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.

Tis the Season for Lots of Pressure

In the weeks leading up to Christmas and New Year's Eve, I find myself carefully planning out gifts and which events I'll be attending. I accept invitations, plot my outfits, and calculate how much money I can afford to spend on gifts and parties. I love spending the holidays with my friends and families, I really love going to parties filled with said friends and family, and I absolutely love giving gifts to those I love the most. With that being said, between the commercials, the Christmas music, and the Christmas countdown (on almost every TV channel), there is so much pressure to do the holiday season right.

Let's start with Christmas: you're expected to buy gifts for your family and friends. Certainly, you may have different arrangements with your family and friends, but according to just about every media outlet, you're expected to come up with the perfect gift for each person in your life. Gift-giving is supposed to be about finding something special for your someone special, because you want to show that person how much he/she means to you. Giving a gift is an opportunity to say "thank you" or "I love you" or even "You're awesome - here's a gift!" But it's becoming increasingly difficult to do that during the holiday season without feeling stressed and anxious.

Gift-giving guides and in-store arrangements suggest that this is the "perfect gift for mom" or that your boyfriend needs a new watch, not that book you know he's been gushing about for the past few months. There are gift-giving guides according to how much you want to spend -- as if you monetary value correlates to how important someone is in your life: $500 for mom, $300 for your brother, $200 for your sister who you've been fighting with, $400 for your dog because he is your best friend, naturally. However, this is hardly representative of the purpose of gift-giving or of the intricacies of your relationships. After all, isn't it the thought that counts? 

The over-commercialization of Christmas and the over-sharing of social media makes for a big mess of it all. You aren't just giving your gift in the quiet comfort of your home. Your gift may have to stack up to everyone else's gifts on Instagram or Facebook. I've seen Facebook posts boasting about Christmas and Hanukkah gifts, or Instagram pictures proudly revealing said Christmas loot. Throw in the fact that almost every website, blog, and store has a gift-giving guide which, though very helpful at times, seem to take the thought out of giving gifts in the first place and suggest what is the best gifts for the people in you life that they don't even know. 

There's so much pressure to get the gift right  or to buy the most presents. But the pressure doesn't stop there. The gift-giving might come to an end after Christmas, but New Year's Eve opens a whole new can of worms. New Year's Eve is arguably the most important party night of the year. It's your one chance to leap into the new year at your most fabulous, ensuring that the year to follow is one equally as fabulous as the party you attend in order to ring it in. It's one night. One night! You have to have your dress ready, champagne chilled, cover charges paid, and a cool party to attend -- not to mention, it needs to be fun. That is a lot to ask for. And it's not that it can't be done. New Year's Eve was once one of my favorite holidays, but that was because I spent in in the company of friends sans cover charge and in my pajamas. 

When you put so much money, effort, and energy into one night, building it up so as expecting it to be one of the best nights of your year (and last nights!), you're bound to set unrealistic expectations that end in a slump the next day as you nurse your hangover, and for some of us, human bites. Again, this is a night that's going to be on display. Expect pictures documenting every half hour of the night to appear on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, so you better make sure that your hair looks good, you're parting with attractive people, and you're somewhere fabulous.

How can we just enjoy the night without letting all of the pressure -- the pressure that we have to have fun and have an amazing night -- get to us? Maybe it starts with lowering our expectations, or maybe it just starts with lowering the cover charges to get into all of these places. Either way, I think it starts with remembering what the night is at its very core: New Year's Eve. This goes for Christmas too. What are these holidays in their most basic definition? Even if you aren't religious, both holidays, and all holidays for that matter, are an excuse and a celebration to be with the people you care about the most, or to be with people that could potentially turn into the ones you care about most. These holidays are a time to showcase our love for each other and enjoy each other's company over great food, a bit of bubbly, and hopefully, some festive music. I think once we recognize what's beneath all of the bells and whistles, the advertisements, and hype, we can enjoy the season and relax. FINALLY.

Can Harry Be JUST Friends with Sally?

I watched When Harry Met Sally for the first time this winter break. I know -- it was a long time coming. After all, I'm a 20-something female. It's my duty to watch the entire library of chick flicks and move through life according to the chick flick code. After joining the rest of my sisterhood as someone who has seen the film, I talked over one of the major themes with a friend: can you truly be friends with someone of the opposite sex?

According to Harry, you can't; according to Sally, you can. My friend and I were decidedly "Team Sally," agreeing that of course you can be friends with someone of the opposite sex. It's 2013 -- soon to be 2014 -- men are not from Mars, and women are not from Venus. We may be different in some ways, but we are certainly not from different planets, and we most certainly can have a purely platonic relationship with each other. Men and women are just as capable as having a fulfilling relationship sans romance with each other as men have with other men and women have with other women. In fact, I think it's possible to have a friendship with someone of the opposite sex without ever wanting it to develop into something "more." These different-sex friendship function much in the same way that same-sex friendships do, and sometimes, the only difference between these types of relationships is in the sex of the friends and society's apparent bewilderment at how this friendship exists and prospers.

So we've established that men and women can be friends -- and good friends at that. But what happens when you misinterpret the joke of a long-time friend or mistake an intimate gesture to be more romantic than platonic? If a friend of the same sex offers to pay for your dinner or gives you a kiss on the cheek, you may not think anything of it. If that friend is of the opposite sex and does those things or strays from the firmly established norms of your friendship, suddenly, you question the motivations of your friend. When someone puts the bug in your ear, suggesting that this friend might feel something more, then what happens?

All it takes is for someone to plant the seed. A mutual friend might misread a text or a gesture from your "Harry" and propose that Harry wants fiery romance rather than friendly repartee. You might have never considered Harry as anything more than your friend, and you still might not be interested in pursuing romance, but all of a sudden, you're reading all of Harry's verbal and nonverbal cues as amorous. A simple text in the middle of the night might have previously been just another text from Harry, but now that the "seed" is there -- that little piece of doubt that your relationship isn't strictly platonic -- that text is a sign that Harry is in love with you. And that's how you begin to interpret your exchanges with this friend. Every actions seems to beg the question: "Does this mean that he likes me?"

He probably doesn't, and you probably still don't want to venture into romantic relationship territory, and yet, now that Pandora's Box has been opened, your previously neutral interactions are now seemingly sexually and romantically charged. And once that box has been opened, can you go back? Can you just shut off the filter -- you know, that sifter in your mind that filters everything your Harry or Sally says to determine whether he/she is more than just a friend? It's difficult, for sure, but then it just gets worse.

As my friend and I were discussing this phenomenon, the "friend-to-faux-flirtation" situation in which you begin to doubt this strictly platonic friendship, we wondered if it could wind up being a self-fulfilling prophecy. He and I have both been in situations when we have been friends with someone of the opposite sex for a really long time, never wanting nor being interested in pursuing something romantic. However, there came a point in those relationships when we began to question the motivations of our interactions with said friend, and started to question our own feelings toward that person in the process. I told my friend that he should set up his "Sally" with another guy, if he wasn't interested in her, so that he could divert her "imagined" romantic interest toward someone else. However, he made a valid point: what if he realized that her faux flirtation wasn't so "faux" at all, and decided that he wanted to move past friendship and onto a romantic relationship?

But is this a self-fulfilling prophecy? Could you start being interested in your friend as "more than" because of this "imagined" romantic interest? Perhaps we should consult the chicken and the egg for their take on situations of this sort of complication. Relationships are prone to living in that "grey" area -- regardless of the genders involved -- but it only gets more muddied when you're dealing with a Harry and Sally. Does this mean that Harry and Sally can't be friends? No. But I think what this comes down to is the basics of any good friendship or relationship: honesty and open communication. If you can be honest and truthful with your Harry or Sally, then you won't have any mixed messages -- even if those messages end up being that you do want something more than a platonic friendship.

Is Facebook Ruining Reunions?

Every year around Thanksgiving, people trek home for not just the holiday, but for a long-weekend extravaganza of eating, drinking, and reconnecting with old friends from their old neighborhoods. For some, this reunion is informal, merely congregating at the local watering hole or "townie" bar. For others, though, the dreaded --or anticipated (largely depending on if you've lost weight or are unrecognizable)-- high school reunion serves as the facilitator in a more structured reunion with your friends from yesteryear. It brings a small community together once again, albeit in a mostly forced, awkward, and drunken way, in the hopes of reminding everyone of their shared inside jokes, memories, and potentially, worst years of their life.

Okay, maybe it's not entirely bad. High school reunions can be fun. After all, the people you graduated from high school with know you in a way that someone can only know you after sitting through class after class from kindergarten to senior year. These are the kids you sat on the bus with, the kids you attempted to outrun during gym class, the kids who misguidedly attempted to explain the "birds and the bees" to you for the first time in elementary school. Sure, the people you graduated from high school with may not necessarily know the person you are now, but they were a part of those very crucial formative years as you were attempting to become a functional and educated human being.

So I digress. High school reunions give you the opportunity to reconnect with everyone, for better or for worse. However, in the age of social media, Google searches, and Skype, you are never really more than a click away from your fellow class of (insert high school graduation date here) members. Just as the Internet is killing print media (debatable), and the video killed the radio star, Facebook is killing the high school reunion.

Think about all of the stereotypical hype surrounding a high school graduation: wondering what your crush looks like now; if the nerds are now ruling the world; if the cheerleaders have horizontally outgrown their uniforms; and more importantly, wondering what sort of interactions will take place at said reunion. This information is readily available prior to the fateful day in November, thanks to whatever social media platform on which you choose to connect with those from your past. You might not still actively talk to your former classmates, but there they are, "blowing up" your feed with posts from their weekend festivities, recent vacations, and life updates. Sure, you and Sally Smith may have parted ways after your senior prom fiasco, vowing never to speak to each other again, but you do know where she works, that she recently got promoted, is moving in with her boyfriend, and has dyed her hair a horrific shade of blonde.

That's the thing. Facebook takes all of that anticipation and "magic," we'll say, out of the high school reunion. You already know everything that has happened to your classmates post-graduation, and yet, you show up to the reunion location, asking the appropriate small talk questions, as if you didn't already know everything they were doing. They might fill in the blanks, yes, but if you're just asking due to a technicality, then what's the point? The thrill just isn't there. 

There's a certain expectation that when you go to a high school reunion, you'll learn new things about your former classmates and have refreshing and exciting interactions with them -- the kind you wouldn't have been able to have when you were in school together because you had such a familiar history. Even only five years removed from high school, you are (hopefully) not the same person you were when you got that high school diploma. You're also (hopefully) no longer just an extension of the "click" or social group you represented when you were in school. However, with Facebook granting us all access to each other's lives, we cannot escape that high school hierarchy or categorization because we don't have time to grow and develop away from the watchful eyes of those very same classmates who placed us in those hierarchies and categories to begin with. Inevitably, we show up at our high school reunions reverting to the same clicks/groups as opposed to intermingling and learning new things about our classmates.

Okay, I'll admit, the interactions at my high school reunion weren't entirely limited to the people I was friends with way back when, but I do think that with Facebook, it's harder for us to escape those former stereotypes, and even harder to reconnect in a way that's meaningful and mature past our high school years. We have the potential to keep in touch with our former flames, or poke an old friend, and even though preserving that connection via social media isn't necessarily bad, it is rendering an event like the high school reunion to lose some of its luster and appeal. 

I'm interested to see what happens in another five years. I anticipate that with time, as we move away from our hometown and make our way further into the real world, my classmates and I will finally be able to have a proper reunion. Til then, I'm going to limit my Facebook poking to those in my current circle only. You've been warned.

I referenced this once, and now it's stuck in my head; therefore, I must share it with you.