Deep Thoughts...By Christine.

There is something to be said for the way different relationships are delineated. There is the obvious distinction between seeing one another vs. dating vs. being in a relationship. I am going to define these as I see them and you can feel free to correct me should you disagree:

Seeing one another: it is brand new. Rules/guidelines have yet to be established and the option of seeing other people and exploring other alternatives is there for both parties.

Dating: most likely exclusive but at the same time, the names 'boyfriend' or 'girlfriend' have yet to be used.

Relationship: you're together. It's official. There is no 'dating other people' or 'exploring other options'. The risk of hurt/disappointment/gut wrenching pain is highest at this point as well. Basically, you're f*cked once you've reached this level.

However, in today's world, the types of relationships you can find yourself in are more varied. With everyone recovering from a bad break-up nowadays and/or still living with an ex, the option for actual 'dating' simply doesn't exist. People are too busy licking their wounds in order to commit to another individual on any level, even if it simply means sharing a meal on a Friday night. Instead, these days we have 'friends with benefits' - individuals who appear on our doorstep when we need them the most (our sexual satisfaction meter dangerously low); fulfill our carnal desires and then depart. It is a relationship on the basest, simplest level, and many have used such arrangements to cope with a bad break-up.

However, I pose this question - is it possible for such arrangements to bring us even closer to the hurt that we're do desperately trying to avoid? Are they really fool-proof set-ups?After all, when such an arrangement happens, I am sure conversation is involved. There is an exchanging of pleasantries, the typical 'first-date' questions: "what do you do?" "where did you grow up?" "how many siblings do you have". It's really the first, second, third, fourth, and fifth date rolled up into one neat, little package. Furthermore, you're engaging in one of the most intimate acts two people can take part in so you have to constantly wonder when it goes from 'just sex' to 'holy shit, I want this person around. Dammit.'

Again, please let me know what you think but, I have had friends whose f*ck buddy relationships have turned into actual boyfriend girlfriend scenarios and then there were others that simply fizzled and died out. It's kind of funny actually - in our attempt to avoid the awkward first date, we put ourselves in the awkward position of being naked in front of someone else; in an attempt to create a no frills relationship we create one that cannot be defined, causing us to constantly wonder just what kind of arrangement we are in; and in an attempt to avoid a 'relationship', we perform an intimate act with the same person over and over again while also learning about them little by little...isn't it all the same thing?

So I guess it is true - ALL relationships between men and women, whether definable or not, are doomed to fail. Once you engage in any pseudo-romantic arrangement, the risk factor goes up and we're just as vulnerable to disappointment and hurt. I'm back people!

Please Don't Feed the Self-Sufficient Woman

I was called "fiercely independent" the other day...is that a bad thing? The word 'fiercely' likens me to a jungle cat; one who guards its independence and ability to carry heavy objects and shovel driveways with snarled teeth and a guttural growl. I found it flattering. And then, after much thought (I know, my ability to overthink and make any compliment an insult is unparalleled) I realized that there is a line can be crossed. When does self-sufficiency go from "I'm every woman, hear me roar" to "step back zookeeper/potential date...I may kill you"?

I know men say they want an independent woman - one who has her own life, is capable of making her own decisions, and maybe even capable of changing her own flat tire...but don't men also want a woman to need them on some level? If that is the case, where should the woman need them? Heavy lifting? Emotional support? Math? If you are a woman who likes taking care of herself and finds that relinquishing some of that control is frightening beyond measure, where can you bend to allow the man to feel needed without giving up your independence?

Maybe it's because it's been a while since I've been in a relationship and therefore my fear of disappointment and hurt is especially high, but I worry that relying on someone on any level is tantamount to throwing onesself into oncoming traffic (emotionally, that is). What if I get used to having you around? What if I forget how to put Swedish furniture together? What if my muscles atrophy and therefore I am no longer to lift heavy objects and/or groceries? Worst of all, what if I miss you? Now that would be too much to bear...better I do everything myself than miss or need you in my day to day life.

::SNARL:: Sorry, just protecting my independence...and my heart.

"Maybe no one's ever really loved you..."

A few posts ago, I talked about the love cult - individuals who truly believe that love can conquer all and are mortally wounded when someone does not share their beliefs. They're almost emotional, love-sick fundamentalists, ready to tear down anyone who dares to insult their God - the God of love. These are the same people who told me "Well, you've never really been in love." Fuck you. Yes I have. However, there is a flip-side to the coin, and I will explain it to you without further ado...

This different viewpoint was brought to my attention the other day - what if I have loved and lost, but the other person in the relationship never really loved me? While walking on the boardwalk I was musing over my friend's new relationship - the lengths that the man goes to in order to spend time with his girlfriend boggles my mind. As someone who has constantly gone out of my way to keep my significant other happy, the thought that it was being reciprocated by the man was almost too much for my mind to process. Wait. So you mean, he travels to you? He calls you first? He doesn't give you a hard time at the restaurant when you paid seven dollars short of your half? What on earth are you talking about?

And then, my friend turned to me and said: "It's because a man has never really loved you." The wind was knocked out of me...wow. She's right. All of the work that I put forth - the prepared meals, the travel, the moving across country, the stress - it was all for naught, not returned in kind. Realizing this, my friend quickly amended her statement: "Not yet...but you'll find him."

I don't believe her, but it was a delightful realization nonetheless, and it makes perfect sense. My relationships have always felt like exercises in futility, second and third jobs. I constantly felt like I was in a sinking life raft, and, as I struggled, a maniacal force was continually tearing holes in the already fragile hull. I was never the catalyst in my own break-ups because it was the other person who was never truly invested...they had never loved me in the way that fosters a more permanent union. Granted, I don't believe anything is permanent but there are other types of love that stand a better chance; the type of love that I have yet to experience (and doubt I ever will).

There is also another possibility...I created this atmosphere in my relationships myself. By never requiring my partner to put forth the effort, complacency inevitably resulted. I suppose the platitude "that which is easily won, is done" stands true for all of my relationships. I wish I knew how to be a girl - aloof, ever so bitchy, and just slightly unattainable. Dammit, I have a lot to learn. Tack that on to my desire to play the piano, and I've already created a very full fall season for myself.

The Risk of Attack

I am not sure if this post or rather, the metaphor I am going to use for it, is in bad taste. But, I found it to be so clever that I had to use the following analogy…bear with me.

I've been thinking a lot about relationships (shocking, I know) and I've realized something - we are never safe. Those of us that take the chance and become involved romantically with another person put ourselves at constant emotional risk. One is never safe from the inevitably heart-wrenching pitfalls that accompany each and every relationship.

I now draw your attention to the brilliant warning system that the Department of Homeland Security put together. The level of risk is broken down as follows: “Low”, “General”, “Significant”, “High”, and “Severe”. I feel that this system has been mocked to such an extent that I can use the following analogy:

Basically, we are never fully safe from a terrorist attack…and, should you decide to get romantically involved with someone, the risk of heartache/disappointment is always “low”, but never fully absent. I suppose I can better explain myself by providing a more detailed account of what each level means in the grand scheme of romantic relationships.

“Low”: You are entrenched in the relationship (maybe a couple of months) and while small disagreements may occasionally disrupt your bliss, the threat of dissolution remains “low”. Why? Well, you don’t know one another well enough yet for a complete deal-breaker to have been brought into the picture. There is no grand disagreement about the larger questions in life.
“General”: This tends to be a point in the relationship where for some reason, you’re fighting more than usual. The things they do annoy you more often than they seem endearing (about 1 or 2 years in), and you keep asking yourself “What’s going on with us? And why on earth is he chewing that way?!” However, the love still outweighs any general annoyances you may have, and the relationship, (unless the people involved have incredibly limited patience) lasts.
“Significant”: This is when we start getting into the nitty gritty of the relationship (2-4 years in) when major life decisions – moving, children, the prospect of marriage begin to factor in. These are the types of decisions that can make or break a relationship and destroy a once peaceful, love-filled union.
“High” and “Severe”: I am putting these together because “High” is just a hop, skip and a jump from “Severe”. This is when the problems that you’re facing as a couple can no longer be fixed. The “”I’m sorry”s and the “let’s just forget about it”s don’t seem to work anymore. You begin to nitpick at each other’s flaws and each and everything they do just doesn’t seem like it fits in your life anymore.

The Result: The Break-up

Granted, these stages can happen at any point in a relationship (I was just working from personal experiences), but I simply wanted to illustrate my point that relationships are always in a constant state of risk; and they always seem to be wavering between calm and catastrophe.

For me, this constant worry seems to be the main hindrance to my wanting to get involved with another person. Unfortunately, my desire to have someone to see concerts with, to turn to and smile and say, “Wasn’t that great?!” somehow outweighs this worry…DAMMIT. I guess I just wanted to point it out…

I’m losing my role as a cynical touchstone aren’t I? Before you know it, I’ll be crying while watching “Pretty in Pink”…it looks like I’m at “high risk” of becoming an optimist. We need to remedy this immediately.

R'Angry

OK, so this post is going to be a bit of a bitchfest...but you know what? I haven't had one of those in a while so I feel that it is necessary.

As I lie in bed with my laptop propped on my lap, I began to let my mind wander. Have you ever done that? Your mind starts going and eventually, once it settles on a train of thought it's like a locomotive out of control and you realize that you're lucky if you make it out alive.

Well, I had one of those moments this evening. I began to think about the platoon of men that has rejected me over the past year and then I began to think of other women that I know - absolutely remarkable, amazing women who I feel lucky to know...some of them are in relationships and some of them are not. However, for those that are, I can completely understand it. Hell, I want to spend time around them ad nauseum, so why wouldn't someone else, who can also add sexual attraction to the mix, do the same?

I lighted on this pleasant thought like a butterfly settling on a daisy when the negative thoughts kicked in...

You might say: "No! You were doing so well!" Well, I'm sorry. This blog is about being jaded so at least allow me to stick to my central thesis.

I then began to think of those women that are inherently unremarkable (to me) or better yet, those women who make it a point to use men for personal gain and/or an ego boost. What I found to be the most troubling was that it is usually these women that get the most remarkable men, and I am stuck pining away for their leftovers (only to be rejected, mind you).

These women may be cute, they may be magnetic...hell, they may even be slightly intelligent. However, the point remains that, in comparison to other single women, there is nothing inherently special about them...This frustrates the rest of us who make it our mission to constantly better ourselves so that we might become even a fraction of what our potential dictates. We do this not for men, but to create a sense of self-worth so that, when we meet a potential love interest, we have interests and hobbies to define us and provide us with, at the very least, conversation starters...

Now, I am willing to admit that many of the women I am referring to are unremarkable TO ME. I am sure to their significant others, they are the most amazing individuals, worth crossing oceans for. Unfortunately, in the interests of this blog, their opinions mean nothing to me. ::insert smiley emoticon here::

And yet, in New York City, millions of interesting, intelligent, beautiful women remain single...why? Is there a line that can be crossed when you have too much going for you? When does personal fulfillment and personal endeavors go from beneficial to completely off-putting? Furthermore, have I reached this point? Have I become so intent on being an enthralling conversationalist that I forgot how to be a girl (i.e. manipulative, bitchy, and coy?) I will give you that the previous statement was somewhat misogynistic...again, if you don't like it, get your own blog. (I told you it was going to be a bitchfest).

I suppose the point of this blog was not to argue a point (that's what tomorrow's is for) but instead, to vent more than anything. Sometimes, I have more anger than I'd like floating around inside of me so I need to find some way to let it out. Thank goodness for the Internet.

What do you think? Do you know any women or men for whom, because of reasons unbeknownst to you, dating and finding a mate just seems easier? Let me know that I'm not crazy...well, at least not in this case. Thanks.

"Food is Life, the Rest is Parsley"

I am coming at this blog from a completely different angle today. I find that as cynical as I am, my mind is occasionally occupied with the thought of love/a relationship/romantic bliss - will I ever find it? Does it exist? Does its existence hinge merely on its presence or its absence in one's life? Will my life change in some sort of fundamental way if I meet someone who makes my cynicism an exercise in futility rather than a constant, albeit adorable, part of my personality?

I decided (solely with the goal of torturing myself) to count the number of men/boys who have rejected me over the course of the last year...::cringes at the thought that I am about to admit this to you:: but the lucky number is...ELEVEN. Eleven men have decided that I was not worth getting to know (some after date #1, others after date #3). The "old me" would take this as a reflection of some kind of fatal character flaw. However, after being rejected by a man every 30 days or so, I have decided that that's not what it is; and I also don't care to know what caused these men to reject me. I could say the clichéd "it just wasn't the right time", "they're not the one", yadda yadda...but I don't believe that so therefore, posing either one of those as a reason would be ridiculous and quite frankly, out of character.

Even with all of this, I learned one very important lesson last night - "Food is life, the rest is parsley." That quote is care of Alan Richman, a food critic for GQ Magazine, and I'm also currently reading his collection of articles, Fork it Over.

Last night, I visited Eataly in Manhattan - a culinary Mecca that is the brainchild of Lidia Bastianich, her son Joe Bastianich, and Mario Batali. As I walked through and saw baby purple potatoes, full, gorgeous heads of radicchio, marbled steaks and hazelnut truffles; the worry of my dating debacles melted away. Food is my passion – it’s what makes me happy. If food is life, and the rest is parsley, then dating is nothing more than tarragon – an addition that very few people actually enjoy, but it finds its way into our lives from time to time to cause us stress and make us ask ourselves, “why the hell am I eating this?”

The Narcissus of Our Generation

Up until this point, I have cited the "quarter-life crisis", i.e. the inability of 20-somethings to know what they really want, as one of the reasons that relationships and marriages between them cannot ever work. Well, today, I would like to point out yet another reason why finding/creating a meaningful relationship as a 20-something is difficult, if not virtually impossible.

20-somethings, in today's day and age, are taught to be as self-centered as possible. Within the realm of the world-wide web, we are required to let people know what we're thinking and feeling; what song is stuck in our head at the current moment; and what our hopes, dreams, and aspirations are. Facebook kindly asks you: "What's on your mind?" As a result, we've become introspective, self-centered individuals, thinking more about how a Beatles song defines our current angst about our job/relationship than thinking about the people around us.

Living in New York City only exacerbates this situation. In a city of millions, we cannot feasibly pay attention to every individual around us. As a result, we plug into our iPods, put our earbuds in place, and disappear from the outside world. We are immersed in our music and our thoughts.

Now, many of you may say: "But all of this is good! It makes us more aware of who we are as individuals and forces us to analyze what we really want out of life. We are given the opportunity to be self-analytical, which only helps us grow as people."

OK, valid. However, I would like to respectfully disagree. While the 20-something (and even sometimes, 30-something) generation are a very self-aware group, we are also sadly, and detrimentally, self-involved and I'll even be so bold as to say, neurotic. We are always asking ourselves: "What do I want?" "What am I thinking?" "Where do I go from here?" I wonder if it all began with St. Elmo's Fire "I need to have something for myself FIRST, before I can share it with you..."

While this may bode well for our professional lives, I don't think it does much for our romantic existence. The 20-something generation loves to date - especially females, who feel like we're living out the life of Carrie Bradshaw as we tirelessly search for love in the bowels of New York City. However, our constant self-involvement makes it impossible for us to progress past date 3...(in my opinion, date 3 is when real feelings begin to develop - not across the board - but just in general).

Once we're at that point in "dating", we begin to become accountable to another human being. We begin to realize that our actions and our words could potentially affect someone who, a few weeks ago, didn't even exist to us. As a 20-something who is always in their own head; whose independence was established at 18 when they went off to college; and who spends most of their time being self-analytical, and self-involved; this becomes a frightening concept. As a result, out of fear of such accountability, we turn off our iPhones, defriend on Facebook, and delete them from our societal bubble within the World Wide Web. Phew, glad that's over. "What's on my mind?" you ask... "Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away, now it looks as though they're here to stay..." "I can't wait until my friends see this and ask me what's wrong!!"

The pursuit of a relationship throws us off kilter - we have to think about someone else. Furthermore, we could potentially fall in love, but we're so enamored with ourselves that the thought of sharing that love scares the crap out of us...

I will even admit, that this blog is a supreme example of self-involved self-actualization and self-analysis...

Oh my God! Maybe that explains why I suck at dating! Hold on, I have to put this on Facebook!

Since I've Been Gone...

Hello all,

I know I've been gone for quite a while...Let's just say that my time away has been occupied by field research. I have been dating and consequently, dealing with disappointment. It is absolutely amazing to me (and I won't draw gender lines here even though I am a heterosexual woman) how people are absolutely incapable of being honest. While a completely ineffectual dater, I am always honest with those individuals I have no intention of ever seeing again: "Hey, I just didn't feel the connection. Good luck with everything!" Granted, it might not be the best thing to say, but at least it's honest. I also see it as fair. It prevents the other person from obsessing about the infrequency of text messages/phone calls and also provides closure...they can move on and continue to go on more unsuccessful, unfulfilling dates.

Unless there is some sort of insane circumstance that prevents someone from calling/texting (i.e. family tragedy) if texts or phone calls stop, the person has absolutely no interest in seeing you again. They are (with their silence) attempting to drop the hint that things aren't working out so well. Unfortunately, it is the dumpee who then has to put two and two together, deal with the rejection, and maybe move on...

I was initially the silent victim. I would allow someone to disappear and wait the requisite 2 weeks before giving up entirely (while also silently blaming myself for showing my inherent awkwardness too early on - that's DEFINITELY the reason they didn't call).

Now, I've come to a very powerful realization...YOU did nothing wrong, you poor individual waiting patiently by your phone. It is the other person who is the moron. They do not have the cahones to come forward and say, "I don't want to do this anymore." If your date has pulled a Houdini on you I beg of you, call them out on their shit. Ask them where they went and if possible, break it off first because God knows they won't have the guts to.

I am aware that dating blows. I am aware that the likelihood of my meeting someone with whom I am compatible and who doesn't have an unmanageable amount of emotional baggage is slim to none. However, I will continue to try because it's fun, and I want to continue to prove my theory about the futility of romantic relationships. But, I make you this promise - I will be proactive when the communication ceases and I will make sure to hold them accountable for their childish avoidance, and I ask you to do the same. Pull them out of their pitiful forts of silence without fear of being considered "crazy" or "needy". Don't worry. They already decided they don't like you. Move on.

Love is NOT My Religion

I've realized something this weekend- love is like a religion to some people. When I attack love and its institutions, I am attacking people's beliefs and in essence, their faith. It's funny that only now, two months into writing this blog, am I beginning to realize this.

I suppose I can liken it to the whole Santa Claus/Easter Bunny thing. Now, now, before you send me hate emails about "likening the existence of love to the existence of fantastical characters", humor me for a moment. Also, please refrain from commenting that I've excluded entire denominations by homing in on these two characters. In case you haven't noticed, I do not concern myself with being politically correct...

Now, I want you to visualize Christmas morning when you were a little kid. You would wake up with a start, equally excited to see the presents left for you as you were to see whether or not Santa valued your cookie choices. There was a certain magic to that morning - someone took the time to break in to your home and bring you gifts. The same can be said for the Easter Bunny. A GIANT bunny left me my basket filled with Reese's Peanut Butter Cups?! What could be better than that?!

Fast forward 20 years...Christmas is still a holiday I look forward to, but the magic is gone. There is no sleigh landing on my roof, no Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, and no one is relishing the fact that I took it upon myself to include not one, but THREE types of cookies in my Christmas Eve offering. It just isn't as much fun.

For the record, I am not crediting my blog with having the same effect on my readers as the realization that every child goes through when they find out that Santa Claus isn't real. However, I feel that when people read that there is someone out there who doesn't necessarily believe in all the true love mumbo jumbo, they are deeply offended...it gets even worse when these people are also in relationships. It's as if you're attacking their choices, their beliefs, and their faith. For the record, I have been in love, and the cynicism toward said emotion is only one facet of my personality. Love is not the be-all and end-all and it does not conquer all. Do I adhere to my cynical streak so strongly that I am willing to die alone so I can prove my point? No. Will I hold on to this cynical view until a concrete event(s) occur(s) to make me believe otherwise? YES.

Just to clarify - this blog is not meant as a personal attack on you, or your relationship. If you are part of a couple, because I am fully aware that an outsider can never know what goes on on the inside, I make no judgments about the outcome of your relationship. All I am saying is this: I have yet to meet someone who disproves my theory about the futility of romantic relationships. Furthermore, I have yet to meet a couple who makes me believe that all of the effort/heartache/stress is worth it...Go ahead hopeless romantics. Attack at will.

Dear Diary,

Today, I have decided to discuss my recent psychological breakthrough. I'm not sure if you remember, but a while back I wrote about how I cannot for the life of me fathom why someone would want to spend time with me in a romantic context - "I would never want to belong to any club that would have someone like me for a member." As you can imagine, this type of thinking would lead to the most uncomfortable first dates imaginable - my body language would read "CAUTION: SEVERE EMOTIONAL BAGGAGE AHEAD" while my self-effacing words did nothing but prove that I believed I was not worthy of the date. Needless to say, this was not good.

You may also remember my promise to you all that I would get back out into the dating world. Well, I have. And I have come to three very important realizations:

1. The less you care, the better the date goes. (My method for 'not caring' is new to me, and I will share it in a moment)
2. Online dating provides way too much opportunity for side-by-side comparison.
3. There is a fine line between obsession and just plain desire to hear from someone. A previously obsessive individual cannot quit cold turkey and become lackadaisical.

So, I have been on 2 dates in the last week (which, for me, is absolutely unheard of). I tend to be one of those people who is fatally incapable of multi-tasking. I tend to divulge too much about my other "prospects" because I fear that each individual I'm seeing is worthy of boyfriend-level disclosure. This habit usually blows up in my face (duh). Also, because of the weight I put on each individual before I even meet them, the first date is a mess - I can't find my words; my personality and humor don't come through; and I'm so entrenched in my need to be liked that I never truly find out if I actually like them.

After realizing this, I approached my two recent dates with no expectations, very little enthusiasm, and minimal worry. And guess what? They went well! It was an absolute aberration-I was (shockingly) comfortable in my own skin and I did NOT care what the outcome was. Ergo, dates went well.

Now, before you applaud me, I will move on to lessons 2 and 3. After the dates went well, something happened. I had wanted desperately to cling to my indifferent demeanor but found it difficult considering I had really enjoyed myself with both individuals and wanted to hear from both of them again. CRAP. In light of my new self, I felt that this desire went against what I was now trying to accomplish - a cool, calm, and collected exterior. I was trying to quit cold turkey. So now, it became an epic tug of war between my neurotic self and my composed self - so much for calming down.

To mitigate this, I reminded myself of the inherent nature of online dating - it provides the rare opportunity to compare potential mates side-by-side. When on a date with someone that you've met by more "conventional" means, you make an assessment based on their behavior alone. There isn't an opportunity at that exact moment to invite another prospect into the fray so that you can choose which one you like better (well, I suppose you could, but I don't think it would be appreciated). However, on dating websites, links such as "See How You Two Click" provides the opportunity to see a virtual relationship between you and Mate A and Mate B. You can then decide to terminate communication with one, the other, or both, depending on what the dot com love guru tells you.

It was this realization that made me calm down. Ironically, this is the only time that my insecurity served me well. By realizing that these men/guys/boys (just like me) were going home to their dating sites to peruse other prospects (ACTIVE WITHIN 24 HOURS! as Match.com so nicely reminded me) I was able to accept the lack of a return call. After all, I have never been so delusional as to believe that I am the best choice, let alone the only one. There is always going to be somebody better and, with the help of online dating sites, you can find someone who shares your passion for food, wine tastings, dancing, books, and museums and then narrow it down by breast size and gross income. Where else can you do that?!

Sincerely Yours,
Surprisingly Well-Adjusted and Realistic (For Now)

Love and Marriage - It's an Institute You Can't Disparage (?)

OK, so today I have decided to approach my arguments against romantic relationships from another angle - with all of my previous posts, I say that relationships don't work because the way in which they are constructed, and what is expected from them, is unrealistic. Therefore, unfulfilled expectations lead to disappointment which then leads to termination.

However, I read something that made me reconsider this. I was introduced to an article entitled "How to Get Divorced by 30" by Sascha Rothchild(http://www.laweekly.com/2008-03-27/la-vida/how-to-get-divorced-by-30/5). Before reading it, I fully expected the author to point out the that the institution of marriage was obsolete, and by accepting this fact, one who got married in their 20s would inevitably be divorced by 30. I also expected her to cite the emotionally tumultuous nature of the quarter-life to be a contributing factor as well. NOPE. Instead, this woman was so arrogant as to provide a list of the things she did wrong that caused her divorce; things that a Rhesus monkey could have figured out.

OK, before I delve into this ridiculousness, I have two things to say:

1. This is now a book and is also being made into a movie. This in and of itself proves my point about human stupidity - who would actually sit through a film that basically says: "Hey, as long as you're not so arrogant as to believe that marriage will work for you regardless of how selfish or stupid you are, you won't be divorced by 30. Thanks Hollywood.
2. I have to apologize to the institution of marriage as well. I feel that, after reading this article, marriage is like that really great restaurant that opens in a shitty neighborhood. The food may be fantastic, but the morons that live near it don't appreciate it, so it goes under. Sorry marriage.

After reading this shit fest, I am approaching my argument from a different angle - Marriage doesn't work because people are inherently stupid. Even though I included the link, I need to simply highlight her how-to list to illustrate just how moronic this woman is. My comments are in bold.

STEP ONE: Jump from your horrible early-20s relationship right into a mid-20s relationship without learning or growing or pondering what you really want out of a mate — then marry that person. Basically, have completely unrealistic expectations and require nothing of yourself emotionally or intellectually. Take everything lightly and accept no personal responsibility.
STEP TWO: Marry an actor. Um, what the fuck are you talking about? You are a Los Angeles wannabe script writer who should stop writing and do some major self-evaluation. You're a disgrace to the female race.
STEP THREE: Believe that opposites attract. oh, yes! That's it! The reason marriage doesn't work isn't because it is an incredibly difficult and time consuming commitment and many pea-brained people like you can't handle it...No, the real problem with marriage is the belief in the aforementioned platitude. Phew. Glad we cleared that one up.
STEP FOUR: Adhere to an arbitrary timetable. Great. Hey, writer - be mindful of your diction. You cannot use a word like 'arbitrary' and then expect your advice to be novel or intelligent. Your timetable was 'arbitrary' (not based on anything; i.e. false) and therefore it contributed to a failed marriage. Excuse me while I pretend to be shocked.
STEP FIVE: Give a passive-aggressive ultimatum. Are women seriously reading this and thinking it's visionary? She is basically saying. "Hey, women. Do that passive-aggressive thing that women are stereotyped as doing and your partner won't like it." JESUS. Someone give this woman a Pulitzer.
STEP SIX: Get married for a down payment. I need to leave this one alone for fear that bloodshed may result.
STEP SEVEN: Plan the divorce while you plan the wedding. This one too.
STEP EIGHT: The invitations have already gone out. And this one. Wait, no. I have to say something...Yes, it's much better to enter into a "lifelong" union because you don't want to waste paper than because you actually love you partner.
STEP NINE: Compromise to the point that both parties are unhappy. Ugh. If you're reading this Sascha Rothchild, I hate you.
STEP TEN: Cling to distractions. Yes! Make sure to be so self-involved that your partner and your marriage don't matter, but your flatscreen television does!
STEP ELEVEN: Move in together to save money. Yup, concentrate on the money aspect. That usually works out well in relationships.
STEP TWELVE: All your friends are doing it. If your friends jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge...
STEP THIRTEEN: Marry your high school sweetheart. This is basically rule #1 - believe that you'll be the same person regardless of your age.
STEP FOURTEEN: Ignore your spouse and dive into a new addiction. Again, this is just STEP TEN reworded.
STEP FIFTEEN: Beat a dead horse. And lastly, she ends her brilliant list with another platitude. Continue to stay in a non-working relationship regardless of the signs...this is of course after you reach a new level of jerkdom by completely ignoring the weight that the act of marrying someone holds and torturing another human being with your selfishness and lack of regard.

If you don't understand my anger, then please read the entire article. This woman and her dumbass friends (who went through identical experiences) really bring out the eugenicist in me...I wonder if we can find a gene that directly contributes to asinine assumptions and then eradicate it. Excessive? I think not. At the end of Diary of the Dead, the final scene begs the question of whether or not the human race is even worth saving. After reading this article, I honestly have to ask the same question. Marriage may be flawed, but human foolishness, selfishness, and self-indulgence magnify these shortcomings like some sort of sick microscope. It's like global warming - we, as humans, assume that we can abuse the earth as much as we like without suffering any consequences. We're that fucking special.

Maybe it's not marriage at all...maybe it's just us.

The Scariest Night of Your Life

There is something to be said for the excitement that comes along with a first date. For me, it's like the trepidation/nervousness I feel right before a really intense fitness class. Your adrenaline and endorphins begin to pump as you prepare yourself for what is to come - an intense (and if you're lucky) sweaty experience. Even a cynic like me worries about the "first outfit". That first impression that you make on the individual that you could wind up dating on a regular basis is a crucial choice. I have even gone so far as to Google "what to wear on a first date" so that I am not a victim of any long-standing faux pas. Yeah, there's that other, more hopeful side of me rearing its ugly head. I have noticed, (just as an aside), that it is also the hopeful part of my personality that makes me do really ridiculous things. Coincidence? I think not. Just another reason to be cynical if you ask me.

Back to dating - I suppose dating is a muscle that, regardless of your aversion to it, needs to exercised every now and again. It's good to practice your interview skills (after all, we are in a recession) and what better way to do that than with drinks or a nice meal? Hell, even a good latte will make any uncomfortable social situation bearable. Also, I feel that once you've gone on an insanely bad date, no other social awkwardness can affect you. Just to be a little anectdotal - once you've had someone see you and say, "ugh, I hate this shit", nothing phases you.

Once you begin the date, (or at least, once I do) I make a game out of it. I challenge myself to avoid platitudes, to ask interesting questions, and to not fidget. Supposedly, fidgeting draws attention to insecurity, and who wants that? I also tend to make a conscious effort to be 'flirty' and 'fun'. What the hell that means I have no idea...I usually think about what I would do normally, and then I do the exact opposite. Also, when I say avoid platitudes, I mean I don't tell the person that I'm "adventurous", "up for anything", "passionate about what I do", or "laid back" (have you read my blog?). In the age of online dating, all of the above (along with countless others) are used so often that they don't make you sound interesting. In fact, you're a walking cliche.

I suppose another facet of dating (at least for a heterosexual woman) that also elicits excitement is the thrill of male attention. I hate to admit that, but I believe it's true. No matter how much self-confidence one has, there isa rush that comes from the realization that another individual recognizes and values those same characteristics that you appreciate about yourself. At least for me, this is one of the main draws of dating. Granted, I tend to be an insecure, neurotic individual so this part of dating that I so unabashedly seek out may be more pronounced for me. But, whatever.

And, to maintain the trend of self-analysis, I apologize for the 3rd paragraph - it sounds like a dating tutorial. I am the last fucking person who should be giving dating advice. I am way too angry and bitter to tell others how to approach an interaction that to me, will most likely end badly (maybe not the first, second, or even the third time...but eventually, shit will go down). Also, my 'method' in and of itself is ridiculous - regardless of the prospect's viability, I think deep down I prefer the aforementioned ungettable get - the impossible catch can't hurt me because there was never the possibility of anything to begin with...See? Sick. I know.

Calling All Daters

So, I have re-entered the dating world. I know, it's shocking. Even though I have not gone on any official dates yet, I have had a couple of first phone conversations which, if you've never experienced them before, is enough to age you at least 20 years.

Let me construct the various events that lead to this first conversation ('voice on voice contact' if you will). First, a coy email opens up the possibility of a romantic connection. "Hey, I think you're really interesting and would like to get to know you better. Hit me up if you feel the same way. Winky face. John Doe."

If you so desire, you can then reciprocate with your own cutesy email and so on, and so forth. Eventually, one of you has to decide when it's the right time to exchange phone numbers. This is always tricky, especially if your means of meeting new people consists of online dating sites. I am actually (frighteningly) more willing to give people my phone number than my email address. My email address gives you access to my Facebook account, which then gives you access to this blog, etc. etc. It's much easier for me to change my phone number should things not go well then tag and de-tag photographs before I accept John Doe's friend request. It's much less of a hassle.

Anyway, the waiting in between the exchange of the last email (which included the phone number) and the actual text message/phone call is always a frightening time. What if nude photos are sent to my inbox? What if his voice is high and creepy? Oh God, what have I done?! Also, you have voluntarily opened the communication floodgates - you have graduated in terms of where you will allow this person to be in your life. They are no longer in your email notifications "John Doe thinks you're swell! Maybe he's a match!" He is now on your phone - the apparatus that many of us have perpetually attached to our hands. With the phone number exchange, we have allowed these complete strangers to be much more of a presence in our everyday lives.

10:00 PM. The phone rings. The flashing screen reads "John Doe - Match.com". Shit! Oh God. What do I say?! Where do I begin?! You attempt to sound as cool, calm, and collected as possible: "Hello?" except you draw out the "o" sound - you're easy, expectant, and relaxed. Once they say who they are, you act pleasantly surprised, "Oh, hey! How's it going?" I have decided to construct just my side of the dialogue (juxtaposed with what actually goes on in my head) in order for you to understand exactly what I mean:

Oh hey! how's it going?

Oh Jesus, was that too eager?

Oh, nothing much, just hanging around.

Great, now he thinks you're a recluse who doesn't do anything. Fantastic.

So, what is it you do again?

Oh god, did he tell me and I forgot? Way to listen. I'm sure he'll think you're super attentive now. Loser.

Oh yeah, you're lucky you caught me. I'm in high demand..

Was that too self-aggrandizing? I thought it was flirty. Maybe not so much. Shit.

My week looks swamped...yours?

That's right. Sound busy. You have a life outside of this dating ridiculousness.

You get the idea. For me, this back and forth continues as long as the conversation does. And then, there's the goodbye. How do you end a first phone conversation? My strategy:

Me: So...(interminable wait-you can also opt to drag out the "o" sound in this instance too)

Him: Um, I guess I'll talk to you soon?

Me: Sure, whatever. (BE COOL! BE COOL!) OK...OK...bye.

Basically, I have come to the realization that the first phone conversation is a lot like playing "Operation". If I feel I have made one wrong move, a foghorn goes off in my head. I have to then re-focus, bring myself back to the conversation, and try again. Dammit. Maybe I should call it quits and train for the New York City Marathon? Might be easier...

The Wall

(No, I am not talking about the phenomenal Pink Floyd album.) However, before I delve into the annoyance that inspired this, I want to preface this entry with two apologies:

1. I am sorry I haven't written anything in 3 days.
2. I am sorry for the short length of this blog entry-my brain simply isn't in it today.

OK, "The Wall". I live in New York City. I am also quite short and I tend to move quickly. Normally, this proves to be very advantageous as I attempt to weave my way through SoHo in order to get to work in the morning. However, even in my haste, I attempt to never get in anyone else's way (i.e., if I hear footsteps behind me that are definitely moving at a faster pace than my own, I move out of the way. It's simply common New York courtesy)

However, I have started to notice another means of walking down busy New York City streets. Let's call it "the love wall". I provide the following definition:

love wall (n): an inconsiderate amalgam of two people who are 'in love' or at least infatuated with one another - it is usually accomplished by holding hands or linking arms (therefore blocking the sidewalk) and results in vexed pedestrians and crowded streets.

I truly do not understand why a couple would opt to occupy the entire width of the sidewalk simply because they cannot bear to be apart from one another during their walk down Broadway. Choosing to not be inconsiderate does not make your walk interminable, it simply makes you helpful. By suffering through a no-hand holding stroll, you are preventing traffic jams from occurring.

I suppose this needless display of affection wouldn't bother me so much if the couple didn't also take it upon themselves to walk as if in slow-motion. Why is it that linking arms makes people lackadaisical? You can look into one another's eyes when you sit down somewhere.

Trying to get around this is exhausting - I have to jump into the street (almost getting taken out by a taxi cab) only to then attempt to cut the couple off. Inevitably, I wind up behind them again when my avoidance is thwarted by a cyclist or a parked car. Damn.

So, my strategy? I have decided to start playing Red Rover on the streets of New York City. The moment my pathway is blocked, I will scream "Red Rover, Red Rover, I'm sending myself right over!" at which point I will charge ahead, hopefully breaking the link that so inconsiderately blocks the rest of us from getting places in a timely manner. As I've said, I'm petite and while I'm not so sure of how successful this will be, it will certainly provide some much needed entertainment during my morning commute. Oh, and it will provide some very funny stories for you to read.

Today on National Geographic: The Lame Single

So, I have decided to rejoin the dating world in the most pathetic way possible...I am paying Match.com to find someone for me. (I have to add this parenthetical statement because, during proofreading, I reread this line and thought - holy shit, do I actually expect to "find someone"? That phrasing deserves some analysis. Am I actually attempting to locate a life partner? I didn't think so...but, many would say that my diction may suggest otherwise. I am a fraud I tell ya! A fraud!)

Now, as much as I would love to describe a debacle of a date for you, complete with horrific dinner conversation covering everything from mental illness (most likely induced by an ex) to medical abnormalities, I have come to a frightening realization (well, two?)

Number 1: Dating in New York City is hard (no shit).
Number 2: I am an incredibly undesireable candidate for coffee and uncomfortable questions.

I don't have any stories for you because apparently, no one responds to snarky, funny emails. When did this happen? Carrie Bradshaw gets everywhere with men by being snarky...Is it because my hair lacks the requisite curl to render my emails cutesy and fun? Do I just seem like a mediocrely attractive woman who thinks she can just get by on her wits?

Navigating the dating world is like working one's way through the Serengeti. Correction: for me, navigating the dating world is like being an ugly, lame gazelle in the Serengeti. It's insanely uncomfortable; there are mirages everywhere; and there are a ton of other faster, more attractive animals competing for the same prize. Also, if you manage to sink your teeth into one of the prey before one of your competitors, your fang comes loose (on the fourth date) and they get away. CRAP.

Today I also decided to be pathetic. I whined. When complaining to a co-worker about my lack of date-related blog fodder, I was told that I am "too smart"... While many would probably find this to be an unfair assessment of why I am not dating, I took it as a great compliment. I would like to therefore think that everyone is not too dumb for me, but rather, I am so insanely brilliant that romantic relationships bore me. Phew, that sounds way better. Wouldn't you rather be socially awkward as a result of Einstein-level brilliance than be completely and utterly inept at the romantic interview? I would.

My plan? I will see what comes of this new endeavor and I will continue to send witty emails. Screw you if you don't like them. Also, I will continue to admire those ungettable gets that get me through my days because they require no investment of my time or energy. I also do not have to worry about losing a fang.

I'll keep you posted.

Shiza! There's a Hole in My Cynicism!

Wow, I really want to put myself in a compromising position...

While on the bus today, a crazy thing happened - there was a menage a trois of misery happening right before my very eyes. The bus driver (who probably should not have been engaged in conversation considering he should have been attempting to not kill 50 people in a flaming car wreck) was discussing his failed marriage with 2 other women (both of them also divorced). Now, instead of using this as fodder for yet another marriage hating blog, I decided to do some introspection - Why do I write Too Young to Be Jaded?

And I realized something - the cynicism that I am so unabashedly proud of is simply my attempt to foster indifference. The more indifferent you are, the less likely the possibility of being hurt. Furthermore, by being cynical, all actions performed by the other individual are suspect and not genuine. As a result, I (seemingly) don't care as much and in turn, when things go south or their interest in me wanes, I am neither surprised nor upset (OK, you got me - I am a little bit upset but it's quelled by the fact that I suspected it all along).

Too Young to Be Jaded has become incredibly cathartic for me. I can display my neuroses and obsessive nature by being a detached observer. I maintain distance by mocking all that others hold dear and value greatly. It's fantastic. Furthermore, I can word vomit whenever I like in order to express any disappointment I may be feeling on any given day.

However, I am going to let you in on a little secret - I do hold out hope. For some reason, I manage to convince myself that, while I know a relationship will inevitably end or even never begin, I hope that things could potentially change and I could (theoretically) be happy. I think I also pursue impossibile prospects because they not only allow me to stay suspended in an endless game of waiting (therefore allowing me to remain "hopeful"), but I can also immediately justify my cynicism when things don't work out (I mean, how could they when the guy is either gay, crazy, or just coming out of a core-shaking relationship?)

Wow, that was a mouthful. I am now secretly debating whether or not to delete the prior paragraph but as they say, writing makes it real; and I need to accept how paradoxical my views on relationships are.

Think about this -I maintain a cynical, almost vehement angry view of relationships to protect myself AND, instead of seeking out men that could potentially prove my theories incorrect, I pursue the "ungettable get" so I can say "See!? This is why I hate relationships and dating." It's something for me to ponder, but not necessarily change. Not yet anyway...I enjoy this cynical persona immensely. She's great.

Oh, So You're a Siamese Twin Then?

Apparently, these last two days are about trends within the twenty-something relationship pool. I have noticed that more and more people feel the need to have as their profile picture a photograph of themselves and their significant other. While I am aware that most likely, the excitement of being in a relationship often precedes the awareness of its intrinsic fragility, I can only ask, "Why you would want a photo of you and another individual to be seen as you?" Furthermore, why would you draw attention to your own transience and mortality by using a photograph of the world's most fragile institution - a romantic relationship - to define you?

On these social networking sites, there of course is the undertone of possible flirtation and attraction. I can therefore sympathize with the fact that you may want to immediately deter unwanted attention by showing, undoubtedly, that you are off the market. However, I think people forget that one has the option of providing one's "relationship status" - are you single, in a relationship with..., engaged, married, or is it simply complicated? There is already an opportunity to deter said stalker/predator/potential love interest, so why have the kissy face picture with your boyfriend or girlfriend in order to do so?

And, (I just realized), I am being far too nice. I am prefacing each criticism with a "while I am aware..." or a "I can sympathize with..." when in actuality, I find it ridiculous. Let's talk about Facebook specifically. When you click a person's profile, you can view their name, and to the left of that, their picture. It irks me to think that my name would be defined by my relationship with another person. Maybe my feminist muscle is a bit overworked today - so forget the whole "defining onesself through one's relationship argument." Instead, I will be purely selfish -why subject others to excess sentimentality? Why do that to your 259 closes friends?! I promise, if I want to see your engagement ring, your wedding, or a blissful night out with your lover, I will seek it out in one of your fifty photo albums, don't worry.

Also, imagine all you have accomplished in your lifetime or all of those things that have come to define you. When someone "friends" you, do you really want them to see you and someone else? How is that not even a little creepy? Joe Shmo requests your friendship. Oh! Who is this Joe Shmo? Apparently, he enjoys sitting on a bean bag with his very unattractive girlfriend while they take self-aggrandizing pictures of their romantic bliss. Friendship - DENIED.

In case my arguments are falling on deaf ears or blind eyes, I will provide an analogy to show how I really feel about the couple profile picture (in case you were worrying I was holding back) - Imagine meeting someone new. Immediately, they tell you their married. In addition to that, they pull out their wedding album; show you their ring (and describe the romance that ensued in Kay Jewelers when they bought it), and oh, they also pull our their dry cleaned wedding dress which they have had preserved for all of eternity. Basically, in one word, it's overkill.

I implore you boyfriends and girlfriends, please stop subjecting the rest of us to your relationship. We like you, not you and shmoopy pie. Thanks.

Let's Put the "Ex" in Sex

I'm beginning to feel as though people in my generation (the 20-somethings) feel an unnecessary need to remain friends with their exes. Maybe this is just a trend that prevails in my social circle, but it's disturbing nonetheless. When it comes to the end of a relationship, I've always said that I need to pretend that my ex died in some sort of tragic farming or hunting accident. For some reason, this makes me feel better. It's much easier to accept a mawling by an angry grizzly or a tractor disaster than come to the realization that there's an individual out there who, after some consideration, decided that being with me was not something that suited their life plans.

I suppose I could take the healthier approach and simply say, "It was a learning experience. I am going to move on and become a better person for it." While I remain incredibly productive post-break-up (this blog being one example), I can't help but allow my previous relationship to affect how I view other romantic interactions. Par example, on a blind date a few months ago, my date mentioned that he valued "balance" in his life. This was something that my ex valued above all else. As a result, a mini air raid occurred in my head and I politely excused myself from said meeting. My ex is not someone to befriend. Instead, he is someone to be avoided - whether it be his whole person, or any characteristic thereof, even if it's wrapped in a nice, new package.

Yesterday, a friend asked me if I have spoken to my ex recently. My face contorted: "Why on earth would I do that? I do not need to be reminded of my failure." After a bit of prodding, I realized that my main gripe with maintaining a relationship with an ex is not that I feel I have failed, but rather the vehement anger that ensues when I realize how much I allowed this other person to know about me. I have opened up my heart (for lack of a better cliche), only to be mortally disappointed. Whether it happens 3 days or 3 years into a new relationship, a break-up is inevitable and I am just not comfortable maintaining a friendly rapport with the person who shat on my heart. Wow, that felt good.

I also don't know if I admire, or feel sorry for those individuals who can maintain close, or even amicable friendships with an ex. Many may say that my tactic of avoidance is unhealthy, but I feel that trying to "move on" while also maintaining regular contact with a person with whom you share(d) an emotional and sexual connection is even more disturbing. How can one expect to pursue a new romantic relationship when you are constantly reminded of an old one? There is enough opportunity to compare (especially in New York City, where options abound) without subjecting your poor, new prospect to a side-by-side comparison with your ex - a person whom you trust(ed) and most likely love(d). Furthermore, I feel it makes moving on that much harder for both of you, and also increases your chances of jealous rages from the new boyfriend/girlfriend, and rightfully so.

I suppose that I simply view the maintenance of the ex-to-ex-friendship as a safety net. When coming out of a new relationship, there is an unavoidable worry that you will never find another individual who understands and accepts you the same way. Therefore, like some sort of sick relay race, they are kept on the sidelines to be tagged in when single life isn't all it's cracked up to be.

The Threat of the Squirrel

Someone once told me to be careful about writing blogs because it's too much of a window into your mind and your thought processes...a squirrel may get in. While I never fully understood what he meant, I was sure it was a warning. However, I have decided to not heed this warning and let you know that I have decided to start dating again. Yes, Miss Cynicism has decided that it's time. What brought about this new change of heart? Well, yesterday, I had an overwhelming feeling of annoyance that other people existed. Even I could tell that this was not a good sign-it's not healthy to find other people's existence reprehensible.

Therefore, what better way to learn socialization skills than dating? I find it to be the most challenging form of human interaction and I figured that through such toil, I would find comfort and solace in my less stressful, lower maintenance relationships and interactions. Hell, I might even learn to not mind that the woman ahead of me on line is having an inane conversation with her three year old.

Now, (and you may be shocked by this), but the opposite sex isn't exactly knocking my door down with invitations to dinners and movies. First step - find a date. I have already emailed two "prospects" via the Sex and Dating section of Timeout New York. But, I also ask you, do you know anybody? Feel free to set me up. I prefer, tall, thin, artsy types who have a penchant for good film and good food. Think of it this way - it's comedic fodder for you. I embarrass myself, and you have a grand time reading about it the next day.

In order to maintain accountability, I will keep you posted on my dating exploits and the definite chaos that will ensue. Also, I hope that you can help me - I don't believe there is an action I am more inept at than dating (well, maybe skateboarding). Therefore, once I provide full accounts of these dates, you can let me know what I did well, and what I did incorrectly, although I'm sure the list for the latter will be much longer.

Who knows what will happen? I am secretly hoping that this additional foray into dating will provide me with some more cynicism. After all, what good will I be to you if I meet someone I like/can talk with/genuinely enjoy spending time with? I'll answer for you - I will be no good at all. Let the games begin!

Thank You SELF - My Blog is Not Useless!

I was reading SELF Magazine recently and I was intrigued by an article entitled "We've got a sexy secret...28 of them actually!" Ooooh, please SELF Magazine, tell me more! Reading through the trite bits of advice about how to spice up your love life, I came across one that made me guffaw. While it was meant to provide a glimmer of hope for those couples whose sex life has gone dull, it simply proved my point that the only antidote to a bad/boring relationship is the absence of one. And I quote:

"Imagine he's a movie star...The Pro's POV: Fantasizing like this is actually a healthy way to keep the spark alive. 'MRI studies show that novelty-even simply thinking about something or someone new-can light up dopamine pathways in the brain,' explains Susan Kellogg, Ph.D...because dopamine is linked with reward-seeking behavior and sexual interest, imagining Viggo, Daniel or John can be seductive. That being said, if pretending your mate is someone else makes you feel guilty, don't do it."

I find it disconcerting (yes, ME, Miss Jaded) that this is being provided as actual advice. Why not simply say, "Yes, we recognize that after a certain period of time, sex with your partner can become monotonous, even routine. Hell, it's even outright boring! So, imagine someone else...anyone else. That way, you're not thinking about how much monogamy has destroyed any chance you ever had for a hot sex life."

I also find it quite interesting that this imagining someone new activates the dopamine pathways in the brain. An excessive amount of dopamine is also associated with attention deficit disorder. Now, feel free to call me out on convoluted logic but- if we are activating the same neurotransmitter pathway each time we fantasize about someone new, aren't we in turn making ourselves more susceptible to the same inability to concentrate on the same person over a period of time? I believe SELF Magazine is propagating attention deficit disorder in relationships. Also, bringing up the possibility of guilt brings to mind the idea of virtual cheating. "Hey, if you feel bad about the fact that your partner can't do it for you anymore and you need to imagine your hot neighbor, don't do it." Or, I could also be reaching.

I also adore the magazine's diction - imagining Christian Bale while you're in bed with a real, touchable man (I'm just using Bale as a for instance - he's not my dream guy or anything) - is healthy. There is something to be said for the fact that a healthy way of dealing with monogamy's monotony is to be with someone else, even if only in your imagination.

Well, there you go - SELF has provided us with the antidote to the complete unsustainability of romantic relationships - pretend that you're not with your mate anymore! Now, you may say - "Well, you're not doing it all the time, you're only doing it during sex." Right. You're only doing it during what is supposed to be the most intimate time in a couple's relationship; the time that for many couples, can make or break the decision to stay together. Yes, definitely do it during that time. Please.

And thank you SELF for proving my point about how difficult and virtually useless monogamy is and disguising it as useful advice. Well done.

Disney Mythology - Take That Walt!

As per my promise from last week, I have decided to deconstruct the happy endings of some of my favorite Disney movies. I was once told that Disney fairytales are to blame for the utter insane demands that women place on their relationships. If we lose a shoe, we demand it be returned as part of some grand romantic gesture; if we are somehow outsmarted by a loom we hope that our boyfriends would battle a gigantic dragon to save us; and we would only hope that he would forego his need for oxygen to defend our honor against a giant octopus.

As girls, we hope to find a man willing to sacrifice all to be with us. We believe in the undying ability of love to make people do extraordinary things. Then, we grow up. We realize that men are inherently lazy creatures who won't get off the recliner to do a dish let alone travel across the countryand battle mythological, fire-breathing creatures. Disney movies lie. Not only have I never met a man willing to go above and beyond, but I have also never had a bird land on my finger and sing to me. Bullshit.

So, the three movies I have decided to concentrate on in this blog (even though there are so many) are the following:

Beauty and the Beast

OK, so after Belle ineffectually fights off a group of fire wielding villagers, the Beast turns into this incredibly sexy prince who then wants nothing more than to be with her. They dance as a throng of adoring faces watches on. First of all, any man that good looking would never settle down right away, especially when he's spent the last however many years looking like a giant bear. He would want to "explore", "date around", see what else that provincial town has for him to sink his teeth into. While Belle is beautiful, she is a little homely and would no doubt return post-break-up to her father's cockamamey cottage, using the mirror to stalk the prince every chance she gets. She winds up alone, a local librarian who refuses to stock fairytales. No happy ending here.

Sleeping Beauty

First of all, he falls in love with her because he finds her singing the following lyrics in the middle of the forest: "I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam. Yes, I know it's truethat visions are seldom all they seem, But if I know you, I know what you'll do, You'll love me at oncethe way you did once upon a dream." First of all, there is nothing endearing about singing to yourself and various forms of wildlife. It makes you crazy, not enchanting. Secondly, all any man would have to hear is that this crazy woman is also waiting with bated breath for a man she has only met in her dreams. Fantastic. Actually, I am going to try this in Central Park at some point. I will capture an owl and a squirrel, sing this song, and wait for a tall, blonde, modelesque man to join me in the chorus. Oh wait. I have to make the following distinction - he must be straight. See? Won't ever happen.

Little Mermaid

So, Prince Eric falls in love with Ariel regardless of the fact that she doesn't have a voicebox. This makes complete sense - I think all of my male friends wish that their girlfriend's fortuitously lost their ability to speak. This is not hard to believe. What is hard to believe is that after Eric abandons Ariel (because he is "hypnotized" by Ursula), Ariel takes him back. Yeah, OK. She would convince herself that he jumped ship (sorry, couldn't resist the pun) because of Ursula's otherworldly skills in the bedroom, be unable to forgive him and retaliate by finding herslef a very sexy, very available merman. Her "whole new world" would be one "undah da sea". Sebastian would be ecstatic.

Died and Gone to Heaven

I recently purchased a book called (and I am trying my best to contain myself here) Woody Allen and Philosophy [You Mean My Whole Fallacy Is Wrong?] It is an assortment of philosophical essays attempting to understand Allen's work through the ideas of various philosophers. One particular article immediately caught my attention: God, Suicide, and the Meaning of Life by Mark T. Conrad. Citing various films, Conrad attempts to show that romantic relationships are mere distractions, futile efforts to forget how meaningless our lives actually are.

I turn your attention to two quotes given by Conrad from Allen's movies September and "God (A Play)" respectively:

PETER: You feel so sure of that when you look out on a clear night like tonight and see all those millions of stars? That none of it matters?"

LLOYD: I think it's just as beautiful as you do, and vaguely evocative of some deep truth that always just keeps slipping away, but then my professional perspective overcomes me, a less wishful, more penetrating view of it, and I understand it for what it truly is: haphazard, morally neutral, and unimaginably violent.

PETER: Look, we shouldn't have this conversation. I have to sleep alone tonight.

DORIS: But without God, the universe is meaningless. Life is meaningless. We're meaningless. (Deadly pause) I have a sudden and overpowering urge to get laid.

In the first conversation, the idea that the universe is completely random and in effect, without meaning, immediately turns to the fear of being alone. The fact that one has to face the harsh truth of life without the distraction of a romantic relationship is frightening - Peter does not want to sleep alone. Like a child, he cannot imagine going to sleep without someone near him. Our relationships are our night-lights - they are something to focus on as we attempt to find rest in the blackness of everyday existence.

Now, you may say, "No! Our relationships are the things that provide meaning and worth to our lives. Conrad (and I frankly) would disagree. According to Conrad, "[according to Allen] Since value and meaning could only be provided by, or exist as, some external or permanent [bold is mine] feature of the universe, and since our individual projects and lives can by no means produce something eternal and permanent, these projects can never produce meaning and value. Consequently, as I've said, these pursuits are - at best - mere distractions." And, if I haven't said anything in my last 10 or so posts, I have at least shown that I find romantic relationships to be, above all, incredibly transient.

Doris says the exact same thing - coming to terms with the meaningless of all pursuits, she needs distraction. Her choice? Sex. Why not? Isn't the superficial connection with another human being better than facing the utter meaninglessness of life? I certainly think so. It's much more enjoyable and doesn't lead to suicide when done drunk. PERFECT!

The Monotony of Monogamy

I cannot take full credit for the brilliance that is the title of this blog - all hail my brother. Now, because this topic almost overwhelmed me, I will most likely tackle it in two parts. Today - Part One.

I read recently on Nerve.com's dating confessions something to the effect of: "Online dating is all about the tangibles. But true love is all about the intangibles. Therefore, the two are diametrically opposed." While I agree with this statement, I have to say that love is very much like a banana left in a paper bag too long - It goes from barely sweet, to perfectly ripe, and then completely rotten before you have a chance to enjoy it.

Is this not exactly what occurs in a relationship? When you first meet someone, you're aware that you are in the mood for a banana. Is it this banana? Not sure. As the liking grows, the banana ripens - it becomes sweeter, more palatable. And then, before you know it, it's rotten and completely inedible. This process can take place over the course of a month, a year, or 10 years...the point is, the inevitability of eventually having to deal with a rotten fruit is something we accept when we choose to get into a relationship with someone.

When seeing a couple embrace, all I can think is, "yeah, it's great until it's not anymore." There is something to be said for the perception of romantic relationships - it shifts dramatically depending upon your experience, as well as your current romantic situation. Yes, I am single, and yes, I have had my fair share of long-term relationships. Therefore, when I see a couple liesurely walking through the city on a Sunday afternoon, hands clasped, paper in hand, I can only think: "Oh, they're at the obligatory I have to hang out with you every second of every day phase." As an experienced dater with a good amount of heartbreak, you recognize that stage as more of a negative than a positive (well, at least I do).

It is at this stage where a certain comfort level has been reached - words do not need to be shared; the deep ideas that once brought you together are now replaced by conversations of bills, car insurance, and in some cases, daycare. Oftentimes, the lack of excitement/newness/fun is suffocating. Eating dinner together becomes a chore. You become "the dining dead" (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind), chewing silently as you make occasional eye contact.

In essence, there is nothing magical about being in a relationship. It becomes monotonous, just like everything else. Like a job, the day's events become predictable. Your partner's charming idiosyncrasies become irksome as you both begin to realize that opting to spend "the rest of your lives together" or even "a good amount of time together" is going to be a mighty long road.

Long-term relationships are like the Gold Rush - there is the promise of riches at the end of the trek but begin with caution - famine, danger, and long stretches of road with no reprieve in sight await you.

The Romance Myth - Debunked

Hollywood has created a romance mythos that has no basis in reality. The guy (usually) always gets the girl; the ugly duckling becomes a beauitul swan and gets the man of her dreams; and the two individuals who seemingly hated one another find it in their hearts to not only maintain tolerance but even fall in love. Romantic comedies work for one reason: they stop at the most opportune time. You don't see what happens post union, because that's when things go south. So, I have chosen a few romantic comedies and have decided to create my own little post-ending scenarios and provide reasons for why these perfect loves are doomed to fail.

Sweet Home Alabama
She winds up with her high school sweetheart - the rough and tumble farmer who has always loved the true Melanie, not the successful, ambitious New York City fashionista that she has become. She eventually rediscovers her true feelings for her former husband (as well as her Southern twang), and leaves her New York life behind. Yeah, OK. Shoot forward 3 years. She is married, pregnant, and riding a tractor. She resents and hates her husband because he represents everything she had tried to escape from, and now she is mired in it forever. She drinks heavily and drunkenly tells her children of her days as a famous fashion designer. They never believe her.

Never Been Kissed
We all know this story, yes? Josie Grossie goes back to high school as part of a journalistic assignment. She falls in love with her English teacher (who thinks she is 17, but he falls in love with her anyway). After much soul searching, he finds out she is a reporter; they have a fight; she writes a romantic piece in the local paper; he reads it and gives her her first real kiss. Cue"aw". What they don't show you are the dinner parties that they throw. Josie is so incredibly excited to be in an adult relationship that she entertains quite frequently. However, Mr. Coulson cannot hold his alcohol and has a penchant for tirades that sound like this: "I fucking wanted to have sex with you when I thought you were 17! Can you fucking imagine that?! FUCK!?" Josie then walks off screen and cries about how another dinner party is ruined because Sam can't let go of the past.

50 First Dates
OK. Drew Barrymore has no short term memory, so Adam Sandler tries his darndest to create a life with her by showing her videos every morning to remind her of what they have. It's sweet. Yeah, it's sweet because it's every man's fantasy - a woman who can't remember shit. After getting bored of having to constantly prove who he is to the woman he shares a home with, he begins to have fun with it. The videos that he shows her each morning become more and more ridiculous, even making her believe on one particular day that they are the 21st century's Bonnie and Clyde. Oh, and at night, he sneaks out to sleep with other women.

Because I had so much fun with this, I think it may become a Friday thing...Next week - Disney movies debunked!

The "How We Met Story" - A Happy Couple's Version of the Stocks

No, I am not talking of the Dow or the Nasdaq, but rather, the medieval torture device that was often used as a means of public humiliation and pain. When a happy couple (or, as we learned from my last blog - a seemingly happy couple) begins their "let's tell them how we met!" spiel, I cringe. We all know that the story of the happenstance, or not so happenstance meeting will pretty much be variations on one of two themes:

1. "Oh, we hated each other!" Cue knowing smile and coquettish side glance at significant other. "But, I don't know. He just grew on me!"
2. "I knew it the moment we met." Cue same side glance. "I knew I had met the one. You know that feeling? When you just...know?" It is during this question that I wish I lacked my normal human filtering system and instead had a Larry David-like approach to interacting with people: "No, you moron. I don't know what you mean. Do you see a tall, dark, handsome man standing next to me? Is he looking at me with awe-struck eyes almost as if to say, 'how did I manage to get her?' NO!"

While both stories may vary depending on the couple, they all have one goal - to incite jealousy in the single individual (or equally "fortunate" couple) who is listening. Couples constantly try to one-up eachother- "Oh, you guys met when his car crashed into yours? Well, we lived in the same building for 10 years and never crossed paths! Can you imagine?!"

My favorite, however, is the "How we met story" (directed at a single friend) that ends with the sympathetic "aw, you'll find somebody" head tilt. I don't need your pity. As a matter of fact, I feel quite lucky that I do not have to subject other unsuspecting bystanders to a needless real-life romance written by two nitwits. I, instead, will take part in conversation that involves all individuals in the room and not just the two self-centered morons who decided to torture us for 30 minutes as they described how he "swept her off her feet" when he rang up her apples at the A&P.

Man, that felt good. Maybe I should channel Larry David more often.

The Opposite of Love = Marriage?

I was introduced to Tracy Thorn today...well, her music. More importantly, someone brought her newest album to my attention. Called "Love and Its Opposite", Thorn attempts to navigate love and understand the push and pull that are relationships and marriage. According to Thorn, the opposite of love is marriage. The obligation and stress that comes with long-term relationships and with the fear of losing them can be suffocating. The album cover is eerie, a forlorn family poses for a portrait, their faces haphazardly colored in seemingly by an angry child; a child who was forced to watch their parents' marriage crumble.

The first track on the album, "Oh, The Divorces!" (a song whose lyrics I had to include) is a melancholy reflection on the inevitability of failed love...As I listened, I realized that this epitomizes my view of marriage - it's a slow death once the "I do's" are done; and when the divorce is announced, everyone is shocked: "I thought they were so happy!"

The last lines of the song remind me of the beginning lines of Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy: "All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way". Each happy family is a replica of the other because it's a facade - underneath those pleasant dinners and peaceful barbecues is a mother and a father who feel suffocated, stressed, and somewhat alone. Well, at least according to Tracy Thorn...and I have to say I agree with her.

I transcribed the lyrics for you...I apologize if they are incorrect. I did my best!

Oh, The Divorces!

Who's next?

Who's next?

Always the ones that you least expect

They seem so strong

Turns out she wants it more all alone

And each time I hear who drifts apart

I examine my heart

See how it stands

Wonder if it's still in safe hands.

Who's fled? Who's fled?

Who's been caught out in somebody's bed?

You should have guessed that day his phone wouldn't take your text.

He was a charmer

I wish him bad karma

Oh I know we shouldn't take sides

But that one was his fault

And this one is her fault

No one gets off without pain...?

Oh, the divorces

And oh, oh, oh

The honeymoon, the wedding ring, oh, oh, oh

The afternoon hand-overs by the swings

...

You're still so young

But it ends just as easily as it's begun.

Now there's kids to tell

The legal bills and custody

And oh, the divorces.

And this one is different and each one of course is,

And always the same...

How "He's Just Not That Into You" Ruined My Life

During my brief single stint when I was 21 years old, I became obsessed with the book, "He's Just Not that Into You". I felt like it had simplified the very complicated world of dating for me in so many ways - If he doesn't call, he doesn't like you. If he likes you, he will ask you out. If he is sleeping with someone else, guess what? He's just not that into you. I felt free. Alive. I could ascertain a man's interest and then drop him at the slightest hint that my enthusiasm was not being returned...

Enter me, 4 years later...

My boyfriend of 3 years packs my things for me without being 100 percent sure that I was indeed leaving Texas to fly back to New York City. Relationship failed. One night as I wallowed, knee-deep in ice cream (what a cliche), "He's Just Not That Into You" began. I can sum up the movie like this - dumb women meet equally dumb men and then, in the end, find happiness whether they are alone, or with one of aforementioned men.

Was there a glimmer of hope? Was it possible that '...after all the unreturned phone calls, broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment" hope could still exist? (ending monologue of the film) Nope.

It only seems that things will work out because they end the movie at the happiest, most opportune time. Gigi is at the very beginning of her relationship with Alex (he has yet to see her truly crazy side); Drew Barrymore's character has yet to pick her first fight with her new boyfriend (who used to sleep with Scarlett Johanssen's character) - "Are you more attracted to her?! Do you still love her?! She still has a hold on you! I know it! ADMIT IT!" They also don't show Jennifer Connelly's character slowly spiral into madness as she attempts to navigate the dating world after being with the same man since college.

When I first became single after the "Austin Debacle" (we will refer to it this way from now on), this movie did give me hope. Then, my relationship experience charged forth and helped me to nullify each happy ending with experience-supported logic. Why must these movies insist on destroying us? This film has created a group of sadomasochistic women who, against all odds, continue to pursue love, or at least the illusion of it. We make fools of ourselves as we attempt to emulate the type of woman that we perceive to be wanted by the men we desire.

However, I must say that my recalcitrant refusal to listen to any of the advice put forth in "He's Just Not That Into You" has caused me to pursue eligible men blindly. I suppose that, while I won't accept the movie's promise of a happy ending, I probably should adopt the idea that if he isn't calling, he isn't interested...or maybe, he'd rather be sleeping with Scarlett Johanssen. Pure and simple.

Oy vey. Dating sucks.