C's Collected Dating Wisdom, Vol 1

I went through some gchats between myself and C when my boyf and I first started dating in order to give C some of her own advice about that weird, awkward, beginning period with a new boy.  This is for everyone, but especially for C.

• Men suck.  This is why women own and run everything.  This is why the advice in He's Just Not That Into You is flawed: "if he likes you, he'll make it happen."  Men are fucking lazy, especially men our age.  And they're used to girls/women just doing everything.
• I think you need to not give a fuck.
• But I think you should continually ask yourself this question: how engaged is he in who I am? And what I’m doing?  And how interested in his life am I demonstrating myself to be?
• You should take a step back and think logically and not make this the be all, end all.  Because there really are a zillion other fish in the sea
• Yeah, [going on awkward first/second/third dates] blows.  But this is the path you're going to have to travel.
• This is not rocket science.  He likes you.  He's just trying to be semi aloof.
• Just freaking be like “we should hang out this weekend.”  And if he doesn't want to, he'll blow it off.
• Yeah, I know you want a boyfriend.  But you don't want a shitty boyfriend.  And you certainly don't want one that makes you plan everything.
• I mean, there are lots of guys out there that will jump to date you, but in the end guys that are easy to date are more hassle later on.  So you have to deal with a bunch of time consuming/exhausting crap regardless.
• Men who are easy to date are just more time consuming exhausting crap on the backend of things.
• Again I go back to my old mantra: boys are stupid.

Commitment: If Barbie Can Do It So Can You

"There are plenty of other fish in the sea!"

I live in New York City.  NYC has a population of 8.4 million people (approximately), 48% of the population is male.  Therefore, there are approximately 4 million men in New York City.  I don't have the figures on how many of those men are single.  But my point is this: there are literally more men in New York City than one woman could go through in eight lifetimes.  There are plenty of fish in the sea indeed!

One might think that this is awesome! No matter what happens, you can just nix one guy and move on to the next like it ain't no thang.  While, yes this is empirically true, this is a TERRIBLE way to think! I like to think of it this way: when you have just one piece of chocolate, you savor that chocolate, you take your time eating it, you taste every ounce of it.  However, if you have a huge box of chocolates you gobble them down like it's your job then you feel horrible nauseous and/or guilty about it moments later.  Men are just like chocolate in this case.  Women (myself included) roll through town, making out with gentlemen left and right, barely giving any of them the time of day, and they end up without anyone.  This loneliness is even more frustrating because there are sooooo many of them!

I'm not saying that men don't do this exact same thing, they probably do....although, I think they are often (genuinely) too busy bro-ing out / teabagging their best friend to notice.  Mutual attraction and dedication to starting something has to come from both sides.  If you are bouncing around town looking for Mr. Right anywhere that he might be, you're not going to find him.   You need to be looking for who IS right for you, not some mythical being who probably doesn't exist.  Connections are great, hard to fake, but easy to misunderstand--but those connections aren't going to happen if you're continually searching for the next best thing.  So if your type is "hotter/smarter/more successful than the last loser," maybe you're not doing something right.  If your only qualm with someone really great is that there are (probably) better guys out there, maybe you're not ready. So I urge you (and myself) to think, not about who else is out there, but who is in front of you....and if that's a person you really want to be in front of you long term.

Today Was a Big Big Day For B and C Learn to Compromise!

"Things are more like they are now than they ever were before. " -Dwight D. Eisenhower

I like to sometimes think of my life as a children's book geared toward new adults.  Is this absurd? Absolutely.  Is it somewhat appropriate? Maybe! Being a young twenty something fresh out of college is kind of like being a child on their way to adulthood (aka the sixth grade). [Editor's Note: Both B and I, in the sixth grade, thought we were adults.  Like: "Welp! I'm in middle school now, I must be an adult!"]  Something I have been learning a lot about up until now has been compromise.  I've noticed that there is a HUGE difference between what I feel and what I know up in that old brain of mine.  This is a very hard concept for many people to grasp.  It is also a very delicate balancing act that we all must participate in (heyyyyo circus of life!).  One very large element of this daring balancing act is of course compromise.

I'll give some examples: when I was but a young 20 year old I had a friend who had a crush.  I did not know about this crush until I had already started drunkenly chatting him up outside of a fraternity on a blustery January night.  She then proceeded to capture my attention and tell me "anyone but him, I've had a crush on him for forever."  Because I'm kind of a bitch and was (am?) a lot immature, I manipulated her into agreeing that it was fine and that I shouldn't worry about it a couple hours later.  This led to a short relationship, a terrible finale, and losing a few really close friends.  Was it worth it? Absolutely not.  Would I ever do it again? Not in a thousand years!  So even though that idiotic action led to disaster, I learned a lot from it and like to spread that wisedom to others when the situation allows.  If ever placed in this situation again I would learn the compromise: which is forget the guy and do not compromise your friendships / crush your friends dreams.

Similarly, learn to compromise with society.  I am a little crazy (who isn't ammmirighhht?!), and I like to do whatever the f#@k I want regardless of social conventions and the opinions of others.  As an adult, I've had to realize that perhaps this is not the best course of action.  UNLESS, your goal is to be the creepiest person on the bus/subway/other method of public transit, then you should go absolutely throw caution to the wind!  When it comes to guys, I normally just did whatever I want regardless if it was creepy or weird.  Once out in the real world, I realized perhaps this is not the best option.  So I learned that I should not friend someone who is not searchable on facebook and uses their middle name in lieu of their last name (the only way you found them was because your friend searched for mutual friends and looked for someone with his first name and school information that matched your knowledge of his background).  That would be creepy.  But in this day and age, you know what else is creepy?  Hanging out with a gentleman for a month and be excluded from his online identity.  However, I must choose the lesser of two awkwards and refrain from the creepster friend.  Instead B suggested I casually bring up being gchat friends, that being a very direct and nonawkward topic to broach (since we've already discussed his habit of spending the day on gchat).  I will take your compromise madam!...but I'm still going to grumble about how weird it is that we're not facebook friends.

So there you have it.  As an adult you cautiously walk the path between fEeLiNgZ and reason and choose your best footing, using the best tool out there: compromise.  I think the best way to find those compromises is to acknowledge your feelings (I know, gross right? Plus feelings are hard) and to attempt to apply reasonable actions to them.  In summation, being a grown up is harrrrrd.

The Waiting Game

From the wise, wise pages of Wikipedia:
Patience is the state of endurance under difficult circumstances, which can mean persevering in the face of delay or provocation without acting on annoyance/anger in a negative way; or exhibiting forbearance when under strain, especially when faced with longer-term difficulties. Patience is the level of endurance one's character can take before negativity. It is also used to refer to the character trait of being steadfast. Antonyms include hastiness and impetuousness.

In the grown up word there is a lot of waiting.  This waiting often comes when you are in no position to want to wait: waiting on approval for you new apartment, waiting to hear back from the job you just interviewed for, waiting for men to text/call you back.  Yes, lots and lots of waiting.  I seriously hate waiting.  I am probably the LEAST patient person on the face of the earth.  Thus, when forced into a state of wait, I become a petulant, insane child.

I just got a new job (YAY!).  But! On the way to this job I had to go through three interviews. THREE! After each interview I was nervous and anxious hoping to God that they liked me, going over and over in my head the things that I said, that they said.  Finally, I got the call today that they did in fact like me and that they hoped to bring me aboard! What great news!

If only relationships were this easy (WHAT?! Getting a job in this economy?! You're trying to tell me that getting a job is easy?!....My response: Have you recently tried getting a man in this social economy of virtually ubiquitous Peter Pans??)  But the exact part I'm talking about is the one two punch of interviews.  The prosepective goes on anywhere between one and three interviews (dates, let's be real), and by the end a decision is made!  The best part? They CALL you to tell you what they've decided! How great! How modern!

Dating seems (from my limited experience) to be so muddled, confusing, and irritating that I halfway want to throw in the towel.  It feels like nothing is ever going to work out and I'll probably be alone forever (an object at rest stays at rest, etc), but I know that this isn't empirically true....a force almost always acts upon that object at rest. Right? Right.  But needless to say, here I am waiting (again) to see if that force will act against that object and things will move into motion.  However, how long before I know they're in motion? Like for sure.  Like indefinitely? Like exclusively? God only knows.  Perhaps after the eleventh interview we can just assume I got the job...or didn't.  I guess I'll just have to wait and see.

Hint of Salt, Shot of Tequila, Adulthood Chaser

Tequila. Ouch.

In New York City there are many ways to experience the city: going out to bars, sightseeing, taking a famed yellow cab, overpaying for drinks, food, anything in Times Square, etc.  I live in NYC and I am an adult (last I checked), so some of these things are not for me (see: anything touristy).

In the spirit of B's post, about how being twenty-something is a mixed bag of adulthood and irresponsible/immature childish behavior, I am going to recap my weekend.  Last weekend I had a revelation, going out to bars does not always have to mean going out on the prowl.  There IS such a thing as going out, not looking for a member of the opposite sex, and just having fun generally.  I know that this is a novel and strange idea, but just go with me.

I would like to preface my story of the weekend with these preponderances about dating:
Being twenty-something and single is confusing.  On the one hand, I am very used to the way things worked at my college: drunkenly make out with someone you've heard of before (see: small campus), hook up with them (extra long twin bed WHOOP WHOOP!), exchange numbers, continue to hook up several weekends in a row, and finally be exclusively hooking up for perhaps the rest of the term (#NOTADULT).  On the other hand, I AM an adult now (or so I'm told) and I should be following a more mature set of steps towards coupledom.  I am fairly sure that these steps are: meet at some random location that is not a bar (so far step one has COMPLETELY eluded me in my adult life), exchange pleasant banter and digits, party #1 calls party #2 on the telephone (step three, also seeming very mythological to me) and sets up drinks at a point in the near future, date #1 is had, more dates are had, there is a discussion about exclusivity, and then you're dating...like Facebook official...like indefinitely (decidedly #adult).

So I went out Saturday night with the intention of just having a good time, meeting some new [PLATONIC] friends, and getting a little wastey-face (notice how I said "A LITTLE").  This idea =  verrrry #adult. The previous weekend I had made out with a young, finance gentleman at a bar (#notadult), and he had taken my number so we could hang out sometime.  I find that young gentlemen that find their way into my life are also quite baffled by the ways of twenty-something dating.  They, too, are torn between the ways they're used to (see: boning on twin size bed) and the ways of adults (see: dating).  When a guy says (cough texts) "Let's hang out some time," that could mean either let's meet up at 2 am and go back to my place and bone on my futon (#NOTadult) or let me take you to this secret, underground, amazing speakeasy bar in the East Village and we can talk for a couple hours and decide if this is worth the time, energy, and money (#adult).  So far, I'm led to believe that gentlemen met in bars are decidedly in favor of the former plan of action.

I started the night off with plans to meet an old acquaintance at her friend's apartment, which was only a block from mine.  She just so happened to tell me to go up to 2G and NOT 2H, 2G being the complete wrong apartment full of strangers.  I knocked on the door and was ushered inside.  New York City is not famed for it's large apartments, so I think we can all assume what this apartment looked like.  That being said, I was face to face with ten completely random strangers, none of whom were my friend.  I laughed and played it off and they were friendly enough to demand that I partake of a beer with them.  It was altogether not horrible and it turned out that many of the strangers actually knew people I know (heyyooooo NYC being a small world).  So with incredible poise and grace, I made the best of a decisively awkward situation (#adult) and chugged down that Bud Light (#NotAdult).

After making it to the CORRECT apartment, I proceded to make polite conversation and be generally friendly.  We then ventured to a bar on the Lower East Side, where I took not one, but many, tequila shots.  Whoever invented tequila must have hated mankind.  By the end of the night I was wandering aimlessly through the bar, nearly blackout drunk.  At that point I'd had wine, beer, whiskey, tequila, more beer, more whiskey, more tequila...in short, nightmare.  Mixing alcohols: #NOTadult.  Typically in such a state of disarray, I would do something stupid: see drunk text messaging, making out with strangers, saying mean things to people I just meant, brutal honesty, hooking up with people I KNOW I shouldn't, etc etc etc etc. I did walk up to a guy who was standing semi near a girl (AND GROUP OF PEOPLE) and hit on him only to find out he was "kind of seeing" the girl he was standing near.  That's a little embarrassing, but not altogether horrible.  It's definitely been worse! (Sad? Should I not admit that?)  The finance gentleman texted me a bit with a desire to come meet me, but his friends weren't cooperating so I made it out of the bar without temptation of a late night hang out.

I made it home in one piece and didn't do anything that made me feel too awful the next day....except for all the tequila, and beer, and whiskey.....welllll maybe Sunday wasn't so pretty after all.  I actually wanted to die Sunday and thought I actually might, but luckily it wasn't from embarrassment, it was just alcohol poisoning.  Victory!....right?

Valentine's Day, Time for a Big Slap of Reality to the Face

B was telling me the other day that she underexaggerated her relationship with her boyfriend when telling her cousin about him a few weeks ago.  This led to him being almost insultingly surprised that "that is still going on."  I find that, when talking to family members, I often OVERexaggerate my relationships with men.  I have several reasons for doing this.  Reasons being:
1. "Sooooooooo......meet any guys out there in New York City???" -My stepmom
     -Translation: "Sooooooo....have you purchased any cats yet?....You know, to sate your unremitting  
       loneliness?"
     -Rebuttal: I AM TWENTY-TWO YEARS OLD, NOT FORTY!
2. "C, are you.....................................................................................weird?" -My mom
     -Translation: "C, are you a big, butch lesbian??"
     -Rebuttal: I love sex.....with men. THE END OF THE STORY.
3. "It's your turn girl!" -My mom
     -Translation: "When you gon' be poppin' out some grand babies?!?!?!"
     -Rebuttal: A. YOU ALREADY HAVE FIVE GRANDCHILLENS' CRAZY! B. I AM TWENTY-
      TWO YEARS OLD, NOT FORTY!

So, when talking to family members, I tend to exaggerate my relationships.  Repeat hook ups (read: F**k Buddy) with a socially retarded, med school bound hottie equals "kinnnnd of seeing this guy...but we're not that serious."  Going on one date and planning a second, which never really happens because he's the flakiest man on earth, equals "Well there's this great British guy who I could see myself dating, we'll see where things go....could get serious."  Because when it comes down to it, they're three thousand or so miles away, they'll believe what I tell them.  Honestly, I don't really think that they're looking for the straight answer, they're really looking for what they want to hear (aren't we all?)....soooooo I justify the exaggeration.

With Valentine's Day looming, it becomes a time where we all really have to come to terms with the little exaggerations we've made in our love lives.  If you're not spending the big night together (barring conscientious objectors), you're not dating, you're not serious, and it's possibly (probably) not going anywhere.  Valentine's Day, while full of garbage and forced romantic exhibitionism, is the great revealer in so many ways.  As for me, I'm pretty glad I'm not spending V Day with any of my recent exaggerations.  I'm not sure I could handle a date that's sole conversational fare is comprised of soccer...and I certainly couldn't handle a V Day dinner with a mate who can't put his phone down for one second and passes out at 11 pm.  These kinds of V Day losers sure make the time in between fun, but they're certainly no one to devote any real energy or special feelings towards.  So thank you St. Valentine, for removing any kind of illusions I would have had about these men and replacing them with illusions of love to come.  For now, I guess I'll just spend Valentine's Day, like I would any other day: watching How I Met Your Mother and being content with myself.

In the vein of illusions of the heart and mind, I would like to present the illusions of Taylor Swift's heart and mind with an in depth comparison of an element of her artistry.
Back to December: An Analysis of the Elements......

Valentine's Day

Last year, for Valentine's Day, I did a post for C and my former blog called "Conversation Hearts for College."  As I stated then, "Valentine's Day is a pretty anti-climatic day at a college where hook-ups are the norm. With this in mind, I created some conversation hearts that communicate how most co-eds feel this weekend. And pretty much every other weekend."  For V-Day 2011, I'll share the college hearts that are no longer approp and some that are still in play, as well as some additions for the world of twenty-something dating.

Sooo college:

Still somewhat in play:

The 20-something world of dating:

 

Happy Valentine's Day!