Ok swinggler's. One, I would like to give a shout out to my friends from over seas! With the rapture upon us and all, thanks for checking in with this. Even though you may be joining the blog because of a direction from a porn site, we can always find meaning in things we don't always expect, right?
So, tonight I had the worst phone convo ever!!! I mean ever. This even trumps a time when I told someone I loved him over text message and he messaged back, "Thanks, I'm flattered." So, I called this gentleman who gave me his number over the dating website we are using. I thought he was being cute and wanted to talk to get to know me the "old fashioned way." He called me today and left a cute message much to the effect of, "Hey Stephanie, I'm working today, but hoped to catch up with you. Call me back when you can. I'd love to chat." ADORABLE, right? That's what I thought, but no.
I called him back and he answered only to say, "Yeah, Stephanie. Ummm, I'm sorry. Who are you? I have given my number out to a lot of people this week and I can't place you." My initial thought was, "Hark, fair Romeo speaks." Anyway, he continues on to say that he is just a romantic who is "obsessed with internet dating" and hopes to find a genuine connection with another person soon. News flash douche bag, you can't find a "genuine connection" when you give your number out to every Tom, Dick, and Amber on the face of the planet, even if it is the rapture.
I continue on with this horrible conversation for some reason. I learn early into the conversation that he is 36 not working (not because of hard times either) and still lives at home. He carries on to say going back to community college to become a librarian. He says he really wants to surround himself with intellectual individuals who need help expanding their minds through research. Sounds nice right? Well as we are talking it becomes shockingly clear he doesn't realize the dedication needed to do so!!! Talk to my friend Stacey who got her MS in informational sciences!! You can't get a degree from a CC when you need a masters for the profession you are attempting to enter. Anyway, he continues on to ask me about what I do. I begin talking about what I do and how I am finishing my dissertation in my area of study. As I was talking about the workload, he chimes in with, "Yeah, I completely understand where you are coming from. I tried really hard to get this facebook group going and it didn't work out." WHAT!! Seriously, it was horrible. Kill me, I'm going to live the rest of my life alone. I only hope I can pay for 1) a good male escort 2) a nice adoption agency. Oye!
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Wait, Wait, Please Call Me!
As human beings, we have an innate anxiety regarding the unknown. Ernest Becker wrote a whole book about how we go to great lengths to shield ourselves from having to think about the limited nature of existence (It is a kick ass read, but if you were the kid who watched the movie version of everything, you can also watch Flight From Death: Quest for Immortality). We do this in a number of different ways. We construct monuments and shrines. We idolize certain people who fit our example of strength, which is usually someone with power and money. Basically, there is a shit ton of things we do to try to avoid thinking about unknown events. While I can totally get a number of these, there is one human dance I HATE as it pushes my unknown anxiety through the roof. Is it having a near death encounter? Well, not really, but maybe it should. Rather, it is the ole is he/she or isn't he/she (he/she=someone one is interested in and chats with or has gone on a date with) going to call, text, write, or communicate in some way?
Granted, while nearly being hit by a bus would throw anyone into re-evaluating their life, the "is he/she going to call me?" bit can stir anyone's emotional engine. The fact that there is little to no control over whether or not someone calls me back drives me insane. More insane than thinking people consider the Kardashians to be legitimate "celebrities."
I was just chatting with my old roommate, Brenda, about this very phenomena. Brenda and I are attractive, intelligent, and insanely hilarious, young professionals, but in our conversation, we transformed into questioning, obsessive, over analyzing, Felicity-type women. Brenda is one of those super cool headed people (unlike my super neurotic ass), but we shared the constant questioning when it came to waiting for a phone/text/message back. It is just horrible waiting for that call that sometimes doesn't come.
I think the worst part is trying to decipher the code of the next step of communication. There is the stupid rule that "You aren't supposed to call for three days" because doing so obviously indicates desperation. Then there is the obnoxious idea that one person has to wait for the other to call or initiate something before the other does or I don't even know what will happen. What about my favorite, "What does it mean if I am always the one to initiate the text/call/whatever and they answer, but never initiate themselves?" Oh and then there is the horror upon horrors, what to do if the person regularly calls/texts and needs to do so everyday. Oye. It is all too much for me. I have no freaking clue what to say about any of these things.
Maybe the best way to approach the whole communication quandary is the same way we approach death; it super sucks and we can spend our lives wallowing in self pity about our predicament or we can breathe, bitch about the situation, drink a glass of wine, and decide how we are going to approach it when we get there.
Granted, while nearly being hit by a bus would throw anyone into re-evaluating their life, the "is he/she going to call me?" bit can stir anyone's emotional engine. The fact that there is little to no control over whether or not someone calls me back drives me insane. More insane than thinking people consider the Kardashians to be legitimate "celebrities."
I was just chatting with my old roommate, Brenda, about this very phenomena. Brenda and I are attractive, intelligent, and insanely hilarious, young professionals, but in our conversation, we transformed into questioning, obsessive, over analyzing, Felicity-type women. Brenda is one of those super cool headed people (unlike my super neurotic ass), but we shared the constant questioning when it came to waiting for a phone/text/message back. It is just horrible waiting for that call that sometimes doesn't come.
I think the worst part is trying to decipher the code of the next step of communication. There is the stupid rule that "You aren't supposed to call for three days" because doing so obviously indicates desperation. Then there is the obnoxious idea that one person has to wait for the other to call or initiate something before the other does or I don't even know what will happen. What about my favorite, "What does it mean if I am always the one to initiate the text/call/whatever and they answer, but never initiate themselves?" Oh and then there is the horror upon horrors, what to do if the person regularly calls/texts and needs to do so everyday. Oye. It is all too much for me. I have no freaking clue what to say about any of these things.
Maybe the best way to approach the whole communication quandary is the same way we approach death; it super sucks and we can spend our lives wallowing in self pity about our predicament or we can breathe, bitch about the situation, drink a glass of wine, and decide how we are going to approach it when we get there.
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