“….I realized what a terrific person she was and how much fun it was just knowing her and I thought of that old joke, you know, the, this, this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, ‘Doc, uh, my brother’s crazy, he thinks he’s a chicken,’ and uh, the doctor says, ‘well why don’t you turn him in?’ And the guy says, ‘I would, but I need the eggs.’ Well, I guess that’s pretty much now how I feel about relationships. You know, they’re totally irrational and crazy and absurd and, but uh, I guess we keep going through it…because…most of us need the eggs.” ~ A line from Woody Allen’s ‘Annie Hall’ and a picture from Bravo’s ‘Seemingly Real Housewives of SomeCityOrTownNear-ishToWhereYouLive,’
Posts tagged love
One of my best lady friends just ended things with her boyfriend. She’s like a little sister to me. We’ve got the kind of relationship wherein I regularly call her Gutterslut or Troll, since she’s 3’2”, then hold her back by pushing on her forehead while her tiny Tyrannosaurus arms swing angrily in the empty space between us.
Guttertroll fell for a boy who she felt a connection with like never before but it wasn’t a happy ending and she got her teensy little heart crushed. She’s still in the throes of the split, but she’s getting better. The crying-at-all-hours-of-the-day phase seems to have ended. Progress.* Watching her go through this makes me sad. And the want to impart words of wisdom for dealing with a breakup is at an all-time high. So here are my tips and thoughts for coping with such a period of all-encompassing despair.
*By the by, if you want to give Trollcheese words of encouragement - or mock her Yahoo email address – her blog is over here.
“Sometimes I’m terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants. The way it stops and starts.”
~Edgar Allen Poe (via inherhazeleyes <-great site. you should follow her.)
Source inherhazeleyes
Heated back and forth with @hercules_STS over the validity and necessity of online dating (don’t worry - no punches or balltaps were thrown…yet). He’s saying it’s a perfectly valid and reasonable way for people to meet each other if they’re shy, looking to expand beyond their current social circle and alleviate the awkwardness of dating, since you establish a rapport online before you actually meet. He said some other things but I was too busy thinking of “illogical responses,” (to quote the bastard) to hear him.
My counterpoint was that people have met for hundreds and hundreds of years without the help or benefit of technology and that online dating is making us apathetic and lazy.
My best friend that’s a girl is undeniably incredible. Let’s call her Alala, to keep it in the Greek deity family (she picked the name because it’s the personification of the female war cry. And she loves a solid war cry.) She and I were out in Los Angeles together recently and after one late night of revelry and some slight debauchery, the group of five of us retreated to her hotel room where we proceeded to pour her entire mini bar down our throats before we took to her balcony overlooking a main LA street. That’s when shit turned awesome.
The balcony was situated just above and beside a major club, with another popular bar a stone’s throw down the road. Both were approaching closing time, so the foot traffic below our drunken perch was steady. Spurred on by her natural bubbly-ness, which only intensifies with the addition of liquor – and a little encouragement from us, Alala decided to bestow gifts upon passersby in the form of hysterical conversations. And the occasional drink mixer pouch or magazine. (Yep, she tossed both down at various points.)
The first group was a dud; just a gaggle of bros who wanted to come up and hang out. But they didn’t have much of a problem standing on the street shouting up to a group of strangers at 3am, which was all the reassurance Alala needed. Down the street, a t-shirt clad man was staggering from the bar across the wide street while traffic whizzed by him with alarming closeness, horns blaring. “That boy is going to die,” Alala said, matter-of-factly in between puffs on her cigarette. Amazingly, he made it to our side of the street and just before he reached us, Alala reached out to him.
“Sir,” she yelled in a tone of mock seriousness. “You nearly were killed! You need to be more careful.” Which prompted the man to respond that he was perfectly fine. Which led to his attempting to show us just how “fine” he was by walking back out into the middle of the four-lane street and performing a backwards handstand of sorts. Which led to us screaming that he actually was going to meet his demise unless he came back to the sidewalk. Which led to him eventually obliging.
Caught up with Neil Strauss the other evening. It’s a rare treat to hang out with him, as he resides across the country out here in Los Angeles, so it’s always great to hear the cool things he’s doing and what’s coming down his pipeline. I heard all about his new book, Everyone Loves You When You’re Dead, which is a crazy memoir of sorts that chronicles his mind-blowing celebrity interviews over the last twenty years. There’re some amazing lines in there. Buy his book. I promise you won’t regret it.
Then I told him about this blog and all of you. I shared some of your questions, your fears, and the topics you write in venting or lamenting about. And then asked Strauss if he’d be into sharing his thoughts on your concerns. He was into it, so let’s consider this an exclusive, from the writer of The Game to you. I know the bulk of the people who read this are women, and I know self-esteem and confidence is a big factor in their lives. As a byproduct of those issues, it’s often harder to meet or approach a man. So I asked Strauss how a girl should pick up a guy.
What do you do when you hurt someone’s heart unintentionally and can’t quell that queasy stomach-feeling as a result?
My grandfather died recently. He was an incredibly loving and caring man who made sure I never wanted for anything growing up. He helped me significantly in the financial department - I owe him my college degree - but more importantly, he showed me what unconditional love meant. I never heard him say an unkind word towards anyone. He consistently strived to find good in every person who he came in contact with and he undeniably touched all of those lucky folks in lasting ways.
Especially my grandmother, who passed away when I was six years old. Because I was too young to have any real memories of my grandparents together, I relied on his vivid recollections, adorable photographs and my mom’s stories to piece together how vibrant and everlasting their love was. It always seemed more potent than any fairy tale romance, one which could outmatch any Nicholas Sparks novel or Twilight film.
I never needed proof that this was the case; hearing him fondly recall their moments together years after her death was evidence enough. When we went over to clean out his apartment after his passing, I found a yellowed envelope tucked neatly beneath his socks and t-shirts, hiding in the back of a dresser drawer. While worn and seemingly brittle, likely from years of repeated reading, the contents inside were in fantastic shape. Unfolding them, I discovered a series of love letters from my grandfather, penned in 1944 when he was stationed in Texas at an Air Force base during World War II. My grandmother, who lived near his hometown more than 1,500 miles away and became his fiancee while he was serving, had saved these touching missives and returned them to him upon his return to her.
They’re so beautiful, raw, emotional and real that I wanted to share one here. They’re also timeless in the fact that he dealt with the same things I’ve had to deal with - longing, heartache and a long distance relationship. I also love the vernacular of the time, such as using “Gee” in earnest. Reading these made me well up and grin simultaneously. And understand, in part, where my strong will to find my own soulmate comes from. It’s genetic.
“I don’t understand why Cupid was chosen to represent Valentine’s Day. When I think about romance, the last thing on my mind is a short, chubby toddler coming at me with a weapon.”
Unknown
A while back, sometimes-sheis-waytoo-serious.tumblr.com asked what my definition of love was. I spent a few hours that evening, deep in thought, reading all my favorite authors’ quotes and essays on the topic, trying to prompt an original thought. None came. I even began a dozen or so versions of my answer to the question. Each seemed overwhelming inadequate. My fingers would hover above the keyboard before inevitably sliding over to above the “delete” key to rid my screen of the non-sensical ramblings which filled it.
I’m not giving up on my own take on what love is. I’m still working on it and I think I’m a lot closer to being able to share my sentiments with you but, in the meantime, I would like to open it up for your take. Feeling game and amorous? Go below and let me know what is your definition of love?
So Beautyandart and Untilthecitylightsdie both suggested the differences in dating older women versus younger women. I like this one, so we’ll start here. It also allows me to talk about my one night stand simultaneously, so hello two birds with one stone. The rest of the suggestions were (MOSTLY) fantastic, so I’ll try to get around to them too. Unless yours was intentionally nonsensical. In which case: fuck you, assclown.
Down in Miami once, I found myself presented with two viable sexual options. The first was Molly, a 21 year-old college student with an UK accent and a penchant for double vodka sodas, nightclubs, dancing atop banquettes and talking about how much older boys liked her. The second was Lauren, a 43 year-old divorcee from the South who’d had three kids with the “adulturing bastard” before leaving “his dumb ass for greener pastures.” She also had an equally strong affinity for drinking and was mostly likely found wandering around with a nearly-empty bottle of champagne in her hands. No matter where we were nor what time of day it was.
