Returning to High School After College

A couple of weeks ago I invited over a close friend for dinner. Back in the day, we met by bumping into each other on the dance floor at someone’s bar mitzvah since our big sombreros from the DJ were covering our eyes. Actually, I don’t know if that’s true, but hey, it’s possible-- we did meet in the seventh grade.

Anyway, since we’ve known each other through the years, I guess I can say that we grew up together. We’ve also watched our friends mature as we have right along with them. Likewise, we’ve watched a disgusting percentage of the kids we used to see each day in public school NOT mature. You’d think that years after they moved away from home, graduated from college and, for some, started work in the real world, they would have, I don’t know, learned to have a little class, tact or-- dare I say it-- proper social skills. And, once again, folks, R. was WRONG.

We were sitting at the table eating dinner when my friend, E., described a situation that came up when she was home in our Connecticut suburb days earlier. She was out with her girlfriends and they stumbled upon this boy who was always known as a “popular kid” at home. He was always adorable, and I know for a fact that I recognized that even back in the sixth grade when I probably still thought he could infect me with some gross disease simply because he was a boy. (Little did I know, that really was true but, fortunately for me, I never put myself in a position where that could have happened then.)

Anyway, this boy, Ben, always knew he was cute and knew he ran with a crowd who considered themselves admired by everyone else. As expected, especially in a snotty town like mine, his attitude followed suit: he knew that he was highly regarded and, for that reason, apparently didn’t feel the need to talk to or even respect those he considered “beneath him.”

Ah, yes, I know, the classic story of the popular kid with an attitude. Most of us can relate, no matter where we grew up. But, unlike the situation that most of us face, kids from my town, never grew out of this attitude. We didn’t ever all “bond as a senior class” like the students in so many other places did once they realized that they were all equals. No, people like Ben have remained arrogant and still consider themselves better than the rest of us-- even if they’ve gained 38 pounds since high school and spend all day smoking pot and watching Lost.

Anyway, E. runs into Ben and he immediately gives each of her friends a hug. I guess he had deemed them not only worthy of affection, but also not so far below beneath him that he could--OH MY GOD-- touch them! After he went down the line of the three friends, his eyes landed on E.

“I guess I have to hug you too,” he said, as if she should consider it an honor that he’d even speak to her.

“You don’t have to be so awkward,” she replied, without missing a beat. (GO E!!!)

What she said was both right and wrong. She was right to call him out on his bizarre (read: exceptionally snobby and unacceptable) behavior. But how she labeled it was wrong. He wasn’t awkward; he was just a douche. A douche with an ego from the sixth grade. One that should have been gone by the seventh or, actually, never even existed at all. So he had a cute grin and came to school decked out in Abercrombie from head to toe twelve years ago, but does that give him the right to be so rude now? Of course not.

Believe me, when I actually lived at home I was used to people either ignoring me completely or insulting me to my face just to feel powerful. But now I’m years removed from my town and, come on, it’s still happening! That much no one ever prepared me for.

Just last week I experienced my own “hometown” moment. I ran into a girl who grew up in my neighborhood who happens to live in my current area of the city. When our eyes locked in passing her head immediately did a 180. No, I didn’t have some heinous wart growing out of my face. I wasn’t even wearing a mismatched outfit or walking with my hair a mess. (Although maybe she would have thought I was actually cool if my hair were a sex hair mess? Would she even believe that a girl as pathetic as me could ever be even kissed by a man?!) But she refused to even look at me, even though she obviously knew damn well who I was.

So what did I do? I followed E’s example. I called her out on it. I shouted to her with a bright, beaming smile, acting as if we were friends. (I can just imagine her gagging herself with a spoon at the thought of me even fake-labeling her as my “friend...”) I know that I never did anything wrong to this girl; rather, it’s her insecurity. And, in a way, it even makes me feel sort of powerful that she feels that my presence is significant enough that, if she were to acknowledge it, I could ruin her reputation in a city of millions of people.

Funny, but I’d almost argue that we’ve had a role reversal. E and I are the ones who are going through our lives carefree about who we talk to. People like Ben or the girl I mentioned have to worry about who they even make eye contact with, in fear that it could somehow lessen how others think of them.

Well, let it be known, we already think less of you. We think less of you that you don’t have the courage to get over your high school bullshit and to act like a decent human being. And for that I think that people like E and me can smile and be glad that we’ve grown up while leaving all the popular kids in the memories of their middle school photos. Personally, I’m just glad that my social peak wasn’t when I was twelve years old. That would have just been pathetic.

I’m Cutting You Out of My Technological Life.

Remember when you were in elementary school and there was that friend you’d always fight with? She would threaten to not invite you to her birthday party or that she’d have a playdate with a bunch of your friends and exclude you. Or what about in high school and there was that jealous ex who spread rumors about you? Didn’t you want to completely cut out that evil person from your life? (After ripping their hair out and throwing a few punches, of course.)

At least for me, it used to be my dream to never again lay eyes on those who bullied me or tormented me most as a kid. In an ideal world, I’d never have to. As nice as it would have been, I wasn’t able to forever avoid these annoying and sometimes downright evil characters in my life. There existed no hard way to make it clear that we were done and never speaking again, unless one of us were to explicitly say so.

Now we’re in the Facebook era and, yep, you guessed it, it’s easier than ever to completely separate someone from your life. All it takes is one little click and-- POOF-- you’ve officially “unfriended” someone. (Yes, “unfriend” is apparently a real word. See here.) No detrimental words needed. Certainly no black eyes or even scratches. In fact, the person being unfriended might not even know, but you, oh you little social networking genius, have surreptitiously severed all ties from this evil person. It might take until the next time they attempt to stalk you for them to realize this. Who knows-- they might look you up every hour on the hour just like I follow my friends. Just kidding. (Or am I?) Maybe they don’t care enough to ever review your carefully crafted “About Me” section and selection of 1,359 photos of yourself. Regardless, no one knows.

So who do we unfriend and why? Let’s take it from the most basic of levels: we technologically and in actuality unfriend those with whom we’ve had some sort of fight or interaction that has been so negatively intense that we choose to no longer maintain a relationship with that person. We could be talking about the girl who you had a bitch-fight with in the middle of the dining hall at school because she thinks you’re turning all her friends against her. Likewise, it could be that guy who you were really into who just broke your heart. Perhaps you can’t bare the thought of these people popping up on your computer screen which, ultimately, forces you to not only look at their faces but to also, if even for a split second, provokes a strong emotional reaction.

Know what? I get it. It’s painful to see that the guy used to date has a new girlfriend who happens to be ten pounds lighter than you, tall, blonde and gorgeous. It’s also hard to see that A., the girl who strives to make your life miserable, is off having a blast with B. and C., your two best friends-- without you.

But what does unfriending them really accomplish? Is it really worth our time or the potential ramifications?

I think that in certain instances I can at least understand why people go to this extreme. I call it an extreme even though it’s really just clicking a button. That said, that one click makes it abundantly clear that you’ve ended all contact or possibilities for contact in the future. If you were some bitchy girl who started dating the guy of my dreams (knowingly), would I unfriend you? No, because that would be a petty way to solve a potentially bigger problem. But if you were that same girl and you went and, say, physically harmed someone close to me, then would I? Maybe.



To be honest, unfriending isn’t the first option that comes to mind, perhaps because I didn’t become a part of the Facebook culture until I was a senior in high school. But would I want to remain Facebook friends so that the entire world could see that we were socially tied? NO. Of course I wouldn’t want to have any connection to you! So perhaps in that situation, just perhaps though, unfriending would be an appropriate option.

What it boils down to is that when we’re utilizing social networking technology, it’s important that we remain as mature as we would in person. If you don’t like what that girl in class has to say, you’re not going to completely cut her off forever. Why do it on Facebook if you’re already “friends” or, as I’d like to think of it, socially connected to some degree? And if someone insults you, are you really going to take the measure of unfriending them, just to ultimately signify that yes, they really have pushed your buttons and upset you? I would think you’d rather let it go than to let them know that they’re accomplished their goal of bothering you.

My advice? Be the bigger person. Don’t unfriend. Learn to use the “hide” feature on your Facebook newsfeed so that you don’t have to see that the guy you had a fight with is writing passive-aggressive status updates to make your life miserable. After all, if you unfriend someone, it’s proving to them that they’ve impacted your life. Chances are, that was their initial objective anyway. Besides, isn’t it sometimes fun to take a step back, read what someone writes online and laugh at how petty their comments are? Believe me, it’s even funnier while they’re simultaneously trying to make new friends or score a hot date!.

Just an FYI-- I recently stumbled across an article on this topic. I think it pretty perfectly sums up why someone might choose to unfriend one of their social ties. If you’re interested, read “To unfriend or not unfriend: That is the Facebook question” by Andrea Bartz and Brenna Erhrlich: click here.

His Mommy Wrote His Personal Ad... And Now We're Dating.

When I was a senior in high school and had just been accepted to college, my grandmother’s cousin happened to be speaking at an event hosted by my soon-to-be school.

“It’s a great honor to be speaking here today,” he started, “and extremely special to me personally. My cousin’s granddaughter just got into B* University this past week, so being here speaking and supporting this school means a great deal to me.”

Innocent statement enough, right?

Wrong.

Immediately after his speech to alumni, friends and family of the university, an elderly lady approached him. She wasn’t about to compliment his articulate speaking or explain how proud she was that he supported the same cause she did. She introduced herself so she could set me up with her grandson-- a boy who apparently was also accepted at my school.

Yes, she wanted to set him up with me. Me being the girl who was in Connecticut at the time, the event being in Florida, she of course hadn’t ever seen me. For all she knew I had tons of moles and two lazy eyes. Maybe she decided that I was of comparable intelligence to her grandson because we were to attend the same school, or maybe my cousin made an impression good enough to pique her interest in his family members.

So even though this lady immediately whipped out her grandson’s phone number and photo, I never actually met him. Or maybe I did and didn’t know it. To this day I have no idea who the boy was, although I do know he entered my school the year I did, was tall, dark and handsome (of course) and that he was from New York. My cousin fortunately lost this boy’s contact information, something that he and I are probably both grateful for.

So why, now, many years later, am I reflecting on an event where I wasn’t present, one that never really impacted my life in any way whatsoever?

Well, to be quite honest, that was the fist thing that popped into my head when I read Moms Post on “Date My Single Kid,” a CNN article about a new website where mothers can post personal ads on behalf of their children. (See http://www.cnn.com/2010/LIVING/07/19/matchmaker.parent.date.my.kid/index.html.)

The article profiles some sad soul named Colby Brin, age 31, who routinely allows his mother to set him up on dates. In fact, he estimates that his mother has set him up on over thirty dates. And he wonders why none of them have amounted to anything. Every girl dreams of her matchmaker being her future mother-in-law! Nothing like her meddling in your relationship from the very beginning.

Towards the end of the article, the author states that Brin insists that “if a relationship becomes serious...‘his girlfriend won't have to fret.’ He says his mother tends to be more hands-off with his love life once he is in a committed relationship.”

And he expects us readers to believe that? That his mother is coordinating his dating life, but-- don’t worry-- once he becomes a thing with some naive lady mom will step out of the picture? And what about later, when there are kids? Not to worry, she certainly won’t attempt to control the way her grandchildren are raised. It’s not like she cared at all who their mother was. And, after all, she knows her son better than he knows himself, and she certainly know's who the best choice for a girlfriend (read: ultimately his wife) is.

Honestly, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to ever consider going on a date with a man whose mommy put him on the site. Besides the whole control issue at hand, why would I want to date someone who doesn’t have the guts to self-promote on his own behalf?

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love moms and on occasion love their sons. But really, I don’t want to love those moms until I'm deeply involved with their sons. One lady calling and nagging me to pick up the phone and call my relatives is enough, thank you. I already have one mom and I certainly don’t need another.

XOXO,
R.

Let's Give the Male Race a Little Credit

"Did you see B waddling around math class today?" A asked.

"Yeah, what was that all about?" J questioned back.

"She had just come back from the bathroom and her tampon hurt her so she couldn't walk!" A shot back with a monstrous chuckle.

We had all just piled into the back of the big yellow school bus, us being the cool eighth graders that we were. After a long day of passing notes and trading stickers we purchased at Abercrombie, it was time for a gab session on the way home.

It definitely crossed my mind that A and J were B's best friends. Weird that they'd be making such snide remarks behind her back, right?

Wrong. This was just Introduction to Girl World 101. Little did I know I was bound for this class on not only the AP level, but the college and even graduate levels as well.

By the end of high school, I was sure I'd seen it all. I'd watched best friends backstab just to beat each other with better marks in school. I had witnessed girls lie about weekend plans just to oust another from their in-group. Countless times I observed girls insult their best friends' intelligences and looks. But it only continued-- as I learned to distance myself more and more.

As I grew increasingly close in college to two girls that we used to call "the twins," I realized just how far girls are willing to go to make themselves feel better about their own identities and beings. This pair was inseparable-- from making out with their boyfriends on separate beds in the same room to insisting that they showered in stalls next to each other at the same time, there was no breaking them. They liked all the same foods and despised all the same people-- their was no distinguishing their preferences.

Soon one of the twins started to leak a rumor about the other. And not just about the girl herself-- but about the girl's experiences with her new boyfriend. The first girl apparently had attempted to do something sexually that she had never done before and um, let's just say, it wasn't successful judging by the boyfriend's physiological reaction.

The story made it all the way to a different state and back again, thanks to some mutual home friends between two of the friends. One twin's business of sexual incompetence had left the inner circle and traveled miles and miles, only to haunt her for years. Yet they still remained twins, because no one can break the bonds of sisterhood of course.

So, you might be wondering what my point is here. Yes, girls are cruel, we all know this. It isn’t exactly news or shocking. And I don’t mean it just in the sense of friendships—it transcends all social situations, from peer relationships at school to romances.

My point is to make it clear that I know girls are awful, and I know that sometimes we might make it seem here like we hate men. But really, as much as we might complain, it’s important to remember that it’s really us girls that are the crazy and manipulative ones—not the men. Even though we females put up with a lot from men, we give them a harder time and our behavior is oftentimes a lot more outrageous. Maybe we owe them some credit after all.

XOXO,
R.