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Day in the Life

Is this still available? My adventures on Facebook Marketplace.

by treenaorchard
Facebook market place craft find

PLANTS
2 snake plants, one with pot
3 blooming cacti
1 large cactus and basket

PICTURES/FRAMES
2 picture frames
2 flower-bird pictures
2 huge women and flower paintings

PILLOWS & DRAPES
3 ‘boho’ pillows
2 blue pillows
4 panels of damask drapes

FURNITURE
1 pink office chair
1 “Renaissance” chair
1 green office chair

DECORATIVE ITEMS
1 macrame wall hanging, custom
1 wishbone decorative item
1 candle holder

This is an itemized list of the things I have purchased on Facebook Marketplace over the last few months. I am a late comer to this digital smorgasbord of things old and new, hilarious and cool, and just plain weird. When a cousin of mine said “it’s so addicting” after a post showing off my latest purchases, I thought she was being a bit dramatic, but then I too was pulled into the marketplace abyss.

When sourcing items for my home during lockdown, I was checking the site 15-20 times a day. A bit much? Yes, but keep in mind that items come and go with impressive speed and in the absence of bricks-and-mortar shopping opportunities, it’s an excellent option.

I have come to learn a lot about this digital space, which is not unlike a dating site or app. How? Profile pictures are provided, as are alluring blurbs to garner the attention of the viewer. Most dating apps don’t advertise the sale price of a date or the purveyor of the profile, but they are both competitive, fast-moving spaces. Digital dating is a market, a meat market as some people used to say, a gross term that conjures up the buying and selling of animals. Many of us are vegetarians, but we still partake in the advertising of our wares and selecting those of others on these sites, correct? Food for thought.

The staggering array of items kills me, and I’m often left wondering who made the decision to produce some of the strange things listed. For instance, was there a debate around the boardroom table in Etobicoke, Ontario, headquarters of the famed Canadian leisurewear brand Northern Reflections that is making a comeback, about the production of adult- sized Care Bear t-shirts?

The tiny beaded bag featured on the picture associated with this blog also astounds me in ways that are perhaps a little mean but also rooted in wonder. Someone decided to make this wee thing and sell it, using an HB pencil with festive winter designs for scale. Who purchased it? I’m kind of dying to know.

And what of the Mikhail Baryshnikov shadow box, with its three items? A small headshot, a reproduced performance ticket, and a mid-air leaping image are carefully arranged for a dramatic, intimate effect. Was it home crafted or made in Taiwan, the tiny island nation colonized by the Dutch, Japanese, and now China that has long produced consumer goods?

I wonder who originally received this gift and whether it made the recipient pirouette down the hallway instead of walk. Was the shadow box placed on a desk or fastened to a wall?

Curious about the origins of shadow boxes, I discovered that they were display cases presented to members of the military upon retirement to house honorable badges, pins, flags, and other rewards for their service. Veterans would be given a shadow box to commemorate their final rank and sacrifice, a totem to take home with them to be showcased and protected. This practice dates to pre-modern sailing culture when the belongings and symbolic items in the boxes were used to protect retiring sailors.

It was considered bad luck if the shadows of these men hit the ground before they did and by carrying their belongings, a metaphorical shadow of themselves, enclosed within the box they could ensure they touched land before their shadows. Another source indicates that the boxes were returned to the men after they touched land in ritualized ceremony. I daresay that few of us who’ve poked fun at these crafty décor items know anything about their fascinating history.

This reminds us of the life that each of the items listed on Marketplace have prior to their appearance on Facebook. We love our material possessions and often imbue them with profound meaning, which can poke through the surface when it comes time to shed or sell them. So, why do people sell these things? The reasons span the commercial and personal gamut, and include:

1. Decorative items that are “like new” but no longer go with the owner’s design plans
2. Moving, themselves or family members (most often ageing parents)
3. Entrepreneurial craftspeople who are selling their homemade items
4. Entrepreneurial low-level business folks who want to connect FB folks to their Instagram accounts, which feature various second hand boho or antique-oriented ware
5. Flipping the item because they don’t like it anymore or it’s too big for their space
6. The item(s) is of no value to the owner and they give it away
7. Plant propagators who divide and conquer on the regular
8. The item is a mystery to the person who owns it and they want to get rid of it (“I don’t know what it is” often accompanied by a reduced asking price)
9. Car traders are another staple
10. People who have moved through different body sizes and no longer fit the item

What wild, interesting items have you come across or purchased on FB Marketplace?

What would you include in your shadow box?

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Culture and People

Be a Lady They Said

by treenaorchard
Can you tell this zygote is going to be a feminist?

“Be a lady they said” was written on December 6, 2017 when Camille Rainville, now twenty-two years old, was studying at the library on the University of Vermont campus. Rainville created her blog Writings of a Furious Woman to spotlight the now viral 785-word poem read by Cynthia Nixon during the three minute fashion film released last week by the same name.

Viewed over 20 million times, the praise for and critiques of Be a Lady They Saidare rolling in. Primarily celebrated as a painful testament to the impossible social standards women are subjected to, some view it as a “step back.” Judith Taylor, a sociology professor at the University of Toronto’s Women and Gender Studies Institute, contends that because the film offers no solution to these pressures it is little more than an exercise “of wallowing in self-pity”.

As a fellow academic, Taylor’s reading of the film sounds familiar, steeped as it is in the language of inclusive social action, albeit rather idealized and myopic. Raised white fist in the ivory tower. 

As a woman, watching the slick montage of suffering felt familiar. I don’t relate to the models or featured celebrities, but to the routinized oppression of women under patriarchy. This oppression begins early and before I was a zygote inside my mother’s body, it was decided that I will be less important than a man. Although impossible to fully describe what inhabiting my lesser skin is like, the emotions generated by Claire Rothstein’s film come close: jagged, fast, layered, sad, and beyond our grasp to circumvent. 

The evil bullshit of patriarchy runs through though every aspect of my life, from the invisible power systems that reproduce gender inequity to the cellular aspirations I convince myself are a good idea: lean, low carb, chocolate if I’m lucky. It’s why I avoid eye contact on the bus and volunteer only on certain kinds of committees at work, mainly the ones with fewer old white men. It shapes how I speak to myself and the way I eat in public, if at all. 

Women are constantly made to feel like misfit enemies of a system that wants us to be smooth and silent as well as fiery and forceful. These are the contradictions of an unfree set-up and the solution, Dr. Taylor, is to burn it down. 

I relish the day when it’s not just a few thousand of us at international marches and slut walks, but when we all walk the hallways of our lives with the confidence that comes with equality. We don’t need to be men to rule, but we do need men- and others- on our journey towards solidarity. We must stand together to halt the plutocratic greed that is killing us and the bounty of the earth. Perhaps most of all we need to continue reading, writing, and fighting our way through the bio-toxicity we make our girls, our women, ourselves swallow every day. 

They can inherit something else if we care enough to make it happen. 

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Sex and Dating

Welcome into my humble abode – and body, Mr. Bumble.  

by treenaorchard
Welcome to the stickier side of the birds and the bees

When I signed up for Bumble, I assumed my first date would look a little more like a fun and flirty modern Rom Com and less like the “dead-man walking” wander towards my door that I was on. Alas, on- or offline, not every date is a smashing success and not every sexual encounter needs to be hotter than hell (a place that, during some moments of this interaction, I felt I may be in).

So, despite my internal monologue, which hinted I may be better off getting off on my own, my little companion – with the rather large mouth – and I walked 15 minutes back to my place. As his travel stories and, “Bet you’ve never done as much cool stuff as me” banter didn’t really hold my attention, my thoughts had lots of time to wander and wonder the following things:

If he comes home with me, do I have to sleep with him? Do I even want to sleep with him? I wonder what it’s going to be like – body, chemistry and all.

Sometimes, these questions are exciting – electrified by mutual interest and the not-so-subtle encouragement of each other’s nether regions. Not this time though: Mostly I was just teetering between disinterest, social awkwardness and contemplations of the proper decorum associated with digital dating and the expectations of my male counterpart.

Let’s see how the sexting translates into…sex.

Remember how Mr. Frisky talked a big game about his sexual encounters and affinity for experimentation? Well, despite the disappointing dialogue during the date, I still held out hope that my first Bumble encounter would be, at least somewhat, lucrative in the lust department?

Drum roll…it was NAT.

But first, the big reveal!

Stripping down in front of a soon-to-be partner, sometimes, holds all the sexy potential a single gal could hope to salivate over. Sometimes, however, it is more like going through some not-so-momentous motions. The latter was certainly the case with this perogy-shaped prince.

Yes, I said perogy, and not with any intention of being mean. The only reason I am drawing attention to this half-baked human’s appearance is because his profile not only exaggerated his height, but it also asserted he was a frequent gym goer and interested in someone who mimicked an interest in physical fitness. So, when his unveiling revealed a preference for chips, rather than chin-ups, I had to laugh at the illusions Bumble profiles allow us to curate.

But, softness is not a deal breaker in the bedroom. Except, well…you know when – and even then, there’s a blue pill for that! So, my unyielding positivity and hopefulness unbuttoned my outfit in response to his.

Hours of mental endurance culminated in less than 15 minutes of physical entwinement

And thatis all I need to share about that.

As I lay there, unsatisfied, beside my very satisfied acquaintance, I thought, “Now what?” Realizing, to my horror, he had made a long drive in for the visit, I wondered, “Does that mean he is going to ask to sleep over? Please. No. There are only so many travel clichés a girl can handle!”

Luckily, Mr. Perogy did not force me to come up with a fictional narrative about early morning responsibilities or a sudden emergency cat food run that would pull me from the mattress of post-coital awkwardness we currently lay upon.

As he collected his belongings, I figured I would hasten his recognition that this was a one-time occurrence. So, I gave him the universal visual cue of disinterest: I literally slipped into something more comfortable. Instead of opting for my dress clothes or a naughty nighty, I put on track pants and a worn-out t-shirt, sans bra. Hopefully, he would understand that both my wardrobe and I were bidding him a permanent adieu.

And, he actually seemed to. Although he promised to message me when he got home, I knew he wouldn’t – and he didn’t. So, despite his excitement during our short-lived triste, perhaps I wasn’t the only one piecing together a completely one-sided cons and pros list during the previously listed series of events.

Even though Bumble interaction numero uno was a bit of a dud, not long after I didn’t hear from this gentleman, did I find myself reaching for my phone to see what was out there to swipe on. Was I horny? Lonely? Bored? A masochist?

Find out the answer to these questions and so much more during my next Sticky, Sexy, Sad quest.

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Sex and Dating

Putting the “D” in app dating

by treenaorchard
Watch out for the pricks

MUCH has been written about the dick pic as a harmless rite of passage for sexually active young adults and an often-unflattering mode of sexual communication used by men to the dismay of most women on the receiving end. Indeed, a culture of resistance to the dick pic has emerged over the past few years, including hundreds of YouTube videos and online posts that have been viewed millions – yes millions – of times.

So, let me share with you just ONE of my experiences on the full-frontal nudity front.

Not long after I began my foray into the land of dick and honey, I came face to phone with the much talked about (and much less anticipated) delivery of an unsolicited picture of an erect penis into my inbox. This man wasn’t a complete stranger per say; we had sent several messages prior to the dick pic. But, his rather quick draw on the “dictures”, if you will, made my nose crinkle.

I would like to emphasize the “s” on dicks here because his deliveries were certainly plural in nature. All of a sudden, instead of scrolling through black and white texts and yellow emoticons, I was basically up dick’s creek, floating around without a life preserver, as confused as I was intrigued by the intention behind this proliferation of penis.

To be honest, I was a little grossed out when they arrived during our fleeting dating experience. As a newbie in the digital dating pool, I thought to myself, “Why is he sending me these? Why so many?” Meanwhile, as an anthropologist, trained to explore the cultural practices and behaviours of different societies, including our own, I also found myself fascinated by them: What is really being transmitted here?

Instead of wondering, I asked him. To put it gently, his response was less happy-go-lucky than his rather enthusiastic member.

The sender bristled at my inquiry, and instead of telling me why he was sending them, he made an off-hand comment about women who do not find them appealing being “lame.”

Hmm, I thought, if a man were to expose himself unprovoked in public, it would be considered a crime. And yet, now I am being made to feel like Old Mother Hubbard because I expressed surprise at my digital cupboard suddenly being overwhelmed with dicks. Modern dating is weird.

My dick pic sender also informed me that a woman’s reception of these images is a proxy for the man’s evaluation of her as a prospective partner. Apparently, if a woman recoils and expresses said disdain with the sender, she’s not someone worth pursuing.

Does he not realize that most of us, the washed masses, typically delete, gag in silence and share these images with friends while screaming with laughter?

Both women and penises are victims of the preemptive dick display.

While dick pics are typically a great source of comedy, there’s also a more a sinister underbelly that drives theses acts, which they should KNOW we don’t want.

There is much emotional and psychological work thrust upon the poor penis, which typically appears alone in these images and in a constant state of craving. Who can appease this digitized dick? Of course, the sender can, but then why engage the female to begin with? Is her pleasure at all a consideration or is she just being used as a conduit of self-satisfaction and ego inflation? How intertwined is the man’s sense of self with his dick selfie? What are the consequences of this conflation?

And, what of the man who encounters an icy reception to the photo? Is his masculinity somehow softened or called into question? What about his feelings towards women? Will his future objects of desire be contaminated by his feelings of resentment about the women who previously decried the dick pic?

Cultural interests in the prominent place of the dick pic in the global sexual economy aside, I am also curious about the gaping disconnect between these tech-mediated displays of prowess and the rather flaccid reality we are sometimes greeted with in the flesh.

But, my experience with this last contemplation will have to wait for another day – it’s time for me to buzz off and for you to detail your dick-ventures in response to mine!

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Sex and Dating

In the Eye of The Feminist Shitstorm

by treenaorchard

The first article about my Bumble experiences was published in The Conversation on July 28th (https://theconversation.com/love-lust-and-digital-dating-men-on-the-bumble-dating-app-arent-ready-for-the-queen-bee-120796), and whaaaat a nerve it has struck!! I knew it would ruffle a few feathers but didn’t think so many rufflestiltskins would reveal so much anger. About what, you ask? Not dating apps, which was the focus of the article, but feminism and me as a man-hating, probably lesbian, certainly ugly representative of that fair ideology.

As I’ve discussed in previous blogs, Bumble defines itself as “100% feminist” but really isn’t because women do all the work upfront while men wait to be contacted. Our ‘empowerment’ ends at the ask and in my case only 60% of my initial conversations were responded to.  Waiting to see what would happen and wondering how to up my Bumble game occupied a lot of my time during those five months in the hive.

Men also have to wait, to be asked out in the first place. This mutual waiting situation sets up a certain degree of animosity between users and can produce some pretty snaky behaviour among men. They behave differently on Bumble than on other apps, more aggressive and openly critical of women’s dating mojo (or lack thereof, according to many). They don’t seem to be ready for or accepting of the ‘women go first’ approach.

And, their perspectives don’t seem to have been considered by Bumble.  Maybe the Queen Bee et al. think that because men should be ok with women taking charge they don’t need to be consulted. But, their insights and those of other users should be consulted if Bumble truly wants to create equitable dating experiences.

These are the kinds of things I was talking about in The Conversation article, but they were read in a strange way by many a male reader. They get as far as FEMINISM and see red. I’m told to stop bitching about things men have experienced for decades and lie in my #MeToo bed that I’ve helped make. However, I wasn’t discrediting men by talking about my own experiences.

And,  I agree that my upfront labour and poor outcomes are similar to what men have gone through. This wholesale reversal of dating fortunes is new and weird, and I don’t think Bumble has thought it through…Those points were made in the article.

The angry comments also make it clear that feminism is believed to be the sin to end all  sins. SIGH. This is because it makes us psycho, man-haters who are fighting a losing battle because men will never find feminists attractive. Oops, ha ha. They’d turn over in their greasy trailers if they knew of my romantic successes off Bumble and in life more generally. Some of them even said that my Bumble results- meeting 10 men in 5 months- were good and better than many men average.

So, which is it? They’re pissed that I’m not a real woman, that I’ve had more dating success than them, that I’m trying to be a man, or that I’m a woman after all? Very confusing! I don’t think it’s really about me though, I’m just delivering a message they don’t like. But, I wish they would read closer and see that I’m advocating for greater involvement of men in the Bumbleverse, not their exclusion.

To be so triggered, as reflected in hundreds of very negative comments, speaks volumes. Yes, I identify as a feminist, not of the radical variety, but of the kind that supports and fights for the safety and care of everyone, including women and men. How can you argue with that?

I have been preparing for this shitstorm for some time and I feel grateful to be in the heart of it. It’s messy and a bit scary, but through the sad, mean comments I’m gathering strength. We can do better for and by one another in the world of dating and more broadly. Listening to one another is a very important place to start—so listen and watch and document, I shall…

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Sex and Dating

Bumble Basics: Retrospective Reflection from An Anthropologist

by treenaorchard

I spent five months inside the Bumble hive and write about these torrid experiences from the perspective of an anthropologist who studies sexuality and a woman trying to date. I found the Bumbleverse a tough place to break into in a meaningful way. The preference for messages over meeting was one of the perplexing observations I made. Does texting equal dating in this palm-held landscape? Does this explain the predilection many men have about fleshly encounters? But, if dating isn’t about meeting someone what is it about?

I’ve written about these experiences here and elsewhere. In this piece, I return to the most fundamental – and often overlooked – building block of the Bumble process: decision-making.  Exploring this hidden aspect of the routinized behaviours we engage in globally—we use the same platforms—reveals the psycho-social and emotional circuity that gives meaning to contemporary dating cultures and our experiences within them.

Why reflect on this when we’re many years into Bumble and dating apps broadly speaking? Because although these platforms are used ubiquitously, people who use them rarely reflect on what they’re actually doing or what using these apps means personally or in social terms.  Indeed, the things we do and use every day often escape our reflection because they are so common. Yet, they reveal insights about how we live and, in this instance, how we Bumble.

The dynamics of swiping culture

At one level, the decisions are fairly straight forward. Left for the less attractive profiles and right for the hot ones. But what about the ones in between, which make up around 30% of the selection? I found these “maybe guys” demanded the most work in terms of decision-making. This was mainly because I live in a rather provincial city with very few super hot options. If I said no to a lot of these 50-50 guys I might really be losing out. But, if I swiped right on a bunch of them, and they ‘liked’ me, then I’d need to create a bunch of opening conversations.

Yes, this is the point of being on Bumble but starting conversations with a load of strangers doesn’t always feel ‘natural.’ Speaking to a couple of men in the course of a night out, OK maybe, but not 20 a day! It also generates a lot of texting activity, which I kind of despise and found hard to manage without feeling manic.

Creating multiple opening lines involves deciding what to say, how to say it and then responding in suitable timeframes to what they say – if they say anything at all! Then there’s the checking in – often obsessively – to see if they have indeed gotten back, all of which occupies a tremendous amount of time. I turned off my notifications after a week or so because I couldn’t stand the invasion of the notification dings.

Taking a break from Bumble is another way to reduce the cray feels. However, like any good capitalist product, inactivity is discouraged on the app. Indeed, users regularly receive messages from “HQ” about increased productivity, for which we receive virtual pats on the back. We’re good little bees!  Inactivity also wouldn’t get me inside the male hives I wanted to explore. So, I had to press on and continue sending out my opening lines (113 in 5 months), which I found challenging creatively and physically because I only type with one hand.

Ultimately, it comes down to the age-old question many of us ask ourselves, almost unconsciously, in various social situations (i.e., the bus, the waiting room, the bank): would I or wouldn’t I? Sex is what I wanted, so that was driving my selection process, which is true for most Bumble users. I wasn’t interested in meeting someone just to meet ‘someone.’ I don’t need another male admirer…I know that sounds cocky, but it’s true.

The VIP advantage: Or is it?

I purchased the VIP package to help manage some of my Bumble decisions. The paid version offers additional features and/or categories of prospective matches beyond those offered in the free version (i.e., left or right on the main feed). It actually increases the decisions that need to be made but made me feel more in control. Along with being able to extend my matches past the 24-hour period, the VIP package allowed me to access the “Beeline.” These men hung out in blue circles on the top row of my home roster and are the guys who have already “liked” me. Unlike the Russian Roulette of the main feed,  swiping right on these guys guarantees a match.

Like the “maybe guys” I mentioned above, I often struggled with the Beeline guys because they were like my rainy-day fund in case I wasn’t having much luck in the main feed or with other guys in the Beeline. I didn’t want to squander them and would regularly look at these symbolic beacons of hope and wonder what they’re like. Do they really like me and what does ‘like’ mean?

When these guys appeared in the main feed  I had to decide, one way or another, to keep playing. I would often get nervous to swipe left because doing so means I was kissing a ‘definite’ match good-bye. Instead of deciding, sometimes I just closed the app and returned a few minutes later. That sometimes works for a guy or two, but then the blue guys often appear again. Decisions of all magnitude must be made for the game to continue.

Time to press snooze?

I am not alone in my complex feels about the whole thing because Bumble recently launched the “Snooze” feature that allows users to take a break without losing their connections. This feature is described as: “encouraging you to go offline so you come back to our community a healthier, more balanced person — whenever you’re ready”. Welcome to the Bumble California, where you can check out any time you like but you can never leave!

Talk about using ‘wellness speak’ to deflect responsibility and make frustrated users feel nuts while ensuring we remain signed up. Yikes!! I realize that it’s not all “Bumble’s fault” that many of us have weird, unfulfilling experiences, but its design directly contributes to some of the strange things that happen on this platform. Would I have used the Snooze function during my digital tour of duty on this platform? Maybe, but what if some great guy(s) were scooped up scoop by another Bumble girl while I’m decompressing in my sticky hive? That would suck…

The risk of not remaining in the game – FOMO anyone – is a powerful determinant in Bumbling and digital life more generally. Are these restorative offers an illusory attempt to put a caring face on the yellow hive in the palm of our hands. The idea of ‘the app’ caring for us as customers is interesting to consider. For me, it conjures up images of The Wizard of Oz and 1984: dystopic mechanisms of power hidden behind emerald cloaks and Big Brothers. Bumble is part of the broader capitalist post-industrial economy that makes our globe, and our hearts, spin.

During my five months inside the hive I often pondered the cost of this exchange of my time, money, and emotional energies for the sometimes sexy but more often frustrating buzz around the Bumbleverse. Instead of introducing a snooze function, why not add more user -informed features to enhance the harmony and humanity of our dating devices and experiences?

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Dr. Treena Orchard

London, Ontario
Canada


torchar2@uwo.ca

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