Category Archives: Relationships

Protected: My, my, my…

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Sad day

Just so you all know, Aaron and I decided to call it quits today.

No, this isn’t a bad thing. We sat on his bed tonight and decided that, since I’m leaving in a few months, we should stop things now so that we don’t have crazy emotions going when we part in August. I’ll miss a LOT, but I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

It’s all good.

It’s sad, of course, but good.

 

Underwear Phobia (not really, but interesting titles are important)

So I found this article today…I liked it.

“Women who love fat men”

Soft and strong: Bigger men have their admirers.

It’s a common assumption that women like their men with chiseled cheekbones and a taut stomach. Studies of male physical attractiveness tend to support this idea, with research by University College London finding that women like their men muscular (we’re talking athletic, not Arnie) and with a narrow waist and wide shoulders. 

Of course, there are always exceptions. David Beckham’s rippled torso might make most girls go weak at the knees but, for some, fleshy wobbles are a huge turn-on.

Take 29-year-old Heidi – her ideal man would weigh 158kg [that’s about 348 lbs.]. ‘Ideally, he would have some muscle and plenty of soft fat covering his body,’ she explains. ‘He’d have to have good facial features, particularly nice eyes and, to seal the deal, a wide bum and thick legs to carry him around.’

Heidi says it is the dichotomy of soft and strong she finds so titillating. ‘Fat men are big compared to me and yet there’s a vulnerability to them because they’re not falling in line with societal standards. I’m very turned on by the contrast in our bodies and find the “giving in to temptation” element – to food and sex – to be exciting. And I simply like the look of a fat, round, soft belly.’

Grace, 35, is a retired plus-size model and, like Heidi, she also admits to being a chubby chaser. ‘On a purely sexual level, I don’t find slender bodies very inviting. As a little girl I always found fat people attractive and always had a compulsion to want to hug them.’

Tough and cuddly

Dr Viren Swami, co-author of The Psychology of Physical Attraction, has researched admirers of fat people. ‘We know about men who like fat women but we haven’t done any research into women who like bigger men simply because they’re not as common – but we do know they are out there. The non-scientific research we have done found fat men are described as “bears” because they are both tough and cuddly.’

In other circles, namely online dating websites and in the fat acceptance movement, these men are also referred to as Big Handsome Men. But, according to Grace, there is a big difference between a fat man and a big, handsome one. ‘I’ve only ever dated big men who were happy with themselves but that’s getting harder to find nowadays. If I suspect a man has a “woe is me, I’m fat” attitude, I wouldn’t get involved. But if he considered himself a Big Handsome Man, then I would be interested. Nobody wants to date someone who hates their body.’

Heidi says her problem is getting men to take her seriously. ‘I’ve had to work pretty hard to get guys to ask me out. There’s no playing hard to get with many fat guys – they just don’t chase women the way athletic types are prone to.’

Both women have had to justify their taste in the opposite sex. ‘I often get asked the age-old “Don’t you worry about their health?” question,’ says Grace. ‘I tell them eating a healthy, balanced diet and being active should be to achieve health and not weight loss. I do not advocate a man being sedentary and eating junk food.’

Feeding a fetish

But, aside from simply enjoying the company of an upbeat, overweight, yet active, fruit-scoffing man, Dr Swami says it’s likely female fat admirers may have dominance issues.

‘In developed countries, fat is associated with laziness and bigger people are often denigrated in society. This makes these women the stronger, more accepted ones and challenges typical gender assumptions. When men date fat women, they are called “feeders” and get pleasure from feeding her and being dominant. This could also be the case here. Another explanation could be they have a fetish for fat flaps or “pannus”, which are hanging flaps of adipose tissue.’

Whatever the explanation, these women are at least challenging the idea that thin is the epitome of attraction (although most men admit a fleshy, imperfect handful is far sexier than a boney, veiny limb).

Dr Swami says we’re told women should be slim yet busty and that men should look like Brad Pitt. ‘In many cases, most people disagree about what is sexy and what isn’t. Lots of women fancy Brad but some don’t.’ It’s nice to know that while most of us fear the flab, there are some who embrace, hug and hold the bulge.

Just a good perspective on the whole thing. Not exactly my perspective, but close enough.

Protected: Aaron vs. The Toilet

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Protected: Yayzorz

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You know what?

I have never been so happy being with a person in my entire life. I love touching him, holding him, kissing him, trying to do little things to help him out, all that good stuff.

Long term potential = nearly zero, but we both know that, so it’s okay. He’s awesome. And I’m not looking forward to leaving next fall. It already makes me very, very sad.

That is all.

This is why I’m happy and this is why you should shut the hell up.

Okay, I’m getting pretty sick of all this shit. I’m happy, okay? You all just need to shut the hell up and deal with it, ‘cause guess what? I’m not going to change anything. Just chill the hell out and leave me alone.

Let’s make things a little MORE awkward, shall we?

Why do I have this uncanny ability to make everything as awkward as possible?

Seriously.

Sorry, everyone affected.

Hm.

So, uh…yeah.

Can’t really blog about today.

Sorry.

Too hyper to blog

HYPERHYPERHYPERHYPERHYPERHYPERHYPERHYPERHYPER!!!!!!!!!

And happy.

I am SO going to karmic hell

This is gonna bite me hard in the butt somewhere down the line.

But as of this moment, I care not.

Fargo. Wells Fargo.

Oh.

Life is weird.

That is all.

P.S. I’m also super horny…must be Claudia mating season.

Drama: just what we need

UGH why does everything I do seem to make someone else’s life a little bit crappier? This is obnoxious, and a crappy way to start the semester.

Bad Senator! No Biscuit!

First, a sincere “thank you” to all who are serving or who have served; it is Memorial Day, of course. Though I’m not sure if the annual service in East City Park actually happened this year or not…you’d think a newspaper would mention that upcoming, wouldn’t you?

Well, it is Moscow, so what’s to be expected? 

So Rob and I drove out to this completely random park called Rotary Park today out by (“by” is a relative term, we drove around for like 15 minutes to find the freaking place) the Plant Science Farm on the highway leading to Troy. It has a swing set, a volleyball court, and a trail that, in its process of looping back to the same freaking place it starts from, leads one through the 9 levels of hell for trees. This is what we gathered the punishments for each level were (note: all punishments, save level 7, occur in tidy little piles):

Level 1: dead and burnt trees
Level 2: dead and burnt trees
Level 3: dead and burnt trees and some rocks
Level 4: dead and burnt trees and some more rocks
Level 5: dead and burnt trees
Level 6: dead and burnt trees
Level 7: pretty flowers
Level 8: dead and burnt trees
Level 9: dead and burnt trees

Oh, and when I die, I want the inscription “She Sucked It Up and Died” on my tombstone.

Long story.

Protected: Sex: The Blog

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Subject? Why SHOULD I?

Yay, second date with Rob!

It was fun. It probably would have been more fun if we didn’t live in Moscow, but hey, what’re you going to do?

I really don’t have anything that would be of interest to you readers today, I’m sorry.

How’s this for entertainment: I’m not wearing any pants right now (please note the date has ended, by the way)!

Protected: Insert stream of obscenities here

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Hmm, well I wasn’t expecting this…

Claudia + Rob + date = end of “soap opera from hell week,” wouldn’t you think?

Ha.

It has barely freaking begun.

Please note that this is a “preferred readers only” blog, one that I would really like to remain a “preferred readers only” blog. That means keep your freaking mouth shut and your hot little fingers from scrolling down to this blog when in the company of others, okay? I come here to rant with the expectation that it will be kept among my close friends, not shown to the world out of context. I thought this was a thing of common knowledge, that preferred-readers only blogs would not be discussed forthrightly with others, but apparently I’m wrong, so I’m saying it now: keep your damn mouths shut about these, or they will become private. Got it? Good. [Edit from the far off future year of 2025: LOL I DON’T GIVE A SHIT ANYMORE; READ ON, PUBLIC EYES!]

So as my blog indicated a few days ago, I went on a very nice date with Rob. We hit it off, so we’re going out again. Sounds great, huh?

Enter the ex-girlfriend.

Apparently, she is still in love with him and has no qualms about telling me this over Facebook. She feels hopeless and alone. And I feel like an asshole.

I’ve tried to rationalize the situation—there’s nothing I should feel guilty about. A) I didn’t initiate this, B) I had no idea the situation regarding Rob’s previous relationship, and C) I had no idea they were freaking living together until about six hours into our date.

And yet, I can’t help but feel that I’ve fucked things up yet again with my amazing ability to, well, exist. It probably sounds incredibly emo, but I’m sitting here bawling my eyes out over this, ’cause I don’t want to be the bad guy. I don’t want to be the girl who “steals” the guy (even though I know…I know that’s not the situation here).

I empathize with her. I know what it feels like to still have feelings for a person when the relationship ends, especially when it didn’t end mutually. But I can’t imagine having the other person get into another relationship while you still have those feelings of love for them.

But what do you say to this person when you’re the one with whom that the person they still love has just started a relationship? “Sorry”? That’s not sufficient, and we all know it’s not.

And it doesn’t help that this whole twisted thing is playing out over MSN Messenger. Really. I’m talking to Rob, and I’m talking to her. Separately. It’s very, very unpleasant. And I hate it cause there’s no good answer in regards to what should be done (and don’t you dare tell me there is, ’cause there’s fucking not).

So yeah. It’s been a freaking great night.

The only thing that’s been keeping me sane is Sean’s amazing ability to make light of everything. Sean rocks.

More to come, guys, I’m sure of it.

Stay tuned.

Hahaha, wow, holy crap…

So tonight Rob and I went on our little date at 7 (makes sense if you’ve been following my blogs). Okay, let me rephrase that. Last night Rob and I went on a date. I say “last night” because I’m typing this up at 8 AM or so on Sunday.

Why, you ask?

Haha. Well, because the date just ended.

It was a good 13 hours. For all of you who aren’t Rob fans, I must say…he really is very nice. Quite a romantic, actually. And no, in cause you’re wondering (you perverts), we didn’t do anything like that. We stayed up all night in the U of I Library fishbowl and just hung out.

Um…so yeah.

We’re going to go out again.

What the Hell, Universe?!

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Why is it, when I think I have things figured out and I have a plan all in my head, does the universe and/or whatever powers there may be feel the need to screw with my head?

I always make the wrong mistakes. Granted, there are very few right mistakes, but I always pick the ones that really, really mess things up.

Case in point: after years of totally ignoring Rob on messenger, I, against my better judgment, possibly during some sort of mini-stroke or something, I started talking to him tonight. And what happened? Do you want to take a guess? Do you need to take a guess after our history?

Yeah. You guessed it. He freaking asked me out.

If there is a god, he is a malicious little ass, and he has taken out all his malice on me in the last five minutes or so, constructing for himself a nice little soap opera to watch unfold while he smites sinners to hell and all that.

So here’s the situation in a nutshell: I like Sean. I’ve asked Sean on another date and he’s accepted. However, I don’t know if he likes me back (he said he’d say something, and nothing has been said as of yet). Rob apparently has had this crush thing going since senior year of high school and has just worked up the nerve to ask me out. And despite all my complaining about him, he seems decent enough that I don’t want to act like an asshole and say “sorry, I’m waiting for someone else’s confirmation on a relationship. But if they say no, sure, I’ll go out with you.” And what’s more, I don’t know if I’m ready to trust a relationship that is initiated by someone else. If I initiate it, sure, I have a little control and thus can assign blame to myself readily if things fall apart. But history repeats itself, and I don’t want what’s happened before to happen again anytime soon.

So the only possible solution in my mind right now? Have the little “so where do you see our relationship right now?” conversation with Sean. This I dread like the plague. Why? Because I feel like I’m pushing things. I’m not going to copy down the essence of our conversation so that you’d know what I mean and why I think that, so just trust me on it. I don’t want to make him make a decision prematurely. Therefore, I am really not ready to have this kind of conversation. I know nothing of the pain of birth, but I have a feeling that this is much worse. I mean, for god’s sake, I’d take the freaking quadruplets over this kind of thing.

So please excuse the interpersonal immaturity of this blog. I know not what I’m doing. If there were a class called “Relationships and Dating,” I’d fail it in a nanosecond. I’m not looking for an “easy out.” I just don’t want to mess with people, and with my minimal amount of experience, I really don’t know how to work it out.

Haha, my god, it is a soap opera, isn’t it? All we need are some guys named Slate and Ricardo to show up and a big, macho guy named Don to hold me at gunpoint while demanding where our illegitimate son Ambrose has taken the family diamonds.

Overdramatic, perhaps? Perhaps, but it’s how I lighten the mood.

I don’t know, you’re all more experienced in the field of romance and relationships than I—advise me, peers, advise me!

“u cant blog ur a silly grl lol”

I’m not afraid of a lot of things. In fact, I can basically list all my fears right here:

1. failure
2. touching TV screens when the TV’s on

3. dragonflies
But now that I’ve thought about it, I can add another fear to the list: the fear of being perceived as needy/clingy/overbearing/too touchy-feely in a romantic relationship.

Elaboration? Well, of course, it’s me talking, here.

So a prompt for one of my developmental psychology papers got me to thinking on this topic. Our paper was on attachment styles when we were young children. Rather than go into the details on the three attachment styles (secure, avoidant, anxious), I’ll just say that I was an anxious type, which is basically a child who is very clingy toward the mother figure, who dislikes when the mother leaves them alone, and who cries when they are alone for a long while. Our prompt was to write about how our early on attachment style affected our attachment style today. This got me thinking—when I started to go to preschool, I was always made fun of for being close to my mom, for wanting to be near her. I was that way, all through elementary school up until today, and I’d always gotten made fun of for it.

The more I think about it, the more this kind of made me want to back off in relationships (well, this and the fact that every relationship I’d ever tried to initiate ended up being a one-sided “chase”—don’t even ask).

Now don’t get me wrong—I love the physical side of relationships—touching, petting, kissing, rubbing—I freaking love that. I’m just afraid, I guess, of “going too fast” and being perceived as clingy or needy or any of that, so I just hold back.

I think this is a problem, because it basically leaves me with two options:
1)      hold back, and hope the other person doesn’t think I’m not “into it”
2)      essentially tell them this whole blog, and probably freak them out.

So this is where I am. I never know the appropriate “level,” hence my constant need for the other person to make the first moves and to lay out the framework of what they’re comfortable with, because honestly, I can be just as distant or clingy as anyone wants.

Please note that I do not find this “clinginess” quality unappealing in others. I find it very, very awesome, in fact. A “turn on,” if you will. I just wonder how many other people are in my situation regarding this…?

So yeah. There was really no point in this, I just felt like rambling about it ’cause it’s Saturday and I really have nothing of interest to blog about.

So you all must suffer. MUA-HA-HA!

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On Love

Hello!

“What is love?” A question asked so many times by a Haddaway song, but never once answered.

So I was going to save the contents of this blog for Valentine’s Day, seeing as how they pertain very nicely to that specific holiday and the feelings involved with it, but I thought “screw that” when I realized that a) this is my blog, I can type whatever I want whenever I want, and b) I’m saving Valentine’s Day for a bitter “oh pity the still single soul, lost in a sea of paired lovers and loved” piece of crap (betcha can’t wait for that, eh?). Anyway.
Obligatory disclaimer: this is Claudia’s views on and perceptions of love. This by no means is a “feel sorry for me” blog. Rather, it is a “let me explain my stance on crap” blog, a way of portraying what so few people get to portray (including myself) because they have no one to sit down and discuss this with.
I almost wish I didn’t have to, but now that I’ve had my little taste of it, I feel I must spew forth an emotional deluge of my (and I cringe at this word) “feelings” toward the concept of love and what it means for both the lover and the loved.

Onward we go!

Everyone needs to be loved. Some people feel the need to be loved more strongly than others, and others feel the need to love more strongly than others. I, I believe, am in the latter category. It’s not as if I want someone to be romantic towards me, to get me flowers, to hold me and tell me I’m pretty/smart/undeniably theirs. I want someone to love. And it has to be a two-way street, not in the sense of necessary reciprocity, but the person I’m loving must have some feelings towards me. No more of this one-sided desperation that I’ve dealt with the majority of my life.

It’s like I have this incredible drive, this incredible urge to emote in the form of love, and I will gladly do so to the first person who signals to me that they want this love and whom I deem worthy of receiving it. This is why, for me, being all alone sucks. As I’ve stated, I’ve gotten my little taste of being allowed to freely love for the first time in my life, and now I don’t have that anymore, so my urge to love has once again been bottled, and I’m looking almost desperately for a place to uncap said love onto some soul who needs it and deserves it. Metaphorically (cause Claudia loves her some metaphors), it’s like a wall of water without a channel to go through (oh, can the sappiness level of this blog increase any further?!).

And yes, I must admit that there’s the reciprocity factor for me. As I’ve said, it’s not nearly as good to love when it is unreciprocated. Some could even debate that that fails to even be love. It’s not as if I’m asking for the same level of love, because I believe I possess a great quantity of the stuff, but for, well, an acknowledgement of my love towards them, I guess.

My aim in love is to make the loved feel loved. To put them on a pedestal, to give them all they need, to listen without judgment to their wishes and concerns, to be the one they can turn to without fear of needing to “pay me back” or fear of being wronged or judged. That is my love. That is what I have to offer. And not to sound as if I’m bragging or anything, but I think I’d make a good girlfriend—a good balance between being overly clingy and not present at all. A good balance between being overly concerned and not concerned at all. A good balance between friend and lover.

And that is all I have to say.

There really is no purpose of this, really.

Can you just taste the saccharine?

What remains to be said

Matt, this is a blog for you. Actually, it’s kind of an explanation. After some contemplation on the subject (about four hours), I decided I would make this a blog. Please note that it is a preferred readers only blog, which means four people can see it, and Maggie and yourself (obviously) know what’s going on anyway, and the other two people will not intrude on this, if they even know what we’re talking about.

For the sake of my sanity, I felt the little rant I went on tonight needed to happen. I guess my powers of repression are not as good as I once thought they were. I haven’t been able to talk about the whole situation since it played out, with you or with anyone else, really, so if it sounded like an overdramatic emo-esque rant, that is the reason why. And I’m sorry I had to bring the whole thing up again. I’m just one of those people who needs to mull over things for quite some time before coming to a logical, well thought-out conclusion. Basically what I’m trying to say is that I said what I needed to say to you because a) I needed to say it and b) I thought you deserved to hear it.

Now to the more important part: I probably came across as sounding like I wasn’t sure if I wanted to associate with you anymore. If I did, I want you to know that is completely opposite of what I want. I want to stay friends with you, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to change anything or do anything different around me. I think we had a connection there for a while and I want to keep that. I want to be the friend that you go to first when you have any problems (I think we were to that point for a little bit and if so, I want to maintain that). I like talking with you. I like hanging out with you. I love taking you and Misty to the drag shows and I especially want to continue any form of dirty dancing at said drag shows because I think we both enjoy that a lot (at least I do, plus I don’t think inhibitions or hesitations brought on by extraneous circumstances should exist on the dance floor anyway).

I want things to be the same, if you’re comfortable with it and you think it’s possible.

And I can’t decide whether or not to keep this little bit of divulgence or delete it (I’m typing it up in the hotel, obviously), but I’ll probably keep it.

I hope you don’t mind me blogging this, either.

 

Okay, that’s all I’ve got.

:)

Today was a good day.

And that’s all I have to say.