being sydney sweeney'd

on men, sexiness, devotion, and connection

I was sitting at the bar with my elbows on my knees, listening to him speak. My chin was resting in the temple I’d created with my palms. I was no longer thinking about my posture because I’d had too many drinks to care, and we were sitting in a bar that I had not been to before. I liked it, I guess, although it’s been well over a year, and I’ve not been back. It was within walking distance of my house, depending on who you ask, and most of the people present were bearded men and college students. There was a low drum of people laughing and taking shots around us, and I was cold because it was the time of year when you decide to leave your jacket behind, and once the sun sets, you regret your choice.

He talked for fifteen minutes straight, but it felt like an hour. I realized this at the moment, but I remember being interested in what he was sharing; I think it was a screenplay he had written years ago. He summarized the movie's climax for me, and I remember thinking it was fun to hear a made-up story.

When he was finished going on, he asked me about my celebrity crush. It was an interesting segue, but I didn’t think much about the answer. I likely answered with one of the greats, an average-looking brunette man. When I asked him the same question, out of politeness and not because I was interested in the answer, he spoke again for a long time.

I don’t remember much about the specifics of this all, but I do remember his answer so clearly.

“Well, every man would love to have their night with Sydney Sweeney.”

I only nodded and let the conversation end. The rest of this story is unimportant; initially, none of this was very memorable for me. I didn’t think much of the evening. I didn’t really speak to him again until I walked into a bar a few weeks ago, and he stood in the center of it. We laughed and hugged, and he nervously asked if he could buy me a drink and take me out again; I eventually declined— though I accepted the drink.

“—every man would love to have their night with Sydney Sweeney.”

There is something really horrible about dating men whose primary media interests revolve around sex appeal. The pop star worshipper, the supermodel obsessed, if this is something you’re faced with, let me break it to you: he’s painfully boring.

I’m sexy, and I like this about myself. So are these idolized women, but something about this particular relationship to sex appeal is that it is mostly depersonalized. [Enter the critique of media— the taunting of sex appeal and the implications of teaching men that women are to be consumed first as images.] I don’t know Sydney Sweeney, but I’m sure her personality traits, drive, and talent are some of the most significant compound elements of her true sex appeal. But when you’re, “every man would love to have their night with Sydney Sweeney”-ed, you remember the thing we’re faced with.

I feel sexier when I feel known, but more importantly, when that knowing actualizes me in someone’s eyes. When it’s not just my likeness but my personhood displayed, chosen, celebrated, and woven through their life. Through my own.

Everything is sexy, and no one is horny, and there is a male loneliness epidemic. Not to mention the numbing relationship that porn, or porn-adjacents, have on sexuality and connection. All of this lends to the reason, maybe, that men can live in the same city as the person they love and resist any form of intimacy with this person—primarily because of the fear of what this means he owes them. Commitment and consistency imply responsibility, which may be why the people you know have been in a “situationship” that has gone on for far too long.

When someone is not upheld to the responsibility of the things they say, they are only upheld to the responsibility of what they need to make you feel. Which often doesn’t involve action but can be achieved by words alone. So long as their words continue to curate that feeling for you, the feeling itself is what’s chased. The feeling is momentarily enough to satiate desire, provides the illusion of connection, and round you go.

For the record, this isn’t a piece on men being evil. Hating men isn’t working. I don’t think it is, I mean. The gap created there is substantially ineffective. The absence of genuine connection with women in a man’s life ultimately harms the greater cause. Engaging in large-scale hetero pessimism only expands the problem of depersonalization.

The men in your life should be impeccable in their word; they should mean what they say and show up participating in your real, three-dimensional life. Which also means personalizing sex appeal. The sexiest thing a person can be is connected and present.

Lately, the internet has been talking about digital gardens. This is the space where you’ve cultivated your internet to be enlightening, productive, and kind to your soul. Here is what I’ve been engaging with online, avoiding numbing out, and doom-scrolling— what’s been in my little garden:

An interview with Bryan Garris, frontman of Knocked Loose, on their appearance on Jimmy Kimmel Live and being a hardcore band in mainstream media.

Liability (Reprse) x party 4 u by Rithu, which I believe would change the trajectory of my life if I were to hear it at the club, surrounded by all of the women I love. I imagine this is what would play in a video montage of me being a girl.

I watched Interstellar for the first time, it’s true, unbelievable.

Helena Bonham Carter on poetry and her favorite poems — I just love listening to her speak.

I’ve been reading Tuesdays with Morrie on some of my daily walks, and it’s been really meditative and beautiful for this time in my life. He provides a softness to my life, I love Morrie as if I knew him.

“The most important thing in life is to learn how to give out love, and to let it come in. Let it come in. We think we don’t deserve love, we think if we let it in we’ll become too soft. But a wise man named Levin said it right. He said, “Love is the only rational act.”

“So many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half-asleep, even when they're busy doing things they think are important. This is because they're chasing the wrong things. The way you get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning.”

And on devotion..I’ve been thinking so much of this short Mary Oliver quote that I read in Upstream.

“Real attention,” says Oliver, “needs empathy; attention without feeling is just a report.”

If you’re itching to read some proper poetry this month, my paid newsletter will arrive in two weeks. If you aren’t looking to read some proper poetry this month, that’s okay too. You might accidentally run into some over on my Instagram, @sky.daye where I share, connect, and create.

Thanks for reading with me. If something here spoke to you, you can write it down, or stitch it on a sweater, or screenshot it, share it, and tag @sky.daye

Warmly,

Sky