Message Received

Tomorrow, the CBC will start broadcasting the While the Men Watch audio feed. I wrote down my feelings last week, and they are unchanged. Mostly unchanged.

I said that I don't hate on women, but the more that I see of these women, the more I dislike what they are doing and what they represent. It is not the vapid Cosmo-style commentary. Okay, it is not only the vapid Cosmo-style commentary that is making me hate them. It is this thinly veiled campaign to misrepresent what they are offering and acting slighted and victimized and surprised in the process.

Last Wednesday, the CBC announced the partnership with this tweet:

 

A co-worker said this was a great incentive on behalf of the CBC to grow an audience. I had to explain to him that the language of this tweet is divisive, alienating and patronizing. What wasn't apparent to my co-worker was not missed by a vast number of women and men alike that expressed shock and disgust in seeing our national public broadcaster promote such an obviously offensive error in judgement.

The day after the announcement, CBC Television's Executive Director of Studio and Unscripted Programming Julie Bristow was on Toronto radio avoiding questions about whether or not this was appropriate and pushing the fact that the women currently employed by CBC Sports, including Hockey Night in Canada's Cassie Campbell-Pascall are all publicly enthusiastic about the potential of While the Men Watch. 

Since then, While the Men Watch hosts Jules Mancuso and Lena Sutherland have been all over the CBC and I've been noticing an unsettling repetition of phrases and key words that can only have been set out in as an initiative to stem the growing concern that the CBC is violating its own "Policy 1.1.3:Guidelines on Sex-Role Portrayal". 

In articles, in an interview with Gord Stellick, and literally wandering the streets of Toronto with a camera asking people "Don't you think this is a good idea?" the refrains of "casual", "alternative" and "X's and O's" are stated as deliberately as the previous sentiment "for women" is now being avoided. Also being avoided by the CBC are any specific references to the terribly backward articles on the While the Men Watch blog, which are coincidentally what appear to be drawing the most ire in reference to the hosts themselves.

It's a transparent attempt by the CBC to change the "official message" while retaining the publicity that the notoriety has gained. Lena and Jules, revelling in the protection, have become blatantly smug about the powerlessness of their detractors and this is a very unattractive thing to behold.

Taste is subjective. What happens when this show airs and some people love it and some people hate it is irrelevant. The CBC enthusiastically introduced this project by implying that women do not watch sports. Now they are making their spokespeople enthusiastically endorse this thing using language dictated to them in a memo. This is corrupting the credibility and fondness for CBC's on-air personalities developed over the length of a career, and the doubt that has been created will not soon be erased.

Bravo, CBC. You changed the message. Sexist pigs to pigheadedly obtuse. Message received.

THIS IS NOT OKAY

They call it the female perspective. I call bullshit. CBC has announced that during the Stanley Cup Final they are going to be offering an audio feed of something called While The Men Watch. Lena Sutherland and Jules Mancuso have been doing online commentary over popular sporting events that they describe as "sports commentary that women actually want to hear."

I had never heard of these women before today, and when a co-worker pointed out this Deadspin article to me I thought, that could be fun, but when I read this:

“In all seriousness, there is no shortage of talented female sportscasters out there who we respect. We just think it's more fun to talk about why so many gorgeous players come from Welland Ontario and why they all skate around with scotch tape holding up their socks. “

I was livid. Now, I am not in the business of hating on women and I'd be lying if I told you that I did not ogle the men on the ice, especially as the playoffs go on and they start getting all beardy and rugged Mmmmm.... So I really had to think. What is making me so angry?

These women call themselves “Sex in the City meets Hockey Night” and their commentary centres around fashion, sex and wilfully misunderstanding the rules of the game, or acting as if they don't understand what is going on because they perceive this to be clever or funny. I can't fault these women for doing what they are doing. They fully own up to what they are selling- but here's the problem- I'm not buying. This is not “sports commentary that women actually want to hear.” I can say this because I am a woman.

Now I could have happily gone on ignoring these two but CBC had to go ahead and legitimize this nonsense as “sports commentary that women actually want to hear” and this is not okay.

It is offensive to intimate that women need a special dumbed-down, sexed-up feed in order to appreciate, tolerate or sit through a hockey game and this is not okay.

It is offensive to suggest that given the choice, I would rather listen to two women that are working to preserve every antiquated assault on good sense and self esteem that Cosmo has to offer over your own very fine, skilled and qualified announcers and this is not okay.

It is extremely, unbelievably offensive to tell other people that this is sports commentary that I actually want to hear because when you say this about me YOU MAKE ME LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE and this is DEFINITELY NOT OKAY.

Eleanor Roosevelt famously said “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” The CBC may have made me angry, but I do not accept their premise. I will however, accept their apology.

DAN

 

Dan seemed innocuous. He was the first to respond to my half filled out ad, telling me, “You need to change your picture, dear. Guys wont respond if they can't see your eyes.” The picture that I had chosen was a favourite from a recent vacation, hours after arriving in Paris and about to tuck into an amazing dessert. I love this picture because the expression of joy and glee on my face is so earnest, and because my hair looks so fantastic. He was right though. I was staring down at my food and as soon as I changed the photo to one where I was staring into the camera I began to get a lot more hits.

 

To thank Dan for his advice, I accepted his invitation to coffee. It was a Friday night and I chose a place downtown that was well lit and well attended for the occasion of my first internet date. His profile didn't say much specific about him. He mentioned having written several screenplays, but his personality and interests were vaguely described. I wasn't excited about Dan, but I was excited by the possibilities the medium promised and anxious to get started on my adventure. I viewed this as a practise date, but left myself open to opportunity. You never know!

Dan was waiting for me in his blue jacket when I got there. He had already bought himself a coffee so I got in line and bought one for myself and we settled into a booth. Those first few minutes were awkward. All that nervous energy, and not knowing where to begin. 

 

 

 

 

  

And that is pretty much how it went. The date lasted an hour. He told me that he gets his movies from the library and that he recently went through a very dark period. It was a crap first date, but walking home I felt oddly exhilarated by the possibility that the next one might not be, and I couldn't wait to find out.

here

here but not here

your face in the morning has no effect and though i cannot hate you, i still wonder what i'm doing here

watching you sleep your fat head and laboured fucked up breathing in this cluttery shithole so different than my imagination

you penetrate and here still i can't complain but you are still not here

i suck in my breath and see in your eyes how genuinely happy you are for me

and i believe it

sweet boy

that you like to see me happy

that you like me

indulge me

your strong arms hands fingers drape dwarf my side curl up under my breasts i do like when we spoon sleep it makes me feel like a woman

falling asleep sticky exhausted with your hot breath cooling my hotter neck

and i do love you, gratefully

but behind your eyes all i can see is friendly insecurity

here but not here

i trust your simplicity

but still wonder what the fuck am i doing here

not here

giggling good time

make me laugh

i make you a closed book

but in the morning you seem no more complex than the junior jumble

we part you are intricate immaculate meticulous

as innocent as the boy i sleep beside

and as wise as the man that guides me smilingly through the train station

but you are as lost as i am

even more so because you cannot recognize your own loneliness

do me a favour and hope it can be something more than just a favour

but in the morning

i awake contented

and wait for you to wake up

so that i can go home

and take a shower

waiting

waiting

wondering

what was it i was doing here

so here we are

upright eye to eye

without anger

without complaint

pseudo passionate

and physically perfect

i never told you it wasn't enough

because it's not something that should be said aloud

sweet boy

wonderful provider

and while it's still cold outside

i won't rise in the night

to leave or unappreciate you

but while i face you

i wonder hope

you may be trying to tell me

it isn't enough

wait

wonder

i close my eyes your kiss is like home

my shoulders hips familiar terrain

i glide slim fingers about your buddha belly

and the wind howls outside your dirty window

a mocking song that draws me closer to your heat

desperate

but i don't clutch

you don't clutch

understood

once again

that it's going to be a long morning

NO STRINGS ATTACHED

(Originally posted on Caitlin's Looking for Love Online blog in March 2011)


About two months ago I set off on my mission to find myself a husband in the inauspicious arena of online dating. To document my progress and to avoid having to repeatedly relive my dates for the amusement of my friends, I set up a twitter account. If schadenfreude is your thing, you may follow my misadventures at twitter.com/jenhasgreathair.

Resolved to take this seriously, I have been messaging, IMing, dating and reading as much on the topic as possible. It is incredibly time consuming. I already have a career. This undertaking has become a second job where I only get paid in drinks and thus far, the benefits have been shit.

With all of this work, other things tend to slide, so when my friend told me that he knew a girl that had her house cleaned by a fetishist that got off on cleaning women’s houses it got me thinking. Here is an opportunity for me to do something nice for somebody, and I am all generosity.

The dating site that I am currently on is composed of three sections: Dating, Relationship and Intimate. The Dating and Relationship sections are for all intents identical, but the intimate section is the refuge of the kinky, the fetishists, the ummm... adventurous, and also various and sundry perverted creeps which I suppose is subjective, but at any rate, to this point I had steadfastly avoided this section as it is clearly not the place that MY husband would frequent. However, as it was available to me, and as I had discovered a kink that I could get down with, I created a profile.

I chose a picture, and when prompted for an “Opening Line” I wrote: Looking for a hard worker
Then below, “In My Own Words”, I placed my ad:
I have recently learned that some men get off on cleaning other people's homes. I am looking for an NSA housecleaner. In return I will praise/critique/demean/encourage you (your choice).
Snacks and cleaning supplies will be provided. There will be no sex.
You just come over and clean my house and then you leave. Only serious inquiries, please.

I got two responses in five minutes and speculated on Twitter that I am either a genius or will be murdered by a serial killer. The first response was from a man in LA. He said that it was too bad that he was so far away, because he would love to come and clean my house, so long as I could let him do it in the nude. I considered this. I had been very clear about my no sex policy, however I had to keep in mind that these weirdos had a vested interest that went beyond a disdain for dust and penchant for shiny surfaces.   

His nudity clause reminded me that I had to acknowledge the sexual gratification aspect, and if I am going to take advantage of this kink that gets me out of the chores I most detest while inconveniencing  me very little, I suppose it`s fair play to expect that he might want to jizz at some point. I mulled it over for maybe a minute, then decided so long as he doesn`t do it on a porous surface, I guess I`m okay, because presumably, he`d be cleaning it up after as per our arrangement. But this guy was in LA, and in lieu of cleaning my apartment he offered to send me some naked pictures. I thanked him for his offer, and told him that if he is ever in Toronto that he is welcome to clean my apartment nude, and declined the pictures (he sent them anyway).

(Digression: I showed the above section as a rough draft to the friend that told me about this kink and he told me that I was wrong about the cleaning being the actual fetish. The fetish is apparently his submission to me as I order him around as he cleans my apartment, where the denial of gratification is actually the gratification. How did I not notice this? Easy. I fucking love a clean apartment, not orgasm love it, but still, it seemed plausible that somebody might. Assuming that my friend is correct, the jizz is a non-issue, and the following exchange becomes more poignant.)  

The next message was from Toronto, and it confused me because I didn’t realize that it was in response to the intimate ad. It was one of those cut and paste jobs: “I like your profile and was wondering if you would like to chat!?”
  
My response: “Thanks for taking 3 seconds to cut and paste a message, that is a fantastic impression that you have made on me.”  

Toronto candidate: You're very welcome. But honestly, I didn't cut and paste. So if it comes over, I'm sorry. I think youre upset already. O.K.  

Jen: I can get over it. Try again. Tell me something specific that you liked about my profile.
  
TC: O.K., sounds good. I like your text, the NSA men cleaner. I would be fine with that, cleaning is my second hobby :-) ... I also like your picture, you seem very nice.
  
Very nice, indeed. As it turned out, he had no problem with the NSA part, but either did not comprehend, or did not take seriously the no sex part. And to be fair, I wasn’t taking the entire business seriously either. I only wanted to test the theory of the kink, not to actually have some dubiously qualified stranger in my apartment touching my things. That is pretty much the end of it, and I would have left it at that but Caitlin asked for a guest blog, so the other night I unhid the intimate profile to cultivate some more juicy reaction, all for YOUR benefit.  

The preferred method of communication for the intimate browser is the IM. I had messages from more than 20 different guys in the 5 minutes that my profile was available. None of them have pictures up, and about half of them sent me backstage passes, which is where you can hide pictures on the dating site until you grant access to somebody to look at them (it’s where you put the R-rated stuff.) Many of the guys just wanted to tell me that my profile was hilarious, and one guy made me laugh by asking “what kind of snacks?” These types of responses were far more typical:  

“i will clean your house on commadn and kiss your feet like a total bitch”  

“wanna get your pussy an ass licked ?”  

“haha! u want a working man!? no money no honey, so they so lol”  

I couldn’t read them all. It just didn’t seem fun anymore. I had opened myself up to something that I consider ugly and for every nice response, there were two more crass violations of my personal taste. If I’ve learned anything in the last couple months of this online dating project, it is this: You’ve got to fucking want it, because the hassle, although entertaining at times, can be a real demoralizing drag.  Same goes for the foray into intimate. Entertaining, sure, but ultimately, nothing I really wanted.