Dating isn’t what it used to be. It used to be easier… simpler. Less complicated and convoluted.
Nicely put.

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@whatboysmaycome
Dating isn’t what it used to be. It used to be easier… simpler. Less complicated and convoluted.
Nicely put.
The Unmoored Wanderer
Originally posted on TwentySomethingsSomething.com, a blog dedicated to twentysomethings - past and present.
Tweet thoughts and reactions to @twentysomethings and @whatboysmaycome
http://www.twentysomethingsomething.com/2014/05/01/erica-29-the-unmoored-wanderer/
Erica is a twenty-nine-year-old trained sociologist and recent West Coast transplant from Oakland, California.
This is her life. This is her story.
“My mom grew up in Bronxville, New York, which is where Sarah Lawrence [College] is [located]. And when I was – gosh, ten or something – she had a high school reunion that she dragged me along to. I remember driving by Sarah Lawrence and turning to my mom and saying, ‘I’m gonna go to that school.’ My mom’s like, ‘Yeah, okay Erica – you’re ten.’ And to this day, I still don’t know why I said it. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I ended up loving Sarah Lawrence, but I also think one of the reasons why I went to Sarah Lawrence is because I had decided in my head when I was ten that I would go. I don’t know what it was at age ten that I was like, ‘Done. I’m going there,’ but I made the announcement, and I guess I had to stick to my ten-year-old announcement.
I had gone to a really small public high school. And so, though Sarah Lawrence is far from public, it had sort of the same vibe. Now I roll my eyes at this, but when I was eighteen, I really liked the artsy-ness of it [laughs]. I really liked that – at the first party I went to – there was someone just walking around naked. I was like, ‘These are the cool kids. These are my people.’ I do want to note that I never went, in my entire time [there], to a party naked – practically naked, but never fully naked.
‘IT’S ALL ABOUT CHOICE.’
What we have at Sarah Lawrence are called conference papers. So instead having final tests, we write these massive research papers. They usually are about fifty pages, and we write them for every class. And there’s always [this] horrible experience called ‘conference week’ where you leave everything up to the last minute, and you’re up every single night, all night writing fifteen pages a night. It’s crazy and stupid, but I’m a procrastinator.
But we got to choose our topics, [and] I found myself always being drawn to gendered topics and women’s studies topics in my papers. I wrote a paper on media representation of drag queens and what it meant. And I’m trying to think of some other ones… I did write a paper on Sex and the City, but [laughs]… This is also during a time when – my very first year at Sarah Lawrence – Sex and the City was still on the air. It was a critique of Sex and the City using feminist literature and talking about waves of feminism and what it brought to… But yeah, I’m a little embarrassed about [that].
I remember I was taking a class on the history of American beauty, and this girl was just going off on high heels. Like, ‘Why would women wear high heels? High heels, high heels…’ And it’s like, ‘Well, you’re never gonna get rid of [high heels].’ The reasoning behind the power structure in a society that produces high heels – women will wear [heels], technically, [for] the visual [and] aesthetic pleasure of men. Like, ‘Yeah, that’s not great.’ But at the same time, if you understand more beyond that, and if you’re making informed decisions – this is what I said to [her], ‘It’s all about choice.’ Often in the gendered world, we put so much emphasis on choice, and then we forget that, by negating experiences that are more mainstream, we’re taking away their choice. It’s stuff like that where I really became a firm believer in being aware of the world around you, as opposed to just critiquing it.
I think that what critiquing does is that it cuts the possibility for a vein of thought other than yours. I mean, if you’re aware of different veins of thought, [that], for me, [is] the goal. To disagree with them is natural; it’s absolutely okay to disagree with them. But to label them as ‘wrong’ or ‘correct’ is, I think, a problem. And if we’re talking gender, both sides of the argument do it. Especially feminists and women who fight that particular fight – they forget that what they’re fighting against is someone who has long since made up their mind that their way is the correct way. And just because you don’t agree with them doesn’t mean that their point of view doesn’t exist.
Feminism has come a long way, but there is still a stigma around [it] of [being] something that you have to hide. So you ask, ‘What’s one thing that Sarah Lawrence has done for me?’ It’s totally taken away any stigma. I mean, my mother was a very smart woman; she always identified as a feminist. I came from a family that made it very clear that to say you’re a feminist means that you are an intelligent person who has made herself aware of ideas other than the ones that are force fed to her. That’s what it’s always meant to me, and so I never had that stigma. But I feel like the one thing that Sarah Lawrence really did was solidify a total confidence in being able to say, ‘I’m a feminist, and if you have a problem with that, then that’s your problem. That’s not my problem.’
SOMETIMES I THINK BACK AND THINK, ‘WAS THAT COWARDLY?’
I moved to New York [City after graduation], and I got a job working in development at an Off-Broadway theater. I really liked that, and I had fun, but it was a ‘right out of school’ first job-job. I was a development assistant, which meant I took some abuse from a boss, and I worked at the opening-night parties pouring champagne [laughs]. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but I also had a friend who worked there who I’d gone to Sarah Lawrence with. And we had these amazing times where our boss would go crazy, and then we would leave work, go drink, and just talk about it.
At the time, it was like, ‘Oh, the working world! Being an adult! What’s happening?!’ But when I look back at it, it was just one of my cornerstone moments of learning what actually being an adult is. Because even though you’re an adult when you graduate [from] college, you’re not an adult. Like, I’m twenty-nine right now, and I think I’m barely an adult. Maybe that’s part of the millennial, ‘Boo-hoo-hoo! I hate growing up!’ thing, but when you’re twenty-two, you’re definitely not adult, and you have to learn how to be an adult. There were moments where I [thought], ‘Oh, do I wanna do this forever?’ I had done theater production in school, and I really enjoyed it. But as time went on, it was, ‘No…no, I’m good.’ And then, at the end of my time there, I was like, ‘You know what? What I do really want to do is continue my education. I want to go to grad school.’
Sometimes I think back and think, ‘Was that cowardly? Was that because I had this job, [and] I had such a great time at Sarah Lawrence? [This job] wasn’t what I wanted to do, and so I just sort of wanted to return to school?’ Maybe. It is very possible that that is the case, but I don’t regret it at the same time. I applied and got into The New School for sociology.
LOOKING BACK ON IT NOW, I WILL ABSOLUTELY ACKNOWLEDGE THAT EVERY WORKPLACE IS EGO-DRIVEN.
Sociology really appealed to me. And so, that was a huge part of [why I returned to school]. I also applied and got into their fellowship program, which meant that it was going to be a Ph.D. So, I also had this idea of, ‘Well, I’m gonna become a professor.’ I’ve always loved teaching. I’ve always loved working with other people to find greater ideas and all that sorta stuff. There was a while when I thought I would do high school teaching, but as my grandfather says, ‘Erica wants patience, and she wants it now.’ I have no patience, and so I know I would be a terrible, terrible high school teacher. But, with college students, the teaching is a little more – theoretically – the kids are able to handle themselves in a classroom. So I was like, ‘Yeah! I’m gonna get my Ph.D., and I’m gonna be a professor. I’m gonna teach sociology of gender, and everyone’s gonna love me’ [laughs].
I did end up finishing the Master’s program, but I became pretty disillusioned with academia. Looking back on it now, I will absolutely acknowledge that every workplace is ego-driven. The fact that I thought that academia wouldn’t be was naive on my part. What I wanted to study – there was not a professor there for whom my subject area really overlapped. For a while, I worked with a professor – he’s an urban sociologist and a very, very well known, talented one. Working with him was amazing, but gender wasn’t his first priority.
And what happens in academia is that the reason why [people get] into academia is not to teach. What they get into academia for is to study what they want to study. That’s what they live for; that’s why they’re there. And so, what you have to take into account is that if you wanna study something, you’re not gonna have a professor who’s gonna go out of their way to make sure that you’re getting the help you need. It’s taking time and attention away from their work. So, if I wanted to become an urban sociologist and work on the stuff that [he] was working on, then the school would have been a fantastic place for me. But, there was no one there who wanted to study what I wanted to study.
STUDYING GENDER – FASHION IS NOT NECESSARILY THE FIRST PLACE THAT YOU WOULD THINK A GENDERED SOCIOLOGIST WOULD WANT TO RUSH INTO.
When I was getting my Master’s, to make extra money on the side, I started working at a restaurant as a maître d’ in New York City. And while I was working there, I met some amazing people. One of them was – this woman was a stylist, and she does a lot of work for magazines and also the occasional celebrity. She would come in almost every single day and have breakfast with her friends. But, she would always say like, ‘I love your style. I love your style.’ And it’s like, ‘Oh, thank you! That means a lot coming from a professional stylist. Thank you.’
One day she was like, ‘Hey, I need an assistant stylist on this shoot that I’m doing. Would you be interested?’ I was like, ‘Yeah!’ Studying gender – fashion is not necessarily the first place that you would think a gendered sociologist would want to rush into. But, I think that it does hark back to that conversation about feminism and choices and just being educated in your choices – the way we choose to dress ourselves, the way we choose to present ourselves. So, I don’t demonize fashion. There are aspects of the fashion world that I think are detrimental to women, especially body image issues. But I don’t think that that shades the entirety of the fashion world.
So, I started doing work for her while working at the restaurant, and I really enjoyed my work for her. Her styling – at the risk of producing an eye roll – her styling was very intelligent. She knew her fashion history very well. She knew when things would reference things; she knew when things would reference films or books or whatever, and she would use that. And so, I think that she was a very educated stylist.
But then she wanted to start this magazine, and she asked me to help her with it. I did that for many months, and it was a great learning experience. I will say that: she’s an amazing stylist, but she was new to being an editrix, and so [she] was not as confident in her skills in that. And that made working with her on that project a little harder. So, I ended up not working there anymore.
I WILL SAY THAT THE ONE THING ABOUT NEW YORKERS IS THAT THEY FORGET THAT YOU CAN LEAVE NEW YORK.
That was up until this past year when New York had started to be not where I wanted to live. I feel like a buzzword, or a buzz thing to talk about is the Joan Didion essay, Goodbye to All That. I was heavily identifying with that, and I was unhappy at work, and I was unhappy at my job. And I mean, I was unhappy at home – my living situation wasn’t great because it never is in New York [laughs]. It was normal New York stuff. And moments that I used to enjoy in New York, I wasn’t really enjoying. I found myself becoming a shell of who I had been a year ago, and I didn’t like that. That’s when I packed up my car and drove cross-country to California, which is where I am now.
I will say that the one thing about New Yorkers is that they forget that you can leave New York. There’s something about like, ‘Well, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere else.’ And then it occurred to me – it was like, ‘Oh, I don’t have a job right now. I don’t have a place to live, and I don’t have – theoretically – anyone tying me down.’ I was sort of seeing someone, but he’s an old friend as well. So, when I told him that I had to leave, he wasn’t, ‘Noo! You must stay!’ He was like, ‘I understand.’ We’re still good friends, but there was nothing holding me there. And I was like, ‘Holy shit. I can leave. I can leave.’
So, I did. And my first thought was to go WWOOF-ing. It stands for World Wide [Opportunities] on Organic [Farms]. What you do is – there’s a ton of farms that are a part of this all over the world. You apply to work on a farm. They don’t pay you, but they give you room and board, and you can work on their farm for a month, or some of these are six-month stays. I was like, ‘You know what? I just need a little bit of a palette cleanser. I just need to go work on a farm.’
My first thought was, ‘Oh, I’ll go work on a farm in New England,’ ‘cause it’s where I’m from. I love New England, and it’s all sort of sheep farming and goat farms. And I was like, ‘I wanna go work on a goat farm’ [laughs]. And so, I was gonna go do that, and then the winter started, and started with a crazy vengeance. I was like, ‘Hmm. I’m not gonna work on a farm in New England for the winter. This is not what I wanna do.’
It was around that time that my grandmother [in California] called and said, ‘Hey, we’d love to have you come out for Christmas.’ The last time I went out to California for Christmas was fifteen years ago. And I was like, ‘You know what? I’m gonna go WWOOF in California. I’m gonna do a cross-country road trip with one of my best friends, and I’m going to WWOOF in California.’
BUT NOW THAT I’M HERE, I’M LIKE, ‘I THINK I MIGHT STAY LONGER.’
So, we did the cross-country road trip. I got here, and I was talking to this woman who owns a flower farm, but she was being really cagey and wasn’t getting back to me. Finally, she called me, and she’s like, ‘Hey. I don’t know if you’re aware, but there’s this crazy drought happening in California, and it’s ruining my farm. So, I can’t have you.’ So I started to look for other farms, and every single farm I talked to said the same thing. It’s like, ‘Hey. We really can’t have anyone right now. The drought is devastating us.’
In the meantime, I was living with my grandparents. I was like, ‘No. No, I don’t like this’ [laughs]. So I found a sublet and started working in a restaurant. I [was] not sure whether I [was] going to stay, [but] I knew once it started getting really bad on the East Coast in the winter, I was like, ‘Okay. So I’m definitelythroughout the winter. It’s like, ‘I don’t care if I have to work at a restaurant again; I’m definitely staying through the winter.’
But now that I’m here, I’m like, ‘I think I might stay longer.’ I started to look for jobs at not-for-profits – specifically LGBTQ or women’s issues-related. My uncle, who’s in tech, keeps trying to convince me to be hired by a tech company as a gender consultant – meaning – how to make their goods and services more marketable towards women. And on some level, I feel like that would be the ultimate selling of my soul. [Yet] on another level, the idea of that large of a paycheck sounds really nice. But, I think I’m gonna stick with applying for jobs at not-for-profits because that’s where my heart lies. It sort of always has been.
AND SO, WATCHING IT FROM THE OUTSIDE IS LIKE BEING IN A ZOO OF VERY, VERY SMART, ENTITLED MEN.
I mean, the sociologist in me wants me to get that [tech job] and just start talking to everyone and interviewing everyone because it’s this bizarre movement. It is really a shifting of power. Power is no longer in the government; it’s tech companies that really rule everything. You can hear it in the entitlement and in the way these people speak. Being out here and seeing this is… I’m also totally separate from it as well. I have no connection to it at all. And so, watching it from the outside is like being in a zoo of very, very smart, entitled men.
When you’re working in such a male-dominated area, basically what you’re doing is you’re hitting your head against the wall so that you can make teeny, tiny cracks. The cracks – theoretically – are worth it, but then you still have to go to work every day and hit your head against the wall. Things change slowly, but it’s the same argument behind people saying that we’re post-racial. We will never be post-racial because it’s also a part of our history. To become post-racial would mean that that doesn’t exist in our history anymore. And so, that’s the same thing with women. It’s like, ‘No. It will never be perfect.’ But that’s because when any one specific group of people is in power over others, nothing will ever be perfect. But at the same time, things will change, and things will become better. And hopefully men won’t have as much power – especially over women’s bodies. But no, I don’t think that white men – until American civilization crumbles, I don’t think that white men will ever not be in power.
I hope I don’t come across as too cheesy and or pedantic, but I will say that [the] past three years have been really up in the air and a little not stable, as my mom would remind me every day. But what I’ve learned from driving cross-country and doing this is that there’s something to be said for wandering. There’s something to be said for being unmoored because while it’s not a challenge that will definitely end up in some sort of tangible reward, it’s definitely a challenge that has made me become someone I really like. I think that that is immeasurably important. And that is something that is not – it was something that was stressed at Sarah Lawrence – but the minute you leave college, you forget that working on yourself is just as important as working on your career and working on relationships. And so, even though my life is a little up in the air, and there are days when that produces things akin to panic attacks, it’s like, ‘I’m so glad I did this.’”
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Photo courtesy of Erica.
InstaFAIL
It was a slow work day. The city has been experiencing a monsoon for the last 48 hours. I’m stuck at my desk. After finalizing a project I’ve been tirelessly working on, I decide to catch up with one of my best girlfriends.
“How’s N?”
(“N” is an amazing guy she has been dating for a few weeks. Though sometimes hard to read, he shows true sensitivity for her feelings and genuine interest in getting to know her. It was a long time coming, after a slew of disappointing experiences and a recent heartbreaking one).
“Oh, stupid,” she replied. “He went to a wedding where his ex-girlfriend was last weekend and has since disappeared on me.”
“Wait, what?” I replied. Not at all the answer I was expecting.
“I only found out about the ex-girlfriend because he posted a photo of her on Instagram. He didn’t tell me or anything...”
“Um. Oh my god. How are you feeling?”
“At this point, I don’t care. This particular wound has so much scar tissue that my nerves are dead.”
Isn’t it amazing how much an uploaded photo can ruin your day? Or, even, your relationship? It’s happened to me, it’s happened to my girlfriend, and I bet it’s happened to you too. I keep thinking of that Mean Girls quote: “My stomach felt like it was going to fall out my butt.” That’s precisely the physical reaction.
Not only can I commiserate on the “FUUUCK” factor with platforms like Instagram, I commiserate with her experience as a whole.
I don’t actually blame Instagram for existing either. I use it. Frequently.
I don’t actually blame N for his encounter with his ex. It happens. A lot.
However, using this interaction as an excuse to remove my friend from the equation entirely, as if she never existed and doesn’t deserve at least a sliver of respect, is wholly unacceptable. Are we so scared of hurting someone that we’d really rather ignore them altogether? He and my friend shared intimate moments, hours upon hours talking over drinks and dinner, nights holding each other and quippy daytime texts. This was no friends with benefits situation, no purposely unattached playtime. This was turning into something real. And now it’s probably over. And she found out through a photograph.
This girl is a fighter. But her words really hit me, because I could sense that she was constantly worried about him and how he might treat her, as I also feel with most men that I date. The only reason we have to feel so concerned is that this type of disappearing act happens all the time. Why must we always be waiting for the other shoe to drop?
That’s all. Just keep truckin’ everyone. And post wisely.
Truly the only fairytale that accurately describes our modern age of dating. A mixture of sad and funny, I think we should take it for exactly what it is. A stab at what has become a completely necessary addition to one’s app index.
Oy
Can Caffeine Find You Love?
Original post: http://quarterlette.com/love/unrealistic-love-story-1320942-meeting-him-at-a-coffee-shop/
For more original stories about navigating your quarter life, visit Quarterlette at: http://www.quarterlette.com and follow them @Quarterlette!!
When it comes to love, I know that I have a lot of unrealistic expectations. But most women do, right? Thanks to the movies, falling in love looks as simple as bumping into someone on the sidewalk or striking up a conversation with someone on the bus. The most unrealistic scenario though? Falling in love with someone from the coffee shop.
I have one friend who is just infatuated with the idea of meeting someone at her local coffeehouse that she often asks, “Wouldn’t it be so romantic if a handsome man came up and introduced himself at Starbucks or Peet’s instead of at the bar for once?”
Yes, coffee shops are filled with the murmurs of indie music, soft chairs and comforting aromas. But romance? Nope, I don’t think so. Not to sound jaded, but I’ve met numerous people at coffee shops and most of the men tend not to be the kind whom I’d like to date. More often than not, the ones I’ve encountered at coffee shops are just plain strange.
Case in point: as I’m writing this, I’m sitting inside a Starbucks next to a man who refers to me as “novelist” while I work.
“Hey, novelist,” he said. “You know, I’ve written two novels before. But I can tell that you’re a much better writer than I am, not to mention much more beautiful.”
“You’ve written two novels?” I asked. “That is so great! What about?”
“About a beautiful woman who was murdered while writing a novel in Starbucks,” he said.
Wow. After just one minute of conversation, I was creeped out to the max.
Earlier, another man approached and started a conversation with me as well.
“Oh you’re from Minnesota?” he asked. “You know, I have an ex-wife from Minnesota.”
Alright, well as if that wasn’t enough of a turn-off, he continued on, telling me all about where he lives and his cars and that should I ever see him around Malibu again – either in his white Lamborghini, red Ferrari or other black Ferrari – I should be sure to say hi.
Uh, thanks, but no thanks.
What’s up with these men? These exchanges can’t be normal. Such situations make it seem like there’s something inherent about coffee shops that encourages creeps to approach women and make them feel uncomfortable.
I can think of just two instances in which I met nice, normal-seeming men at Starbucks. One was a screenwriter and the other was a surfer. In both cases, however, I later found out that each one was much too old for me.
So all things considered, I think it’s safe to presume that meeting someone at a coffee shop is an unrealistic dream. Of course, I’ll still visit Starbucks and Coffee Bean on a regular basis despite past bad luck and the constant danger of awkward situations, but I am past expecting (or hoping) to meet the next Prince Charming there, and that’s fine with me. Sometimes it’s better to leave expectations behind and just appreciate the reality of what is.
I’m curious though… Where is the best place to meet someone? Have any of you ever met someone at a coffee shop?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=erywPdFfORE
Remember, in the game of love, it's important to step back once in a while and enjoy this little things...like dancing by yourself in the middle of the street. Here's to sidewalk cardio!!
The Shrine And The Fury
Around the new year a few friends and I headed to California for some camping and hiking. During the trip I had unfortunately contracted one of the most debilitating cases of poison oak – on roughly 80% of my body – that required three hospitalizations, temporary loss of vision and months of medical care. I thought it was natural.
And then this happened.
The story begins with this one night when I was out with a girl who I had been talking to for a little while. After a few drinks, we went back to my house. It wasn’t anything special and definitely not something that I was looking to turn into anything. Apparently, as I soon found out, this sentiment did not go both ways.
Over the next few months, I attempted to pull back and regain just a friendship with her. Multiple times I attempted to make it clear I didn’t want anything out of this. She just didn’t seem to get the message. One night she actually showed up at my door, banging and banging and begging me to let her in. I began to think that my efforts to create distance were not working…
After an incredibly stressful week of work I decided to venture to a neighboring city with a group of friends to relax and regroup. We ended up going out, staying up super late, and having an amazing time. I had been interested in another girl for a while, and things ended up progressing that same night. We came back to the hotel where our friends were staying at around 4am, at which point the first girl showed up and told the girl I was with that she was going to kill her for hooking up with me. It was unavoidable to see that she really did feel much more strongly for me than I did for her, but I had NO idea quite yet how little she was over me.
The next day, my friends and I drove back home and had a cook out. We ended up heading over to a buddy’s house who lived right next door to this chick (we knew she wasn’t home that night). About an hour after we got there, a friend of mine went into her house to grab a spoon (we typically would go from house to house to grab things we needed). When he came out of the house, he looked like he had seen a ghost. As a good friend of mine whose body language I know and recognize, I knew that something was wrong.
(Before we go any further, it is important to note that the girl who lives in this house, who I hooked up with a few months back, has a thing for spiritual rocks that can typically cost more than $3,000 per rock. I never knew how impactful those rocks would be in my life, until now.)
So I asked my friend what was wrong, and why he had that look on his face. He referenced the rocks, and said I had to go inside her house to look at what he had just seen.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about – is it bad?” I said. He just looked back and me and said “You have to go inside.” So serious, so concerned. We head into her house, just the two of us, as he is insistent that no one else goes inside.
I enter the home, and head towards her living room.
And then…
…in the middle of her living room…
A formation of about 15 spiritual rocks, in an almost perfect circle. Inside of the circle are four perfectly placed and perfectly symmetrical candles. Next to the candles I see recently burned incense and sage.
And right there, right beneath the candles, is a picture. A picture printed on paper folded up from the Internet. A picture of my face.
A shrine – to me – right there, staring me in the face.
At this point I semi lose consciousness. I am standing in front of a shrine, dedicated to me, built by a woman a slept with twice in my life and have been actively avoiding since.
I ran out of the house, drank a beer (or a million), and tried to forget about what I had seen. The last thing I wanted to consider was her next steps or why she had constructed this scary monstrosity in the first place.
Over the course of the next week, my friends and I did a lot of research into what this could or could not have been. We discovered that it was probably some sort of healing mechanism, but it also has the potential to be a spiritual apparatus to strengthen a relationship between two people.
I have obviously cut off all communication with this girl, even though she doesn’t know I am aware of, and have seen, the shrine. While I understand I shouldn’t know this exists, I also fear for my own existence every time I think of this rock, sage and candle formation.
But I can’t help but wonder if that case of poison oak, that was deemed natural, was really an act of something shrine induced?
Maybe I should burn some incense, light a few candles, and see if it was.
Maybe not.
Itâs simple. I need to feel like a princess and how can I do that with Danny Devito-esque "men" tugging at my sleeves?
Can we discuss this please? I may run a blog for women to write about the trials and tribulations of dating, but I still choose to believe that men are more dimensional than this, and take offense, on behalf of male friends and ex's alike, that this is how we're supposed to rate potential dates. Thoughts?
Tinder Boy Seeks Tinder Woman
*Note: woman is 26. Cue Sigh.
Modern Love
Another stellar story from our partners at Quarterlette!! See more at: http://www.quarterlette.com
Dearly beloved, I am here to talk to you about love. Not the big showy kind that Barbie and Ken have, all plastic and perfect in their dream house with a myriad of careers. My boyfriend and I are far from plastic; we could even be criticized for being too honest. But if life is love and love is life, my second grade teacher was right: honesty is the best policy.
Somewhere around two years ago, two truly prolific self-saboteurs met through a mutual friend. He’s tall and good-looking, and apparently quiet when you first meet him. I would have been convinced he doubted my literacy had said mutual friend not told me that every time I saw him he would come up to her the next day in the office and refer to me as his ‘soon-to-be-girlfriend’. It was laughable the lengths he went to, always telling her that anything would be okay as long as I stopped by the office. In fact, I credit many of her three-hour lunches to this exchange rate.
After a summer of casual run-ins, his birthday party approached in mid October. His best friend got in touch with me and requested some help on his present: me. Ladies, as a feminist I must say there is something oddly sweet about being a gift. I went to the bar and he pulled quite the move, asking me to take a picture of the last time he would be that age…and text it to him. Tada…the boy gets the number. I’m told he did a triumphant lap around the office, but let’s chalk that up to hearsay. We began casually texting, which turned into casually grabbing a bite to eat until three in the morning, which also included him walking me home to the Lower East from the Upper West in uncomfortable dress shoes. (Ladies in stilettos, please roll eyes now)
Everything was going cautiously well until I had to leave the week of Halloween for a film shoot. The chatting upped the ante and I sent him a picture of myself in my character’s costume: a wedding dress. Prior to this point, I’d considered him the nicest person I had ever remotely dated and therefore the most likely for me to utterly destroy and leave muttering my name in therapy. His response was the game changer: ‘I know you think you look silly, but you look beautiful.’ Simple and direct, and I was left feeling more flattered than I ever had.
I came back from the shoot that week and we planned our first date: drinks at my apartment and a movie. I remember getting ready, intentionally wearing casual clothes because some part of me was still stubbornly refusing to believe this was something. I opened the door to a very tall gentleman holding a very sharable bottle of Southern Comfort, and the movie became a thought of the past. One or five drinks deep, we made our way to the kitchen for refills. While standing against the refrigerator, he kissed me. I will always remember the kiss, and the fact that not even me saying, ‘Well that changes everything!’ immediately after was able to ruin it.
We’ve been together for something like two years and we’ll both be the first to admit we’re not perfect. We screw up, we overstep, we expect just as much from each other as we expect from ourselves. But the biggest thing is honesty. Cliché? Sure. But we each own every ounce of our behaviors, and expect the other to do the same. And I must admit, we have pretty wonderful time doing it. A relationship isn’t a posed picture all the time. It’s a crash course in learning about yourself with a person you care about, and it’s worth every minute.
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The highlight being that I know one of these fine actors. Can you guess which one?
Time For Poetry: "When Love Arrives"
If you haven't heard of Phil Kaye and Sarah Kay, well now you have.
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PHIL KAYE & SARAH KAY // ORIGIN STORY
Sarah Kay: It started with a sweater.
Phil Kaye: I was looking incredibly fly. First day of college orientation as a freshman... plus, I'm the type of guy who's always trying to make a good impression.
Sarah: He looked like a tool. And it's the first week of school, so I've got people to meet and things to try. I don't have time to waste on this guy loitering backstage at a talent show.
Phil: It started with a freshman talent show, a chance to showcase what I know about spoken word and poetry and try and get some people to notice me.
Sarah: It started with a technical difficulty -
Phil: some sort of delay -
Sarah: somebody's iPod track wouldn't play.
Phil: So I'm stuck waiting backstage when I notice this girl -
Sarah: and he walks over, stupid sweater and all. There was nowhere to run, backstage was too small.
Phil: And I'm so nervous about going onstage, I decide to strike up a conversation.
Sarah: Oh, sorry, I completely got ahead of myself. I totally skipped introductions. My name is Sarah Kay.
Phil: My name is Phil Kaye. I'm from California -
Sarah: born and raised in NYC.
Phil: Let's see, fun fact about me -
Both: My mom is Japanese and my dad is Jewish.
Sarah: Not a common combination, but I think it's kinda cute. People call me Japajew -
Phil: Jewpanese -
Sarah: Ashkenazi kamikaze.
Phil: And come December -
Both: Hanukkah and Christmas!
Sarah: Plus, you should taste my mother's brisket. Jan has matzah ball soup with noodles...brings my father Jeffrey to his knees.
Phil: It took mom and dad to raise this lanky, cock-eyed, half-breed.
Sarah: Well, I think that's it. My mom, my dad, and me - oh, plus my little brother. He's eighteen.
Phil: My little sister is a deadpan firecracker. She's only eighteen, but she keeps me on track. Her name is Sarah.
Sarah: My little brother's name is Phillip.
Both: Anyway.
Sarah: Where was I?
Phil: It started with a backstage interaction.
Sarah: No, it started with a backward first impression.
Phil: Okay, well, I'll tell you where it didn't start. It didn't start at fifth grade summer camp.
Sarah: That's true, it did not start at junior lifeguards. Even though we were both there.
Phil: Matching red bathing suits, white t-shirts, visors, and our counsellor -
Both: Mr. Johnson.
Sarah: Who probably figured that the shy girl in his morning class -
Phil: and the skinny kid in his afternoon class -
Both: were... cousins?!
Sarah: Probably thought we carpooled over together -
Phil: in between family photoshoots and fourth of July barbecues.
Sarah: But instead, we merely co-existed -
Phil: almost met but always missed it -
Sarah: spinning around like two sides of a coin.
Phil: Look!
Both: We've done the research!
Sarah: And we swear, we're not related.
Phil: And we've never dated.
Both: And we're never... EVER... going to.
Phil: Because what are the chances of finding someone with your last name -
Sarah: Japanese and Jewish with siblings called the same?
Phil: What are the odds of finding someone -
Sarah: who can finish your sentences -
Phil: who will let you cut in line -
Sarah: who knows not to just lend a hand, or an ear when you need them to give you their spine -
Phil: who is woman enough to be best man at your wedding -
Sarah: who will keep every secret, save every letter, tell you how you really look -
Phil: who will remember every single one of your birthdays -
Sarah: without checking Facebook?
Phil: What are the odds of finding someone who knows your poetry by heart -
Sarah: who won't freak out if you're hanging out and accidentally fart?
Phil: Yeah. If you have a date and you need to look fresh, I will let you borrow my hair products.
Sarah: And if you don't have a date and you need to look fresh, I will let you borrow... my cousin.
Phil: I will always see you for the alley-oop.
Sarah: I will always save you a seat.
Phil: I will always pick you to be my partner even though you are terrible at handball.
Sarah: When the fire takes all you have, my home will be your home.
Phil: When you are old and can no longer remember my face, I will meet you for the first time again and again.
Sarah: When they make fun of your accent, I will take you swimming because we all sound the same underwater.
Phil: When Ellis Island tries to erase your past, I will call you by your real name.
Sarah: When they call your number for the draft, I will enlist to fight beside you.
Phil: And I will march with you from Selma to Montgomery and back as many times as it takes.
Sarah: We will stand together against the hoses and the dogs -
Both: because it didn't start with us.
Phil: It started with Lennon and McCartney.
Sarah: It started with Thelma and Louise.
Phil: It started with Winnie-the-Pooh and Christopher Robin.
Sarah: Bert and Ernie!
Phil: Abbott and Costello!
Sarah: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern!
Phil: Mario and Luigi!
Sarah: Watson and Sherlock!
Phil: Pikachu and Charizard! And they could tell you what a miracle this is.
Sarah: They could tell you how rare this is.
Phil: But they could tell you how rare friendship always is.
Sarah: The chances are slim.
Phil: The cards are always stacked against you, the odds are always low.
Both: But I have seen the best of you, and the worst of you, and I choose both.
Phil: I want to share every single one of your sunshines and save some for later.
Sarah: I will tuck them into my pockets so I can give them back to you when the rains fall hard.
Both: Friend -
Phil: I want to be the mirror that reminds you to love yourself.
Sarah: I want to be air in your lungs that reminds you to breathe easy.
Phil: When the walls come down -
Sarah: when the thunder rumbles -
Both: when nobody else is home, hold my hand -
Phil: and I promise -
Both: I won't let go.
Hey, Tinderella. Let's Chat.
This is not OKCupid. It’s not Match.com. It certainly isn’t Eharmony. And it’s definitely not Plenty of Fish. This. Is. Tinder.
Call it take-out dating if you will, window shopping even, but Tinder is the quickest way to size up your attraction to the little thumbnail of a picture on your iPhone. Swipe to the left if you’re not interested. Swipe to the right if you are ready for a potential match. It’s that simple. No 300 question interrogation. No novel to read about a persons likes/dislikes. No complexity. Just yes or no. If you both swipe to the right- congrats! It’s a match and you’ve given each other free reign to contact each other…If you’ve got the cajones to initiate conversation, that is.
Alright, so I may or may not Tinder on the beltway during extremely heavy traffic (not recommended). Maybe in the club. Or at the bar. Maybe even while running in 100 degree weather. So what if I had a breakdown when my screen went black. Or when my Tinder told me there were no new people in my area. It was as if I went through the whole deck of cards. But alas, I wake up in the morning and there IS a Tinder-god and a whole new set of fresh faces. This is just not your typical online dating scene.
Even better, Tinder has recently launched the app for Android users. Now, I’m an avid and loyal Apple customer, but ladies… consider this an expansion of your portfolio. Besides the application being available to users outside of your iPhone, another creative way to increase your Tinder options (your Tinder database or Tinder inventory, respectively), is to travel. Yes, you can Tinder while abroad. You can have Tinder’s in different area codes. Hell, you can start your own real life “The Bachelorette.”
“Tinder me this” I recite to myself as I load my app with excitement, I find myself having conversations with Tinder: ”Gosh, I thought I already got this guy.” ”How am I supposed to figure out which one he is in a picture of 10 other dudes!?” ”Is he REALLY cheers-ing someone with his left hand, wedding band totally apparent.” ”He’s not 25, he’s 13.” ”He’s not 25, he’s 42.” ”Is that really a picture of his pelvic area?” ”Is he really on a donkey?”
Out to dinner with girlfriends who cannot Tinder for themselves (and to prove to them I am not insane for having conversations with my app), I hand them my phone and watch them amuse themselves with the amount of Tindering that could actually happen over an appetizer and a full meal. Fast forward to dessert, and they find themselves actually messaging back and forth with my Tinder matches about our whereabouts for our next adventures that evening. You might like to say, this is how my committed girlfriends vicariously live through my single life.
Some look to Tinder to develop meaningful conversations with someone they find instantly attractive. Some go to Tinder to find a quick link to a dinner date. And yes, some even go to Tinder to find that instantaneous hook up. So a little advice for my fellow Tinderellas: Tinder the way you want. Tinder how much you want. For as long as you want. In any angle you want.
So what are you waiting for? You know you’ve asked yourself: to Tinder or not to Tinder?
I say Tinder.
Just don’t drinder (that’s short for drinking and tindering). You just may find yourself in an awkward situation that even the savviest Tinderella would have a hard time navigating.
Article originally published by Quarterlette on August 6th, 2013. Read more stories about navigating your quarter-life at http://www.quarterlette.com and follow them on Twitter quarterlette
The British Are Coming!
I was going through a wild phase. I was 27. It was a good year for a wild phase. I often met the sunrise and I was kind of an idiot with whom I met the sunrise.
It was a Saturday night, the night you’re allowed to go crazy, as opposed to a Monday, which never stopped me from going crazy on a Monday, but I felt better about Saturday.
We went to a stupid, and by stupid I mean, THE WORST hipster dance hall in Williamsburg. It has a large backyard area, lots of bathrooms for doing drugs and terrible dancing to R&B hits.
I was meeting people there and may have already had a few drinks before I arrived. I cut the line, which, at the time, I felt was my right, but now I just cringe and realize how much I would have hated my 27 year old self if I met her now.
Anyway, as I’m searching for friends, a gentleman gets in front of me, trying to catch my attention. He was British, in town for business and had never been to a place like this before. He asked if he could buy me a drink and I shook him off saying, “I need to find my friends but I’ll return to you later.”
I found my friends, we found alcohol and hours passed in this manner.
Then as I’m leaving someone put his hand on my shoulder. It was the British Sir. He asked if he could buy me a drink, I told him he could walk me home.
At this point I’m bonkers drunk and talking nonsense as we’re walking. He’s eating it up, though. He kept saying (use terrible posh British accent to read this), “Oh you AMERICAN girls! You’re just so free/unique/interesting/intoxicating…” We get to my apartment and I realize that he has no idea where he is and assumes he is coming in, because OF COURSE HE DOES!
He keeps smelling my neck, claiming that I even SMELL like an American. It was french perfume, so, whatever that means.
I feel bad, take him in, offer him a drink and then, I think because he liked it so much, I went off the quirky deep end. I talked so much crap that night, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Anyway, we end up in bed, because I’m an idiot. We’re partaking in sexytimes and all is good, or fine, until he starts to get really into it and his exclamations of passion are “Oh, my” and “Oh, goodness!” I thought he was joking, but no. No joking here.
Then he comes. This happens a lot to lots of people, so that is not the hilarious part. What is so funny here is that as he comes, he screams, ”Oooh, THANK YOU!”
“You’re…welcome?”
So I start laughing into the pillow while he falls asleep, snoring louder than I have ever experienced.
In the morning, I turn to him and ask, “You have a meeting, don’t you?” He understands and then makes his exit.
I can’t remember his name and he stole my perfume. It’s expensive perfume.
To a frustrated single person, life can often feel like this:
Really on-point article addressing whose happier: the single or coupled.
If you're a free agent, relationship-wise, you'll know that dating isn't as cut-and-dry as they used to be. Are you just talking? Hooking up? Seeing each other? More importantly, do people still go on dates? Does the Olive Garden still exist? We investigate.
But really, NOBODY goes on dates anymore.