Guys. Fall starts next week. That’s right. Time to put away the bikinis and put on the boots.
One of the most pivotal moments in a relationship is the introduction to the family. If it goes poorly, the couple has an uphill battle ahead if they choose to continue the relationship. If it goes well, everyone gets to live happily ever after. If it goes really well, wedding plans can commence. But what happens if your family falls for your honeybun and you aren’t quite sure Mendelssohn's March is in your future? Or worse yet, you fall out of love and decide to end the relationship?
One of the trickiest things to deal with in relationships, especially early on, is the truth about feelings. Stereotypes suggest ladies should hold them in lest she spook Him. Man-types are thought to feign emotions in order to reach their destination (i.e., her pants). In a perfect world, people would just be honest with each other and accept that honesty as they work toward building a relationship together. But that doesn’t always happen and sometimes the honesty isn’t enough to stake claim over the moral high ground.
We live in a Post-The Game world and regardless of whether or not Strauss renounced his ridiculous tactics as “objectifying and horrifying” the world he exposed is still alive and well. There are pickup artist communities crawling all over the dank crevasses of the interwebs. And the notions fostered within those communities ooze out into the world, wreaking havoc and leaving broken people in their wake.
Adulthood is comprised of a series of rites of passage strung together until our final rite. Learning to drive. The first time your dad pulls you out of a ditch. Your first legal drink. The second time your dad pulls you out of a ditch. Your first legal hangover. An apartment all your own. The third time your dad pulls you out of a ditch. Running back to roommates after realizing living on your own is lonely and expensive. Running back to an apartment all your own after realizing the additional cost is worth it because Kelly just can’t remember to rinse her damn dishes. The fourth time your dad pulls you out of a ditch.
I recently finished reading “ A Little Bit Wicked: Life, Love and Faith in Stages”, the Kristin Chenoweth memoir. I honestly picked it up because I wanted something fluffy and light to pass a weekend stranded indoors due to the Midwestern Snowmageddon of 2010, but I was surprised by how much I could relate to the content. In addition to being a petite sprite with a fantastic rack (ok, only half of that is relatable), she is a dyed-in-the-wool Christian who perpetually struggles with the duplicity of her nature especially in terms of love. She loves her some Jesus, but can’t escape the draw of the witty intellectual whom she has aptly dubbed Mr. If Loving You Is Wrong I Don’t Want To Be Right.
With the exception of the tool bag I had to work with the other night, I don’t believe most people think I exude a lonely, desperate vibe. However, the number of attempted set-ups has been increasing as of late. It’s not the idea of being set up itself that I take issue with; it’s the quality or lack thereof. It seems that the only qualification these wannabe Yentes have is that my intended must have two things in common with me and being single counts as one.
In Jr. High it was common practice for people to stay away from girls or boys their friends were interested in. The rules were simple: if Sally was digging Johnny and Suzie held Johnny’s hand at lunch, Suzie would immediately be ostracized by the rest of the girls. As adults the lines become smudged and rules that were once unflinchingly rigid now seem childish and unreasonable.