The Boyfriend Card

This is only semi-relevant to this blog post... If by wizard's chess you mean "flirting at bars" and if by normal chess you mean "talking to people" and if by "muggles" you mean you are in a relationship and by "wizards" you mean single people???
Did you get all of that?

Sometimes, I feel as though the bar scene is akin to that of a game of chess.  Now, I don’t actually know how to play chess, aside from very basic knowledge and a failed attempt at game play in middle school, but I at least know that in chess, your movements are entirely dependent and reactive to those of your opponent. You size up your opponent, try to calculate their next move, and in return, develop your own strategy in the process. And really, how much different is this then our interactions with each other at a bar? Not much –though, probably a lot less intellectual.

Once you’re locked into this flirtatious chess game with your new bar-friend of choice and you’ve determined that they want to check your mate*, what happens if – insert ominous music here – you have a boyfriend? Sure, you’re enjoying the exchange with your pseudo-new-friend and find the banter to be above par for a conversation noticeably under-the-influence, but you’re not exactly going to drop your current beau in lieu of a flirtation with little potential to exist outside of the two beers you’re sharing.

So that leads me to ask: when do you drop the boyfriend card? You know what I’m talking about – when do you bring up the fact that, yes, although you are reacting to his moves by flirting and smiling and laughing at all of his not-so-funny jokes, you actually are not interested in progressing form the bar to the bedroom? The way he's making his moves and playing the game -- touching your arm, making eye contact, complimenting to you -- suggests that you need to react with moves that continue the game-play without leading him on but also, without making him ditch you solely because you have a boyfriend.

You must tread lightly, my friend -- just as you can't move certain chess pieces at the beginning of the game, you can't just make the preemptive strike by bringing up the boyfriend. Not every guy who talks to a girl at a bar is trying to hit on her. And while it's pretty likely that this guy may be hitting on you, it's not a given. By moving the "boyfriend" piece at the beginning of the conversation, you run the risk of sounding pretentious and narcissistic. You're talking to someone who you, at this point, are getting along with, and run the risk of alienating. Some guys -- believe it or not -- will still talk to you even if you have a boyfriend, so start the game off with the boyfriend card, and you risk losing out on having a nice conversation with a nice person.

Okay, so you can’t open up the conversation with a good ol’ fashioned, “hey, nice to meet you. I have a boyfriend.” That much has been established. Yet, I’m fully aware that the further the conversation progresses, the more likely it is that the omission of your non-single-status could be an item of contention. Obviously, you want to be truthful, but you don't want to lead this guy on. He keeps moving closer to capturing your pawn, and lady, your pawn has already been captured.* 

Be subtle. Throw your boyfriend into the conversation in a subtle, yet gentle way. Everyone knows that, when you're at a bar, you run the risk of flirting with someone who already has a boyfriend/girlfriend, but that doesn't mean that they're solely out for some pirate's booty every night. Sure, there will be the occasional guy who forfeits the game as soon as he finds out you're already the object of someone else's affection, but who wants to continue to talk to those guys anyway? For the nice guys out there who are having a good time talking to you regardless, there's no reason to lead the poor chap on. If I'm talking about basketball with a guy, I'll slide in a boyfriend reference by saying, "Oh yeah, that's my boyfriend's favorite sport, even though I don't really like it much" or if we're talking about a particular place, I'll mention "yeah, my boyfriend loves that bar." It's not in-your-face, but it's enough to let the person know that, alas, at the end of the night, you'll be going home to someone else.

Ultimately, the point is not to sound so contrived. Hell, you're just having a conversation with another person. Be friendly, be nice, be you. When you're talking about yourself, inevitably, it happens that you bring up a friend or a family member, so just throw the boyfriend in there too. There have been times when I've mentioned that "I have a boyfriend" early on in the conversation and have been met with the response, "Oh, I wasn't trying to hit on you." Even if said guy wasn't actually trying to hit on me, I made the rest of what had been a good conversation awkward. I've since just tried to go with the flow. Next time you're out and chatting with a friendly fellow, just be sure that you're reading his moves and responding with the right ones -- yeah, you're taken, but you're not opposed to some more banter. After all, I'm at a bar to engage in fun conversations and have a good time. And aren't we all just people trying to have a good time?

 *Bad chess puns. Don't hate me.

** Unrelated asterisk -- don't throw the boyfriend card to get rid of guys you don't like. That's mean. You're above that.

Me, Myself and I Go to the Movies

memegenerator.net 

For some, Saturday night is typically classified as "date night" -- the night where you go out with that one special person, paint the town red, purple and pink and hopefully have a few cocktails in the process. In general, Saturday night is reserved for all sorts of fun, but basically that fun includes multiple participants in the form of either pairs, threesomes (if you're into that -- good for you) or groups of innumerable members. 

We look upon those who spend this holy night (holy in the sense that you revere and worship free time to party!) riding solo, folding their laundry while watching Gilmore Girls re-runs as social anomalies and hermits. Why waste the wide-open freedom of Saturday night and the subsequent promise of  Sunday morning hangover-recovery-time? And better yet, why be alone? Why not include a friend in those precious work and commitment-free hours? It seems as though everyone and their mother, grandmother and great-grandmother plan their Saturday nights around doing something -- anything --  with someone -- anyone -- so why not participate and join a friend for questionable revelries?

I usually am one of these people. My Saturdays are saved for going out, hanging with old friends, chatting up new friends and hopefully, finding a DJ that will submit to my Whitney Houston requests. This past Saturday, though, I joined the ranks of those who choose a path of solitary companionship. 

I braved the new world of doing things with me, myself and I alone and decided to go out on a date with myself.

It wasn't that I couldn't have found something to do that involved human interaction. It was a deliberate decision. Despite the fact that I am a self-proclaimed chatty Cathy, I wanted some time sans external dialogue and conversation. I was okay with limiting my interaction to the internal dialogue that exists inside my head. That was just fine. 

My options were to stay home alone with my dog and watch a movie or go out alone and watch a movie. I already had a cute outfit on, my hair looked good and I was energized for the night to begin, so I figured I might as well go out. I had time, I was free, and there was a movie I wanted to see -- why should I let the fact that I didn't have a "date" or hadn't made plans with someone deter me from doing something that I wanted to do? Exactly. I shouldn't and I didn't. So I went to the movies.

It was my first solo movie experience. Despite the fact that watching a movie requires minimal conversation and optimal silence, it seems as though attending a movie in theaters is an experience relegated to pairs and groups. I went to the theater, bought my ticket, grabbed a snack and found a single seat.

Sitting alone, I realized that being alone at the theater wasn't a bad thing. I didn't care what people thought. There was no reason to feel bad for me -- I wasn't being stood up nor was I an outcast or loner of some sort. I reveled in the silence and took in the people watching pre-movie. It was ideal. Once the movie started, I was free from interruptions or commentary (even though I'm usually the one providing it). I stretched out, didn't worry about hogging the armrests and relaxed -- almost as good as being on my own couch, except I was shrouded in the mass of people, which made me feel like I was out and doing something. And I was.

I thought that going by myself might feel a little weird, but it wasn't for the most part.There's nothing particularly revolutionary about seeing a person alone at the movies.  Plenty of people show up sans +1 in tow or are in line waiting for a snack while they're friend takes in the pre-movie. Sure, there were a few times when I was very aware of the fact that I was alone -- like when I was waiting for my overpriced pizza to be given to me at the snack-stand or when I had to ask to purchase just one ticket -- but those things really weren't a big deal. People who go to the movies in pairs and groups have to deal with those things sometimes too.

The best part about being by myself, though, was that I was in complete and total control of my movie-going experience, only needing to focus on what would provide me (myself, alone) the best movie-going experience. I didn't have to worry about meeting and finding my movie companion beforehand, and once the movie was over, I could bounce out of there without having to wait for said movie companion to hit the bathroom or throw their trash away. My night was relaxing. Once the movie was over, I was free to go out somewhere else or head home. I was no longer confined to going places or attending parties/events with a date! I felt empowered in that I could go somewhere alone that generally holds the stigma of being a +1 activity.

Is this growing up? Am I just more comfortable with the person that I am and can stand to be alone with that person? Am I just now old enough to be responsible for myself and therefore, not necessarily in need of constant companionship? Probably a combination of all of those things. And probably the fact that sometimes, you just don't want to share your movie snacks.

What's Next?

Ah, Bloggerverse. It's always a challenge trying to communicate news and change to you, my followers. How much of an introduction should I give to said news? Should I ease into it? Should I just let my title give it away? Are these rhetorical questions enough of a build-up to stir some anxiety and anticipation within you as you now begin to wonder what it is I am going to tell you?

This story goes all the way back to last fall as I braced myself for life's big transition: from student to adult -- leaving the undergrad world for the cold, harsh reality of working hard for my money and moving back home with the "roomies." By that December as I neared my last few weeks at school, I had done minimal job hunting, lots of fun-having and only a little bit of philosophical thinking. While considering my options as I approached this inevitable change, I decided that, perhaps, I should return to the classroom the following fall to continue my education and pursue a masters degree. I did what I needed to do to make it happen: requested reference letters and transcripts, took the GREs, wrote required essays, and completed several applications -- applying to four schools and patiently waiting to hear whether my pursuit into another realm of higher education would continue come the fall of 2012.

After graduating, I was even more set on returning to grad school. It made sense. I loved being in the classroom, I wanted another degree, and I had the momentum from only just recently finishing up my undergraduate degree. I was ready. I was eager... and then I was torn. As I received acceptances and rejections, I realized: this was going to be an expensive endeavor and was I really sure? Was I willing to make a commitment to this costly continuation of my education right now? I wasn't 100% dedicated to the degree I had applied to pursue (journalism) and the cost of tuition was daunting. I made the decision to postpone my return to grad school until I was more certain of the degree I wanted to pursue and that grad school, in general, was a step I wanted to take.

As the first few months of summer went by, I was a 9-to-5 ingenue. Only having been at my job for so long, being a cubicle crony was still a novelty, and yet, the thought of returning to grad school was still lingering in my mind. I had since given more thought to the degree path I wanted to pursue, exploring a variety of options and programs, doing more research than I had ever done as an undergrad into the prospect of going back to school. I was more aware and realistic this time. I knew what needed to be done, what it would cost and the compromises I was willing to make.

So I applied. Again. This time, though, I applied to communications-based programs (such as public relations and integrated marketing communications) and one fashion program. I re-wrote the essays, re-requested the transcripts and reference letters and filled out a few more applications this time. I wrote down deadlines, requirements and filed important emails away for reference. I wasn't kidding around this time -- I knew, for sure, that I wanted to go back to school. I missed writing essays, engaging in scholarly discussion/debate and immersing myself in a wholly academic atmosphere where the people around me wanted to be there and also wanted to learn. I missed that. I needed the challenging intellectual stimulation that my desk job just wasn't giving me. I wasn't satisfied with my cubicle confinement and I had the urge to learn -- an urge that, I have a feeling, never has (and probably never will) leave me.

I continued at my desk job, waiting for a response from the various schools and this time, it was even more positive. I got into 5/6 schools and of those schools' acceptances, I got very generous scholarships to each. This time, the ball was in my court -- each school had given me great offers and I was no longer in a position where I needed to scrounge for dollars and cents to make it all work. Inside, I was elated -- an internal fiesta took place as I celebrated these little victories, finally culminating after years of hard work as a student.I could return to school and I wasn't going to go broke in the process! Isn't that what we all aspire to accomplish in this day and age?

My decision was tough -- I battled with the pros and cons of each school, but ultimately, it came down to two, which were both excellent options. One would have required me to take a pre-requisite undergraduate class, move to the South and take out a lot more in loans; the other would allow me to stay local, offering me a very generous financial package and teaching assistantship and the option of spending my last semester interning and taking classes in London. Ultimately, I accepted the offer to the local school -- they have an excellent program, a great alumni base and a positive reputation for post-graduate employment opportunities. Plus, their generous financial package allows me to take out very minimal loans (if I even have to). I can breathe a big sigh of relief -- I am finally going to make it happen.

So there you have it, folks. I am returning to the classroom this fall -- both as a student and as a teacher. I'll admit, I'm equally excited and nervous to make the transition back to school, since I've spent the last year working, but I think I'm ready. I'll prepare for the new challenge and you can prepare yourselves for some new blog posts -- how's that sound?

In the words of Billy Madison, here goes nothin.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMtkiS1SU_c