i love you but i'm not IN LOVE with you.

This past weekend I was shopping with a close friend. While walking past a row of dresses, she stopped and pointed to one.

“Do you like this one?” she asked.

“Mmm I like it but I don’t love it,” I answered.

“Haha, R.,” she continued, “that’s so funny. My friend and I were just having a conversation about this last week! She said that when she goes shopping she separates things into categories-- she either likes something, loves something or has to have something.”

My mind immediately flashed back to some dressing room (I think at a Nordstom somewhere) where the room included labeled hooks: “Like it” and “Love it.” It was a brilliant idea for someone like me-- obsessively anal and organized-- who does that naturally. Now there were printed labels. Amazing. Fabulous way to feed into my OCD behaviors.

Anyway, after we decided that we weren’t in love with the dress on the wall at Anthropologie that day, my friend and I got to talking. Maybe this seems a bit shallow, but in some ways making this distinction between articles of clothing that we like versus love versus must have parallels our experiences with men.

Allow me to explain. A lot of girls in this world date someone because they like them. They don’t love them, and they’re certainly not IN LOVE with them. But, at the same time, they don’t hate or even dislike the guy they’re with, either. Sometimes the relationship is one of convenience, other times it’s one where one party settles for what they think is the best they can find in terms of a romantic partner.

We decided that it’s almost sad to be with someone that you don’t love or aren’t in love with. Granted, unless you believe in love at first sight, it’s going to take some time before you put your partner into one of these categories. Right now I’m talking strictly while ruling out new or budding relationships. You can’t pick which hook to hang that guy on until you’ve been dating for a substantial enough period of time to accurately decide. But, even then, please don’t hang any man (or woman) on a hook in a dressing room. That just wouldn’t be nice. And it might creep out the girl picking up the unclaimed merchandise. Just a thought.

Love certainly develops and grows stronger over time. There’s no doubt in my mind about that. What I’ve also learned is that usually it takes even longer to decide that you’re actually in love with someone. Believe it or not, you can’t fall in love with someone as quickly as you fall in love with that shiny pair of stilettos at Saks. When you do fall in love with a person, it’s actually more emotional than when it’s with a pair of shoes. (This is where it’s obvious that I’m completely different than Carrie Bradshaw and she’s not all my inspiration, right?)

This passing conversation with my friend did make me stop to consider something important, though. I’m not suggesting that it’s wrong to be with someone you’re not in love with-- we all know there are certain situations where it’s acceptable for that sentiment to be non-existent-- but I am suggesting that things are much better when you do find true love. It feels amazing to be able to say that you refused to settle for however long of a period of time and ultimately found someone that you’re really just in love with-- I guess more or less on a simplistic level like that little black dress that you hung on the “MUST HAVE” hook in the store. Besides, you wouldn’t go out with a heinous pair of pants that you really didn’t like, so why bother doing the same with a boy?

It’s also important to consider the difference here of “love” versus “in love.” Just for the sake of comparison and analogy, I’m going to say that love is when you deem a potential purchase to be something you love-- you really really like it, to the point that you care about if you buy it and really feel the need to label it as being more than just something you like. When you’re in love with someone, it’s like you snatched that scarf right off the rack and immediately threw it into the “must have” pile. You can’t live without it. You need it. You think about it, even obsess about it. Your life wouldn’t be complete without this goddamn scarf that’s going to cost you a day’s paycheck. Maybe your feelings aren’t rational, but they’re there and they’re real. You just have to have that freaking scarf or your life might fall apart.

Now, I really hope that no one ever feels that strongly about a scarf, but I also hope that you now get my point. There’s a difference between that accessory that you really want and the one that you have to have. There’s also a major difference between that guy that you really like and the one who puts a smile on your face when you’ve just had a miserable day. Those are the keepers and maybe, just maybe, unlike that scarf, they’re worth a day’s pay, or perhaps more.

WARNING: Parental Controls

My fifth grade teacher told my class she was glad she didn’t have kids. Being at the beach and having a toddler pulling on her bathing suit screaming that he needed to go to the bathroom repulsed her. At the time I was horrified that she’d say that to a group of ten year old students and I sort of still am. I shouldn’t have been surprised, though. She’s the same lady who told girls to not let the boys into their bodies. And boys, you shouldn’t try to get into girls’ bodies, either.

Backing up to what she first said about the beach, we all know that there’s a good chance that many parents would say they concur. In reality, though, the American parent’s overattentive and overbearing personality on the whole overshadows that. Welcome to the twenty-first century, where moms and dads can’t help but consider each and every of their child’s (potential) needs, where no aspect of a kid’s life goes without being micromanaged.

Now, I’m no where near the point in life where I’m going to have a child, knock on wood. I do, however, find it interesting that I’m not only noticing things applicable to this topic, but also seriously considering and analyzing it. If nothing more, I think that even at this age I’m starting to recognize which ways I think I should and shouldn’t parent a kid when I have one-- while at the same time recognizing how nutty so many parents really are.

Let’s take yesterday, for example. I was in Zabar’s, an amazing Upper West Side (NYC) grocery store. Now, I’m sure I was already irked because there was a line I had to push through for proscuitto samples. I had already waited in line to score a strip of fresh rye bread! (I like this store for the samples, in case you wouldn’t already tell.) Anyway, I found myself becoming even more annoyed as I overheard a pushy mother speaking to her child, and that for sure didn’t make having to wait in line any easier.

“We’re speaking Italian now, not English!” she scolded the young boy in Italian.

The kid, about four years old, wiggled in his stroller and started screaming to voice his opinion. He hates speaking Italian. He wanted to speak English.

Call me crazy, but I call this contrived. Lady, maybe you speak Italian, but it’s pretty clear that it isn’t your first language. Also obvious? You want your kid to be talented and advanced. Not brilliant, though, because that he already is. Naturally. He’s your son.

I understand the whole wanting your kid to learn a foreign language concept. I’m actually a huge proponent, especially since I’m eternally grateful that I started learning Spanish at age eleven. But really, why has our society gotten to the point that it’s OK to force your child to speak another language other than English-- in New York-- just to have a more successful year in kindergarten!?

This situation represents just one tiny example of the whole “helicopter parent” type, or those who hover over their children and their actions at all times. As I was sitting and thinking about this incident on the train this morning, I happened to come across a New York Times article that references the same idea, Students, Welcome to College. Parents, Go Home by Trip Gabriel. (See http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/23/education/23college.html). Instead of calling them “helicopter parents” as so many people have in recent years, the author calls them “velcro parents,” as if they’re glued to their kids. Also, they’re not talking about four year olds. In fact, they’re talking about kids 4.5 times their age: kids going to college.

You think that this obsessive behavior, actions that demonstrate that parents will do or say anything to make their kids the best and the happiest, would have simmered down by college. Apparently not. Such overbearing behavior lasts up until (and even through) the college years. The issue that this article brings up has to do with parents relinquishing control over their kids and how difficult they find it. I think it’s safe to assume that many of the parents that we’re talking about here are the same that insist their kids speak foreign languages while toting their sippy cups in public.

These parents don’t know where to draw the line then and they certainly don’t when they’re going to college. They don’t even know when it’s appropriate to leave and let them well... go to college. The article tells of parents who won’t leave their kid’s dorm room to let them settle down and even parents who insist on attending their kid’s first college class. Wow, that would have been an amazing way to pick up boys. Have mommy walk me to class. I'd be the most popular kid on my hall!

My point though in explaining all this is that I worry when this type of parenting will ever end. Will these kids ever not have to answer eight texts and two calls a day from their parents? Will parents ever stop controlling ever single detail of their kids’ life, or will it keep getting worse and worse and never turn back to the way it was? It sickens me to think of the (possible) extremes parents will go to in the future. I mean, if people are already controlling their children’s speech in public, what more can parents control? Who their kid flirts with, when and what pickup lines they use? People need to back off and calm down or else things are just going to get downright sicker. Your kids really will be OK if they don't speak four languages by age seven. I promise.

What Goes Around Comes Around-- Really.

Back in the day, when I was a little college baby (man, I’m dating myself already!) I interned in the newsroom of a major business news magazine in Manhattan. It was beyond an amazing experience, maybe not the work itself but the whole living in the city as a 21 year old, staying out way too late, having a little too much fun and definitely spending a little more money than I should have been.
Years later (I won’t tell you how many though) I’m still using what I learned from my entire experience that summer. For example, I can still look back on the nights that I didn’t come home until the sun came up. Bad idea. Fun at the time, but really, bad idea. Going on dates with boring accountants? Also might seem like a good idea at the time, but when you’re sitting at the table in a Thai restaurant and your date can only discuss the best times to file your income taxes, you soon learn that accepting the date was also a bad idea.

But, of course, we also learn good ideas while misbehaving-- err, uh, having a good time-- during a more wild part of our lives. Who would have thought that it’s always wise to keep a little toilet paper in your purse when heading out to the bars? We really have no way of knowing when that place that offers $5 free refil Bud Lites will run out!

And that you should always be aware of your surroundings. You never know when you’ll overhear a fashion designer talking to a religious Jewish man in a 24-hour deli at 2:30am. They might both then ask your opinion on fabrics to pair for fashionable yalmukes, or Jewish head coverings. You also never know when a NYU law student will approach you while you’re eating hot dogs in the middle of the night in Union Square, offer to read your tarrot cards and, believe it or not, be correct in saying that you’re going to have a fabulous sexcapade in the fall. Not kidding here, by the way. Both really happened.

What I also learned was that it’s more useful than I realized to stay in contact with all of the people you meet on these interesting journeys. I certainly don’t have the name of the law student, and I definitely don’t know if the men in the diner ever successfully developed a JCrew-esque designer yalmukah line. I probably should have kept his card though-- who knows how famous he might be now!

I wouldn’t have realized but the people I met that summer have helped me in ways greater than they would have imagined since then. The intern coordinator at the magazine? Unbelievably kind and helpful whenever I email her with a writing question. My friends that I met at work? A couple are still close to me and help me get through each and every day at work-- thanks, Gchat!

But, what I’m realizing now is that these relationships really are reciprocal. I’m trying to not laugh out loud at my desk right now, but it’s hard not to. Here’s why:

I recently learned that a reporter from the magazine was in search of stories from real people who had quit their job in a funny way. I wasn’t sure that what I did to my awful boss was funny per se, but it was definitely a bit dramatic and perhaps just what this kid was looking for. (I wrote about my bad boss on this blog back on May 19th.)

Essentially I had been abused for months upon months but, like so many Americans, I couldn’t quit my job because I needed the health insurance and the money. But, when I finally had another job lined up, I happened to know that Mr. Asshole was on the side of the road somewhere waiting to get his car towed. I recognized that it was the perfect opportunity to finally stand up for myself, explain how I had been mistreated and quit my job. Ultimately, of course, this made his life more difficult-- he had to interview people and hire and train someone new. Poor baby. Real work can be exhausting!

Anyway, this supposedly is just the type of story that this writer was looking for. I don’t know that I would have qualified this story as “funny” but it’s certainly a good example of how, as I said in the last post, karma is a bitch. It also shows that it’s important to maintain our connections with other people, not just so we can help ourselves but so we can help others. In this case, I think I can aruge that I helped both the reporter and myself: he got his story, I got the satisfaction of saying my piece. Now I’m not out to hurt anyone or damage anyone’s reputation, but ahh, revenge is sweet, isn’t it?

Marcel The Shell With Shoes On

Watch it and love it:
http://www.vimeo.com/14190306

It'll make you laugh. And if it doesn't then... well... you need to lighten up and enjoy life a little more! I do have to wonder how a person comes up with these ideas (I know, I know, you're thinking "DRUGS, DUH!") and also how someone realizes that they know how to do this type of voice. But, I must say, Jenny Slate is quite talented and her improvised comedy definitely gave me a good laugh.

Why You Shouldn't Prostitute Yourself-- On Craigslist

Usually when the media is obsessing over some scandal or crime I like to run the other way. After all, how many times can I read and re-read articles about the shootings in the liquor warehouse in Hartford, CT? Tragic, horrific, awful, sad, disgusting? Yes, yes, yes, yes and YES. The Dow and S&P down for the fifth day in a row-- slightly disturbing? Sure. But does it really help us to keep hearing about this over and over again? Obviously not.

On rare occasion, though, one of these sensational stories catches my attention-- or the attention of countless people, really-- and we can’t get enough. We crave more juicy details, become excited at the prospect of hearing yet another personal account of the story.

Take the Chandra Levy case of a handful of years back-- truly sick and twisted but, at the same time, exceptionally captivating and thrilling. Or, one of my favorite pieces of news coverage of all time: the mass-murder of The Heaven’s Gate cult out in California. This one was beyond upsetting and horrible, yet its succession of exceptionally bizarre and demented events kept us all on our toes seeking as much information as we could get. Same went for the Jaycee Duggard kidnapping case, Natalee Hollaway’s murder and Laci Peterson’s abduction. All sick and saddening, yet all enthralling.

Now another sadistic killer has struck and-- BIG SURPRISE-- the media has jumped on the story faster than yo momma pounced your best friend. DUM DUM DUM... THE CRAIGSLIST KILLER.



This sicko crafted an interesting story for us. He really did. Venturing into supposed uncharted territory, he arranged to meet Craiglists prostitutes in Boston hotels and allegedly killed them during their hotel meetings. Funny how this works, but he ultimately found himself in jail, and I’m sure that the accommodations differ slightly than those at the Westin Copley in Boston where he started off this little adventure.

Well over a year after this entire ordeal, guards found him dead with a plastic bag over his head and a major artery sliced open in his jail cell. (Ahh, the benefits of a med school education...) The day he died happened to be the day that would have been his one-year wedding anniversary, had his fiance not broken off the engagement. Sad. So sad I forgot to cry.

The media has certainly hyped up this story-- so much so, in fact, that if you search Google News for his name, Philip Markoff, you get 367 results. Nothing like a nobody becoming a somebody overnight. Or during the day. I think he met some of his victims for sex and killing during the day.

So why, I must wonder, is a story this absolutely morbid, one that we all choose to focus on? Why is it one that the media really can get so much attention from? I’m not sure about you, but I personally don’t sit and think about serial killers all day, and I certainly don’t contemplate the ways that other people kill themselves. But that’s just me.

I think that, underneath it all, with a story like this we all realize deep down that we can learn something. On the most obvious of levels, we can realize that we shouldn’t meet strangers for sex in private hotel rooms. But I think (or hope) that most of us know that already.

I also think that we can learn that we should trust our instincts. Initially we heard accounts of his fiance saying she didn’t think he’d “hurt a fly,” but now all these other testimonies are coming out from other people who knew him personally. Like the girl who was his friend from college who said he once walked her home at night (like any of her guy friends would) and he pushed her up against the wall and kissed her so hard she couldn’t escape. Ding ding ding-- warning sign of a bigger problem! But, please let me make it clear that in no way would I expect this innocent girl to have predicted his future behaviors. But really, were his actions on that night acceptable? And who’s to say he wouldn’t take that behavior further? Because, well, he did. It might not have been with this college friend, but it was with other women like her, just years later. (Well, maybe not exactly like her because I don’t think she was a prostitute, but still, other girls!)

Most importantly, I think we have to be aware of our surroundings. Like I’ve explained over and over again in the past, it takes a long time for someone’s true colors to shine through. Now, I’m not hinting that the guy who oh-so-badly wants to kiss you is a serial killer. Most likely he just likes you a lot and wants a smooch! I’m also not suggesting that you take time to evaluate if your boyfriend is a murderer. Most likely he’s not. I promise.

If a situation ever feels too intense (in the dating world or otherwise) it’s not only OK but also a good idea to stop, take a step back and evaluate the situation. As much as the Craigslist Killer story has taken up my attention when I’m bored and have nothing to read about, I’d much rather be twiddling my thumbs than to be reading about a naive girl and how her foolish mistakes led her to danger-- or worse.




For more on the Craigslist Killer, visit http://www.boston.com/news/local/breaking_news/2010/08/accused_craigsl_2.html