Sundays

Tonight I got off the plane at LaGuardia and had this urge to call 'F'.   While we haven't actually seen each other since August, he and I have still been in not infrequent contact, though the purpose of said contact remains hazy at best.

It happened while I waited in the cab line.  As I stood there in the 40 degree weather in my 65 degree outfit, I watched a couple in their late 20s/early 30s in line in front of me, him holding her close for warmth.  It was clear that he had been away for the weekend and she had met him at the airport.  She announced happily that she had made him tortillas.  "Made them?!" he responded.  "Okay, okay, I didn't make them.  But I got them for you!"  Just as I was ready to peg them as a three to six-month-old couple - somewhere in the stage where one still wants to meet the other at the airport - I noticed their simple, matching wedding bands.  And suddenly my eye-rolling at their cutesy cuddliness turned into a combination of envious yearning and mad jealousy.  A wave of loneliness hit me.  I thought I might start tearing up in the cab line, and that is when I had the urge to call 'F'.

It's pretty ironic considering I see 'F' as this emotionally unreachable being - a bit set in his own ways and a lot closed off.  Though I doubt he would never admit it outright, I think he tires of leading a solitary life.  The one time he ever hinted at feeling alone, he all but retracted it the following day.  I think part of the reason I haven't fully cut him out of my life is that I almost feel sorry for him, in an empathetic way.  I look at him and fear that his life is what mine could look like in five years - living alone, with almost all of my friends married or coupled off and feeling as though my job was a dead-end.  I can't help but wonder whether there was some dramatic event in his life that rendered him so emotionally shut-off - a broken engagement or unrequited love perhaps?  Or was it a series of failed attempts at relationships that gradually chipped away at his capacity to love?

I honestly have no idea, but I rather hope it's the former, for my sake.

What I Learned from My 2010 New Year’s Resolution

I have always been a list-maker.  To me, it is simply a natural part of being an organized human being, like having a planner or a box of blank labels.  As a kid, I methodically catalogued each and every one of my stuffed animals (and there were plenty, I assure you).  It was basically a list of their names and a brief description, you know, just in case Floppy fled to Canada and I had to file a Missing Beanie Baby Report.

Today, I keep lists upon lists upon lists.  Some are more useful than others.  There are lists of restaurants I like for brunch, restaurants I like to recommend for dates, restaurants I want to try.  Then there’s a list of jobs to apply for eventually.  A list of books I want to read.   And of course, The To Do List.  Naturally, I don’t have any old ordinary to do list.   My to dos are separated out into errands that I can definitely run when I have downtime at work (CVS), errands that I could possibly run if I have a LOT of downtime at work (Saks), errands that I have to run on weekends (ikea), household items I need to get (swiffer refills), groceries I’ve run out of (olive oil), things to ask others (get gyno rec from Jane), things that I want to look up on the internet (population of Vermont) and things that I want to buy but will require some comparison shopping (tan boots).  Just reading my list of lists (which doesn’t even cover all of my lists) stresses me out.

The great thing about lists is that I don’t worry that I’ll forget something.  The bad thing about lists is that I don’t forget anything.  I am constantly reminded that there are all of these things that I need to do, get, try.

Now, my 2010 resolution had nothing to do with ridding myself of lists.  My resolution was to stop buying kitchen accessories.   I realized I had a problem when I bought a corn stripper and stuck it in my gadget drawer next to a cake tester, mushroom brush and melon baller.

Looking back, I began to realize just how much time I wasted unintentionally shopping for kitchen gadgets.  Because of that damn “To get for kitchen” list that was always stored in my phone, every time I passed a kitchen supply store – even the Williams-Sonoma that I passed at least weekly – I had to go in.   I’d pluck out my BlackBerry and peruse the store for items that I could potentially erase from the “To get for kitchen” list.  Four out of five times, I’d decide I just couldn’t justify spending $40 on a box grater or $200 on a stand-mixer and leave the store empty-handed.  Stand-mixer has been on my “To get for kitchen” list for at least 5 years now.

So on January 1, 2010, I deleted the “To get for kitchen” list from my phone.  It was strangely liberating to know that it wasn’t there anymore.   That I couldn’t access it when I walked into a kitchen store.   Looking new set of red wine glasses no longer seemed like something I needed to do on a Saturday afternoon.  I still went into kitchen stores every now and then to admire, but at some point, my former preoccupation with kitchen gadgets started to fade.  The last time I went into a kitchen store, I got through the portal and walked back out.  Why was I in there?  I couldn’t buy anything anyway (without breaking my resolution) and more importantly, I neither needed nor wanted to buy anything.   Once I let go of my obsession with clearing my “To get for kitchen” list, I had one less idle obsession occupying my time.

I worry some about becoming too set in my own ways, of getting into a habit of doing things and not really knowing why I’m doing them (like walking into every kitchen store I pass).  I worry about becoming too preoccupied with the list itself rather than focusing on what’s really important or necessary on that list.  I could probably draw some deeper parallel here to relate it to the general theme of my writings here, but I’d rather not right now.   My point is really just this: getting rid of my “To get for kitchen list” was just one small step toward letting go of obsessions that bring more bad than good into my life.

Waiting

My generation (the "Millenials" or "Gen Y" or whatever other arbitrary name has been assigned to us) is collectively known as a bunch of whiny, entitled, lazy, willfully ignorant (my favorite), spoiled brats.  You won't get much of an argument from me on this point; too often I fit the description of a Millenial.  But if there's something that irks me to no end about the Millenial mindset is the attitude exemplified in John Mayer's Waiting for the World to Change.  I used to really love that song until one day I actually thought about the lyrics.  It is so symptomatic of our generation to say something like, "We just feel like we don't have the means / To rise above and beat it / So we keep waiting / Waiting on the world to change."  If there was a theme song for Millenials, I'd say that's it.  We complain, and then we shrug our shoulders and say there's nothing we can do about it.  We're a generation that doesn't effect change so much as wait for someone else to do it for us.

Now it's not as though I'm out there working on a grassroots campaign to change the world, but when it comes to my personal life, I'm not a fan of waiting around.  I do not subscribe to the love-happens-when-you-least-expect-it school of thought, I'm more of a when-it-rains-it-pours kind of girl.

And so, I've done all sorts of things since moving to New York to inject change into my life.  A lot of it has been motivated by dating.  Forcing myself to go out.  Forcing myself to go on second dates even when I know they're not leading anywhere.  Forcing myself to try match.  And then every time that starts feeling empty, I try to fill the void simply by keeping busy with things I enjoy.  Signing up for classes.  Signing up for sports teams.  Signing up for a blog.  Signing up for community service projects.   Signing up for things that make me feel like I am enriching my life in any sort of way.  Signing up for things that keep me from feeling like I am wasting away my weekends and evenings sitting in front of my TV, alone.  

But sometimes it all seems like a rather temporary fix.  I can keep myself busy all I want, but at the end of the day, I still come home to an empty apartment and I still don't have any real control over certain aspects of my life.  It still feels as though I am waiting around.  Waiting on the world to change.

Reminders

The month of September was quite blissfully boy-free.  As the month drew to an end, I wondered to myself whether I should sit down and re-evaluate this dating break.  Should I set a date (pun not intended) for when I need to make myself get back out there? And then I thought about just how ridiculous that sounds.  Sometime it's nice to set "goals" but maybe I could benefit from a little less structure and a little more enjoying what life throws at me.

This weekend confirmed that for me.  I went to a wedding - one of the most fun weddings I've been to -  small and casual and just lovely.  It was in the groom's parents' backyard, the tent was set up right next to the groom's childhood swing set, the bride's friend from college officiated the ceremony, the guests sipped bloody marys during the vows and everyone was drunk by about 4:30 pm (Irish wedding).  So, not unsurprisingly I suppose, I wound up shacking up with one of the few single guys there.

Now usually after a hook-up with a random guy, I wake up the morning after with a terrible hangover and a feeling of self-loathing.  But not this time.  This time I woke up and couldn't help but just smile when he reminded me that he had written "I heart men" on my arm like a tattoo and then laugh in horror when I discovered a dried-up lime wedge in my purse.

I'm not quite sure what felt different about this one.  Maybe it was just that he made me feel comfortable and secure.  I slept more soundly snuggled up in his arms than I have in recent memory.  (Okay, that could have also been the alcohol.)  Maybe it was that there was no expectation of anything continuing since he lives on the other side of the country.  Maybe it was just that it was fun and completely unexpected.  For once, I just enjoyed what life threw at me.

But more than anything else, he reminded me that there really are attractive, young, smart, straight, single men out there.   And he was really nice too.  It made me wonder if I have been unnecessarily putting up with a lot of shit from New York boys and not even realizing it.  He reminded me that maybe not all cute boys are assholes.  And he reminded me how fun it can be to be single.   After a year of being heartbreakingly disheartened and constantly worn down, it was a reminder that I absolutely needed.

Someone to Lean On

A few weeks ago, I cried on the phone to 'F'.

It's almost comical to see in those words on a screen.  If nothing else, this year will go down in history as the year of uncontrollable crying.  I think I've cried more in the first three quarters of 2010 than I did in all of the entire previous decade (granted, crying twice a year was probably my previous norm).   The odd thing about this particular instance was that it was even more random than usual.  'F' didn't say anything to piss me off (for once).  Actually, he probably didn't say anything more than "Hey."  Literally.  He called me, I picked up and the next thing I knew, nothing was coming out but tears. 

I was tired.  Tired of being in charge.  Tired of being responsible.  Tired of being in control but not in control.  Tired of doing everything for myself.  Tired of doing shit for other people.  Tired of organizing get-togethers to no one's full satisfaction.  Tired of answering questions like "Where's X Bar?" when the questioner could have easily taken an extra 4 seconds to type the "X Bar" into google instead of immediately sending me an email.  Tired of giving date recommendations to my guy friends.  Tired of giving second date recommendations.  Tired of giving recommendations period.   Tired.

Most of the above are things that I generally enjoy, or at least don't mind, but after an entire summer of what felt like constantly stepping up when others weren't, there were times when I just wished I could go to my parents' house, crawl into my childhood bed and have my mom take care of me.  Escape all of my responsibilities, even for just a moment, and let someone else do things for me for once.

I guess it is quickly becoming the one critical trait that I look for in a guy.  It's not necessarily how funny or how smart or how cute they are, it's that Darwinian instinct in me that asks, can he take care of me?   And for me, that means whether he's someone that I feel like I could turn the reins over to, even for just a moment.

Nobody Just Wants To Be Friends

Nobody just wants to be friends.  This has quickly become one of my favorite phrases.  Originally, the phrase was used in this context:

Cute Friend: This older guy who is friends with my friends but isn't friends with any of them on facebook just friended me and then said we should get coffee.  Is that weird?
Cute Friend's Friend: Yes.
Cute Friend: But he's just really friendly.  I think he just wants to be friends.
Cute Friend's Friend: Nobody just wants to be friends.

We started using the phrase repeatedly because said Cute Friend gets this type of "friendly" message all the time.  I think of it as a "feeler" message.  Generally, no one, especially not someone you know through friends, really wants to just lay it out there up front so instead they ask if you want to do something wishy washy that makes you think well, maybe-it's-a-date-but-maybe-it's-not.   The last time I got a feeler message like that, I told him I thought his friend was cute (and then that friend and I dated).  Yeah, I was that brutal.

So anyway, the phrase has become applicable in my own life lately.  The guy I went on one match date with ages ago actually emailed me MULTIPLE TIMES to see if I just wanted to grab lunch in the park or go to an architecture lecture with him or see a movie with him and his friends, you know, "just as friends."  It's probably my own fault since I pulled the "I'm too busy to date" line.  At first I sent him polite, but what I thought were very clear, responses.  And eventually I stopped responding full stop.  Nobody just wants to be friends.

And then 'G', the Good Guy who I just couldn't bring myself to keep dating, emailed me out of the blue a few weeks ago and asked if I'd be interested in hanging out with him and some of his friends now that football season is starting up (Uh, what?  I do not watch football), totally not as a date thing (riiight), just because he thought I was really fun (well, thanks) and might have fun joining up with him and his buddies sometime (because that wouldn't be awkward).  I don't know that I could've had a more negative reaction.  I wondered if I was just being too cynical, so of course I told half my friends (aka forwarded the email) about it, who similarly concurred that it was weird, and then I proceeded to tell an entire bachelorette party the story, and they all thought it was weird too.  Nobody just wants to be friends.  (On the bright side though, in one fell swoop, that email erased any chance of me having any future regrets about ending it with him.)

And then 'F' popped up again.  True to form, I just asked him why the fuck he was emailing me.  In a nutshell, he said, can't I just say hi?  I said, no.  He said, we can't be friends?  And I said, what?  No. Why would we be friends? Nobody just wants to be friends.

Now I know.  It is so absurdly cynical, but if you think about it, in a post-college stage in life, isn't it sort of true?  There's always some reason, as innocuous as it may be, that you wind up exchanging numbers with a member of the opposite sex - whether it's that you want to date them, or that you want to date their friends, or that you want to work for the company they work for, or that you need a new tennis buddy.  Sure you may eventually end up becoming actual friends after you've dated/dated their friends/gotten a job/played sports together, but at the very beginning, there was probably some ulterior motive.  Since graduating, I cannot think of a single straight guy I've become friends with purely because I thought he would be a fun friend.  It's kind of like in that episode of Friends when Joey challenges Phoebe to find/perform a truly selfless act and she fails.

Nobody just wants to be friends.

Hiding the Ball

I recently read an article about a study that measured the happiness of married couples one, five and ten years after marriage.  And they didn't measure the happiness of just any old married couples; they compared happiness of arranged marriages versus "love marriages."  Surprisingly (or maybe unsurprisingly), the couples whose marriages had been arranged were happier than their love marriage peers five years after getting hitched and much MUCH happier ten years after tying the knot.

Granted I have no idea how this study "measured" and "compared" happiness, but my first thought was well, obviously, the arranged marriage couples were quote unquote happier.  Their expectations were lower!  Happiness is nothing if not relative.  Case in point: I loved law school.  But was I actually happier while I was in law school than I had been in college or at any point in my life before that?  Or was it simply that I had expected it to be horrible and when it wasn't, I was suddenly not just happy that it didn't suck but I was also happy that my decision to attend law school had been validated and I wouldn't eventually regret being saddled with a miserable amount of debt to pay for a miserable three years.  So, my point is, of course arranged marriage couples are happier.  They probably expected it to suck.   So when it didn't suck as much as it did, they were happy that it didn't suck and on top of it all, they were happy that they were happy.

(Or.  Maybe the people whose marriages were arranged had spent two years being single in New York and had given up hope that they would ever find anyone so they were just grateful that their parents were able to find someone for them to marry at all.)

The study did not espouse any such cynical theories.  The one that struck me the most was the idea that in arranged marriages, everyone's faults are out there on the table from the start.  Everything has already been vetted and all the cobwebs have been swept out of the closet.  You know exactly what you're getting into.  On the the other hand, with 21st century dating, you can spend months getting to know someone and still have no idea what the catch is.

Now, I realize that maybe not everyone has a catch.   And for my own sanity, I think I'd want to know that too.  If there are NO deal breakers attached to a particular guy, it would be great to know that up front, so I could stop looking for faults and stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I feel like I've spend way too much time trying to figure out the end of the phrase "he's really great but..."  And similarly, I feel like I've expended a lot of energy hiding my crazy girl side from guys I've dated.  So maybe it would be nice to just say to a guy at the very beginning, "Hi, nice to meet you.  And by the way, I can get a little nutso at times, I'm a commitment-phobe and I don't like holding hands."

This all sounds so nice to me in theory.  After years of futilely playing the dating game, the idea of having a little cheat sheet, a guide to getting the next level in Mario Bros., well, it just sounds lovely.  But then I wonder, if I did have such a cheat sheet, would I ever give anyone a chance in the first place? Would anyone give me a chance in the first place?  Maybe it IS better not to know someone's faults until you've had a chance to meet each other and sparks have flown.  Maybe it's only after falling in love with someone that you can really accept someone's faults because you actually want the good to outweigh the bad.

So is it better to have all the information up front?   Or is it better to keep hiding the ball?  I'm not sure.