When I first started this site, I did so on the basis of two self-imposed rules: 1) this would not be a venting/therapeutic/raging blog and 2) this would not be a daily journal or "dear diary" type blog. But the events that I have experienced over the past two days - that may make this post appear vengeful - are simply too blog-able for me not to share with my audience. Not only was I dying to tell people about the sheer humor and ridiculousness of what went down, but since I have received snide comments from the passive-aggressive person involved, he has lost any sympathy he may have wished to get from me, not to mention the slightest respect and decency from me NOT to expose his immaturity on the internet. Clearly, brother didn't know who he was dealing with. Am I being as childish? Probably, but this is too damn amusing.
I went on a date with a guy about two weeks ago. I really hate to date complete strangers but he was a little persistent and he seemed normal so I thought I'd give him a shot. At best, a relationship comes out of it, at worst, a casual acquaintance, right? To break him down to stats and numbers as most guys seem to do with girls is not my style, but I will do it only for brevity: he wasn't bad looking - probably a "7," he had an okay government job, he was well-traveled, kinda nerdy and wanting to pursue more schooling, BUT, as I later learned, his personality was a flat zero (in my humble opinion). We went to a shisha lounge for dinner and drinks on a week night. We talked for a bit and as much as I tried, there was no chemistry and really no common interests except for travel. I noticed he was a bit socially awkward, not comfortable with himself at all, and his poor attempts to joke got no more than a couple pity-chuckles. He simply wasn't a good match for me. I offered to pay but he insisted on paying, noting when the bill arrived "ooh! $100? That's so cheap!" We ended the night on a friendly note - no kiss, no hand-holding, no touching, nothing but a goodbye-hug. And I talked to him a couple times on the phone and online to see if maybe I was dismissing him too quickly. Nope, still zero personality.
For two weeks, I stalled seeing him. I didn't answer his calls. I was kind of hoping he'd get a hint. But I was still torn and my damn conscience got to me: should I give him another try? Maybe he was on an off night? Am I being too superficial? But by this week, I seriously was dreading another evening with him and I decided that wasn't fair to him at all. Why waste his time (or mine)? Since he anticipated meeting up again this week, I contacted him on Tuesday to give him only what I would expect from someone who just wasn't into me - the straightforward truth - and THE MOST UNCOMFORTABLE CONVERSATION IN HISTORY went as follows:
me: hey ____, i need to be upfront with you about something and i don't want to lead you on or string you along but at this point i just feel like this isn't going anywhere. i'm sorry, but i don't want to be disingenuous, and you deserve better.
him: *silence*
me: uh, hello? are you there?
him: yes.
me: umm. ok, well i mean it when i say you deserve better. i don't think it's right for you to get anything less than what you give...and i just feel like i wouldn't return the sentiment.
him: *pause* i see.
me: does that make sense?
him: *pause* well, rejection never makes sense.
me: i wish you didn't look at it as rejection. either something works or it doesn't. you can't force it, ya know?
him: yeah well i suppose everyone now is looking for the best. it's just hard to believe the stuff you're saying when i hear the same speech all the time.
me: *nervous twitching* um...well...i can't speak for anyone but myself...
him: so what is it about me that you don't like? you know, i just try to look for the good in people.
me: *anxiously shifting in my chair* uhh i'm not going to nitpick at you, it's not my place...i just can't explain chemistry...
him: yeah i don't really think chemistry exists. it's just an excuse for someone's uncertainty, indecision, lack of confidence and inability to take a chance. what ever happened to getting to know someone?
me: umm...yeah. ok well, i said my piece, i won't argue with you. good luck!! *dying inside*
him: i'm not arguing. i just want to talk about it. why didn't you just say something earlier?
me: umm, well we've only gone out once, and i wasn't sure but since i've gotten to talk to you....well...this is getting uncomfortable. i'm sorry. *pulling gun out of drawer...*
Skip to today. I get an email from Mr. Passive-Aggressive with the following:
"So you blow me off and now I have to pay off a hundred dollar credit card bill from going out. Gee, thanks. Seems like you used me for a good night out. Have a great weekend."
Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. That is the funniest thing I've ever received. Wait - he thinks that was a good night out? Pobrecito. Wait - didn't he insist to pay? Poor guy - he went on a date and had to pay! My friend suggested I send him a pack of razors with a note saying "I think you'll make the right choice." Even that is too harsh by my standards. No seriously, what the hell did this guy expect? I really did feel bad at the beginning: maybe the dude has had a rough couple of months. Maybe he has seasonal depression. Maybe he is just really desperate for a girlfriend....then the snide comments came out followed by the brilliant email. Now all bets are off, sucker. Really, the email is frame-worthy.
Evidently, I shouldn't have called him to let him down in the first place. This guy thinks I should have done the trail-off method (not answer emails/calls, avoid him at all costs, and never talk to him again) and that I deserved the reaction I got. Guys really prefer to have a girl disappear completely rather than her tell him upfront that it won't work out? And I thought their's was the gender with balls. Suck it up. Don't get into the dating game if you can't handle the possibility of a girl not liking you or *gasp* the possibility that she might actually give you the truth of not liking you. It goes both ways, ladies.
The ice on my heart and soul will melt soon, I promise. Spring is coming.
Showing posts with label Boys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Boys. Show all posts
February 28, 2008
December 12, 2007
"Boys only want one thing."
When I was about 15 or 16 y.o., I accompanied my dad to the dealership for an oil change for his car. To give you a visual, I was not a cutesie-tootsie teenager. I was slightly a non-conformist, in protest to the girls in my high school whose lives were consumed with dating half the school, wearing short skirts and getting weekly manicures and pedicures. Also, I think subconsciously I was protesting the stereotypical, superficial Persian girl. Instead I wore jeans and polo shirts or preppy sweaters, watched college basketball obsessively, and refused to date the male losers I had known since elementary school (ew, that's, like, incest). I barely wore any makeup, and my figure hadn't adopted much shape yet. Thanks to my wild mane of hair and darker skin, I still had some redeeming natural appeal, somehow?, at that age.
I was sitting in the dealership waiting room, glancing over the Car and Driver magazines, while my dad was chatting it up with an old friend outside. It was a typical, mangy car shop waiting room with uncomfortable metal chairs and coffee spots on the carpet. The hyper-masculinity of the entire place was making me uncomfortable, considering I was the only female creature on the lot. Then in walked a semi-attractive young mechanic in his greased-up jumpsuit. The scene couldn't have been better scripted. He looked about 18 or 19 y.o., dark hair, toned arms, cavalier attitude - typical for a guy that age - and eyeing me curiously as he wiped the oil from his hands with a rag. "I think your car is ready." Oh..um...thanks. I couldn't look him in the eye. I turned around and saw my dad still engaged in conversation outside. "So what's your name?" I swung around, panicked that he was still talking to me. "Are you thirsty?" he asked as he threw some coins into the soda machine. Um, sure. . . I couldn't believe an older boy was actually paying attention to me. He handed me a coke and started to talk to me about his job, trying to joke to get me to lighten up. I kept looking back to see if my dad was watching. He finally signaled to me that we were leaving. I smiled and thanked my cute friend for the soda (and secretly for the vote of confidence he had unknowingly given me). Coke in hand, I took upbeat strides to my dad's car and got in. We were but a mile away from the dealership when my dad looked at my cherished soda:
"Vhere deed you gett coke?" From the waiting room...a guy at the dealership just bought me one. "VHHAT?" Next thing I knew, the car was pulled over and my dad was pulling a U-ey in the middle of a crowded street. My dad's thick black eyebrows were arched real high, the way they get when he's PISSED. His perfectly parted mustache - one that has earned him quite a rep - began to twitch. Oh shit, that's bad. He switched over to Farsi: "Who gave it to you? The mechanic??? The nerve!! Who does he think he is?? What was he saying to you?" I was trying to reason with him: Dad. It's just a soda. He just gave me an extra one...no biggie. "No beegie?? Shadi, let me tell you sumteeng..." And then he told me something that has, unfortunately, stayed with me.
"A man does not offer you something unless he wants something else in return. A gift, a drink, a ride, anything. If you take it, he will expect you to repay him."
Damn. I felt the air knocked out of me. You mean, he. . .wants. . SEX?! Just from buying me a coke? I was confused. We pulled back into the dealership, my dad grabbed the soda can, and beelined toward the waiting room where the poor unsuspecting kid still was, not realizing the wrath my father would bring with him. I couldn't hear anything but I saw my dad's arms flailing around and he was clearly yelling. Probably in Farsi, even. He stomped back to the car, mumbling in Farsi under his breath. I glanced back through the window at the defeated kid who was just as confused as I was. That was the first of many "I'm a man and I know how they think" lessons I got from my dad, and to this day it still echoes in my head. Not as strictly, of course. His traditional, old school influences have waned a bit over the years.
But I swear that is why I could never allow myself to accept a drink from a stranger. Blame the mustached, expressive Iranian man in my life who only wanted to protect his daughter in an unknown land.
I was sitting in the dealership waiting room, glancing over the Car and Driver magazines, while my dad was chatting it up with an old friend outside. It was a typical, mangy car shop waiting room with uncomfortable metal chairs and coffee spots on the carpet. The hyper-masculinity of the entire place was making me uncomfortable, considering I was the only female creature on the lot. Then in walked a semi-attractive young mechanic in his greased-up jumpsuit. The scene couldn't have been better scripted. He looked about 18 or 19 y.o., dark hair, toned arms, cavalier attitude - typical for a guy that age - and eyeing me curiously as he wiped the oil from his hands with a rag. "I think your car is ready." Oh..um...thanks. I couldn't look him in the eye. I turned around and saw my dad still engaged in conversation outside. "So what's your name?" I swung around, panicked that he was still talking to me. "Are you thirsty?" he asked as he threw some coins into the soda machine. Um, sure. . . I couldn't believe an older boy was actually paying attention to me. He handed me a coke and started to talk to me about his job, trying to joke to get me to lighten up. I kept looking back to see if my dad was watching. He finally signaled to me that we were leaving. I smiled and thanked my cute friend for the soda (and secretly for the vote of confidence he had unknowingly given me). Coke in hand, I took upbeat strides to my dad's car and got in. We were but a mile away from the dealership when my dad looked at my cherished soda:
"Vhere deed you gett coke?" From the waiting room...a guy at the dealership just bought me one. "VHHAT?" Next thing I knew, the car was pulled over and my dad was pulling a U-ey in the middle of a crowded street. My dad's thick black eyebrows were arched real high, the way they get when he's PISSED. His perfectly parted mustache - one that has earned him quite a rep - began to twitch. Oh shit, that's bad. He switched over to Farsi: "Who gave it to you? The mechanic??? The nerve!! Who does he think he is?? What was he saying to you?" I was trying to reason with him: Dad. It's just a soda. He just gave me an extra one...no biggie. "No beegie?? Shadi, let me tell you sumteeng..." And then he told me something that has, unfortunately, stayed with me.
"A man does not offer you something unless he wants something else in return. A gift, a drink, a ride, anything. If you take it, he will expect you to repay him."
Damn. I felt the air knocked out of me. You mean, he. . .wants. . SEX?! Just from buying me a coke? I was confused. We pulled back into the dealership, my dad grabbed the soda can, and beelined toward the waiting room where the poor unsuspecting kid still was, not realizing the wrath my father would bring with him. I couldn't hear anything but I saw my dad's arms flailing around and he was clearly yelling. Probably in Farsi, even. He stomped back to the car, mumbling in Farsi under his breath. I glanced back through the window at the defeated kid who was just as confused as I was. That was the first of many "I'm a man and I know how they think" lessons I got from my dad, and to this day it still echoes in my head. Not as strictly, of course. His traditional, old school influences have waned a bit over the years.
But I swear that is why I could never allow myself to accept a drink from a stranger. Blame the mustached, expressive Iranian man in my life who only wanted to protect his daughter in an unknown land.
November 8, 2007
Red Flags
I couldn't resist sharing some recently-acquired wisdom: just a few things girls should be wary of on a FIRST DATE. Hopefully this will save you ladies out there. . .from a second date with the weirdo that displays any of the behaviors below.
1 - He picks a venue across the street from his apartment.
2 - The venue is a diner.
3 - When the bill arrives, you do the obligatory wallet-reach to show you're willing to split. He responds with "yeah can you pay your share? I'm totally broke."
4 - He keeps insisting you go back to said apartment across the street for "some beer and a movie."
5 - He picks his teeth at the table.
6 - He asks how many boyfriends you've had.
7 - He discusses his ex. Whom he lived with for two years. Describes it as "fun."
8 - He discusses his past girlfriends. Explicitly. That he broke up with over the last couple weeks.
9 - He stares at a girl across the room for half the night and "swears it's his ex" (another one).
10 - He has a lot of ex-girlfriends. Some lasted for a few days.
11 - He always walks ahead of you. Even in a crowded room.
12 - When making plans for the movies, he lists off the ones he wants to see. Then tells you to pick.
13 - He asks you for a compliment. For him.
14 - As the server walks away, he says "she's cute. "
15 - He has a rubber-necking problem when any female walks by.
16 - He chews his nails.
17 - He chides you for smoking shisha socially, but then whips out a pack of cigarettes.
18 - He talks about meeting your parents. This is the first date.
19 - He can dish a lot of teasing and joking, but can't take yours.
20 - He's not emotionally close to his family. Has a non-existent relationship with his brother. (Depending on what you're looking for, some girls may not view this to be a bad thing).
21 - He admits to having "a lot of baggage." Remember, this is the first date.
22 - He tells you he doesn't think you'll make a good [insert prospective career here].
(Yes, these are all from personal experience. Accumulated from only 2 first dates). I could probably list a few more but I don't want to discourage single people out there from dating altogether. Just remember to make a mental note of red flags, and ABORT MISSION early in the night if you have to. I'm now off to the nearest Gay and Lesbian Alliance Meeting.
1 - He picks a venue across the street from his apartment.
2 - The venue is a diner.
3 - When the bill arrives, you do the obligatory wallet-reach to show you're willing to split. He responds with "yeah can you pay your share? I'm totally broke."
4 - He keeps insisting you go back to said apartment across the street for "some beer and a movie."
5 - He picks his teeth at the table.
6 - He asks how many boyfriends you've had.
7 - He discusses his ex. Whom he lived with for two years. Describes it as "fun."
8 - He discusses his past girlfriends. Explicitly. That he broke up with over the last couple weeks.
9 - He stares at a girl across the room for half the night and "swears it's his ex" (another one).
10 - He has a lot of ex-girlfriends. Some lasted for a few days.
11 - He always walks ahead of you. Even in a crowded room.
12 - When making plans for the movies, he lists off the ones he wants to see. Then tells you to pick.
13 - He asks you for a compliment. For him.
14 - As the server walks away, he says "she's cute. "
15 - He has a rubber-necking problem when any female walks by.
16 - He chews his nails.
17 - He chides you for smoking shisha socially, but then whips out a pack of cigarettes.
18 - He talks about meeting your parents. This is the first date.
19 - He can dish a lot of teasing and joking, but can't take yours.
20 - He's not emotionally close to his family. Has a non-existent relationship with his brother. (Depending on what you're looking for, some girls may not view this to be a bad thing).
21 - He admits to having "a lot of baggage." Remember, this is the first date.
22 - He tells you he doesn't think you'll make a good [insert prospective career here].
(Yes, these are all from personal experience. Accumulated from only 2 first dates). I could probably list a few more but I don't want to discourage single people out there from dating altogether. Just remember to make a mental note of red flags, and ABORT MISSION early in the night if you have to. I'm now off to the nearest Gay and Lesbian Alliance Meeting.
October 10, 2007
The Brotherhood
If there is one thing that makes me jealous of boys - no, it's not that they pee standing up and it takes them literally 10 seconds to do the deed - it's the loyalty they have among each other. Don't get me wrong, I love being a girl and I'm pretty good at it. I wouldn't have it any other way. But this whole loyalty thing definitely needs some work among the sisters. Men easily find common ground and immediately a connection is born. Two men could be complete strangers in a sports bar, but given that they are both rooting for the Redskins, they high-five, buy each other beers, and chat for 4 hours straight. Where do we women develop that kind of immediate bond? Maaaaaaybe in the store fitting rooms ("oh honey that's not the right color for you"). I've observed this brotherly behavior among boys and it makes me insanely envious. Loyalty is one of the most significant values for me in any relationship - with boy or girl. I have always been intensely loyal, even to the point where it probably did me more harm than good. Friendships have come and gone in my life due to loyalty (or lack thereof) and to this day I am still trying to find the right balance because it's truly challenging to find loyalty in a girl-girl friendship or even a girl-boy friendship. It floors me that men have each other's backs no matter what. Men empathize wholeheartedly with each other. In environments where there is no competition, male strangers become fast friends and a support for each other. There is an unspoken brotherhood, where each man stands behind the other, in any situation. The only devotion like that I have ever seen was from my family. Men hold onto friendships through distance, time, marriages, children, fallouts, differences, anything. They can go for years without speaking, and pick up where they left off. And the best part: if there is ever a disagreement, they say their piece, apologize and move on. No such things as grudges in the brotherhood. Isn't that amazing, girls??
I'm not sure what it is exactly. I've tried to be a part of it. But it's just not possible, I'm still a girl. If ever I tried to break into the brotherhood, I was either viewed as a prospective conquest or just ignored altogether as a wanna-be. I have learned to accept this, and we girls have many other qualities to make up for the loyalty thing. Most male friendships are far more superficial than female friendships; women have more depth and expectations to their relationship. But in spite of this male superficiality or unspoken bond, it never ceases to amaze me how far, long, wide and timeless the circle of brotherhood can be.
October 4, 2007
The Experiment: Conclusions
Venue 1 (Bourbon) vs. Venue 2 (Grand Central)
I assumed since it was just us two girls at Venue 1, we'd be less intimidating and more approachable. Nope. There was one prospect who kept glancing our way but was nervously downing beers the whole night to build confidence - "liquid courage" I think they call it? And then the unfortunate swarthy guy whose moves and lines were so transparent and obnoxious that I swore off Bar Experimenting all together (the marine dude at the second venue didn't help with my decision either). First thing I learned is that my generation of boys (I call them that because they're not full-grown yet) has become increasingly lazy. They either have not developed the self-confidence or independence to casually approach a girl and start chatting normally. Without shamelessly exposing motives, without revealing how many tricks you have up your sleeve. Or they have become so spoiled in many other aspects of their lives that they just expect/prefer girls to approach them. Hey, I'm not against women making the first move, but does that mean the roles have reversed entirely? All of my male friends find it refreshing and thrilling, when women come up to them, but does that mean we've got to whip out our credit cards and drop a line "hey there, can I buy you a drink?" and the whole nine? Won't be so refreshing or thrilling anymore when women become the pursuers, huh? And apparently, as I learned from Venue 2, it is much easier to approach a girl who is in a group of males and females. Why is that exactly? How do they know one of the males isn't her boyfriend? Any thoughts, audience?
Swarthy guy vs. Marine guy
Now this was just sad. I honestly couldn't have asked for a better story for my blog during my experimentation. Let me make it clear that the purpose of this experiment was to compare 2 different circumstances: the first being just my girl friend and I, the second being in a primarily male-dominated group of people. I wasn't analyzing "game" or how "successfully" we'd get hit on, but simply who would hit on us under each circumstance, and how often, depending on each environment. Unfortunately, I'm pretty removed from and ignorant of the whole "pick-up game" and/or "the rules" we're supposed to abide by, so I'm in no place to analyze either - I wanted to keep this simple, stupid. Right off the bat, I could tell Swarthy was a desperate-type. It was obvious to me that he came to Bourbon to pick up as many girls as possible (and create a sketchbook of girls he met) and the thing that bugged me was that he was so damn transparent about it. He clearly had ADHD or a self-confidence issue, or both, and quite frankly, if I had the capability, I would have just written him a prescription for Adderall and sent him on his way. His friend seemed more composed and relaxed and normal, actually, so I think it's unfair to use Swarthy as conclusive evidence of what type of guys were there. Marine guy was lucky in that he got to use the Iranian/Farsi card on me, despite being American and, well, a marine. I think my being in a group setting in no way influenced him in approaching me. Like a shark (a poorly trained shark), he literally just dove in for the kill, and probably would have done so no matter what setting I was in. Since he didn't really have an effect on my experiment, I just felt bad for the guy and humored him - like other Iranian girls probably have in the past - about his interest in learning Persian culture. However, marine guy aside, Elle and I were approached a couple times throughout the night, in spite of having a bunch of crazy, rowdy Puerto Ricans with us, and us being completely oblivious to the bar crowd. So being in a group, for whatever reason, did make us more approachable.
What I Learned
I don't like bars. I don't like experiments in bars. And I probably should know exactly what I'm doing before I attempt to conduct an experiment in a bar.
I assumed since it was just us two girls at Venue 1, we'd be less intimidating and more approachable. Nope. There was one prospect who kept glancing our way but was nervously downing beers the whole night to build confidence - "liquid courage" I think they call it? And then the unfortunate swarthy guy whose moves and lines were so transparent and obnoxious that I swore off Bar Experimenting all together (the marine dude at the second venue didn't help with my decision either). First thing I learned is that my generation of boys (I call them that because they're not full-grown yet) has become increasingly lazy. They either have not developed the self-confidence or independence to casually approach a girl and start chatting normally. Without shamelessly exposing motives, without revealing how many tricks you have up your sleeve. Or they have become so spoiled in many other aspects of their lives that they just expect/prefer girls to approach them. Hey, I'm not against women making the first move, but does that mean the roles have reversed entirely? All of my male friends find it refreshing and thrilling, when women come up to them, but does that mean we've got to whip out our credit cards and drop a line "hey there, can I buy you a drink?" and the whole nine? Won't be so refreshing or thrilling anymore when women become the pursuers, huh? And apparently, as I learned from Venue 2, it is much easier to approach a girl who is in a group of males and females. Why is that exactly? How do they know one of the males isn't her boyfriend? Any thoughts, audience?
Swarthy guy vs. Marine guy
Now this was just sad. I honestly couldn't have asked for a better story for my blog during my experimentation. Let me make it clear that the purpose of this experiment was to compare 2 different circumstances: the first being just my girl friend and I, the second being in a primarily male-dominated group of people. I wasn't analyzing "game" or how "successfully" we'd get hit on, but simply who would hit on us under each circumstance, and how often, depending on each environment. Unfortunately, I'm pretty removed from and ignorant of the whole "pick-up game" and/or "the rules" we're supposed to abide by, so I'm in no place to analyze either - I wanted to keep this simple, stupid. Right off the bat, I could tell Swarthy was a desperate-type. It was obvious to me that he came to Bourbon to pick up as many girls as possible (and create a sketchbook of girls he met) and the thing that bugged me was that he was so damn transparent about it. He clearly had ADHD or a self-confidence issue, or both, and quite frankly, if I had the capability, I would have just written him a prescription for Adderall and sent him on his way. His friend seemed more composed and relaxed and normal, actually, so I think it's unfair to use Swarthy as conclusive evidence of what type of guys were there. Marine guy was lucky in that he got to use the Iranian/Farsi card on me, despite being American and, well, a marine. I think my being in a group setting in no way influenced him in approaching me. Like a shark (a poorly trained shark), he literally just dove in for the kill, and probably would have done so no matter what setting I was in. Since he didn't really have an effect on my experiment, I just felt bad for the guy and humored him - like other Iranian girls probably have in the past - about his interest in learning Persian culture. However, marine guy aside, Elle and I were approached a couple times throughout the night, in spite of having a bunch of crazy, rowdy Puerto Ricans with us, and us being completely oblivious to the bar crowd. So being in a group, for whatever reason, did make us more approachable.
What I Learned
I don't like bars. I don't like experiments in bars. And I probably should know exactly what I'm doing before I attempt to conduct an experiment in a bar.
September 27, 2007
The Experiment: Bar Chronicles, Part II
I was really contemplating giving up the social experiment altogether after the bust at Bourbon. But my partner in crime kept me going, convincing me that we'll have different (and perhaps more interesting) results at the next venue. Grand Central was packed upon arrival and we walked straight to my friends' spot to mingle. We were a rambunctious group of 3 girls and 4 boys, Elle and I being the only non-Puerto Ricans. So we apparently attracted a bit more attention than I would have preferred for our experiment. Before I could think about how differently our girls would be approached in a male/female group, a tall, blue-eyed white dude with a marine haircut was walking by - overtly gawking at us - when he leaned into me and asked if I was Persian. (I was caught off guard because a) I might look anything but Persian, and b) military white dude knows what "persian" is??). After I - mistakenly - said yes, he blurted in broken Farsi: "Salam, haleh shoma khoobeh? Khayli khoshgel hasti." ("Hello how are you you are very pretty"). Here we go, round two. After chatting for a few minutes about the great opener line he used (he wanted to learn Farsi and lived in Shiraz for two years studying the language), we discussed how he was a military marine officer (whatever that is). Next, I asked him if he worked for the CIA or the FBI, or if he can't tell me what he does (this is DC). He said, "I'll tell you over coffee." Slick. He glanced at my circle of friends and said in choppy Farsi, "Are those guys with you? They're ugly!!" Not slick. They're my friends, you moron. He was really insisting on buying me a drink - clearly, I was sober and this was making him uncomfortable. His speech was slurred, he had one too many buttons unbuttoned on his shirt, and he couldn't shift his body weight without spilling his beer on my feet. I felt bad for the guy (which, I know, is terrible for the sake of research) so we kept talking about Persian culture and how he loved Persian girls, blah blah. I laughed at his attempts to woo me (I refused to speak Farsi to him), and asked questions, but I really wasn't into him. I was sort of testing the waters. Plus, a girl will know in the first five minutes of meeting someone if she is into him. Guys, take note. But I genuinely thought he was - brace yourselves - an interesting person. Until he wouldn't leave me alone. Also take note. I realized, ok I'm done, I want to hang out with my friends now, go away, leave me alone. So I said: "Nothing personal but I haven't seen my buddies in awhile so I'm going back to them." "Oh..ok...so let me get your number. Take out your phone so I can call you and you'll have my number." Shit. Can't fake-number this guy. We said our goodbyes, I escaped to my friends and continued on with the night.
Half an hour later he had already texted me "Can I please get you a beer at the bar, let's talk more." Shit shit shit. I ignored and carried on dancing with my friends. Then he appeared, asking if I'll answer my phone when he calls me later. "Not at this rate, buddy. Damn, I met you thirty minutes ago and you've already texted me!" He said he wanted to make sure he'll see me again. ABORT EXPERIMENT ABORT EXPERIMENT. Elle mouthed "are you ok" from a few feet away and I shrugged. The dude got the hint when one of my guy-friends put his arm around me and pulled me away, bless his little heart.
The next day I got a text and a voicemail message from him. Are you shitting me? This is ridiculous. Either I'll have to set him straight or just change my damn number. I boldly (if you know me, you know I can occasionally be bold) opted for the former. I called him, left him a message telling him he's creeping me out, he needs to cool off a bit, I have exams and my family's in town so I'm quite busy. I still got a voicemail message of him explaining his irrational behavior (due to some Persian friends misinforming him to "show a lot of interest" when pursuing Persian girls). Oy vey.
Stay tuned for experiment results and comparisons between venue 1 versus 2.
Half an hour later he had already texted me "Can I please get you a beer at the bar, let's talk more." Shit shit shit. I ignored and carried on dancing with my friends. Then he appeared, asking if I'll answer my phone when he calls me later. "Not at this rate, buddy. Damn, I met you thirty minutes ago and you've already texted me!" He said he wanted to make sure he'll see me again. ABORT EXPERIMENT ABORT EXPERIMENT. Elle mouthed "are you ok" from a few feet away and I shrugged. The dude got the hint when one of my guy-friends put his arm around me and pulled me away, bless his little heart.
The next day I got a text and a voicemail message from him. Are you shitting me? This is ridiculous. Either I'll have to set him straight or just change my damn number. I boldly (if you know me, you know I can occasionally be bold) opted for the former. I called him, left him a message telling him he's creeping me out, he needs to cool off a bit, I have exams and my family's in town so I'm quite busy. I still got a voicemail message of him explaining his irrational behavior (due to some Persian friends misinforming him to "show a lot of interest" when pursuing Persian girls). Oy vey.
Stay tuned for experiment results and comparisons between venue 1 versus 2.
September 26, 2007
The Experiment: Bar Chronicles, Part I
Last Saturday night, my friend - let's call her "Elle" - and I decided to conduct a social experiment. We were planning to meet a few friends in Adams Morgan, so we agreed on two official settings: the first venue we would attend alone, just the two of us. The second venue we'd join our friends. Both venues being typical, though slightly more upscale (by A.M.'s standards) pick-up bars. And the mission was to examine how many times - if at all - in what manner, and by what types of characters, we'd get hit on at the first venue versus the second venue. We kept the alcohol intake to a minimum to stay alert (and halfway-charming), and we attempted to make ourselves as approachable as possible. We arrived at the first destination, a new, swanky bar for mid-to-late 20 y.o.'s, called Bourbon, and immediately scanned the crowd for the male-to-female ratio. It looked equally balanced, and promising for the experiment. With our fruity, diluted drinks, we found a high cocktail table at the center of the room and positioned ourselves for the attack. So we waited. And waited. We even took turns going to the bathroom to leave the other alone at the table. Elle, at that point, decided that our generation of males have either been castrated or completely drained of any courage to approach girls anymore. Honestly, I was a little annoyed that, for once, when I had a mission, for the sake of science and social experiment, not one bastard actually came up to us!
Then two vultures swooped right in. A tall, blonde Euro-looking dude, and a short, swarthy brown-haired dude. Swarthy dropped the first line on me: "you know, your friend over there is trouble. She stepped on my toes and didn't even say sorry." I looked at Elle and said, "well, she IS a little tipsy, isn't she." (Of course I want to give the impression we've been downing a few - this is an experiment after all). Swarthy was on a roll, dropping pseudo-witty comments left and right, smug that he was playing the game right. I humored him, and let him go on like a crack fiend on a fix. I watched Elle and Euro-dude having a normal, pleasant conversation. Meanwhile, Swarthy was hopping from topic-to-topic, as if he was a conversation pro. He couldn't keep a thought straight. He asked, "how tall are you? 5'1", 5'2"?" I contained my anger, coolly smiled and eyed him up and down, "No. I'm 5'6". You're 5'8" right?" "Wow, that's right. So where were you born?" "Uhh, Tulsa. How about you." "Near Tulsa! Guess." "Texas?" "Yeah!" "Oh, what part? Elle is from Plano!" The blood drained from his face. "Uhh I wasn't born in Texas. From Chicago, actually. So how do you two know each other?" "We worked together. The assembly line at Ford in Detroit, actually. It was a mundane job, but we met next to each other in line assembling parts of the steering wheels." Swarthy analyzed my expression to see if I was bullshitting and, since he couldn't tell from my deadpan smile, kept flapping his mouth. Then my cell phone rang and once I picked it up, he jumped from our table to the next table to chat up a cute brunette. Hmm, smooth guy. . .doesn't waste time does he. . .? Then he jumped back and goes, "so how about I get your number?" and whips out a scrap of paper from his right pocket, and a pen from his left. "Wow, you're prepared, huh?" I began to write some random digits down - this was an experiment after all - and then handed him the paper. "Hey are you kinda artsy? Can you draw?" "Umm...stick figures, at best. Why?" "Can you draw a sketch of yourself...like your hair and stuff...I don't think I will remember tomorrow." I glanced at his anxious face, trying to tell if he was serious or not, and after realizing he was very serious, I said, "well, Swarthy, I guess it wasn't meant to be." And I tore the paper in 4 pieces, crumpled it up, and dropped it into his glass. His jaw dropped and he reached into his pocket for several more scraps of paper. "Come onnnnn. Are you serious?" He laid down the paper and pen in front of me, and I pushed it away. He looked at Elle, who had missed the entire conversation, then nudged his friend to leave. While Euro-dude was busy putting Elle's digits into his phone, I leaned toward Swarthy and said "Good luck with getting numbers tonight. Try to keep track of what the girls look like so you don't get them confused, honey."
Clearly, he was aiming to make a scrapbook of numbers and sketches he was going to collect the entire night and his motives were so transparent that I just couldn't give him the satisfaction. Even if it was an experiment. Stay tuned for Part II.
Then two vultures swooped right in. A tall, blonde Euro-looking dude, and a short, swarthy brown-haired dude. Swarthy dropped the first line on me: "you know, your friend over there is trouble. She stepped on my toes and didn't even say sorry." I looked at Elle and said, "well, she IS a little tipsy, isn't she." (Of course I want to give the impression we've been downing a few - this is an experiment after all). Swarthy was on a roll, dropping pseudo-witty comments left and right, smug that he was playing the game right. I humored him, and let him go on like a crack fiend on a fix. I watched Elle and Euro-dude having a normal, pleasant conversation. Meanwhile, Swarthy was hopping from topic-to-topic, as if he was a conversation pro. He couldn't keep a thought straight. He asked, "how tall are you? 5'1", 5'2"?" I contained my anger, coolly smiled and eyed him up and down, "No. I'm 5'6". You're 5'8" right?" "Wow, that's right. So where were you born?" "Uhh, Tulsa. How about you." "Near Tulsa! Guess." "Texas?" "Yeah!" "Oh, what part? Elle is from Plano!" The blood drained from his face. "Uhh I wasn't born in Texas. From Chicago, actually. So how do you two know each other?" "We worked together. The assembly line at Ford in Detroit, actually. It was a mundane job, but we met next to each other in line assembling parts of the steering wheels." Swarthy analyzed my expression to see if I was bullshitting and, since he couldn't tell from my deadpan smile, kept flapping his mouth. Then my cell phone rang and once I picked it up, he jumped from our table to the next table to chat up a cute brunette. Hmm, smooth guy. . .doesn't waste time does he. . .? Then he jumped back and goes, "so how about I get your number?" and whips out a scrap of paper from his right pocket, and a pen from his left. "Wow, you're prepared, huh?" I began to write some random digits down - this was an experiment after all - and then handed him the paper. "Hey are you kinda artsy? Can you draw?" "Umm...stick figures, at best. Why?" "Can you draw a sketch of yourself...like your hair and stuff...I don't think I will remember tomorrow." I glanced at his anxious face, trying to tell if he was serious or not, and after realizing he was very serious, I said, "well, Swarthy, I guess it wasn't meant to be." And I tore the paper in 4 pieces, crumpled it up, and dropped it into his glass. His jaw dropped and he reached into his pocket for several more scraps of paper. "Come onnnnn. Are you serious?" He laid down the paper and pen in front of me, and I pushed it away. He looked at Elle, who had missed the entire conversation, then nudged his friend to leave. While Euro-dude was busy putting Elle's digits into his phone, I leaned toward Swarthy and said "Good luck with getting numbers tonight. Try to keep track of what the girls look like so you don't get them confused, honey."
Clearly, he was aiming to make a scrapbook of numbers and sketches he was going to collect the entire night and his motives were so transparent that I just couldn't give him the satisfaction. Even if it was an experiment. Stay tuned for Part II.
September 7, 2007
To the Left, To the Left. . .
It's not hard to notice these days that I am the last standing single person among all of my friends. Seriously. Every. Single. Friend. Is married, engaged, or in a relationship. Even the friends (both male and female) who never had any desire to slow down and proudly fit in the "play on playa" category have settled down in a relationship! I came across an MSN article online - or a concerned friend sent it to me, I don't remember - that was titled "Are You Better Off Single?" It's nice to read from time to time while I'm licking the brownie dough from the bottom of the mixing bowl, or while I inadvertently eat a whole bowl of strawberry jello, or while Sex and the City reruns play in the background. . .anyway, here are the inspiring points:
Reason #1: You have a better body.
A recent Cornell University study found that women generally gain five to eight pounds in the first few years of marriage and unhappily married women gain an average of 54 pounds in the first 10 years. For the unmarried, though, the motivation to stay slim remains: “Singles look at themselves through the eyes of others and want to be attractive to potential partners,” says Susan Davis, Ph.D., a clinical psychologist in New York City, “so they’re still ‘working on themselves.’”
-Shoot, I've always had this body - in a relationship or NOT! *Sizzle*. Ok, who am I kidding. Note my eating habits in the paragraph above. Sigh.
Reason #2: You’re more likely to achieve great things.
It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you have the time, the quiet and the lack of familial responsibilities. In fact, your premarital motivation to excel in life may be biologically programmed. According to a study conducted at the London School of Economics and Political Scientists, male scientists who stay single longer peak in their careers later in life and tend to be more productive than their married counterparts.
-This is definitely true. I've procured nicer clothes and shoes over the years. I've had more time to work on my car and keep it new and clean. I guess I have truly discovered my calling and changed my career path. Of course, if I had a boyfriend to nag all the time, I wouldn't have been able to achieve all of the above.
Reason #3: You do less housework.
According to one study published in the Journal of Marriage and Family, women do less housework when single than when married. Men, on the other hand, do more housework when unmarried (that’s probably because there’s someone picking up after them once they’re wed…).
-This is bullshit. Maybe it's different when you're married, but I tend to clean the house more now because I entertain my married friends. Plus, I'm home more often and, well, cleaning is a great coping method for stress, you know. As for the men, the men in my family try to pull their weight around the house - and I can't imagine they were this obedient-err..I mean, mindful about keeping their living space clean as bachelors.
Reason #4: You can do what you want with your money—including keep it.
Go ahead: Splurge on that pricey moisturizer or that obscenely large plasma TV you’ve been lusting after. You don’t have to justify your purchase to anyone but yourself. Once you mix money with marriage, though, things change—and fast. According to a survey by SmartMoneyShrink Rap. “When you’re married, you have to deal with different styles of spending and saving, and you may take on your partner’s debt.” magazine, 40 percent of women and 36 percent of men have lied to their spouses about a purchase. “When you’re single, your finances are your own,” explains Phyllis Chase, a Los Angeles–based psychologist and co-host of the radio show Shrink Rap. “When you’re married, you have to deal with different styles of spending and saving, and you may take on your partner’s debt.”
-Perhaps...but I'm broke. And when you're broke, the grass is always greener on the other side. . .
Reason #5: You have better sex.
Married couples may have more sex (approximately 98 times a year vs. singles’ 49), but singles have better sex. According to a recent study published in the British Medical Journal, married women are significantly more likely to report problems with their sex lives than single women. “People who are dating have better sex because it’s novel,” says Davis. “Married people have to relearn how to play. It’s natural for singles because that’s the nature of a courting relationship—they tease, they experiment, they explore.”
-The part of this I think is bullshit is that "married couples have more sex." Is this in the U.S. or in Brazil? I have heard that the sex wanes after marriage. Then again, I can see the possibility that singles have better sex. For singles, the odds of getting sex are so inconsistent that they probably try to make the best of each chance they get; they view it as the last opportunity EVER. So no wonder it's better. It's like a last meal on death row.
Reason #6: You’re better rested and smarter.
While snuggling up next to a warm body can be pretty fantastic, according to a survey conducted by the National Sleep Foundation, your bedmate can cause you to lose an average of 49 minutes of sleep per night. Sleeping two-to-a-bed just isn’t as restful as snoozing solo. Other studies confirm that singles generally get more rest — seven to eight hours of sleep a night — than marrieds, which enhances memory, mood and concentration, as well as allows your immune system to recharge.
-If you partied like a single girl as much as I do, you would definitely not be more rested!! Yeah baby!! And judging from my selection of men lately, I'm definitely not smarter as a single girl, either! Woohoo!! Ok who am I kidding, again. I hardly party anymore and I'm not sure if being better rested and/or single has made me smarter. More picky, definitely. I do admit, however, that I love sleep now more than ever. Must come with age. Not because I'm single, dammit.
Reason #7: You’re less depressed.
Although the media often perpetuates the image of single people being down in the dumps, overall unmarried people tend to be happier than their married counterparts—if you’re a woman, that is. One report by the World Health Organization indicated that married women, especially ones with children, have a higher risk for depression than single women, and researchers at the University of London found that single women generally have fewer mental-health issues. “Marriage, in many ways, seems to benefit men more than women,” says Davis. “For women, there’s more of a loss of self.”
-Brownie dough. Jello. Ice cream sundaes. Sex and the City reruns. Need I say more?
Reason #8: You have better friendships.
Significant others are a wonderful thing, no doubt, but friends count, too. And on that front, one study found that, when women get married and have children, they spend much less time with their friends—less than five hours a week, down from 14 hours. Singles, however, often have the greatest sense of friendship and community—which can actually decrease stress levels, according to researchers at UCLA.
-You know, I could agree on this. IF I HAD SINGLE FRIENDS. Oh wait, I have 1. But she's 8 hours away. So much for spending more time with friends as a single girl. Ok, I exaggerate. I do, in fact, feel like I've developed much stronger friendships. My girlfriends are an extension of my family and my support network. And I know I'm there for them too - as a relationship advisor, so to speak. Because, clearly, as the only single one in the group, I'm definitely the expert.
Reason #9: Your travel tales are enviable.
Marrieds take the most vacations, dominating the market with 62 percent of all trips taken, but singles arguably go on more interesting trips. According to the Travel Industry Association of America, singles corner the adventure-travel market, engaging in activities like whitewater rafting, scuba diving and mountain biking. Being single and relatively footloose certainly allows you to expand your geographical — and personal — borders.
-DING DING DING!! Finally, a point I can wholeheartedly agree with. My married friends and siblings go to a lot of cool places but, frankly, they don't have the convenience or flexibility to go to the much COOLER places I've been able to go to on my own. I think being single has definitely allowed me to explore an otherwise-dormant sense of adventure I didn't know I had.
Reason #10: You know yourself—and what you want out of a relationship.
You’re a better catch now than you were at 20. You may have signs of, ahem, experience etched on your face, but that’s OK because you’re more interesting and more self-aware. Not only have you grown as a person, but you’ve probably been through the ringer a few times in matters of love and now know what you want—and what you don’t. Experts say that bodes well for future marital success and may actually decrease the likelihood of divorce. “When people get married young, they often feel like the other person will complete them, and they have trouble moving past that Hollywood myth,” explains Chase. “But maturity brings so much, because if you’re able to communicate who you are and what you want, the better your chances of having a successful marriage.”
-If you don't know me, then you probably don't realize I'm poking fun at this article. I tend to be overdramatic at times for the sake of effect. Sure I have moments where I bitch about being the "only single one left" but it's mostly because I'm tired of sharing my friends. Kidding. I'm probably more comfortable with being single now than I ever have been and I wouldn't trade places with any of my taken friends for a second. In fact, I might be too comfortable - I've forgotten what it's even like to compromise, communicate, work towards something more than just yourself. I definitely know myself better now and understand what I want in a relationship. Just haven't found it yet. I wanted to point out how difficult it can be to be in the singles market nowadays.
And to that, I raise my glass of champagne (or sparkling apple juice because I drank my only bottle of bubbly all alone last night - HAHA) in salute to singledom. Now, it's friday night, this single girl has to get ready to go out [with her coupled friends]. Betta reco'nize.
Reason #1: You have a better body.
A recent Cornell University study found that women generally gain five to eight pounds in the first few years of marriage and unhappily married women gain an average of 54 pounds in the first 10 years. For the unmarried, though, the motivation to stay slim remains: “Singles look at themselves through the eyes of others and want to be attractive to potential partners,” says Susan Davis, Ph.D., a clinical psychologist in New York City, “so they’re still ‘working on themselves.’”
-Shoot, I've always had this body - in a relationship or NOT! *Sizzle*. Ok, who am I kidding. Note my eating habits in the paragraph above. Sigh.
Reason #2: You’re more likely to achieve great things.
It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you have the time, the quiet and the lack of familial responsibilities. In fact, your premarital motivation to excel in life may be biologically programmed. According to a study conducted at the London School of Economics and Political Scientists, male scientists who stay single longer peak in their careers later in life and tend to be more productive than their married counterparts.
-This is definitely true. I've procured nicer clothes and shoes over the years. I've had more time to work on my car and keep it new and clean. I guess I have truly discovered my calling and changed my career path. Of course, if I had a boyfriend to nag all the time, I wouldn't have been able to achieve all of the above.
Reason #3: You do less housework.
According to one study published in the Journal of Marriage and Family, women do less housework when single than when married. Men, on the other hand, do more housework when unmarried (that’s probably because there’s someone picking up after them once they’re wed…).
-This is bullshit. Maybe it's different when you're married, but I tend to clean the house more now because I entertain my married friends. Plus, I'm home more often and, well, cleaning is a great coping method for stress, you know. As for the men, the men in my family try to pull their weight around the house - and I can't imagine they were this obedient-err..I mean, mindful about keeping their living space clean as bachelors.
Reason #4: You can do what you want with your money—including keep it.
Go ahead: Splurge on that pricey moisturizer or that obscenely large plasma TV you’ve been lusting after. You don’t have to justify your purchase to anyone but yourself. Once you mix money with marriage, though, things change—and fast. According to a survey by SmartMoneyShrink Rap. “When you’re married, you have to deal with different styles of spending and saving, and you may take on your partner’s debt.” magazine, 40 percent of women and 36 percent of men have lied to their spouses about a purchase. “When you’re single, your finances are your own,” explains Phyllis Chase, a Los Angeles–based psychologist and co-host of the radio show Shrink Rap. “When you’re married, you have to deal with different styles of spending and saving, and you may take on your partner’s debt.”
-Perhaps...but I'm broke. And when you're broke, the grass is always greener on the other side. . .
Reason #5: You have better sex.
Married couples may have more sex (approximately 98 times a year vs. singles’ 49), but singles have better sex. According to a recent study published in the British Medical Journal, married women are significantly more likely to report problems with their sex lives than single women. “People who are dating have better sex because it’s novel,” says Davis. “Married people have to relearn how to play. It’s natural for singles because that’s the nature of a courting relationship—they tease, they experiment, they explore.”
-The part of this I think is bullshit is that "married couples have more sex." Is this in the U.S. or in Brazil? I have heard that the sex wanes after marriage. Then again, I can see the possibility that singles have better sex. For singles, the odds of getting sex are so inconsistent that they probably try to make the best of each chance they get; they view it as the last opportunity EVER. So no wonder it's better. It's like a last meal on death row.
Reason #6: You’re better rested and smarter.
While snuggling up next to a warm body can be pretty fantastic, according to a survey conducted by the National Sleep Foundation, your bedmate can cause you to lose an average of 49 minutes of sleep per night. Sleeping two-to-a-bed just isn’t as restful as snoozing solo. Other studies confirm that singles generally get more rest — seven to eight hours of sleep a night — than marrieds, which enhances memory, mood and concentration, as well as allows your immune system to recharge.
-If you partied like a single girl as much as I do, you would definitely not be more rested!! Yeah baby!! And judging from my selection of men lately, I'm definitely not smarter as a single girl, either! Woohoo!! Ok who am I kidding, again. I hardly party anymore and I'm not sure if being better rested and/or single has made me smarter. More picky, definitely. I do admit, however, that I love sleep now more than ever. Must come with age. Not because I'm single, dammit.
Reason #7: You’re less depressed.
Although the media often perpetuates the image of single people being down in the dumps, overall unmarried people tend to be happier than their married counterparts—if you’re a woman, that is. One report by the World Health Organization indicated that married women, especially ones with children, have a higher risk for depression than single women, and researchers at the University of London found that single women generally have fewer mental-health issues. “Marriage, in many ways, seems to benefit men more than women,” says Davis. “For women, there’s more of a loss of self.”
-Brownie dough. Jello. Ice cream sundaes. Sex and the City reruns. Need I say more?
Reason #8: You have better friendships.
Significant others are a wonderful thing, no doubt, but friends count, too. And on that front, one study found that, when women get married and have children, they spend much less time with their friends—less than five hours a week, down from 14 hours. Singles, however, often have the greatest sense of friendship and community—which can actually decrease stress levels, according to researchers at UCLA.
-You know, I could agree on this. IF I HAD SINGLE FRIENDS. Oh wait, I have 1. But she's 8 hours away. So much for spending more time with friends as a single girl. Ok, I exaggerate. I do, in fact, feel like I've developed much stronger friendships. My girlfriends are an extension of my family and my support network. And I know I'm there for them too - as a relationship advisor, so to speak. Because, clearly, as the only single one in the group, I'm definitely the expert.
Reason #9: Your travel tales are enviable.
Marrieds take the most vacations, dominating the market with 62 percent of all trips taken, but singles arguably go on more interesting trips. According to the Travel Industry Association of America, singles corner the adventure-travel market, engaging in activities like whitewater rafting, scuba diving and mountain biking. Being single and relatively footloose certainly allows you to expand your geographical — and personal — borders.
-DING DING DING!! Finally, a point I can wholeheartedly agree with. My married friends and siblings go to a lot of cool places but, frankly, they don't have the convenience or flexibility to go to the much COOLER places I've been able to go to on my own. I think being single has definitely allowed me to explore an otherwise-dormant sense of adventure I didn't know I had.
Reason #10: You know yourself—and what you want out of a relationship.
You’re a better catch now than you were at 20. You may have signs of, ahem, experience etched on your face, but that’s OK because you’re more interesting and more self-aware. Not only have you grown as a person, but you’ve probably been through the ringer a few times in matters of love and now know what you want—and what you don’t. Experts say that bodes well for future marital success and may actually decrease the likelihood of divorce. “When people get married young, they often feel like the other person will complete them, and they have trouble moving past that Hollywood myth,” explains Chase. “But maturity brings so much, because if you’re able to communicate who you are and what you want, the better your chances of having a successful marriage.”
-If you don't know me, then you probably don't realize I'm poking fun at this article. I tend to be overdramatic at times for the sake of effect. Sure I have moments where I bitch about being the "only single one left" but it's mostly because I'm tired of sharing my friends. Kidding. I'm probably more comfortable with being single now than I ever have been and I wouldn't trade places with any of my taken friends for a second. In fact, I might be too comfortable - I've forgotten what it's even like to compromise, communicate, work towards something more than just yourself. I definitely know myself better now and understand what I want in a relationship. Just haven't found it yet. I wanted to point out how difficult it can be to be in the singles market nowadays.
And to that, I raise my glass of champagne (or sparkling apple juice because I drank my only bottle of bubbly all alone last night - HAHA) in salute to singledom. Now, it's friday night, this single girl has to get ready to go out [with her coupled friends]. Betta reco'nize.
August 11, 2007
Cheater Cheater Pumpkin Eater
Denial is a powerful tool. It took me months before I faced the difficult, painful fact that I was being cheated on. Not to use a cliche but a girl just knows. Everytime I confronted him about his suspicious behavior, I got the table turned right on me with the classic cheater retorts: "You're paranoid." "You don't trust me?!" "You're just insecure about my friendship with her." I was seeing inappropriate things with my own eyes. Yet I was told I was crazy for assuming anything inappropriate was going on. I was hearing about his so-called "friendly" rendezvous' with her from witnesses, but of course, that was just "hearsay." The whole office observed their indiscreet flirting - while our own relationship remained private, per his stipulations, obviously - and he just dismissed it as "gossip." I wanted to believe him, so I did. But all of his defensive explanations were inconsistent with the reality I observed and heard about on a daily basis. The extent of his fooling around was never clear - and to this day I still don't know all the things they did. But I was certain about two things: 1) while we were in a relationship of 6 months (after a year of friendship), he repeatedly crossed the emotional and physical boundaries of what is appropriate with someone who is not your girlfriend, and 2) regardless of what he was or wasn't doing with her, it bothered and upset me. I asked him to stop. But he didn't care. How can someone genuinely love you when he disregards your objections to his behavior and continues to deliberately hurt you? After those long months of fighting, attempting to reason with and trying to get through to him (but all I got was a brick wall), I began to seriously re-evaluate my self-value and self-respect, morals and expectations in a relationship. Not to mention the helpful, loving support I got from my friends. I snapped out of it and what resulted was a rage within me that I had never felt before. I didn't recognize myself. I had to keep working in the same office with him and her after our break-up, and the rage I felt from every encounter with them was indescribable. Rage that I tolerated him, rage that he was completely blind to the pain he caused, rage that he was even trying to dupe me, rage that I had been in denial, rage that I put myself through it for 30 seconds let alone as many months as I did. The last time I saw him was a year ago at a goodbye party for him and other coworkers leaving the office. It was unfortunate the way it ended but I was thankful he was out of sight, out of mind.
Until Friday.
I walked into the office of an attorney I was working with and there he was, sitting in the visitor chair. I said hi. He said "sup." (Not making that up). I got some documents from the attorney, turned around and walked out. I felt nothing. Well, except the awkwardness that hung in the room. The brief encounter brought on this post. I have been thinking about the wide spectrum of cheating, the betrayal, and the reasons some people tolerate it. It is a very subjective, personal issue for each person that experiences it. What is officially considered cheating? Where do you draw the line? Is emotional attachment to another person considered cheating? Or does there have to be physical acts in order to deem the behavior "cheating?" I think it all depends on the seriousness of the relationship, and the value of the person in your life. Have you been dating for 6 months? Or have you been married for 6 years? Were the cheating offenses just a one-time event? Or an ongoing, long-term affair? What is the value of this person in your life? And is the trust between you reparable? Clearly for me, he wasn't worth it. I decided he was not someone I could trust nor someone I had respect for any longer, because he would never take responsibility for his actions. But I am thankful for the experience I had. It was probably one of the most painful but significant relationship lessons I've learned.
Until Friday.
I walked into the office of an attorney I was working with and there he was, sitting in the visitor chair. I said hi. He said "sup." (Not making that up). I got some documents from the attorney, turned around and walked out. I felt nothing. Well, except the awkwardness that hung in the room. The brief encounter brought on this post. I have been thinking about the wide spectrum of cheating, the betrayal, and the reasons some people tolerate it. It is a very subjective, personal issue for each person that experiences it. What is officially considered cheating? Where do you draw the line? Is emotional attachment to another person considered cheating? Or does there have to be physical acts in order to deem the behavior "cheating?" I think it all depends on the seriousness of the relationship, and the value of the person in your life. Have you been dating for 6 months? Or have you been married for 6 years? Were the cheating offenses just a one-time event? Or an ongoing, long-term affair? What is the value of this person in your life? And is the trust between you reparable? Clearly for me, he wasn't worth it. I decided he was not someone I could trust nor someone I had respect for any longer, because he would never take responsibility for his actions. But I am thankful for the experience I had. It was probably one of the most painful but significant relationship lessons I've learned.
August 8, 2007
Love and Marriage?
I was so taken aback by Erica Jong's "Fear of Flying" that I had to dedicate another post to a topic she beats to death: marriage.
"Would most women get married if they knew what it meant? I think of young women following their husbands wherever their husbands follow their jobs. I think of them suddenly finding themselves miles away from friends and family. I think of them making babies out of their lonliness and boredom and not knowing why. I think of their men always harried and exhausted from being on the make. I think of them seeing each other less after marriage than before. I think of them falling into bed too exhausted to screw. I think of them farther apart in the first year of marriage than they ever imagined two people could be when they were courting. Not: when did it all go wrong? But: when was it ever right? A grim picture. What did I know? I wanted 'total mutuality,' 'companionship,' 'equality.' Did I know about how men sit there glued to the paper while you clear the table? How they pretend to be all thumbs when you ask them to mix the frozen orange juice?...I know some good marriages. Second marriages mostly. Marriages where both people have outgrown the bullshit of me-Tarzan, you-Jane and are just trying to get through their days by helping each other, being good to each other, doing the chores as they come up and not worrying too much about who does what. Maybe marriages are best in middle age. When all the nonsense falls away and you realize you have to love one another because you're going to die anyway."
Brilliant. I got into a conversation with a coworker yesterday and she asked if I'm afraid, like her girl friends in their late-twenties and mid-thirties, that I'll never get married. In this day and age, she argued, men and women can get on with their lives and be perfectly fulfilled emotionally, physically and financially, just by themselves. What is the purpose of marriage, she asks. Perhaps marriage was "invented" as a means for women to have emotional, physical and financial security during a time when they would not or could not be independent. Marriage was supposed to provide a stable, committed environment for two people to have children together. It was supposed to make two people responsible, not only for their own financial future, but for each other. Not to mention all the federal tax benefits. It seems, my coworker and I agreed, that the feminist movement has advanced women's accompliments and successes in countless ways, but also bitten us in the ass. Women no longer have the "need" for financial support from men. We have become independent-minded and free-spirited and, dare I say, self-serving completely on our own. But guess what. It's not just us. Men are the same. (Thanks to the feminist movement, we demanded the "total mutuality" and "equality" from them). Why would a man be inclined to marry when he could have the same lifestyle and comfort and freedom in non-married, non-commited coupledom? Men and women do not want the commitment or the responsibility of marriage anymore. Where does love come in? Well, back in the day, men and women didn't necessarily marry for love (except in the movies). They were married on the basis of compatibility, status, class, race, etc. But marrying just for love would be foolish. As Jong explicitly pointed out, modern day marriages get affected by the fast pace of real life. The love and passion fades. Then what are you left with? To me, is there any difference between dying alone and dying with someone you don't love or care for at all? I'm not really sure if there is a "purpose" to marriage these days. I don't fear not getting married. I know I will have a couple kids - maybe adopt one too. I know I will continue to wholeheartedly [and perhaps, selfishly] pursue a career that I enjoy. And I hope along the way I meet someone who I can laugh with, dance with, tease, and experiment my cooking on, and if/when the love wanes, we would still be best friends. It's not so much the marriage that I'm afraid I won't find, as much as the importance of companionship. To me, marriage is just a legal document. I can do anything I want on my own, but it would be awfully lonely if I can't share it with anyone.
"Would most women get married if they knew what it meant? I think of young women following their husbands wherever their husbands follow their jobs. I think of them suddenly finding themselves miles away from friends and family. I think of them making babies out of their lonliness and boredom and not knowing why. I think of their men always harried and exhausted from being on the make. I think of them seeing each other less after marriage than before. I think of them falling into bed too exhausted to screw. I think of them farther apart in the first year of marriage than they ever imagined two people could be when they were courting. Not: when did it all go wrong? But: when was it ever right? A grim picture. What did I know? I wanted 'total mutuality,' 'companionship,' 'equality.' Did I know about how men sit there glued to the paper while you clear the table? How they pretend to be all thumbs when you ask them to mix the frozen orange juice?...I know some good marriages. Second marriages mostly. Marriages where both people have outgrown the bullshit of me-Tarzan, you-Jane and are just trying to get through their days by helping each other, being good to each other, doing the chores as they come up and not worrying too much about who does what. Maybe marriages are best in middle age. When all the nonsense falls away and you realize you have to love one another because you're going to die anyway."
Brilliant. I got into a conversation with a coworker yesterday and she asked if I'm afraid, like her girl friends in their late-twenties and mid-thirties, that I'll never get married. In this day and age, she argued, men and women can get on with their lives and be perfectly fulfilled emotionally, physically and financially, just by themselves. What is the purpose of marriage, she asks. Perhaps marriage was "invented" as a means for women to have emotional, physical and financial security during a time when they would not or could not be independent. Marriage was supposed to provide a stable, committed environment for two people to have children together. It was supposed to make two people responsible, not only for their own financial future, but for each other. Not to mention all the federal tax benefits. It seems, my coworker and I agreed, that the feminist movement has advanced women's accompliments and successes in countless ways, but also bitten us in the ass. Women no longer have the "need" for financial support from men. We have become independent-minded and free-spirited and, dare I say, self-serving completely on our own. But guess what. It's not just us. Men are the same. (Thanks to the feminist movement, we demanded the "total mutuality" and "equality" from them). Why would a man be inclined to marry when he could have the same lifestyle and comfort and freedom in non-married, non-commited coupledom? Men and women do not want the commitment or the responsibility of marriage anymore. Where does love come in? Well, back in the day, men and women didn't necessarily marry for love (except in the movies). They were married on the basis of compatibility, status, class, race, etc. But marrying just for love would be foolish. As Jong explicitly pointed out, modern day marriages get affected by the fast pace of real life. The love and passion fades. Then what are you left with? To me, is there any difference between dying alone and dying with someone you don't love or care for at all? I'm not really sure if there is a "purpose" to marriage these days. I don't fear not getting married. I know I will have a couple kids - maybe adopt one too. I know I will continue to wholeheartedly [and perhaps, selfishly] pursue a career that I enjoy. And I hope along the way I meet someone who I can laugh with, dance with, tease, and experiment my cooking on, and if/when the love wanes, we would still be best friends. It's not so much the marriage that I'm afraid I won't find, as much as the importance of companionship. To me, marriage is just a legal document. I can do anything I want on my own, but it would be awfully lonely if I can't share it with anyone.
August 7, 2007
The Wonder Years. . .
The first crush I ever had was when I was eight years old. I could barely do long division yet but I definitely knew what it felt like to really like a boy. Big green eyes, prominent nose, black curly hair. He was four years older than me and so, in my eyes, he was waaaay cooler. I adored him. Of course, I was still stuck in a prepubescent body, with bushy eyebrows and chubby cheeks. But he was always so generous to me, when he really didn't have to be - letting me play his Nintendo Mario Bros., lending me his Hot Wheels, including me in Monopoly games with his friends, teaching me soccer (I never dared to reveal that I was a girly girl and had Barbies). I remember we used to use pennies to play our version of table soccer, where the pennies were players and we had goals set up in each side of a table. It was a brilliant way for me to learn the field positions, actually. He was smart, kind, the typical "good son" (as they say in Farsi). We even had the same piano teacher and orthodontist. I was so smitten I would PRAY that I'd run into him before a lesson or appointment. Alas, since he was four grade levels ahead of me, I never shared any school hallways with him, even though we went to the same elementary and middle schools. One time I was playing in his family's basement with his hot wheel cars and he came downstairs to grab a notebook and go back to his room. The basement could get awfully dusty. I sneezed, but accidentally farted at the same time. I was MORTIFIED. I was in denial, convincing myself that he didn't hear because he never said anything to me. He just ran back upstairs, with notebook in hand. To this day, it gives me the exact same feeling of utter embarrassment when I look back at that eight year old who let one slip in front of her first love. We began to lose touch, him being preoccupied with high school, me being preoccupied with the awkwardness of puberty. In retrospect, I realize that he definitely influenced the standards for the type of guy that has piqued my interest throughout the years. The nerdy, smart, talented, loyal, good-hearted guy that I look up to and admire. I don't remember the last time I saw him but even after all these years, I used to wonder where he was, how he changed, whether he got married. I just recently learned where he is now and what he's up to, but I can never bring myself to contacting him. I think I'd rather just leave the ideal, perfect image of him in my memory, just as he is.
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