Debunking the Bar Myth

Sometimes it seems as though all I ever hear is my single friends complaining about how impossible it is to meet someone worth dating at a bar. Occasionally, I just nod along, listening to their rant about the bar scene. Other times, I try to respond with a hopeful "You'll find someone eventually!" But what I normally say to these friends is simple: you can meet people anywhere.

And that includes a bar.

I think bars get a bad rep. Sure, I have had less than delightful experiences at bars, many of which include being the recipient of unwanted affections or engaging in conversation with the annoying, over-inebriated stranger. However, to those who say that you can never meet anyone worth dating at a bar, I must ask this: do you go to bars? And subsequently, are you worth dating?

If you answered yes to the above questions, then all I ask is that you consider that perhaps if you frequent bars and are a decent, dateable human being, then there must be a chance that there are other people at bars just like you -- also decent and dateable. Shocking revelation, I know.

The thing is, it really is a matter of getting to know people as best as you can, given the circumstances and the location. Not all bars are created equal, of course, but ultimately, all you can do is strike up a conversation, learn a little bit about the other person, and give them a chance. So they might not end up being a potential match. So what? You're at a bar -- presumably with friends, as opposed to venturing out alone -- so go hang out with your friends and let it go.

At the same time, completely dismissing someone wanting to strike up a conversation based on bar-prejudice alone could mean missing out on someone interesting. For as many questionable interactions I've had with people at bars, I've had twice as many engaging and enjoyable ones. I've met some fun and interesting people at bars -- some of which I am still friends with today. TRUTH.

I think back to my favorite success story, which is not mine personally, but a friend's: we girls were out one night, and my friend ended up meeting a guy at a bar. Personally, I think the rest of us girls were doubtful about their interaction, considering the amount of alcohol flowing; however, something must have clicked between my friend and this guy. They exchanged numbers, went on a first date, and come to find out: he's a gentleman, a volunteer with the Boys & Girls Club, has a good job, and an apartment. Yes, people, he is the quintessential nice guy and my friend met him AT A BAR.

And that is not some sort of miracle. It can happen to you too. Give bars a chance. At the very least, you'll get a good cocktail out of it, right?

Kim K. to Kover Vogue?

People are talking. What are they saying, exactly? Well, if you've heard anything from the rumor mill or overheard your regular neighborhood fashion gossip, then perhaps you know that there's speculation that Kim Kardashian could be Vogue's next cover girl.

*GASP* I know. The reality TV tartlet, supposedly with the help of her eager fiancé Sir Kanye West, may perhaps grace the superior fashion glossy's cover in the near future, if these rumors are true. And it seems as though everyone has an opinion -- including yours truly.

So, since you were wondering, I'm sure, what exactly do I think about the whole potential fiasco? (As if dubbing it a fiasco doesn't tell you enough as it is...) Well, I think there are a lot of factors that play into a potential Kim K. cover that could make it both good and bad. I'm going to discuss three.

First off, let's discuss one of the arguments I've heard so far: that Vogue is just giving the people what they want; Kim is a major celebrity and it's the public's interest in her that has prompted her cover girl status. Ultimately, this argument blames the public -- that we have made her important and if we wanted her to go away, it is our job, as the media consumers, to just say no!

While I think there's some truth in that, I also think that argument shows only one side of the complicated circus that is the media-public relationship. Yes, the masses have spoken, and they watch  all of Kim's shows, read other magazines with her bodacious bod on the cover, and probably buy her perfume and whatever else she sells at Sears. However, the media makes a conscious decision to give her those television shows, put her on their magazine covers, and write stories about her. When E! news decides to do a special on Kim, or if UsWeekly features a "tell-all" as their major headlining story, they are telling us that Kim is worthy of discussion -- that she is important. The media is setting the agenda, making Kim salient, and therefore, crafting her celebrity. With Kim's image over-saturating the media market, a passive media consumer assumes she has some sort of cultural value. 

Granted, people could stop watching her TV shows, stop buying magazines with her on the cover, and stop buying all of her products as promoted in her advertisements. But they don't, and this then fuels the need for more episodes, magazine covers and Kim-approved products because they make money.

Which brings me to my next point: magazines need to sell because magazines need to make money. If Kim is a tried-and-true cover success, then perhaps Vogue is just being smart. If you've ever waited in line at a grocery store (or really, any store that sells magazines for that matter) then you've seen Kim on probably half of the magazine covers. The girl might not actually be news-worthy, but by golly, the magazines make her news-worthy, and her face sells. Now, I don't have any statistics supporting or refuting the influence of Kim covers on your purchasing decisions, but the fact of the matter is: she is always on a magazine cover. There must be a reason why she is: people must buy those magazines. And if that's the case, then Vogue is going to appeal to all of those people who have purchased Kim-covered magazines in the past, and it's going to succeed in making money.

But then, the natural question is: well, what about all of those people who already purchase Vogue? Does Vogue's *speculated* choice of Kim as a cover girl align with Vogue's current demographic? This is something about which I have no idea. Certainly, Vogue is called the "Fashion Bible" for a reason -- it is one of the most prestigious fashion magazines. It is an institution. For goodness sake, Carrie Bradshaw chose Vogue in lieu of food because "it fed [her] more." 

On the one hand, it might seem as though Vogue is abandoning its current readership. These are sophisticated women. These are women who get their news from more than just E!. Could it be that Vogue is "selling out" and giving in to this talent-less celebrity culture, forsaking art, culture, and fashion for a woman whose career was built on a sex-tape? Could it be that they are no longer the institution they once were?

Well, clearly the fact that this is a controversy only serves to prove that they are still as culturally important and prestigious as ever -- or else no one would care who graced the cover. However, if Vogue does choose to feature Kim as their next cover girl, I think it makes a huge cultural statement. Perhaps Vogue is simply aligning itself with a new conceptualization of the "celebrity." Though Kim's career had an infamous start, she has developed her own empire -- a modern businesswoman, if you will (though that is still debatable).

And we must consider this: it was Wintour who revolutionized the fashion mag cover in the first place, replacing model-dominated covers for covers with actors/actresses and singers. She has proven her prowess in shaping the industry, and maybe this is just another strategic move in redefining the celebrity and fashion landscape. Vogue could be headed in a new direction, keeping up with our changing cultural and societal values.

I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

The Need for "Creeping"

I had a moment a few weeks ago when I was in my communication theory class amidst discussion of social media and its role in uncertainty reduction theory. Some might call this an "aha" moment. I would call it "that moment where the practical intersects with the theoretical" -- where the stuff normally reserved for academics and large, overpriced books finds its way into your life and is suddenly applicable. I finally realized why people engage in this activity we so fondly and aptly label "creeping'" -- that is, "Facebook creeping."

When you consider the "Facebook creeping" phenomenon, the first thought that probably comes to mind is "stalker." The second thought is probably, "Except for me... Because I do it," which is a more accurate observation. Not all who wander around the intricate web that is Facebook are lost. No, no. In fact, more than anything, they are just giving into their intrinsic need to gather information about others. Let me drop some knowledge on ya.

You see, in the context of communication, humans gather information about others (acquaintances, potential love interests, coworkers, etc.) because they seek to reduce uncertainty about those "others", whoever they may be. A certain Mr. Berger developed this concept, which, in a very, very small nutshell, hammers down to the fact that people want to be able to predict the behaviors of others because this enables them to then build a relationship (Littlejohn & Foss, 2011). Once solely confined to face-to-face interactions, the development of the Internet, and subsequently, social media, has led to people venturing online to reduce uncertainty rather than relying on their in-person interactions, observations, and overall questionings.

Facebook, therefore, is the perfect medium on which to pursue this basic need of ours. Between the thousands of photographs, incessant posting, and chat capabilities, Facebook's features end up being an important tool in reducing uncertainty about others. Consider this: you meet a cutie at a bar, have zero mutual friends, and end the night knowing only his/her first and last name. Whether you care to admit it or not, you'll probably look up this bar fly on Facebook (or at least one other social networking site) and immediately sift through his/her interests, photographs, posts, and mutual friend list. You might even resort to Facebook messaging this person and having an online sober chat, much unlike your initial interaction. As you use your sleuth skills, you might ask yourself: Does this person constantly post depressing statuses about how his/her life sucks? Are all of this person's photographs of drunken escapades and borderline inappropriate revelries? Is your single mutual friend that one douchie person you knew from high school? What does that douchie person you knew from high school say about this person? Immediately, we began to create a picture of who this person is, and use this information in order to predict that person's behavior, and ultimately, decide whether to build a relationship with this person, or, in some instances, further a relationship with this person. (Hopefully not, if you actually met a person like this...)

Of course, there will always be the same argument that comes up when we discuss the transition from offline interactions to online interactions: inevitably, things could get lost in translation, be misrepresented, or just ultimately, lack many of the nonverbal forms of communication necessary to more-completely get one's point across -- and these are all valid points. Yet, one could argue (and there is research to back this up) that the overload of information that social media sites (especially Facebook) provides us with sometimes serve to make up for the lack of nonverbal communication or the possibility for misrepresentation.

Regardless, Facebook creepin' is not a perfect science, nor is it anywhere close to being the perfect and single representation of a human being -- especially considering that we humans do not exist solely on our beloved Interwebs. We do exist offline, in real life. However, at least there is some sort of reason behind our inclination to "creep," and maybe next time, we might wear that "creep" badge with pride.

Or not.

References:

Littlejohn, S.W., & Foss, K.A. (2011) The Conversation. In Theories of Human Communication (10th ed.) (pp.180-182). Illinois: Waveland Press, Inc.

The Boyfriend Card Part Two: A Story

A few weeks ago, I went out to a bar with a group of girl friends on a Saturday night.  It was exactly what you’d expect: a night out in the pursuit of drinks and dancing – just us girls!

That usually doesn’t happen though. My friends and I have a tendency to make friends whenever we go out. Half the time, it’s as a result of us unashamedly asking for a seat at a table or pushing our way to the bar. The other half of the time, it’s probably just because a gaggle of girls ordering shots generally attracts some sort of attention. This night was no exception. As we chatted amongst each other at our table, having ordered a very embarrassingly named shot that required embarrassing methods for consumption, we unwittingly were the recipients of a quite a few glances, but also the attention of some guys. One such gentleman bravely approached my friends and I, and as I explained our drink decision, a faux-friendship was born. I say “faux-friendship” because it’s the kind of friendship that is great and provides lots of fun – but only for that evening.

And so, our new friend became an extension of our group for the evening, as did a few other guys who joined in our fun. As I talked with our new friend, I was confronted with that age-old question: “When do I tell this guy that I have a boyfriend?”

As we've gone over before, I knew that I could casually drop the boyfriend card into conversation, but I also realized that the boyfriend card, at this point in the night, was irrelevant. I was part of a group of girls – even if I was “taken”, my other friends weren’t, and thus, if finding a girl was this guy’s “goal” for the evening, talking with me, boyfriend or no boyfriend, didn’t matter because I was still his “in” with the other girls.

Sure, this guy was primarily focusing his flirtation toward me, but I did what any good wingwoman should do: bolster up her friends, and highlight the reasons they’re so great in an effort to deflect his misguided attention. The boyfriend card was a non-issue: I wasn’t getting drinks from this guy, and we were just having a conversation. Does everything need to be about hooking up?

We divided our time throughout the night, spending part as as we originally anticipated, shouting “woo” while waving our hands in the air like we just didn’t care, while spending the rest hanging out with our faux friends.

When one of our faux friends suggested heading to a different bar next door though, I faced an issue: my object of flirtation for the evening wanted to come with us. At first glance, this isn’t really an issue. Bars are open to the public; anyone can go. However, I knew that by inviting this guy to tag along with me and my friends I was suggesting to him that I wanted to spend more time with him because I was romantically interested. Essentially, the subtext would become the text. So this was the moment. I had to drop the boyfriend card so that this guy wouldn’t waste the rest of the night following me around under the guise that I was single, and ready to mingle. Right?

I tried hinting to him that it wasn’t worth it to come to the next bar. “We’re going to a total dive! If I wasn’t with my friends, I’d probably just go home and go to bed!” I surmised.

Didn’t work.

“We’ll probably have to wait in line, and by the time we get in, it’ll probably be closing!”

Also didn’t work.

In a last-ditch attempt, I did it. I threw the boyfriend card. I don’t remember exactly how I worded it; I just remember that it was extremely awkward and not at all organic to the conversation. Most likely, I said it like this, “I HAVE A BOYFRIEND.” Despite this ungraceful effort to be honest and not lead a nice guy on, I don’t think he even heard me, because he followed my friends and I to the next bar, where, he didn’t even end up getting in.

So moral of this story? Well, first of all, I don’t think blogs are necessarily conducive to sharing morals. But, for the sake of this rant, I will try to provide some moral perspective. I suppose I should have worked the “boyfriend card” into conversation earlier in the night. I think I was so desperate not to let the guy down, and distracted by my own efforts to play wingwoman that I failed to recognize that our faux friendship had expired shortly after he focused his attention on me alone.

It’s one of those weird dimensions that only exits in “bar land” – you can’t assume that everyone is hitting on you/interested in you, but you should also be aware that some people are there to meet someone and thus, may actually be hitting on you/interested in you. If you were to meet someone in a grocery store, you wouldn’t necessarily drop the boyfriend card amidst a discussion on whether to buy generic or brand-name peanut butter. You’re at the grocery store. However, when you’re at a bar and you meet someone, the expectations of conversations among people there are different:  knowing whether or not the person you’re talking to has a boyfriend/girlfriend does change things because the expectation of that conversation may be to see if you’re romantically compatible with the other person.
Sure, you could meet your next boyfriend/girlfriend at a grocery store, but you go to a grocery store with the intention to get just that: groceries. Not your future spouse. People go to bars to hang out, chill, have fun and dance (if you’re like me) – but it’s also frequently considered a place to meet people, and more commonly, meet someone you might want to date. Not every person I talk to is going to be someone who wants to date me (I’m great, sure, but not that great), but it does help to be sensitive to the fact that certain locales require a specific sort of social protocol. In this case, throwing the boyfriend card at the right time.

When the Crazy Cat Lady Is Your Boyfriend

Because any man who has a cat is a winner.
http://dailycaller.com/2010/11/19/the-sweet-sixteen-of-awkward-family-pet-photos-slideshow/pet002019403/

I have always been wary of men who consider themselves “cat people.” They are a special breed of man, akin to the “renaissance man” or metrosexual in the sense that they do not rely on masculine stereotypes to build their confidence. They are in tune to more than just beer, basketball, and babes. They have multi-dimensional interests, and are emotionally mature and open-minded. However, cat-loving men are still distinct from their evolutionarily progressive male counterparts. You see, as much as they might be enigmatic and interesting, cat-loving men are just that: men who love cats.

So what’s my “beef” with cats and ultimately, the men who love them? Well, cats are confusing creatures –the Rubik’s Cube of pets. Unlike with dogs, you have to earn a cat’s affection. Cats never automatically like you. With their judgmental eyes and quiet footsteps, they seem as though they’re plotting world domination. You can be sure that they’re sizing you up, deciding whether to kill you or allow you to co-exist with them. And that’s the thing – they decide what your relationship is going to be like with them, not the other way around. Ultimately, you can never really know if they actually like you or if they’re just trying to get you to feed them.

I’m suspicious of cats, and as a result, suspicious of their owners. If cats are judgmental, tyrannical, and potentially looking to take over the world, then what does that suggest about the owners who love them? These feline attributions don’t so much as transfer onto their owners as they do suggest that their owners are willing to be submissive, begging for their cats’ love and affection so as not to be taken out upon their cats’ world domination.  Who could love such a creature – and more importantly – could I love someone who loved a cat? I had never really come face-to-face with a single, male cat owner until I went to my boyfriend’s apartment, a few weeks after our first date.

I hadn’t known he had a cat. It wasn’t until I went to my boyfriend’s apartment for the first time and saw the litter box that I realized I might have to re-consider the whole relationship. My boyfriend introduced his cat to me: a girl cat, named Gary. He cooed and talked to Gary in a baby voice, telling me how “beautiful” she was, petting her and avoiding her attempts to scratch him.

Despite all of this, I really liked this guy. After all, he was a man of the 21^st century: charming, smart, a great cook, capable of doing his own laundry, and sarcastic. I realized if I wanted to have the relationship, I was going to have to come to terms with the cat.

As I spent more time with my boyfriend, and subsequently, his cat, I realized: cats aren’t so bad. I learned more about Gary and her personality, and became more in tune to the kind of cat that she was. Sure, I was still nervous from time-to-time that Gary would claw my eyes out in my sleep, but when she’d cuddle up next to me on the couch, I felt an immense sense of satisfaction. Here was this creature, known to be judgmental and finicky, choosing to return my affection. I realized that my expectation of immediate, unconditional love devalued that same love. Earning Gary’s affection taught me something: having to put work into a relationship and upholding a set of standards isn’t a bad thing. Instead, having a set of standards meant that I could have a better and more fulfilling relationship. And yes – a cat helped me realize that. I earned the love and trust of my boyfriend’s cat, and at the same time, the love and trust of my boyfriend.

Over a year later, I still might be wary of cats, but I am proud to be dating a cat person. Recently though, at the doctor’s office, I sat in the examination room waiting for an explanation as to why I haven’t gotten over my cold.

            “It’s your boyfriend’s cat,” she said.

            Go figure.