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.

A little (Tweeting) bird told me you're proposing to me?

The idea of men proposing makes me gag. Doesn’t matter who it is, if I know them or not or how close I am with either the male or the female. The idea of a man getting down on one knee and asking the love of his life to spend the rest of his life with a women is sort of sickening to me, although I’ve been told that when it happens to me I won’t feel so nauseated. I’m not so sure.

So what’s the deal? I’m not opposed to marriage, I’m certainly not opposed to sparkling engagement rings, but I hate the engagement process? Here’s what it boils down to-- over-the-top gestures (of any kind) disturbs me.

For example, big birthday celebrations. Going out to dinner is one thing. A week long fiesta full of bar hopping, spa treatments and pricey gifts? Way out of control. We were all born and we didn’t do so much to earn that celebration-- other than perhaps not fleeing a bar with a stranger in a foreign country or saying no to riding that dude’s motorcycle without a helmet in the pouring rain.

Take this idea a step further when a man decides to pay to have his “big question” sprawled across a big-screen at a Red Sox game. I don’t think it’s cute. I don’t think it’s sweet. And I definitely don’t wish it upon myself. It’s overdone, ridiculously dramatic and not something that most people want to see.

Regardless of my irrelevant opinion, people have and always done extreme things in the name of love. I mean, people tattoo their lover’s (lovers’?) names on their arms, so really how much more ridiculous is asking for someone’s hand in marriage while riding in a horse drawn carriage in Central Park?

I’ve always said that if I actually ever tricked some poor soul into proposing, I’d prefer that he just ask the question casually and not create a whole scene. My romanticized idea is that I’m scrubbing dishes as we talk and he’s like “Hey, wanna get married?” I say “sure” and then the sink overflows because I took my eyes off what I was doing to look into that little black box for a split second. (OK, I confess, even I am not that shallow.)

Well, folks, things just got weirder with how men propose. If you’re anything like me, you’ll find what I’m about to discuss even more disgusting. According to a new CNN article, Is chivalry dead? Technology twists the wedding proposal, not only are couples getting engaged in ways as sickening as ever, but they’re doing it publicly: via the internet. (See http://www.cnn.com/2010/LIVING/07/28/marriage.proposals/index.html).

The writer talks about men who have proposed through YouTube videos and even people who have done it by tweeting their question for god knows how many followers to see. Now, as I’ve already established, I’m not one for chivalry or romance, but really? Really?! You’re going to make your engagement not only public, but that impersonal?

Unless things have changed recently, I’ve always thought that marriage was between two people who love each other and want to stay exclusively with each other. I didn’t think that it was something that should involve your 857 Facebook friends, and certainly not the 35,000 people in the football stadium. Or maybe I’m just that uncool and bitter that I don’t have as many friends as the rest of the world. Who knows.

Point is, this new concept is weird. Even though we’re such a voyeuristic culture, some things are better left between the two people in a relationship and really shouldn’t be out there for the public to judge. (But, of course, your 35,000 stadium friends aren’t “the public,” they’re all people you care about, right?)

Believe me, I know that me posting this isn’t going to change even one thing in the way that any man proposes to his girlfriend in the future. But, for the sake of the rest of us, try to keep your proposal somewhat intimate and reasonable. I don’t think you really want to ask your girlfriend to marry you via a short and sweet Tweet-- only for her friends to respond to you on her behalf before she does.

Nice Men: They Exist, You Just Have Look

I have a handful of guy friends that fall into the category of "the nice guy." No, I don't mean that those select few are the my male friends who are nice or maintain some semblance of an idea how to treat a girl well. I'm talking about the nice guys, the ones who rarely actually get girls because they're not actively out on the prowl hunting for women.

The guys I'm talking about are the ones who treat women extraordinarily well-- but ever so rarely have the chance to demonstrate it. Men who, if god forbid I were arranged to marry tomorrow, I could at least be confident with in knowing that they'd always treat me with the utmost respect.

Why is it, then, that we women never actually make a move on these men? Why do they come home, night after night, asking me why they've been rejected by that girl they met last week in class? Why do girls go for the assholes always, they ask? I treat her so well, yet she continues to run back to that shmuck who cheated on her last month with his bank teller-- how could she be that oblivious and self-depricating?

The answer is that I don't know. I have no idea why we do it. I can't explain it.

I know that when I'm in a relationship with a "good guy" I recognize it. Sure, it takes me time to get used to someone refusing to let me walk home alone. And it's almost uncomfortable when a boy picks up something little for me when he's out on errands "just because" and for no reason in particular.

Then consider those men who don't immediately try to work their way into your pants the first second they have with you behind closed doors. They must be crazy, right? That, or you're just that unattractive that they must not want your body.

We deserve to be treated well. Although the patterns in our behavior might not exemplify this, I think we all know on some level that we should be aiming to get with the good guy and to leave the asshole trailing in the dust.

So although I still can't offer answers, I did at least start getting myself on track to figuring out this huge mystery of life: why DO women always go for the jerks? I think Audrey Irvine in her column Relationship Rants is on to something when she discusses this very topic. (See http://www.cnn.com/2010/LIVING/personal/03/25/rr.disappearing.nice.guys/index.html.)

Maybe it's that the nice men aren't the ones who are out there blatantly demanding female attention in bars. And they're not the ones who will come up to you and ask for your number when they think you're cute-- they're more likely to be secretly planning a way to (respectfully) ask you for coffee in broad daylight.

My point is, look around. See who's hiding in the shadows-- or behind his New York Times in Starbucks. Don't jump to run off with the man who offers to buy you a drink simply because you were worth a couple bucks and a few minutes of his time. If you really want to be treated well, look for the men who don't overtly demonstrate their craving to get you in bed.

It's worth taking time to scout for the nice ones. After all, you can still end up with the fabulous romance but while also being treated well both in private and in public. Can you imagine? A man who acknowledges your presence in public? Now that's worth looking for.

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.