If you REALLY loved me, you'd hold a boombox over your head!

I went to go see "The Time Traveler's Wife" the other day. I'm sure it's not a very good movie, but I can't really speak of it critically. You see, dear readers, despite my near-flawless taste in the arts, I do have one guilty pleasure that I rarely speak of. And no I'm not talking about my affinity for Italian zombie films or 80's slasher films or even Lifetime movies starring Tori Spelling. I feel no guilt where those are concerned. Those are just AWESOME.

I'm referring to my love for romantic weepies. Give me a film with lush cinematography, pretty people and circumstances that prevent the lovers from being happy together and I will sit transfixed, tears streaming down my face throughout its entirety. Perhaps it says something about my personal life that I'm a sucker for movies about doomed love affairs. I'd prefer not to delve too deeply into that.

However as much as I can't get enough of these tear-jerkers, there is another kind of romantic chick flick that I can hardly stomach. The romantic comedy. Now sure, of course I realize that there are exceptions to the rule. I love "When Harry Met Sally". "Annie Hall". "Love Actually". A well-written, well-acted romantic comedy can be a very joyous experience. Unfortunately, these are few and far between these days. Instead we get things like "Failure To Launch", "Fool's Gold" and "The Ugly Truth".

And the poor quality of these screenplays isn't the only thing that bothers me. I actually believe that these films can be psychologically damaging to people looking to be in functional relationships. And as luck would have it, there is a psychological study to back me up! Check it out: http://www.popmatters.com/pm/column/69953-rated-xoxo/

A friend of mine once remarked that porn has ruined sex for women. She asked me how she was ever supposed to be "enough" for her partner after all the explicit images he's been exposed to over the years in movies and on the internet. I'll admit I find that argument a bit ridiculous. I think most guys would agree that a living, breathing woman who you can actually touch and who can actually touch you is always better than watching a movie about other people having sex. However, I think there's something to be said for the fact that porn may perhaps get our partners to EXPECT more of us. Not that I expect the pizza boy to be ready to go whenever he makes a delivery to my apartment, mind you. And I don't think any of the guys I've been with expected me to have fake breasts and an orange tan. But there are certain sexual acts that...seem to be more readily expected in the age of Internet porn. I have heard stories about friends being subjected to some shockingly kinky things on the first date. I know girls who have been slapped in the face during sex before a safety word has even been established! Has porn taught men to expect a certain level of behavior? Is it up to us ladies to step our game up?

These are exactly the same questions that I have of the romantic comedy, allowing for gender reversal. It is my belief that rom-coms (and GOD do i hate that term) can make women have somewhat deluded ideas about what to expect from menfolk. And that these men, in turn, are unfairly made to feel that they can't live up to the fictional "perfect man" who is portrayed on screen. Chuck Klosterman has an essay in "Sex Drugs and Cocoa Puffs" where he talks about how John Cusack ruined his relationships. He may be onto something. I know a lot of girls who are looking in vain for their Lloyd Dobbler. I mean, I've known some boys who really liked me but none of them ever stood outside my window with a boom box blasting Peter Gabriel. (Note to boys who like me: If you should ever want to try this tactic, you may have more luck with "Africa" by Toto.)

Of course, "Say Anything" happens to be one of the good ones. The latest version of the romantic comedy is filled with cliche upon cliche. Stop me if you've heard this one before. There's a beautiful woman who is super successful in her career but has "never given herself time for love". She meets a man who can get any woman he wants, but doesn't want to committ to any of them. This smart, successful woman is then reduced to several embarrassing situations which the audience cringes at, but which somehow makes her more endearing to her leading man. of course we find out that he's not REALLY a player but is just a misunderstood soul who was hurt very badly in the past and has been afraid to get close to anyone. And then the two of them make googly eyes for a while, until there's some kind of misunderstanding which drives them apart. In the end, their quirky sidekick "best friends" devise some master plan to get the lovebirds back in the same room together. Sparks fly, apologies abound and they live happily ever after. Sometimes, if we're really lucky, their respective best friends get together too! It's like a Shakespeare play, everyone pairs off and we're supposed to leave the theater feeling the warm-fuzzies. Or, you know, suicidal.

And it's not just the lighter fare that might be causing us to have unrealistic hopes. I actually know of someone who broke up with her boyfriend after seeing "The Notebook" because "her boyfriend would never do that for her." Do what for her exactly? Break up with her and then wait until she's happily engaged to someone else SEVEN YEARS LATER before telling her he still loves her? Don't even get me started on these Twilight fan girls who are all a-flutter over Edward Cullen. Maybe someday those girls will realize that jealousy is not love, it's a control tactic.

Admittedly, I'm playing devil's advocate here a little bit. I know what my friend was talking about with "The Notebook". She wanted her boyfriend to do "The Grand Gesture". Don't we all in some way? I've never wanted anyone to go so far as to build me a house, but there are a couple of men from my past that I certainly wish had fought for me a little harder.

But maybe I'll have to wait seven years until I'm engaged to someone else for them to express their undying love. ;)

Bikram gets me hot

Hello friends and stalkers. I have a little something to tell you. You see, I've become one of those obnoxious people. You know, the ones who can't wait to tell you about how yoga has changed their life.

I used to mock those people incessantly. I've always had an issue with people who tried to shove their "healthy lifestyle" down my throat. People who talked about detoxifying cleanses and gluten-free diets. Don't even get me started on vegans (yes, eating animals is bad....but NO ONE takes my cheese from me!) These people tended to make me feel like a garbage eater whose body might as well have had deadly poison flowing through my veins given all the toxins I was consuming. I don't like to feel guilty, and healthy people made me feel that way.

But no longer. I have drank the Kool-Aid ladies and gentlemen. Bikram yoga has helped me see the light. I now am one of those permanently perky wackadoos who talks about "rejuvenation" and "healthy circulation" and yes, "ridding my body of toxins". After my first Bikram class, I seriously felt as though I had shed an entire layer of skin. I was like a caterpillar, busting out of my cocoon to become a beautiful butterfly.

Err, well, at least that's how it seems to me now that I look back on it. At the time, I was feeling less like a beautiful butterfly and more like a Raisin. I felt that I, much like a grape left out in the sun, had shriveled up into a dry, wrinkled thing that bore little resemblance to my former self. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Bikram yoga, it is a specific style of yoga that is conducted in rooms that are heated somewhere between 105 and 110 degrees Fahrenheit.

I didn't tell anybody I was going to Bikram before my first time. I didn't want anybody to volunteer to go with me, so that I could have the freedom to back out at any time. I was both intrigued and petrified of the concept. I don't particularly like hot weather and I'm particularly sensitive to humidity. I become overheated often, and even waiting in the subway station can sometimes feel like being condemned to the tenth circle of hell. I also have a tendency to pass out pretty easily. I was fairly convinced that I was going to faint as soon as I walked into the heated room.

I didn't. What I did do was sign a release form. This is where the true panic set in. I'm the kind of person who can't read the "potential side effects" of medications because I will begin to feel ALL of them within a matter of seconds. I'm also forbidden to go on sites like WebMD to google my symptoms. All somebody has to do is mention that there is a possibility I could die, and I will be absolutely convinced of my impending death. This is exactly what happened.

Throughout the initial breathing exercise, I could feel my breathing becoming increasingly shallow and my heart rate quickening. I was panicking. The heat that had felt rather comforting and relaxing upon entering the room now felt extremely oppressive. I felt trapped as I knew students were discouraged from leaving the room. In fact, our only goal for the first class was "to stay in the room". After the first pose, I was so exhausted and anxious I was about to just give up. When we went into pose 2, I actually began to wonder which breath was going to be my last. I was unbelievably dizzy and my vision was getting rather spotty. I began to say under my breath in a kind of chat "oh my god i'm going to die".

This is something I do kind of often. On amusement park rides, On planes (much to the non-amusement of my fellow passengers). I've even been known to do it during sex on occasion. When things become too overwhelming for me, I tend to think that the end must be near. You don't have to tell me how bizarre this is. I'm aware.

The teacher came over to me at this point in the class, probably because I was at this point curled up with my head between my legs saying "i'm dying" over and over again. I'm sure I must have looked like an INSANE person. But she came over and asked me if I was okay, and if I needed to take a sip of water. A SIP? I had gulped half my bottle down after the first pose! She then said something really interesting. She said "Sometimes when we feel like we're going to die, it means we're really beginning to live."

In other words- don't be such a PUSSY, Holland. Just because something is scary and exciting and perhaps even a bit painful doesn't mean you're going to die. In fact, that crazy rush of dizzy energy is actually telling me "You're alive! Something new and interesting and DIFFERENT is happening to your body! Relax and let it happen!"

This has changed my life. I stayed in the room. I finished the class, having to back out of a couple of poses because I needed to rest. But I stayed. And the second class I waited at least five poses before voicing my fear of my impending death.

I still feel like I'm going to pass out much of the time. I still feel a little nauseous at times. My body isn't anywhere near as flexible as I'd like to be. After class I am so physically exhausted I don't have the energy to do anything except eat something and pass out.

But people tell me I look better. My skin's clearing up, my smile is wider. I supposedly have a "glow" that has led a few people to ask if I'm getting laid.

Nope. I'm doing Bikram Yoga. It gets me hot. ;)

So yes, I am an annoying healthy person. But I still can't bring myself to go gluten-free. A life without bread? Madness.

Don't Mess With The Chelsea.

Today I got what was possibly the rudest e-mail I've ever received. I'm not going to post the whole e-mail here, because frankly- they're not my words, and I feel strange about that. Even if the person who wrote it is undeserving of my sympathies. The person in question is someone I knew back in college. We were by NO means friends, nor were we enemies. We just liked to get together once in awhile to make out and fool around but we never actually had sex. This is important to the story.

While I feel strange about quoting his words, I will tell you that his e-mail chastised me as a person who thinks that I'm better than other people. He implied that I have an overblown ego, that I'm promiscuous, and that I will never have a boyfriend because I think I'm too good for anyone. And then of course, my favorite part where he criticized my body and told me that I was bad in bed. I must be PRETTY bad in bed for someone who hasn't even been to bed with me to pick up on it! I'm not quite sure what his motivation for this rather confused outburst was, but I think I can safely assume it has something to do with the fact that I didn't respond to his last couple of facebook messages asking me to hang out. Hell hath no fury like a penis rejected.
Here's my response:

Dear ______:

I'm sorry I didn't get back to your last couple of messages. I wasn't interested in hanging out with you, and perhaps I should have been mature enough to "man up" and tell you that. I assumed if I just ignored you, you'd get the hint. I didn't anticipate that you'd wait another several months and send me this glorifyingly warped character assassination.

My reasons for not wishing to hang out with you have nothing to do with the fact that I think I'm better than you. I don't think I'm better than you. Actually, that's a lie- I DO think I'm better than you now, but prior to this e-mail I harbored no such feelings. I'm surprised that you view me as a person with an inflated ego. Those who know me would tell you that I'm quite modest, and self deprecating and I actually have some self-esteem problems that I'm trying to work on. I have trouble accepting compliments, and I certainly don't fish for them. I know your memory of what transpired between us seems to be failing you in some regards, but surely you can remember that I tend to blush when showered with compliments. So no, the reason that I do not have a boyfriend is not because I think I'm better than most men. I am perhaps picky, but that has more to do with the fact that I don't like investing myself in anything or anyone that I'm not truly passionate about. I can only assume that you think of me as self-involved and stuck-up because I did not wish to have playtime with you under the covers.

Of course, I 'm not sure why you would even want to have that playtime. Because according to you, I'm not really all that attractive nor am I good in bed. Listen, physical attraction is completely subjective. There are plenty of people who don't find me attractive and vice versa. That's fine. But you were always very, very complimentary of my physical attributes. Perhaps that was all bullshit, which is fine too. But if I'm such a lagoon creature then why did you try to establish contact with me over a year after we'd seen each other last? Clearly I'd crossed your mind in some kind of positive way. Furthermore, why is there so much hate and seething anger in your nasty words? I think it's clearly obvious what's going on here. I guess you thought your comments about my body would take my ego down a few knotches. Let me tell you something. You can say whatever you like about my personality and my sexual skills. But don't mess with a girl's body image. Thankfully, your words bounce right off of me. I survived an eating disorder and have made peace with my body. Your opinion about my breasts means very little to me, as I have many men in my life who would disagree with you. But I guess you would just say that these "many men" are indicative of my apparent promiscuity. Get over yourself. I'm 25 and single and I still haven't found what I'm looking for. I'm not going to get into my "number" because it's none of your business, as you're not on that list. Suffice to say, that I'm very comfortable with the number of people I've had sex with and very thankful that you're not one of them.

Which brings me to my favorite part. I'm sorry you apparently had such a negative experience in the time you spent with me. However, is it really fair to say that I'm bad at sex when we never had it? I'm not going to defend my sexual skills as I know they need no defense. Any bad time had between us I'm going to chalk up to a bad sexual chemistry. We were perhaps just not compatible in that sense. If it makes you feel better to think of me as a sad single girl who will never find happiness because my standards are too high and who will never find satisfaction due to "frigidity" (that actually made me laugh out LOUD) then go right ahead. I'm not full of myself, but on a good hair day when my skin's looking clear, I think I'm a beautiful, sexy woman. Anyone who doesn't think so is just not for me.

Your e-mail was full of a lot of hate and anger. I hope you explore those issues. I harbor no resentment towards you and am not going to put you down to make myself feel better. I won't even make a snide joke about your size. Oh whoops. Sorry about that. Don't worry, I know it's all in "what you do with it". Perhaps if we'd actually gotten to that point outside of your fantasies, I'd know for myself. But frankly, I'd rather remain in the dark on that one.

Best wishes,
Chelsea

click and send! All I can say is that I apparently REALLY get under people's skin. I'm flattered in a weird way that someone would spend so much energy towards berating me.

I just hope he doesn't respond because I'm the type of person who always has to have the last word and I really don't want to waste anymore of my time on this. How do I find these winners, people?