Can't Touch This!

So, apparently with Lent going on I unintentionally gave up my idea of a sexual life. Ok, who are we kidding, any resemblance of a sex life went away waaay before Lent started. With work, stressing about multiple life issues and just trying to maintain, I apparently neglected the fact that it’s been awhile since I’ve been with someone. I think I had been in some sort of selective denial about my lack of fun and have mentally blocked it out. Sort of life how accident victims block out traumatic events. Ok, maybe not that extreme, but it kind of feels reminiscent.

Anyways, I was doing my daily commute into the city on Friday and I value the “me” time that my bus rides afford me in the morning. It’s a brief moment before I walk into my job where I am able to sit, read, listen to music and simply just enjoy my time. Therefore, I usually try to avoid people if at all possible on the bus. However, given the bus route I take, it’s nearly impossible since buses are usually crammed full of people. So, I managed to wrangle a seat in the very last row of the bus near the window. Perfect spot. I pull out my book, listen to my Q-tip and I’m in the zone. I notice the bus starting to fill up and suddenly realize that I’ve lost my “me” space and someone has sat next to me. But then something slightly magical happens. I’m sitting there and suddenly I feel a slight pressure on my left side. Now, before you start thinking all kinds of weird things, let me explain something about men and women sitting on the bus. Women, we tend to cram all of ourselves and our million bags into our tiny two foot space on the bus, whereas men, they sit in a seat and spread themselves out until kingdom come. Therefore, as I’m pushed up against my window, the body of a man is leaned up against my leg. Under normal circumstances this annoys and irritates the hell out of me. But this time I felt this odd sensation, sort of like a long exasperated “Ahhhhhh, FINALLY!” from my body. As I sat there for the remainder of the ride I thought…”Well, that’s the most action I’ve seen in a long time.”

The point of this story is not the fact that I sound ridiculous sad and desperate, but really the idea of touch. In any given day we touch and interact with people hundreds of times a day without ever realizing it. Gentle grazes when two people reach for something at once, the bumping into one another on the subway, or the really intimate touches like giving your loved one a kiss in the morning that we tend to take for granted.

What I realized in that moment on the bus was not simply my realization of not getting any, but the even more devastating fact that it’s been awhile since I’ve felt the sensation of touch. When I think about it, 99% of my days go without hugs, kisses, embraces, and simple touches of comfort. Being open to real touch seems so much more difficult to me these days. To be fully open and willing to have someone hold me, cherish me and brush my hair to the side, that’s the touch that I desperately want but am so terrified to feel. I fear simply because it opens up a whole new vulnerability that has been closed for years. Deep.

So, nothing super witty there, but it’s still that whole concept that touch is so taken for granted these days where people are clamoring for personal space, particularly in a city like Manhattan where space is coveted and difficult to find. Maybe that’s why people think New Yorkers are so cold and distant. To New Yorkers, the distance and coldness simply arises out of the fact that we’ve developed outershells and walls around us to protect our seemingly tiny amount of space that exists around us. Therefore, when you are bumped into, anger arises more often than not. By protecting that space we are selfishly claiming a piece for our own, but at the same time the imaginary walls being built are pushing distance between everyone you encounter. So, maybe touch should not be something taken for granted. If you are fortunate few who have the opportunity to encounter touch with someone you love, cherish it. Embrace the tingles, the odd sensations, the fast pulse and the inner feeling of excitement. Don’t bury it, or desensitize it, but be present with that feeling and ride it out…even if it’s only on a bus ride to New York City.

Globalization Did It

So, another thing to blame for being single: Globalization. We all know how I love to displace blame on strange things, so why not a global phenomenon like Globalization? Ok, my reasoning. This should be fun and educational for all, so brace yourself.

The talk this week on everyone’s mind is the whole “Bachelor” debacle that occurred this week. Now, I will admit that I just didn’t care to watch this season. In fact, most seasons I haphazardly watch, but as I was flipping through channels realizing that nothing else was on, I decided to sink in and watch the show. (Ok, I’ll admit the crazy dramatic commercial teasers drew me in…I’m a sucker for good build up). For those of you not familiar with what happened, Jason, the single parent of a now socially paralyzed child (after this incident…therapy will be needed, guaranteed) is on a quest to find his one true love. So he dates all these twenty something girls just fawning for him and the TV cameras. He selects Melissa, the fan favorite Southern sweetheart over Molly the tomboy-ish Michiganian with ridiculously green eyes. Mr. Jason proposes to said Melissa, and then 6 weeks later on the ultra dramatic “After the Final Rose” ceremony he dumps her on national TV and then proceeds to beg for Molly back. As I sat there disgusted with the whole “men think things are always greener on the other side” phenomenon occurring before my very eyes, I sat there and started to think of lessons from my Nigerian professor in college in my Globalization class…

Basically I started examining the theory that through globalization that our world is becoming infinitely smaller and smaller in size and scope. People who used to be unreachable except by camels, horseback, donkeys and other sturdy farm friends are now instantly connected to us via technology. Not to mention the fact that our lovely American way of life is known nationwide. I mean McDonald’s and KFC is everywhere right? Oh and Lee Jeans. Can’t forget those. So this made me think of how things are now to the point where time zones, distance and cultural differences are no longer excuses for not broadening your dating circle. Obviously long distance relationships across states, even countries occur every day with the help of the Internet, email, Iphones, Blackberries and webcams.

Unfortunately, I think this subconscious knowledge that time, distance, nor culture can stand in our ways anymore, this has inevitably made us a culture of window shoppers. Trust me, I’m always looking around the next corner for something newer, better, more improved. Of course everyone always has that feeling now and again when they are with someone of “Is there something better out there?” Answer is, maybe, maybe not. But, thinking about my parents I realize that dating someone from a different state, or even a different county wasn’t much of an option, so your dating pool was limited at best. Therefore, these limitations basically mean less picky people. Because look at the competition in my hometown of Defiance, Ohio, let’s be honest. In my parents day you were thankful you found someone that wasn’t related. Sorry, bad small town joke. Either way I think you get my point.

I think in particular that is a big problem with us New Yorkers/Tri-Staters. We live in a densely populated area, filled with people from every nook and cranny around the world. It’s rare that you can come to New York and not find a community that caters to every ethnicity, interest group, or sexual group. New York really is a decent microcosm of the world, in fact the subway still amazes me how I never see more than handful of the same type of people. I love it. The diversity here is what drew me to the city. At the same time I think this innate diversity deters me from finding something permanent.

As an adventurous spirit and someone who appreciates many walks of life, I find myself constantly fascinated by people. It’s like I can’t get enough of it. Therefore, there’s always that craning of my neck looking around and searching for the next person to walk into my life. Damn you globalization and your interconnectedness. It really is that culture shock of looking around and thinking “My God…how do you even begin to choose when there are so many choices??” To me, it’s the equivalent of walking into a DSW and only walking out with one pair of shoes. It’s damn near impossible. Too many choices equals too many opportunities which means too much looking for greener pastures. I mean because who honestly wants to be stuck with last Fall’s boots? Unless…

Say that pair of boots is a timeless pair of Prada’s or Gucci’s or whatever label you love and adore but find so unbearably affordable that you save up penny by penny until finally, one day you walk proudly up to the counter and say “I want THESE!” Maybe love is like that too. Patience is a virtue they say…I still have yet to develop any though. So maybe like those fabulous shoes, you save up your love bit by bit so you can walk up to someone one day in the future and smile and say “I want YOU!” Ahh…the magic of metaphors. All makes sense in the world now.