What's Love Got to Do with It?

Yes, those are piercings. Don't be afraid--that's not me. :-D Is it someone I know? Oh, yes, my brother's girlfriend actually. This gorgeous work of art elicits two rather conflicting responses: "Wow, that's fucking COOL," and "AH! God that must have hurt! Oh why would you do that to yourself??"

Good question.

Every time I hear someone ask it, I face the fact that my opinion on the matter has drastically changed from what it once was. Initially such "physical abuse" was jarring and unsettling to view. I was both disgusted and fascinated by such a mutilation of the human body, finding it simultaneously repulsive and compelling. Over time, as I grew more and more use to this lovely canvas Kassie (brother's girlfriend in pic), I realized my initial reaction shot beyond the surface of the skin, and saw through to the art. Kassie and her piercer, Dan Braily (as printed on the photo itself), know the time, effort, pain, creativity, and dedication that goes into every piece. They see the art. They see the limits they push with their creative endeavors. Their commitment to the art and each other is inspiring.

Thus the title, What's love got to do with it?

Imagine laying on a table for hours, and hours, while someone tries to pinch enough skin on your skinny, bony chest to shove a metal bar through it. He does this so many times you're not sure you can make it through the whole design. You're sweating and experiencing the same physical exhaustion that follows a day at boot-camp, but Dan has only finished half of the piercings. Do you keep going? Do you stop now? It's a last-minute idea and you weren't sure you'd ever do something like this again, but Dan is a good friend and there's something else... something else that makes you endure the final piercings. What is it?

What's love got to do with it?

Piercings for the sake of art, such as these pieces shown here, are expressions of love--as all art created through blood, sweat, and tears is. Why should piercing be viewed as a horrific mutilation when those doing it feel it's an expression of the most selfless, enduring love?

Not everyone involved in these tattoo conventions does what they do for love. In fact, many definitely don't. But a certain level of dedication and love involved in such an endeavor is hardly deniable. There is more to it that ink and metal. There is more to the people involved too.

For example, piercer Dan Braily is one of the friendliest people I know. He's pleasant and outgoing, with a laid back disposition and great sense of humor. His art gallery in Phoenix, displaying many of these same designs recreated on an actual painted canvas, captures the attention of many. Several individuals will walk by, look in, seem interested, and then spot Dan and his friends and walk away. Fear of the unknown and misunderstood keeps them from experiencing this art that compels their better senses. Truth about pain and beauty lies on Dan's canvases--both the cotton and the flesh--which grabs the viewer. It's Dan in the flesh (as shown on the left with Kassie), this sweetly dispositioned individual, that keeps them from fully embracing the truth.

Trust me, Dan up close is far from scary. Just ask his adorable, blonde five-year-old.

I have three piercings; one in each ear that I got at one month old, and another in my ear from a year ago. I have no tattoos, nor do I plan on ever having one. I find intense beauty in the unmarked canvas as well. But I'm thankful for Kassie, my brother, and Dan who broaden my perspective on the matter. It's not for my body, but it is another shade of beauty worth appreciating. When it comes to art, beauty, truth, and all of those other Bohemian concepts reborn in the metal and ink of our generation you ask, "What's love got to do with it?"

Everything.

Nana Na Na, Nana Na Na, Hey Hey Hey...

One question has been relentlessly on my mind: When is it the time to drop a guy, and when do you give him another chance to come around? My intuition--and He's Just Not That Into You experience--tells me you simply don't give a guy a second chance. If he really wants one, then he won't need it in the first place. Guys don't do "noble" things like back off if a friend is interested in you too, or hesitate if they're not sure you reciprocate. Men are simple: if he likes you, he'll go for it. If he doesn't go for it, he doesn't like you.

This is the rule.

The thing is, there are exceptions to every rule.

Have I encountered such an exception? Probably not. Except every time I begin to explain the situation to a man he says, "Yeah well, Tess, it's his brother." Does this mean there is actually a code of honor among men I have to take into consideration before dropping them both and moving on? Which brings me back to my original question: when do you let go, and when should you stick with it little longer?

David cancelled on me virtually last minute last night do to "family stuff." Somehow I managed to not care very much. The night was instead spent with potato chips, gummie candies, television flipping between Erin Brockovich and Wanted, and a self-imposed 9:00 bed time. It worked for me.

David, technically, has cancelled on me a few times now. He's the perpetual empty threat. He'll swear up and down he wants to see me, but then back out when I actually give him a shot. I can't read his mind and I don't feel like trying. There's frankly too much mystery surrounding it all for me to be interested in investing. Therefore, dropping him makes the most sense. BUT, since I'm not invested, I'm also not at risk of being hurt at all by not dropping him. So, does this mean I keep my options open in case he finally decides to bite the bullet?

Alejandro, on the other hand, is a lot less ambiguous than David. He asked again "what are you doing tonight?"--a third invitation from him. That's impressive. Again, out of respect for my girlfriend, I didn't commit to anything. But, in a moment of weakness, mentioned I'd be free on Friday. At least that way it buys me enough time to really figure out what I'm going to do about him. He is the only one living up to the "rule" in a positive way anyway...

The pub brothers, Rugby and Jimmy, are a whole different problem. I gave Rugby a chance after Jimmy and I decided to be friends, and he blew it. Or, perhaps, he wasn't interested in taking the chance I gave him. So that's that, right? And, because they're brothers, I drop them both? Give up? Take the likely hint and be done? (Why do I frown when I think of walking away this time?)

There is no sense worrying about it now though. I'll see them tonight, and report back tomorrow. I can only deal with a reality, not my foolish hypothetical scenarios.

The point is, it's difficult to accept the rule, and even more difficult to identify the exception. Once we can do both, perhaps we'll be masters of love. In the meantime, we're bumbling idiots who are simply hoping to get lucky (no pun intended?).

Wish me luck then.

I'll keep you posted...

Sweet-T

The date with Sweet-T last night didn't feel much like a date. If I didn't know he liked me, I never would have guessed. When we sat next to each other on a bench watching a fountain, his body never shifted even in the slightest degree to face me. Ridiculous, I tell you. I'm not the one interested, and yet I could actually look him in the eye. Go figure.

We may go out for dinner sometime, but I'm thinking probably not. All signs point to us being friends. He is too afraid of what he wants to get it.

Alejandro (I cancelled hiking), on the other hand, contacted me last night while I was on my date, and asked me what I was doing. Out of respect for my friend, I did not answer the text. Did I want to? Yes. Would I have a little more exciting drama to report today if I did? Ha, yes. There are times in life where all I want is a good, heavy make-out session. Nothing too extreme, just some fun. This is one of those times. Which is why David might have fun on our date tonight. He is more likely to go for what he wants.

The problem is I still want Rugby. I think about him and my stomach feels empty, my throat tightens, and my chest seizes. The other night I stayed until he closed. I waited patiently for everyone to leave. It took fucking forever. I don't know what he was waiting for exactly, or what he was thinking. But, when it came time to say goodbye, all I got was a "friend" hug--you know, that short, you-could-be-my-sister hug? Ugh I was so pissed. I was particularly frustrated because he looked so good. And he smelled so good...

Who smells that good after ten hours of bartending?? Seriously. Jerk.

Anyway, it's best to move on and start looking elsewhere. Thus the date with David.

I'll keep you posted...

It's Raining Men

When I first started this blog, I set out determined to discuss the general and serious issues of being 20-something. I figured we all experienced things that my general, poorly researched articles might address effectively (for someone), but now I'm shifting directions. Perhaps general is not the way to go... And since no one reads this blog anyway, what do I have to lose by being up-close-and-personal with an overdose of specificity? Why not share the intimate details of my life with a group of anonymous strangers who might find some solace in slightly embarrassing amounts of unvarnished honesty?

So here it goes: the diary of a 20-something girl/woman/whatever.

Hormones are high, stakes are higher, and consequences are dire. Here is the low down:

1.) Sweet-T. This is a friend of my best guy friend, and I have dinner with him tonight. He was one of those guys in high school that didn't look at me twice when my extra ten pounds were awkwardly distributed and my attitude was overall-shy and intense, but now is totally excited to learn I had a crush on him in high school. He is sensitive and good-hearted. Hard life. Drama. Probably a great date. Thus the dinner with him tonight. I'm excited for it, but nervous too. Because he's my best friend's friend, it's a dangerous road to travel.

2.) Alejandro. No, that's not his real name, but he's a super-sexy soccer playing hispanic hottie who I flirted with last night and have a hiking date with on Wednesday morning, so I felt the name fit. Green eyes, dark hair, accent... also the object of one of my girls' affection. She's torn up about the guy. And last night I met him, flirted with him, and scored a date with him. Although it's really nice to meet a guy I actually want to see again, it sucks being that friend who (without any initial intentional effort) manages to undermine all the efforts of an enamored friend. Not cool.

3.) David. He is my lovely, Jewish admirer I also had a huge crush on in high school (and who always came off as that popular asshole, ironically). Now, years later, David is a guy I actually want to spend more time with--I really do--but would it go anywhere? Um, no idea. I don't mind not knowing everything, except I think David does want to know. At least in part. The way Nor-Cal wanted to know. The way I want to know about Rugby (we'll get to him later). He's hilarious, shy, quirky, sincere, talented, smart, and just plain-old interesting. Last night at karaoke he sang Maroon 5 and Nirvanna, then signed up his friend to sing Taylor Swift, but ended up singing most of it for him because David knew the song better. Ha. He's that guy. And, for some strange reason, he wants to take me out. He's boldly scared (telling me I'm beautiful via text while we're in the same room together.ha). Ah how things have changed since high school.

4.) Rugby. 31, already been married and divorced, serious, not a talker, very athletic, hard-working, family man, slightly tortured, funny, good-hearted, loyal, and my pick. Yes, Rugby is the one I want. He wanted me, and now... now I have no idea. Maybe he thought 20-something was too young. Maybe he couldn't get over the fact that I originally liked his brother. Which brings me to...

5.) Jimmy. I have had a crush on this 20-something boy for half a year, from the moment I first met him. He is Rugby's little brother, and the reason I met Rugby in the first place. We have so much in common and so much to talk about it's scary. He's bright, outgoing, friendly, athletic, hard-working, adventurous, and wonderful. He's been living in here in AZ for the last year and half, and I am the only girl he's taken on a date. It was a great date too. We went rock climbing together, and afterward the guy still wanted to kiss me post sweat-fest and garlic bread. I knew then he was a keeper. But, we didn't kiss. Mostly because I wasn't sure what was happening with his brother and because I was scared. Also, because he's leaving (going to Europe for five weeks and then moving back up north). Why set myself up for abandonment?

So there's the set-up. Complicated enough for you? Notice how all of these characters are new? Yes, I've already moved on from the others previously mentioned. That's the kind of girl I am apparently. Is it because I didn't care about them? No. Is it because I'm just that fickle? Not really. So how?

Survival.

The only way a girl survives in this world is by guarding her heart like a fortress and giving it to no one. "Love love, but do not love the man or else you'll be in his power." Right?

God, such bullshit. Why the fuck not? Why the games? Why can't I just pull Rugby aside on Thursday night and say, "Hey, listen. I like you. Just you. Okay?" At this point I think I will. I have nothing to lose. Obviously, there are other men. If not him, then someone. And love in your 20-somethings is always complicated, no matter what lies we tell ourselves.

Like I said: hormones are high, stakes are higher, and consequences are dire.

Somehow we magically have to live through that, not just 'survive' it. That's what being 20-something is really about.

So... here it goes.

Date 1 with Sweet-T tonight.
Date 2 with Alejandro tomorrow morning.
Date 3 with David tomorrow night.
Date 4 (unofficial date) with Rugby and Jimmy the night after tomorrow (I'm going to their work for my mother's 60th birthday at an Irish pub. Ha. Yes, my mother is the shit.)

I'll keep you posted.