I've been thinking about aquiring some property.
The real estate market has gone to shit, the stock market is holding its nose and cannon-balling down the mother fucking charts, and beanie babies just haven't appreciated the way we'd all hoped they would back in 1996. So I took stock of my personal possessions: my romantic shares.
Really, this all started with a Facebook wall post. An innocent "how are you?" sparked a quaint "I can't wait to see you," and ignited an extended network of frantically whispering women, whom I imagine running through halls with the breakneck pace of everyone on an Aaron Sorkin drama. I was flirting with someone *gasp!* ... Someone who "belonged" to someone else. So what does this mean? Under the assumption that by claiming a crush first you have first priority, I was in the wrong here. But is it a crime?
The culture of young women who feel like the star in their own personal romantic comedy is steadily growing, and the young men who would be able to fill the shoes of Prince Charming (or, to be frank, Prince of Unrealistic Expectations and Inevitably Excruciating Break-Up) are about as easy to procure as a solid gold statue of Steve Gutenberg that dispenses tampons and $100 bills. So, naturally, the stars of the RomCom feel entitled to the man they believe to be their next adventure, and stake a claim as soon as a mildly perverse and semi-feasible fantasy pops into their heads. In turn, the star's friends step aside in unison and remain fiercely loyal to her...at least she expects them to. Usually, she doesn't realize that they are in fact starring in their own love affairs, and right now that forbidden fruit seems strangely appealing...
The fact of the matter is that we don't own anyone. Liking someone first doesn't mean they like you, kissing a guy three months ago doesn't reserve him for the rest of the year, and telling your friends about your pure-hearted (albeit superficial) crush doesn't exactly earn you the right to register at Tiffany's for a silver gravy boat. Staking a claim means jack shit in the realm of relationships and it's about time we begin taking real action. Although the culture of actually DATING is on the serious decline (a topic for another time), its time to be bold and redefine what being assertive means. Being honest and speaking up to a love interest can cut straight to the point (none of this texting/facebook/he-said-you-were-cute nonsense) and either start or end something much more efficiently than sitting back and waiting for romance to fall in your lap (yes, that was a joke, and sure, you can laugh at its juvenile appeal).
So my ruling (as ranking officer in the Organization for Overanalytical Women) on this matter is that a claim means nothing without action; when you like someone it takes more than wishful thinking to become a part of his or her life. Once action has been taken (and actively pursued), the supporting characters in the Romantic Comedy shall step aside until it's their turn to take the spotlight and have a heart-wrenching soliloquy about what love means to them. Although the plot is surely more complicated and has a long sordid history (there is no more originality, just compounding complexity), we have no hold over people the way we do over our (rapidly deprecating) assets, and by understanding that fact you come to admire the twists and turns of humanity in all of its bitter, painful, unrequited glory.
Now, back to flirting with my mortgage broker...
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
Boys Boys Everywhere, But Not a Man to Keep
Chapter 5 of the "Trial Offer" Chronicles has officially begun and will be coming to a close soon. This one has been quite perfect, actually; he has broken the mold of other potential buyers but intevitably the sale will not go through, as predicted. The man himself is sweet, affectionate, intelligent, and sexy to the point of ridiculousness, but yet again I align myself with someone carrying about seven carry-ons of girlfriend baggage. Unfortunate.
But it got me thinking: can we practice for heartbreak? Does my track record of being the
"trial offer" (Test her out for 30 days with satisfaction guraranteed or your money back, and they always want their money back) prepare me for the inevitable "you're fantastic, I just can't be with anyone right now"? I used to think I was just slowly dying inside, each month-long relationship extinguishing any hope I had for the male sex and increasing my self-reliance for all emotional matters. I thought that by being more self-reliant I was more apt to appreciate myself and create an aura of confidence and peace, as opposed to coming off bitter and off-putting (which he assures me I'm not. haha.) and that the rest would come naturally. Of course, all that came with it were the men who read my independence as a get-out-of-jail free card and an excuse to hook up without any intention of committment. Which I happily accepted.
So when I was lying in bed with this man, (we'll call him Andrew) and he expressed worry about my being "attached" which he just couldn't be at this point (due to a long term relationship that ended less than a month ago...I know, I did this to myself, I got it) I stopped hearing him and just started hearing a looping track of everything I had heard before.
--Sidenote: what the FUCK is it with men assuming all women are attached to them? Why is it that everything needs to mean committment and marriage and devotion when really we enjoy sex and attention just as much as they do? I resent the assumption that just because I like being with someone I am now "attached," especially as it carries a connotation of clinginess at best and obsession at worst. Word to the wise man: don't assume ANYTHING about her. Ask her what you want to know; she WANTS to talk about it.
Back on track. I stopped hearing him and just felt the fuzziness of the familiar hit me like a bug on a windshield; messy, but kept at a safe distance. I was prepared for this, wasn't I? I knew this was coming, I knew everything he would say weeks before he said it. What I couldn't figure out was this: have I become hopeless or just more realistic about the inevitable end of relationships in my life? That is to say, have I just been practicing for years in order to protect myself from heartbreak or am I really just incapable of trusting someone enough to let them break my heart? After building walls for so long, I should be a goddamn emotional contractor; I could build the fucking Taj Mahal of romantic barriers. Andrew is wonderful, the timing is off, and I am seeking out something that I know will end in a matter of weeks, if even that long.
But then again, its an adventure. Until now my life was dominated by a stale pain left over from someone I barely knew and the illusion of crushes that I created simply to have something to be excited about. Now I actually get excited thinking about Andrew, but am strangely at peace with the idea of walking away from our little romantic liason. He has been a breath of fresh air from the shit storm that is my love life, and even if there is no long-term future with him, it has been pretty worth it just to have someone look at me and say, for once, "my god, you're beautiful."
Maybe I just need the adventure and the excitement, which can only last a short while. Maybe instead of feeling DOOMED about my short-term love affairs, I should appreciate them for the rush I get from the compressed passion bursting out of a relationship working on a time limit. Eventually, I'll sing a different tune and find someone who shares my love for Paul Newman, coffee at 9:00pm, my addiction to kissing, and become my permanent partner for games of Trivial Pursuit. Until then, I guess my heart has been training for a long time, and Andrew is giving it a good workout. When I can rest my head, I'll probably start to worry, but until then I think I'm pretty prepared for my own misadventures.
Oh Crash, you do make speeches.
But it got me thinking: can we practice for heartbreak? Does my track record of being the
"trial offer" (Test her out for 30 days with satisfaction guraranteed or your money back, and they always want their money back) prepare me for the inevitable "you're fantastic, I just can't be with anyone right now"? I used to think I was just slowly dying inside, each month-long relationship extinguishing any hope I had for the male sex and increasing my self-reliance for all emotional matters. I thought that by being more self-reliant I was more apt to appreciate myself and create an aura of confidence and peace, as opposed to coming off bitter and off-putting (which he assures me I'm not. haha.) and that the rest would come naturally. Of course, all that came with it were the men who read my independence as a get-out-of-jail free card and an excuse to hook up without any intention of committment. Which I happily accepted.
So when I was lying in bed with this man, (we'll call him Andrew) and he expressed worry about my being "attached" which he just couldn't be at this point (due to a long term relationship that ended less than a month ago...I know, I did this to myself, I got it) I stopped hearing him and just started hearing a looping track of everything I had heard before.
--Sidenote: what the FUCK is it with men assuming all women are attached to them? Why is it that everything needs to mean committment and marriage and devotion when really we enjoy sex and attention just as much as they do? I resent the assumption that just because I like being with someone I am now "attached," especially as it carries a connotation of clinginess at best and obsession at worst. Word to the wise man: don't assume ANYTHING about her. Ask her what you want to know; she WANTS to talk about it.
Back on track. I stopped hearing him and just felt the fuzziness of the familiar hit me like a bug on a windshield; messy, but kept at a safe distance. I was prepared for this, wasn't I? I knew this was coming, I knew everything he would say weeks before he said it. What I couldn't figure out was this: have I become hopeless or just more realistic about the inevitable end of relationships in my life? That is to say, have I just been practicing for years in order to protect myself from heartbreak or am I really just incapable of trusting someone enough to let them break my heart? After building walls for so long, I should be a goddamn emotional contractor; I could build the fucking Taj Mahal of romantic barriers. Andrew is wonderful, the timing is off, and I am seeking out something that I know will end in a matter of weeks, if even that long.
But then again, its an adventure. Until now my life was dominated by a stale pain left over from someone I barely knew and the illusion of crushes that I created simply to have something to be excited about. Now I actually get excited thinking about Andrew, but am strangely at peace with the idea of walking away from our little romantic liason. He has been a breath of fresh air from the shit storm that is my love life, and even if there is no long-term future with him, it has been pretty worth it just to have someone look at me and say, for once, "my god, you're beautiful."
Maybe I just need the adventure and the excitement, which can only last a short while. Maybe instead of feeling DOOMED about my short-term love affairs, I should appreciate them for the rush I get from the compressed passion bursting out of a relationship working on a time limit. Eventually, I'll sing a different tune and find someone who shares my love for Paul Newman, coffee at 9:00pm, my addiction to kissing, and become my permanent partner for games of Trivial Pursuit. Until then, I guess my heart has been training for a long time, and Andrew is giving it a good workout. When I can rest my head, I'll probably start to worry, but until then I think I'm pretty prepared for my own misadventures.
Oh Crash, you do make speeches.
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