phone.

I ran upstairs to drop something off, leaving my phone in the hands of my friend for safe-keeping. It was maybe not so safe with her. 20 minutes later, I received the following text from a particularly persistant boy that somehow never quite connects with me, but is sexy in that dirty "I sleep in silk sheets" sort of way:
"Come over."
You know I never text. So I mustered up one line:
"Pardon?" and then ran upstairs to take a shower. When I returned, there were two messages waiting for me:
"...Smiling."
"Ur silence mean goodnight?"
It is 1am now.
Then:
"Hahaha. Im just tryin to have a lil fun QT. Not offincive. sorry"
"Offincive"? "QT"??? "UR"?????
If anything can guarantee I will not go over and hook up with this guy it's a text message at 1am. Add horrible grammar, disregard for punctuation, and impossibly bad spelling and you have yourself a DEAL BREAKER.
Which is really a shame. Because who doesn't love silk sheets?

Crush.

Thanks to The Hunk O'Funk for introducing me to my newest future ex-boyfriend.

Did anyone else forget how much they liked this guy?

I do believe he may be right- he's better, faster, stronger.

Roll Call!

Several friends have said they read Blogg, but always feel intimidated about adding their opinions because they don't know anyone commenting, or they're shy because they met Blogg through a friend instead of me. I hope this helps you feel more comfortable so you can chime in. Tell us!
Quick!
Who are you? How did you meet Blogg? Where are you? When do you read Blogg? What are your favourite topics?

The Fat Virus.

Apparently, obesity is contagious. And NOT from social habits- even if you talk on the phone or email a severely obese person on a regular basis, you are likely to gain weight. There is an article telling us that, for our health's sake, we need to sever all ties with obese people. Conversely, I have observed that the average median of attractiveness goes up approximately 32% when individuals participate on Blogg. It's just a fact. And you know it must be true because I used a percentile.

Science, how ridiculous are you going to get? I mean, honestly. Is it because the only people who want to play with you lack social skills and don't know how to dance? Is it because girls used to avoid you in high school? Why are you obsessed with making people self-conscious? Why are you so bent on alienating individuals? I will never be friends with you, Science. You are mean. And you smell like poo.

Deal-Breaker.

A friend says that a woman who rides a scooter is a deal-breaker.
"Even if it's one of those cute 60's throwback Vespas that looks like it belongs in Italy?" I ask.
Yes. DEAL BREAKER.
Clearly, he has not familiarized himself with Death Scab for Scootie, whose accessories alone make me wish I had a motorgang to roll with at sunset.

Deal-Breakers. We've all got them.
So? What are your deal-breakers? We should all probably just get this out of the way right now, because we all know that everyone on Shameless is mostly here for the free publicity and chance to score with someone highly intelligent and attractive.
Take note. This may be important someday. Unless, of course, his deal-breaker is something totally awesome and he is being absolutely ridiculous.

Deal-Makers!

So we know what you all refuse to deal with.
What are those things that lure you in completely? The things that, when you discover them about someone, you are DEAD GONE on them.
It's okay.
You don't have to post your name if you don't want your weaknesses available to the general public. Like how watching the planes in Top Gun is pretty much like exposing me to really, really amazing porn. I would never let anyone in on that one.

Science Blows.

Science screws me again.

Men like blond bombshells (and women want to look like them)
-Psychology Today

Long before TV—in 15th- and 16th- century Italy, and possibly two millennia ago—women were dying their hair blond. A recent study shows that in Iran, where exposure to Western media and culture is limited, women are actually more concerned with their body image, and want to lose more weight, than their American counterparts. It is difficult to ascribe the preferences and desires of women in 15th-century Italy and 21st-century Iran to socialization by media.

Women's desire to look like Barbie—young with small waist, large breasts, long blond hair, and blue eyes—is a direct, realistic, and sensible response to the desire of men to mate with women who look like her. There is evolutionary logic behind each of these features.

Men prefer young women in part because they tend to be healthier than older women. One accurate indicator of health is physical attractiveness (seriously? so ugly people are sickly, too? wow...); another is hair (AWESOME). Healthy women have lustrous, shiny hair, whereas the hair of sickly people loses its luster. Because hair grows slowly, shoulder-length hair reveals several years of a woman's health status.

Men also have a universal preference for women with a low waist-to-hip ratio. They are healthier and more fertile than other women; they have an easier time conceiving a child and do so at earlier ages because they have larger amounts of essential reproductive hormones. Thus men are unconsciously seeking healthier and more fertile women when they seek women with small waists. (I wonder if this still counts if you have small hips?)

Until very recently, it was a mystery to evolutionary psychology why men prefer women with large breasts, since the size of a woman's breasts has no relationship to her ability to lactate. (I'm guessing it's porn. But that's just a guess.) But Harvard anthropologist Frank Marlowe contends that larger, and hence heavier, breasts sag more conspicuously with age than do smaller breasts. (But not if you use the VS ipex bra- that thing is AMAZING!) Thus they make it easier for men to judge a woman's age (and her reproductive value) by sight—suggesting why men find women with large breasts more attractive.

Alternatively, men may prefer women with large breasts for the same reason they prefer women with small waists. A new study of Polish women shows that women with large breasts and tight waists have the greatest fecundity, indicated by their levels of two reproductive hormones (estradiol and progesterone).

Blond hair is unique in that it changes dramatically with age. Typically, young girls with light blond hair become women with brown hair. Thus, men who prefer to mate with blond women are unconsciously attempting to mate with younger (and hence, on average, healthier and more fecund) women. It is no coincidence that blond hair evolved in Scandinavia and northern Europe, probably as an alternative means for women to advertise their youth, as their bodies were concealed under heavy clothing. (I find this entire concept highly disturbing...)

Women with blue eyes should not be any different from those with green or brown eyes. Yet preference for blue eyes seems both universal and undeniable—in males as well as females. One explanation is that the human pupil dilates when an individual is exposed to something that she likes. (But wouldn't that mean that if your eyes are really dark, they ALWAYS look dialated?) For instance, the pupils of women and infants (but not men) spontaneously dilate when they see babies. Pupil dilation is an honest indicator of interest and attraction. And the size of the pupil is easiest to determine in blue eyes. Blue-eyed people are considered attractive as potential mates because it is easiest to determine whether they are interested in us or not.

The irony is that none of the above is true any longer. Through face-lifts, wigs, liposuction, surgical breast augmentation, hair dye, and color contact lenses, any woman, regardless of age, can have many of the key features that define ideal female beauty. And men fall for them. Men can cognitively understand that many blond women with firm, large breasts are not actually 15 years old, but they still find them attractive because their evolved psychological mechanisms are fooled by modern inventions that did not exist in the ancestral environment.
Science can kiss my ass.

Faith without Works.

What if the scriptures read as follows:
And I, Nephi, was commanded to build a boat, and did wait for the Lord to drop off the tools. The end.

Rachel used this in her lesson a few weeks ago. Think about it: If Nephi, Noah, and the like did not take the initiative to "build" their future as commanded by the Lord, we wouldn't have scriptures. Everyone would have just died out there in the wilderness, and the story would be over. But they didn't wait for God to provide everything first; they were given a commandment and then did whatever it took to make things happen.

I kind of wonder if maybe I haven't been doing a little "sitting, wishing, waiting" in my o-so busy and full life. Sure, I SAY I'm finally willing to consider a "time and all eternity" relationship- but have I DONE anything about it? Or do I simply shrug and say, "well, when the right guy comes along, I'm sure I'll be ready," or, "if I met anyone special, I'm sure I'd be able to commit then!" and, "I'm sure there's somebody somewhere out there for me. I just need to let him find me." You know you've said the same things. We all do. Every week, about Sunday afternoon, when we choose to come home instead of suffering another linger longer, dessert party, birthday party, or movie night, we think, "gosh- it really would be nice to be dating somebody, buuuuut..." and we run out the door to the next big event.

Now, I'm not shy. I can't imagine how insurmountable this multitude of social activities must be for those of you who are. But I'm out there. Shaking hands, kissing babies, and offering my digits to any poor soul who will have it. But has it made any difference in my relationship status beyond the delightful title of being "a really fun girl" who gets invited to every FUN outing on the market? I'm not complaining; I'm not. I am SO flattered that people would think to have me along and I absolutely love camping, boating, partying, and eating anything somebody else has so kindly cooked. But over-socializing has not brought me any closer to accomplishing this "goal" of a serious, if not terminal, relationship. Which is, apparently, what I'm supposed to be looking for.

Lately I've begun to wonder if all this fun is the problem. If it's become my excuse for not dating. That was certainly the case when I was in college. Many times, if I ever did have a date, the poor sucker would surely end up getting ditched by 10pm, so I could reconvene with my buddies, finish off their leftover pizza, and watch The Crocodile Hunter. But that was over 10 years ago. What's my excuse now?

I attend all the meetings which I should attend. I go to every ward activity sponsored, even the ones that make me feel completely juvenile, because that's what you do when you sustain your leaders, right? In 15 years of membership, I have never "ward-hopped" and always fulfilled my callings with great gusto. I fellowship, I am friendly, and I always try to invite strangers to social events. What more could possibly be expected of me? Part of me realizes that perhaps I've had it all wrong. Maybe I've been too devoted. Too faithful to the LDS-singles socializing scene. Here I thought I was going to church to study the gospel, but the point of a single's ward was to get me married off! How naive I have been! While I was busy fellowshipping, the smart kids were flirting. While I worried about entertaining everyone and providing equal attention to inclusion of all members, the socially savvy members were making their marks. And when I was busy inviting new members to activities, everyone who knew better was busy pairing off. A perfect example:
At the funnest ward dance ever (not that I've been to any others lately), I ran into SEVERAL genuinely interesting and extremely attractive men not from our ward, and had such great conversations with each. Of course, every. single. time, in the middle of talking, a fantastic, unignorable song came on and I had to stop, briefly explaining, "I am so sorry, I SO want to keep talking to you...But I absolutely MUST dance to this song! Bye!" I mean, it was a DANCE. I was there to DANCE. I figured if anyone was interested in finishing the conversation, we could do it when the music wasn't so danged hot. Needless to say, I'm not in touch with a single one of those guys, but boy, did my friends and I ever have a blast.

So here I am. Alone. Again. When I ran into a former "adult" leader shortly after my last bad breakup, she looked at me sincerely and sympathetically and asked, "Have you tried going online?" Tearfully, I scoffed at her suggestion, and insisted that (while things were bad) it wasn't THAT bad! Six months later, I see her sweet face in my mind and think, "if faith without works is dead, where does that put me?" I say I have the faith, but am I doing enough? Sure, I go out a lot...but maybe I'm going out too much, with too many people, too often. Maybe I'm paying too much attention making sure everyone feels special, so no one person gets attention. And the whole time, I'm thinking, "well, if he wanted me, he'd do something about it." Until someone's man enough to demand my undivided time and attention, aren't I doing a good job of representing Christ in fellowshipping His children? ALL His children?

I hate the idea of "looking out for #1," and I hate the idea of my church experience becoming my social experience, but if my way isn't right, does that make me wrong? At what point does practicing faith translate into doing enough to get the job done? I mean, yes- it's a man's responsibility to do the asking, but is there something more women should be doing to make that happen? Because I thought I was being as friendly as I could without following somebody home...

I'll do what you want me to do, dear Lord, but I'm also waiting for you to drop off all the tools and instructions for me to accomplish our goals. What would have happened if our prophets of old had said such a thing? As Rachel said so plainly, "The story would be over." I'm not ready for my story to be over. I do have faith. But as far as my works go...If you have any suggestions for an absurdly outgoing girl who really, really likes getting to know people, I'm open to suggestions. Because so far, all I've done is make a lot of friends who eventually leave me for relationships.

Wonder Woman

Surprise, surprise.

With a 95% score, I guess it's a good thing I still have the costume in my garage. Although my roommates said that if they catch me hanging out in my outfit again, watching tv and eating pizza, they'd officially kick me out.

Who are you?

Tell me who your favourite superhero is, and I'll tell you what it means...

Planet Unicorn- REMIX!

I know you've all been waiting for this.
Hint: Tyra Banks is in it, and the unicorns are all models. Heyyy!

Turn Me Off.

What do you think of when you hear the word, "picky"? It's a synonym for "finicky," so the first thing that comes to mind are skittery cats. Next: gay men.

Pickiness is one of THE top deal-breaking qualities a man can possess. Want to immediately turn me off? Tell me you're "really picky." Gag. At the risk of him becoming incredibly hurt, offended, and/or defensive, I report the following interaction:

He: I'm just really picky.
Me: That's incredibly unattractive.
He: You wouldn't think that if you were the one I was dating.
Me: Really? You don't think so?
He: Wouldn't you feel flattered if you knew that of the 1% of women I was attracted to, you were it?
Me: Actually, I am naturally suspicious of men who like me based upon my looks.

Why? Because if someone's priority of who they're with is based upon what she looks like, I can promise you, boyfriend isn't playing with a full deck (or at least a full future) in mind. Picky men=DEAL BREAKER. If a man is picky over food, it's irritating. Picky over his appearance, it's effeminate (and usually expensive and high-maintenance). When he's picky over a woman- it really means he's not thinking rationally.

Most men I know are good people. At the core, I think they really do want a good, solid marriage, children, etc. etc. But when those "really good guys" go about finding their other half by being overly "picky," it completely mystifies me. It's not a showboat beauty contest! It's not a competition or a list of pros and cons! True, lasting compatibility is special and rare because it's NOT based upon superficial benchmarks or criteria- it's developed by knowing who you are and what qualities your partner will balance you out with so you can both grow to becoming better people. Not choosing one girl over another because you don't like her hair colour or her freckles or her bra size? Details. Mere trifles. The minor details? That's exactly what they are- MINOR. Will she look this good in 10 years, after she's had 3 or 4 of your kids? Well- probably not. Will that matter if the reason you chose to be with her to begin with was not based upon superficial criteria, but elements of compatibility, mutual respect and admiration, intelligence, and spiritual goals? Something tells me that those relationships built beneath the surface might maybe last longer than your midlife crisis.

"But I have to be ATTRACTED to her!" I hear this all the live-long day. Duh. Let me ask you this, Sherlock; what is more attractive to you- a plastic doll that's constructed exactly as you'd always imagined with a resume of credentials and laundry list of features you'd always dreamed of? Or a real live woman with opinions and ideas and passions who *ring-a-ding-ding!* values and appreciates YOU for all of YOUR internal qualities? Grow up. A woman you can admire and look up to because she is your match- well, that's about to say a whole lot about what kind of man you are. When an intelligent, self-made woman says she respects you, it really means something! Because you know what? She's not with you because you have a certain job that will buy her a certain toy or ring or cosmetic procedure; she doesn't need you for that! She's with you because, even when you're at your worst, she sees who you are underneath the ups and downs- she can see into your core and she respects and appreciates and values everything- EVERYTHING- you have to offer the world because she knows who you are inside and she treasures and champions that man you are becoming. Now, doesn't THAT sound attractive?

The true measure of a man is not what woman is hanging on his arm, but what woman stands beside him, equal in measure to everything he holds dear. THAT would be the real trophy. Don't be picky. Just choose wisely.

Two Strikes- You're Out.

How many chances does someone get with you?

Mine is one, maybe two actual dates.* If, by the second date, I want to hit him in the head with a brick to get him to STOP TALKING, or I fall asleep in the middle of the date (it's happened twice), OR I feel like I should be getting paid hourly for providing company (again- twice), I just never go out with him again. Somebody recently expressed surprise that I "only" give a guy one or two dates before writing them off. I credit this process of elimination due to my well-honed personality. That is to say, I know who I am and I know what I like and I know what I'm looking for, so baby, I know when you ain't it. That is also to say that the men with whom I do allow progression with are men that I feel real, actual chemistry and intellectual stimulation with- so dating in general is a real joy (when I let it happen).

As one of my recent first dates approached me, I thought, "He's not as cute as I remember him." Less than 2 minutes later, I remembered exactly why I had been so excited to go out with him to begin with- even though I didn't find him remotely attractive, there was something about his demeanour that told me he was going to be my new BFF. And within 10 minutes of our first date, I was completely enveloped by how much fun I had with him and how well we connected. What a relief to meet someone who didn't make me feel like I had to carry the entire conversation! Someone who felt deeply, was passionate, and who wasn't afraid to look foolish! I was in stitches most of the night, and we flowed so easily from insane humor to spiritual matters to intellectual pursuits. It was nearly impossible that night to not kiss him, and just as difficult for us to finally end our date and part ways. We dated for a few months. Most of the relationships I've had began with such a story- initial physical attraction was rarely there, but it took next to no time to know we would get along just fine, and in a few minutes more, it was easy to see that this would be someone I wanted to know inside and out.

Now, am I wrong here? Should those less-than mediocre dates get more than one shot? Once I had a bishop tell me, "Farrah, you've got to fill your canteen!" and then continue to encourage me to date boys I didn't like, "for the practice." I thought his advice was rather cruel, as it would be selfish and rude for me to feign interest over someone "for the free dinner." The entire concept is unappealing to me. But he did have a good 30 years of experience over me. So what do you think? Would you rather have someone who didn't really like you continue to give you a chance to win them over, or is that very concept you should have to try and win someone over as unappealing to you as it is to me? This whole "chemistry" thing weighs in very heavily with me, and I tend to follow that instinct above all else. But maybe I'm wrong. I always thought I was being kind by not wasting anyone's time, but maybe that's why I'm the one who's still single...

* I clarify by noting "actual dates," since most dates for many people come from a round or two of meeting and hanging out with mutual friends preceding an actual date.

Would You Rather?

Would you rather know someone liked you, but not know who that person is?
OR...
Would you rather not know anyone liked you at all?

There is controversy over this issue pending...

Dear Boys:

Dear Ricky,
I had such a crush on you and I was so shy, that the first time I ever confessed I liked you on the very first page of my very first diary, I tore the page out and shred it up so no one would ever suspect.
I still think you were great on "Silver Spoons."

Dear Alex P,
I cannot explain why such a yuppie was so adorable to me. I think it's because even I understood that one day you would go Back to the Future for me when I was old enough to know what to do with a boy as cute as you. Plus, I really liked your parents.

Dear Justin,
Your freckles were the only sweet thing about you, and even though you like to play the bad-boy, those freckles and the little twinkle in your eye told me that deep down inside, you were really, really wholesome. And look! 20 years later, I was right. You're the only thing holding the Bluth family together.

Dear Matthew,
No one else seemed to notice you when we were teens, but no matter how bad your lines or how lame your story, you were always funny and sincere. I am very sorry about your bout with prescription drugs, but I'm happy to see that, after all these years, you're still cute when you're paranoid.

Dear Jake,
When I saw you at 15 and predicted you would be hot, I told myself that it was wrong to love someone so much younger than I. But anyone in high school who can build a rocket like that and be so smart and so good and so cute and so inspired will have my heart forever. And now you've proven that I am so so very right to have waited for you...

Death Valley.

Landing in Utah this weekend was like entering the very gates of hell. I should have known, what with that horrible mix-up with Delta- anytime your flights are that messed up and that costly to fix, I say just send a postcard and blow a kiss to your loved ones, because it's better than dropping a few hundred to bake alive in The Middle Of Nowhere, SLC. It's been 2 years since I last had any part of Utah, and I can't say that enough time has passed to make me more fond of the land so many friends call "home." Okay, Utah. You've got a whole weekend to prove it to me. Make me love you. Between the Carolines, Maggie, Kory, Rachel, The Duschane Dames, The Marrieds, The Jeffs and The Glamorous (Danielle, Dainon, Brad, Veedaloca & Brendon & Aaron), plus affordable real-estate and amazing scenery and a new metro system, Utah seemed like a real-deal-change-your-life-bargin!

O how I wish that had been true.

Instead, I end up having to re-purchase my flights, pay the difference, get ignored or shoved out of any merchant store I entered (I understood being misinterpreted at 16 and lolling around coffee shops for poetry and jazz nights with no coffee, but here? NOW???) For being a place where I envision everyone being really nice, the customer service angle really sucks. Then there's the weather. Egad! Did Satan just open up the gates of hell and invite us all inside? And I did not fly out just to go to a mall or see a movie! No wonder why everyone is either drunk or married- there is nothing else to do here! Because not only can I not breathe, move, or laugh without sweating, but since it's so hot, our only options seem to be the mall or a movie. It was a miracle that I didn't end up naked every day. But I did decide to take my pants off in the street outside the airport. I don't think anyone noticed.

There are, as I had previously bemoaned, other minorities. I was shocked. A primary concern about being in Utah as a single woman of colour is that I am so outside the norm, that I am acknowledge as one of three things:
The token minority.
The Asian Girl. (Interchangeable with any other Asian girl someone may have met somewhere at some place.)
A physical pariah who would "be the perfect woman...if you were blonde." (True story.)

Not that I don't appreciate being set up with a) the only other Asian man you know or b) the weird Asian fetish guy you knew from BYU, but that's not really my scene, yo. Where did I find such diversity, you ask? Why, at the clubs, of course! Of course, no one was there to dance- they mostly seemed to congregate in order to look badass and rebellious and prove that no! they are not Mormons! Not only were there Latins, African-Americans, and yes, another Asian girl!, but everyone else that wasn't in our group was drunk/drinking to get there, smoking (INside- who does that anymore?), has sleeve tattoos and multiple piercings. Stunning. I mean, I had no idea how attractive people who like to go to bars can be! You sure showed me, Utah! Erin even got hit on by someone who felt the need to insult her morality and her religion- at the same time! Wow! Way to go for those diversity days!

And for those of you who live in Salt Lake? Wow. I am sorry. There is a serious lack of attractive men here. I don't know how that happened, considering that all my friends are interesting AND attractive, I must know the only hot guys in Utah. Because on the streets and in the church houses, you know what I found? 75% female, and 1-2 mildly attractive men. What the hell happened here?!?!

I will give Utah this: Free Jazz concerts in the park are awesome. Walking everywhere is fantastic. Lack of traffic and 10 minutes from everything is brilliant. And you can't beat the friends who live here, even if I can't find the stomach for it. Maybe next time I'll be back in 3 years. But you all have a standing invitation to California- land of the free, the colourful, the open-armed, the well-dressed (if dressed), and most importantly, of the ocean breeze.

Love you guys. Send me your address and you'll get a postcard.

Hunk O'The Month!

July's Hunk O' The Month:
Dr Seymour Glass!
Dr Glass is valued and appreciated most as Blogg's favourite commenter.
"So insightful!"
"So knowledgeable!"
"So understanding!"
"So enlightening!"
Your words of praise, adoration, and glory to be posted in Opinions!

30 Going on 13.

"Let's face it. We're getting older." I keep hearing this phrase over and over again. And it's coming from people in their early and mid-twenties! The other one I hear a lot is, "Wow. You look really good for your age!" GOOD for my AGE?!?! It's not like I'm on Medicare! Am I the only one who thinks 30 is not old?

Can I take a moment and rejoice in the realization that- at 30- I'm done! WE are done! Think about it. I mean, this is IT. THIS is what we look like; this is your body, and this is pretty much how we'll be until we get old. Isn't that fabulous? You see, the 20s were unpredictable. The "Freshman 15," the slowing metobolic rate, the laughlines...Been there. Done with that. Botox and lipo shouldn't be a concern until we're 60, and by then, I really hope none of us cares anymore. So if this is IT, I think we should be pretty darn happy about being 30.

Quite frankly, I haven't felt this good about myself since I was 13.

Eat THAT, Jennifer Garner.

Give me 20 years more and you'll probably find me HERE.

ps-
Yes. I do have that coat the little girl on the right is wearing. And I use it. Often. In public. And I don't even care that I got it from the children's department.

Our Independence.

The 4th of July means our country's Independence from the English. Dirty English.
In Huntington Beach, it also means bbqs, another 5K, bike rides, bbqs, beach, street markets, bbqs, and fireworks.

Enjoy your holiday.
And check some of these places out:
* I Heart Morning Radio This is why I get up in the mornings. Andrew "I don't even know." is my favourite.
* Morning Becomes Eclectic I heart Nic Harcourt in the mid-morning. World music and indie stuff you may not have heard of yet.
* Entertainment and Snide Remarks for movie reviews- totally addicted over here. One of my most favourite reviews ever, that I sometimes read PURELY for entertainment is HERE.
* Subscribe NOW! The only podcast I know.
* My friend's blogs (to the left, to the left!) Pretty much all of these are linked to other awesome blogs to keep tabs on.

I'll be in Utah this weekend for Caroline and Justin's wedding. Maybe someone can explain why people take dates to weddings. That seems like the most uncomfortable situation I could possibly be put in. "Hi. Welcome to town. I'm so excited to sit in formal dining with you surrounded by other couples, occasionally tearing up, and with marriage looming everywhere we look!" Personally, the only reason I even bother going to receptions is to see who else is there. If we're not there to see who's left to hook up with, why go?
PS-
CM & JK- Sure do love you guys!

Hunk O'The Month voting continues until I get back!

Drama-rama.

Lunch with my manager:

B: Are you dating anyone?
F: No.
B: There's no drama if there's no relationship, right?
F: True 'dat. (pause.) Actually, I never have drama...I don't think...Ever. huh.
B: You are low-drama. But it's probably because you never really cared about them anyway, so you'd rather not deal with it. Because when you care enough about someone, everything becomes drama! If you don't care what they're doing or who they're with, it's because deep down inside, you don't really care about them.
F: You are a genius.

He continued to explain that there were only two women he ever had drama with; his first love, and his wife. He explains that a loving relationship is constant drama because he cares so much about what she does and what she needs, her wants become his wants. He wants to change for her- he wants to become a better person, because it will make him happy when she is happy. Her actions become his cause for reaction, and vice versa.

Now, in my mind, that's called, "dependence," and it's unhealthy behavior to base your feelings on someone else's actions. However, at this particular moment during this particular lunch, he seemed to made perfect sense to me. Perhaps real love does require a certain level of emotional interdependence- and maybe that's a good thing. Perhaps that's why people say that you hurt the ones you love (another theory I always hated- I mean, if you care, why don't you just try harder to be more considerate?). Anyway, my manager described the amount of concern he had for his wife, where she was, who she was with, what she was doing, when she would get back...The idea has always been completely unappealing to me. Where is the trust? The confidence in your relationship? The faith in one another? But hearing him describe it, this kind of drama sounded like the most desirable thing in the world.

Perhaps this has been my mistake! I avoid drama by either giving up or giving in or folding, or doing whatever it takes to make sure my other half is happy and unfettered by cares. Or at least by the ones in my control. But maybe I'm sending all the wrong messages by shielding them from complication. Maybe I'm saying that I don't give a rat's because I don't care about him- when really, I'm trying to display confidence, faith, and trust! If I am feeling stifled when someone attempts this type of interdependence with me, maybe that's because I don't really like the guy as much as I thought. Maybe I'll feel differently when I actually meet someone I love. And then I'll get on to starting fires for him to put out...