For Sale to the Highest Bidder

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...