wonderful for someone to come along & say “Well Chlo, what about this…” & completely blow my mind, or even divulge something that would get me a little riled – just a little though.

On Losing My Footing & The Climb Ahead

This time last year I was single & working (fairly) hard. I was the manager of a cafe, & felt more or less on top of life, except that I had nobody to share it with & tended to eat a lot of cake instead. These were things I was working on, though strangely my weight wasn't much of a knock on my confidence - I had some very pretty dresses, & was very 'out there' in said pretty dresses. I'd joined match.com & had had some dates. It was all pretty fun but I definitely remember hungering for more than carrot cake. In a very cliched way I wanted to love & to be loved. It was all I could really think about & I imagined it would be a long & arduous journey to hunt down a man of worth.

It was around this time that I decided to enrol on a climbing course. Though I was mainly motivated by the fact that it was always something I had wanted to try but never got round to, I have to admit that I had half-jokingly expressed the idea that I might date a man who was courageous & bold - ie a mountaineer. In hindsight someone had clearly been spiking the chocolate cake, but who was I to know?

I went to the classes with my good friend, & then boss, L, & enjoyed it thoroughly on the climbing front, though our instructor was disappointingly skinny & boyish, not at all heroic. Never mind.

I never got to finish the course, though a few weeks later I met (via match) a man who I would soon fall for, who would love me & who I could love without any fear. Though he wasn't a mountaineer, he was, & is, everything I had wished for, not in the particular form I had imagined, but in every form I have needed. If it was a crap novel he would be 'the one'.

Fast forward to today. I live with 'the one' & what is more we have a precious baby girl. Not long after we met, we 'fell pregnant'. I'm not sure how you 'fall' pregnant but that's what happened. I fell in love & then I fell pregnant. Next I sort of fell off the face of the earth. After all that falling I'm now attempting to do a bit of climbing, back into the world & to become the woman I was a year ago. After finding love so easily I had no idea that all that stuff I previously had & finding my footing in the crevasse between family life & adult life would actually hardest things to achieve.

Its all about finding strength & balance, being agile & enduring the particularly tough bits as well as having good mental control.

I suppose the point is that it is easy to think 'What is life, if you have nobody to share it with?' but we should also bear in mind the thought 'What is love, if you have nothing to share?'

Confessions of a Total Dick Head

Since finding myself responsible for not one, but two ever-needing & ever-wanting children it has become a daily ritual for me to have an extravagantly long shower, during which interruptions are completely ignored. Eldest whinging? Baby wailing? Not my problem. I should probably add that I make sure all their needs are met before showering, I don't just ditch them & run, so any complaints are simply attention based & can wait for half an hour.

Shower time is adult time (not like that), it is brain time, it is time for me to think. You know, like wot real people without kidz can do, init.

Usually shower time comes complete with it's own playlist. If my iPod were picked up by a stranger they'd be forgiven for thinking that it belonged to a woman in her mid forties rather than one in her early twenties (apart from a few give-away tracks) but that, my friends, is just how I roll.

Today I was listening to a spot of Beautiful South. The track that got me thinking was 'Prettiest Eyes'. It is one of my favourites. If you aren't familiar you can check it out here. It is basically a song from the perspective of someone who has been with a woman for 60 years. It got me pondering about the nature of relationships, particularly my own (of course) & wondering whether I'd ever experience long lasting love & security in the same way in which older generations, particularly my grandparents' generation seem to experience but which our society & culture seems not to allow room for.

Today, we are told that we have more freedom. We are told that we can have it all & we seek things like fairy-tale happiness, yet it seems to me that increasingly less people have long lasting, happy relationships. Do we set ourselves up for disappointment?

I look at my Mother's parents who have been married for 50 years, this year. They have always been happy, as far as I can tell. My Mum always tells of how she has never seen them argue. My Granny always tells her that that was because they never let her see them argue. This speaks volumes to me. Communication & honesty with each other & to yourself is key, there would be problems if you didn't occasionally quarrel but to find long-lasting happiness through this is exactly what I'd like for my future, but like anything in life, a relationship that lasts is something that requires hard-work & zeal from all involved & if there are children then it is important to think of their happiness first, as you would in all other aspects of life.

Looking at my mother, who is in her mid (to late, ahem) forties - & from whom my taste in music mainly comes - she is currently settled. When we talk about relationships she always jokes that she 'has been through quite a few men' to get to my step-father. I doubt she has been through as many as me, in my notably less years, though I never point this out to her! My Step-Father is, in my opinion (& I'm fairly sure in hers too) her perfect match. I love my Father, but I would never wish for my Mother to be with him. I was young when they divorced, only one year old, but I know in my heart that they aren't compatible, in fact I find it hard to imagine that they were ever a couple. My Step-Father & Mum have been together for about 15 years (I think), but they only married four years or so ago. For some reason I feel that there will never be any reason for them not to grow old together.

The example set by these people in my life is one that I find admirable & somewhat awe-inspiring. I want that for me & I hope that I am headed in the right direction. I have made mistakes. What I am about to share with you I have not shared with anyone outside of my circle of friends & I am certainly not proud, nor can I find any justification for my actions, but bear with me - it bears relevance & is only partly a selfishly placed confession.

My last relationship lasted about a year & a half & was with a guy who I had been acquainted with since college. He was very closed emotionally, but basically a nice, fun guy. I think that I fell in love with him, perhaps in hindsight not in a deep sense, but it was love nevertheless & he loved me too, but he was incapable of saying so. At first, 'the wall' was something that drew me to him - I have always liked a challenge - but as our relationship became more serious & we moved in together the very thing that drew me to him initially was what I came to resent. I couldn't break down 'the wall', not fully & I became increasingly insecure. It wasn't his fault, it was just how he was, but looking back I worry as to how he will ever truly be happy if he can't express such crucial emotions. We became more & more distant from each other. I think that we were both equally to blame for how the relationship deteriorated but the end came when I slept with somebody else. More than once. I'm not sure he even knows now that I was cheating, I wasn't big enough to own up to it, but he wasn't stupid. He left & that was that. I have never felt particularly sad that the relationship ended, it had most certainly run its course, but I feel ashamed that it took me such a cruel & selfish act to realise that it wasn't worth putting in the effort any more. I justified my actions at the time because I felt hurt & rejected, humiliated even, but it was always clear that I was, for want of a more eloquent phrase, just a total dick head.

My point is that I have been hurt & what is worse, I have hurt people along the way & though I feel remorse for some of the more selfish things I have done in the past, I don't regret them because I have always learned from my experiences. I have learned what I want to be in life (faithful, accomplished, hard-working, loved) & equally what I do not want to be (a total dick head).

I think what people lose sight of, in today's 'instant satisfaction' society is that a relationship, like anything, is something that requires input. People chase the dreams of looking beautiful, becoming rich or famous & having a fairytale love, but that simply isn't the case. I'm sure we all know the reasons for all these fucked-up delusions people of our generation suffer & the arguments as to why it is probably wrong yet so difficult to change, so I shan't drag it up, but I think that if we are consciously wanting to change something about ourselves for the better then what I have learned in my relatively few years of dating & loving is that to get more out of anything you must put more in, & what is more you must put it in to the right places. It is nothing profound, it is basic common sense, but I believe that it's something that from time to time, we can all lose sight of.

As for now, I feel very lucky. I have a relationship with someone who is worth every last scrap of effort. I also have two beautiful girls who deserve a happy upbringing, or at least a Mum who isn't a total dick head.

Packing, Procrastination & Apprehension.

Today, I shall mainly be packing. That is, whenever I am not on a tea/blog/procrastination/wee (not meaning to be vulgar but it's a joy of pregnancy) break.

I have, however, had two small set backs. The first is that I've used half my previously-thought-to-be-adequate supply of boxes in the kitchen alone, & that does not even include half the crockery & cutlery I am leaving until the final hour to pack, nor the crap that I can't be bothered to wash up (the latter probably counting for about a third of my kitchenware).

So, currently my kitchen looks like this:

My second set back is that being five months pregnant makes it increasingly difficult to move, let alone lift, heavy objects. If you are a shrewd observer you may have noted the four heavy-looking items right in the middle of my kitchen floor. Appearances are not deceptive & alas they are heavy & indeed they are stuck there. The man is not due around until next week so I'm facing a weekend whereby the simple acts of getting daughter's cereal or cooking risotto are going to become stealth missions of great peril (particularly the half-awake morning parts) made even more treacherous to navigate given my current heffer-like state.

When I'd got quite fed up of inky-black hands & deciding which junk to keep & which junk to palm off on some poor unsuspecting friend, who once politely expressed some vaguely-positive opinion of said junk, I decided that I should probably let you know about the latest additions to the very, very slowly but sort of surely expanding bits & bobs on the Etsy shop. I also decided that I should try to use more full stops & apologise for that last sentence!

Here are the bobs:

You've probably seen the Green Love Owl (#1) before, but there's also Fiery Love Owl (#2) & Love Cat (#1) Daughter is still rather fond of these so I'll have to do something nice for her new bedroom.

I still can't quite believe that I only have three more full days left to pack - we don't move for a week but the rest of my time is full with work & other errands - nor can I believe that when we are all moved in & settled that a couple of months down the line we'll have a new addition to our only just newly formed family. I'm just coming to grips with the idea of sharing my time again, & when, between nappies, man, toys & housework will I fit in art & blogging & a quiet cup of Ovaltine? Well, to be fairly honest I'll probably fit the nicer things in where I should be fitting the housework but let's hope some miracle occurs & I somehow transform into a goddess of the domestic variety.

The thing that I feel most apprehensive about is not being the bread-winner, or the provider. Sure, I'll work until 6 weeks before The Big Day, but only part time. I shall struggle to make half the rent. I've struggled before but never have I been in a position where the struggle isn't needed - I won't have to pay half the rent, though of course I'll put in all I can. Never have I had someone take the reigns in that respect & that scares the crap out of me.

Of course, I am more than grateful, but that makes it no less scary. I've allocated myself the job of chief nest-maker which you may think is given, but last time I was bread-winner, nest-maker & nappy-changer, amongst other things. I find it difficult to feel satisfied that I am putting enough in - but is that because I'm used to being the only source of input? I feel simultaneously lucky & guilty. Not that my man makes me feel any guilt, quite the opposite, but because it's just such a shift in the way I'm used to living.

Maybe I'll quite like the lady-of-leisure lifestyle. I will certainly try to enjoy it & make the most of the valuable time I spend with the children. That, of course is the most precious reward I could get.


I guess the only thing to do is sell more art.

Anyone?