Stop texting. Stop calling. STOP THINKING ABOUT ME.

Most of us who have dated have been in this situation. We go on a date and we're not that interested in the man we went out with. Boy keeps calling and texting. Sometimes maybe we've responded, sometimes we persistently ignore him. But, however we respond, we know we're not being friendly and we're certainly not showing interest (even if he CONVINCES HIMSELF we're playing hard to get.)

Why is it, then, that sometimes a guy just doesn't get it? I know, I know, we're hard to resist. At times, at least. Other times (...of the month...) you couldn't pay me to be a guy near a girl. But really, why can't some men just take a hint? Not even just a hint, something alluded to or suggested, but a blatant FACT?

In case you're still unsure of exactly what type of situation I'm referring to, I'll provide you with some examples. One is my own personal experience from a serial-dating period of my life. The other a friend recently shared with me, while venting her frustrations and trying to figure out what the hell it is that this man doesn't understand!

Here was my scenario. I went out with a guy. Mistake number one: I met him at a local bar. But hey, we all make mistakes, and even though I should have known that his idea wasn't particularly appropriate (or appealing!) for a first date, I agreed to go. He looked like he could be handsome and he seemed smart, so why not?

I get to the date and, like a total gentleman, he's on time. But, let's just say that's about all he did right the entire night. (OK, he paid for my one rum and diet, but that was it besides that. I swear.) Now, I know it's not his fault that he was shorter than I am-- I'm 5'1''-- but it WAS his fault he said he was 5'5''. Either someone needed to re-take their second grade math lesson on measuring, or they needed to learn to tell the truth. But, that was something I could overlook (literally) and I obviously let the date proceed.

Problem was, I would have had to look past a lot more than that in order to be able to tolerate another date with him. This was a guy who I can promise is a self-described foodie. He'd been to most of the restaurants in our neighborhood, and all of the most famous places in town. But, of course, every time I'd share with him a place that I liked, he'd look at me with a judgmental glare or say "Oh, I don't really like it there" or "It's really not all that good there." Rude, yes. So bad that I couldn't tolerate an entire hour in his presence? Bordering on that, but I knew how to handle myself.

Needless to say, after he insulted all of my favorite places and proved that he couldn't carry on a conversation about anything besides food, I decided immediately that I wasn't interested. Per my own protocol, I wasn't going to answer his calls or his texts, and we certainly weren't going to become friends anytime soon.

I followed my own rules. He didn't get it. He kept calling and he kept texting. I got a few of those messages that were something to the extent of "Hey, this is J... I'm just um... calling to see how you are." Then I'd get the simple texts asking what I was up to or how I was. Over a month later, I got this email:

hey R,

So I'm going to assume that our lack of conversation over the past month or so is an indication that you aren't interested in speaking to me anymore. I'm a little surprised though because I really enjoyed the few hours I got to spend with you and I also remember you saying you were interested in being friends. Anyway, I just wanted to say I'm still interested in seeing you again, but I totally get it if you're not interested...I guess I'm just looking for some closure either way.

Happy Hannukah and have a good new year!

J



First off, I'm sorry that you need closure after one dinner. I really am. Because what happens if you've had, say, dinner AND a kiss with some girl and then she reveals that she's not interested? Do you need to be locked into an insane asylum to heal yourself? Maybe go live with the monks in Tibet so that you can find your inner peace and spirituality?


I've got to be blunt in a situation like this: Get a clue, dude, I don't want to be involved with you! If I did, I'd reciprocate your efforts to be in touch and maybe, just maybe, be interested in seeing you again. Would I really be playing hard to get for an entire month? Did it ever cross your mind that if I were to do that, I would know I was running the risk of losing you, clearly the love of my life, forever?

Something similar happened with a friend of mine this week. Long story short, she'd been on three dates with K. (Three dates definitely = marriage and living happily ever after, right? Duh.) Anyway, K took a trip overseas after those dates and, even with the seven hour time difference and exorbitant long-distance fees, texted and called her every day of the trip. Most times she didn't even answer or respond, but he kept at it. Honestly, I felt sad for him the whole time that he'd be focusing so much of his energies on a girl who was acting lukewarm toward him when, in theory, he could have been on an exotic beach being hit on by a much hotter-for-him sun.

Here's what happened when he got back: my friend decided she needed to make it clear that this wasn't going to go anywhere. No need to keep stringing him along because she wasn't about to pursue him (she had been dating another guy of much more interest anyway) and no point in hurting his feelings. So she did the classic "I'm not ready for this" bit and assumed he'd just GET IT and move on.

Bzzzzz, WRONG!

Text 1 from K after her explanation: i wish you wouldve told me before i left for for my trip, but i was starting to get that feeling

...half hour later...

Text 2 from K: not to beat a dead horse, but i cant wrap my head around this...why the change?

Here's my question: why are you beating a dead horse if you KNOW you are? And what do you think you're going to get out of it? Even moreso, why would you WANT to be with a girl who clearly isn't into you?

I think that some people just don't get it. There might not be a rhyme or reason as to why or what they don't understand, but they don't. More or less, it's a form of social ineptitude, if you will. If nothing more, girls and other guys can learn from reading about these experiences.

What can they learn? A few things:

1. Don't act (or be) desperate. Just don't.
2. If someone clearly isn't interested, back off. If YOU got it wrong and they're interested even though you think they aren't, they'll come looking for YOU.
3. You deserve to be with someone who really wants to be with you, not someone who ignores all of your efforts to get in touch with them.
4. A first date doesn't mean much. It's a first impression-- that's not only true but also important-- but it doesn't signify any kind of commitment or even true interest in the person. After all, you just met!

I'll end with one more thing. As the uninterested party we can't feel guilty. * We MUST at all times be polite, unless someone becomes verbally or physically forceful toward us. But you're not going to be with someone you're not crazy about (or, you shouldn't at least!) so no need to lead on a guy who's interested when you're not. Tell him you're done and move on. Eventually he'll have to, too.

*Note: we all end up on both sides of this equation at one point or another, we just might not be as dramatic as the people in the examples I listed)

Used to Being Used

If you’re in the mood to read something light and perky, this probably isn’t the post for you today. Maybe Google “smiling puppies” or “I just got laid,” but don’t keep on reading.

Why? Because I’ve got a bone to pick. Or, let’s put it this way: a lot of my friends want to pick this very same bone, but I’m going to do it on behalf of all of us because, well, no bone really deserves the invasion of that many digging fingernails.

I think I always had this idealized version of social life floating around in my head-- that by the time we graduated high school we would be over our petty gossip stage, that past middle school we would stop backstabbing each other. And, you know what? I thought we’d stop using each other-- especially using the people we consider our friends-- because I thought that by now we’d be mature and socially aware enough to know that people would catch on to our behaviors.

I was wrong. Very wrong. So wrong that I should probably be embarrassed to admit that I thought people would get past this stage.

How could I have thought that people would actually grow up and start treating each other well? Did I really think that people would treat me as I wished to be treated, and that people would consistently have genuine intentions when interacting with me?

As I’m writing I’m realizing that you might have no idea what I’m alluding to. In a quick and simple explanation, here it goes: people use each other. For all things. During good times and bad, during childhood, adulthood and even old age. It’s a sick fact of life, but it’s definitely a true one.

“Friends” have ulterior motives in their interactions all the time. “Uh, hey, could you translate this into French for me? I mean, I know we haven’t spoken in months, but you’re good at French and I’m not...” or “I know I’ve failed to include you in any social activities recently, but like, my car broke down, and I really need a ride to the shop... if you could please help me out this one time...”

A personal favorite was when someone I knew tried to get in touch with an old friend. Why did he want to befriend her again? To use her dad for his business connections, of course. Obviously neither the girl or her father would have caught on. Because no one has ever tried to benefit from her father’s good fortune ever before. No one has ever tried to benefit from a super wealthy man ever ever ever before. Who would think of doing such a thing?!

Or, recently, a girlfriend was complaining about how annoyed she was with a guy friend, J, because he had asked her to do a favor for him past midnight during the middle of the week. She explained that she did out of empathy, that she considered what it would be like to be in his shoes-- locked out of the house with a broken car-- and without anyone to help out.

So, J. had the guts to let her phone ring when she could have easily been sleeping, but did he ever even say thank you? No. He didn’t as much as utter a word of gratitude.

Now, I personally would have been forever indebted to her if she drove me across town in the middle of the night. Apparently, though, the rest of the world doesn’t think that way. It’s OK to only come crawling back to someone when you need them, rather than enjoy their company in both the good and the bad.

The kicker, though-- at least to me-- is that J. really has no idea that my friend knows he used her. He’s probably going on with his daily routine, driving down some Yellow Brick Road in that car that she helped him get fixed. My friend, though, is simmering at work over the fact that she actually considered J. a friend, all the while he made it clear that they’re only friends when it’s convenient for him.

What really gets me, though, is just that-- the people who use us are too socially incompetent to know that we know. (Does that remind anyone else of that Friends episode “Does she know we know she knows!?”) It becomes abundantly clear when someone is just asking me for a teeny favor because they need my help and not because they’d ever reciprocate.

Don’t invite me to your bridal shower (and not the wedding!) just for the gift, and don’t ask me to cover your shift at work just so you can hang out with that cute boy you just met. Just don’t. And, if you do, try to make it a little less obvious, k?

Before you ask me-- or anyone with any social awareness at all-- to edit your cover letter because I’m such a good writer (enough with the flattery, it doesn’t work) or to help you move when you have no intention of helping me (we all know I’m not a big, strong girl) realize this: we’re on to you. We know what you’re doing.

Maybe you’ll get away with it on occasion, but deep down, we’re aware of your intentions. Some people will fall for your stunts, and, hey, I applaud you for being that sly that you can get away with such actions. But anyone with an ounce of self dignity and awareness won’t. The beauty in the situation is that the more you do it, the more likely the naive souls you’re taking advantage of will realize what you’re doing. And that, my friends, allows me to end this post with some optimism and, yes, a real smile-- the goofy kind, like of the class clown who just caused the class to burst into laughter. Because, hey, wouldn’t it really be funny if all the people being used caught on and stopped allowing themselves to be used?

Sunday Styles

People like myself are the reason that we’re all going to have to soon pay $165 per year to read The New York Times online. For those who rarely have the time or energy to sit down with a hard copy of a newspaper, our smartphones and laptops provide a quick and easy solution to getting the juice without newsprint ink on our fingers. Heck, for the amount of news I read online-- which has ultimately caused such papers to recognize potential areas of profit-- I really should earn a commission on every dollar they make. Either that or I definitely shouldn’t be paying the fee, because people like me made the fee worthwhile and valuable in the first place.

On rare occasion though, I do succumb to the joys of doing things old- school and sit down with an actual Sunday paper in hand. Usually it’s when I’m home in my childhood house, when some mysterious fairy has already placed it on the kitchen table-- right before she laid out my breakfast in front of it. Now while I normally read somewhat intelligent articles on my iPhone on the way to work, Sunday mornings at home call for a more indulgent read: The Sunday Styles.

Why, you might ask, do I automatically flip to this section? Especially coming from the girl who hates engagements and romance, how can I be so contradictory?

I think the answer is that it’s flat out enjoyable to catch a sneak peek into the lives of people we’d never otherwise encounter. As I read about Ms. Yale University the biochemistry graduate whose father is a world renowned cardiologist, I consider how bizarre her conversations with her Harvard philosophy major husband must be. Do they spend hours debating evolution at the dinner table, or perhaps they do they plan their upcoming exotic vacation?

Whatever the case, it’s interesting to get a look into the lives of strangers on their special days, to read the sometimes fascinating biographies of the newlyweds. The best is when we’re provided short vignettes that describe how the two met at a cocktail party when he spilled his red wine down her pastel colored dress, or how she knew from the start at that Halloween party that she just had to know Mr. George Bush impersonator.

What’s always been apparent, though, is that the New York Times is exceptionally exclusive and elitist. Sorry, but you’re not going to find Mrs. Manicurist and Mr. Truck driver’s announcement, although I think their story might be more interesting than two boat shoe clad and stuffy thirty-somethings.

As of recently, there’s apparently a new website that attempts to quantify exactly how many of the people in these announcements are Ivy League educated. Not only Ivy League educated, but also married by a Catholic Priest and women keeping their last names.

Meet WeddingCredential.com (see http://www.weddingcredential.com) and you too can search 3,981 NYTimes wedding announcements to see how many female Princeton graduates who kept their last names. You can also learn how many Goldman Sachs employees who graduated Summa Cum Laude have also been listed. Because we all really care about these details.

According to a New York Magazine article Columbia is the Most-Named University in the Times Wedding Pages, Columbia is the most-named university in the Times Wedding Pages. OK not funny, sorry. But really, it’s interesting to consider how NY Magazine has broken down these seemingly useless yet interesting statistics. (See http://nymag.com/daily/intel/2010/07/columbia_is_the_most-named_uni.html.)

First off, NY Magazine’s analysis has led me to consider the fact that the New York Times is, in reality, pretty elitist. That we all already knew. But, really, who would actually care to read about someone non-Ivy Leage educated? I won’t even begin to mention those people who not only didn’t go to top tier schools, but those who were raised by teachers or-- even worse-- wait, I can’t think of anything the Times would shun more than that.

Beyond that, I think the article makes a very significant point: it’s because of the prevalence of words like “Jdate,” “online dating,” and “Facebook” in marriage announcements that online dating as a whole has become more socially acceptable overall in America. Since we’ve been reading those words repeatedly every Sunday morning for years now, we’ve somehow begun to convince ourselves that meeting someone over the Internet is less taboo.

I also learned that if you want to try and get a three by six inch spot in the Sunday paper, you too can now search this new website. Your seach can help you find out if you’re more likely to make it in if you’re marrying a surgeon or lawyer. You can also determine if your chances are better with a man whose father was a salesman or one whose mom was a CPA. I don’t know about you, but my one and only life goal has been to make it into that section-- so much so that I’m willing to spend hours plotting a way how. (Can you believe that some girls actually do think that though!?)

So what, in actuality, is this new site good for? Besides a little fun with statistics for non-mathematicians, I’m not really sure. What I do know, though, is that we Americans are nosey. We like learning a bit or two about that handsome stranger who we’ll only meet on paper, and we feel validated by the fact that even that gorgeous woman met her soul mate online and-- gasp-- not at a friend’s party. Perhaps it’s sad that one three-page section of a newspaper impacts us this much socially but hey, we’ve gotta get with The Times, folks.

So you want to know who we are...

About S:

I’m not sure if I’m the nicest mean person you’ll ever meet, or the meanest nice person you’ll ever meet. I like to think of myself as honest and amusing, with a biting sense of humor.

I'm not, mean though. One of my most distinct memories from I was little, is being at my grandmother's house while my older cousins watched Mommy Dearest. When the “No wire hangers!” part came on, I started crying and they had to turn it off. How could any mother be so mean to her child? I went home and cried and cried about what I’d seen. That's probably the first time my parents suspected I might be what they call, to this day, “overly sensitive.”

I have asked my parents to sponsor a sick kid at St. Jude's for my birthday, cried on Christmas because some people don't even have food, and burst into tears when I see the homeless veteran who sits in the middle of the intersection in his wheel chair on my drive home from work. When Sarah McLaughlin's ASPCA commercials come on, I have to change the channel to avoid crying for the next six years. And don't even get me started on the Pedigree commercials with the dogs in the shelter who say "We're good dogs. We just want to go home." I have tears in my eyes just thinking about it!

You get it by now. I have skipped classes, backed out of social obligations and made personal sacrifices for my friends, and I really do care about people.

Now onto the fun part: my mean streak.

I would never be outwardly mean to someone. Some may think this cowardly, or that I’m “talking shit behind peoples’ backs,” but I don’t see it that way at all. If I don’t like someone, I’m certainly not going to sing their praises, but I’m also not going to be nasty and cause unnecessary conflict when I have to deal with them. Conflict makes me cry.

This doesn’t mean I’m “fake nice.” I don’t go out of my way to be nice to people I don’t like. I just don’t go out of my way to be mean, either. I also know how manipulative I can be sometimes. If you were to talk to my old college boyfriend, he'd probably tell you he went home feeling like the worst person in the world a good 70% of the time we dated. I was great at making everything his fault when I was upset.

If I were this honest all the time, it’d be a huge problem. Sure, I tend to say what everyone is secretly thinking and not feel bad about it. But people don't always need to know. Do my friends really need to know that yes, I can in fact see their weight gain? Probably not. Does the man who just came to my office need to know his breath was so awful that I could smell it across the desk while he talked? No. But I bet there’s a good chance you'll laugh when I tell you about it.

With love,
S

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About R:

Growing up, I always used to giggle when my mom would tell me that soon after I was born and she knew I was healthy, she kissed my forehead and said a quick little prayer directed at god—whoever he or she may be.

“Please don’t let my child be boring,” she wished.

Funny because I grew up in a house of atheists, and funnier because really, who has that as a first wish for their child?

I’d like to think she got her way, that I’m not your average girl lacking in personality, wits and a sense of humor. My thought process often diverges from the average or acceptable, sometimes my ideas are just plain weird.

It’s undeniable that I always wind up in unique situations, experiencing things that would only happen to me. OK well, maybe not JUST to me, but it certainly feels that way sometimes.

Sometimes, I’m wearing my bilingual paralegal hat and trying to explain to a client that NO, your worker’s compensation insurance will NOT pay for your Viagra. Other times, I find myself explaining to the attention-craving girl at the gym that yes, I believed you when you told me you had a gourmet chocolate-eating mouse in your apartment, but no, not when you’re insisting a little ghost girl visited you in your sleep.

I seem to have a heck of a lot of run-ins with interesting people—maybe it’s because I’m super-social, maybe because I’m willing to talk to anyone who listens, or maybe because I’m a freak magnet.

And that brings me to my next point. Being a creep, jerk and asshole enticement. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not bitter. Not really at all actually. Somehow I take this in stride and realize that my experiences dating guys who are, simply put, not right for me, translate into fabulous stories.

All things considered, I personally don’t find my life to be particularly mundane. On a day to day basis, sure. I get up, go to work, hit the gym and practically pass out as soon as I’m showered and fed after. But really, I’m a big believer in interacting with people while going through the motions of day to day life. Anywhere and everywhere. In line while ordering my Starbucks venti green tea (with one bag, a little ice, one honey and three equals) or with the homeless lady draped in corrugated cardboard whose nine to five job consists of singing a “happy new year” song even in mid-February.

I observe and I make connections with the outside world. My degree in sociology probably factored into these likings and this unquenchable thirst to see the world, its people and all everyone has to offer.

I want everyone to know what I see and hopefully entertain with the quirkiness of my everyday living.

XOXO,
R