Fell In Love With A…
Jack White growls in his angsty anthem “Fell In Love With A Girl” that he has in fact, fallen prey to an unsuspecting predator – which I’ll (probably regretfully) name the “In Love”. The visual I paint with my chosen metaphor is not a favorable one, I’m well aware. Then again, neither is Jack’s, really. And a few lines in particular stay with me, as I run the question over and over again in my head “what is being in love?” -
“these two sides of my brain
need to have a meeting
can’t think of anything to do
my left brain knows that
all love is fleeting “
Earlier in the song, he lays evidence to the fact that this girl he’s “In Love” with has a boyfriend already, and that to her, kissing another guy isn’t considered cheating. Nevertheless….he’s in love.
So back to my question – what is being In Love? Really, what is it? Sometimes I have to wonder if it’s not just a pretty way of saying “I’m infatuated with someone I barely know because I have all my idealistic hopes and dreams riding on this one.”
Now hold off from your gasping and head shaking, and brow furrowing, and hear me out completely….and THINK…..before you prematurely judge, and don’t consider my point as possibility. Here’s an extremely typical situation, in my opinion, that I’m fabricating in order for you to see where I’m coming from with this. Be you man or woman, I’m sure you can relate on some level:
Two strangers, a single girl and a single guy, put on their Sunday best 
and most alluring scents and head to a party of a mutual friend. Neither of them know the other is going and neither of them are expecting to be set up – but inside, they both acknowledge the idea of there being the possibility of meeting someone special.
They mingle at the party as they drink, they catch each others’ eye and decide that at some point in the night, they need to get acquainted. So they drink a little more to pass the time and work up courage. Finally they talk, they laugh….they set up a date and it goes really well. The guy’s made sure he’s pulled out all his chivalrous stops and the girl has made sure to sound witty as well as flirty. They leave the date feeling high, elated, excited….and it goes on like this for weeks. They both declare “I’M IN LOVE, THIS PERSON IS AMAZING” 
and proceed to turn their short-term courtship into the beginnings of a hopeful long-term relationship.
As time goes on, they really get to know each other and each others’ quirks. Of course they’re still “in love” (right?), but things get comfortable and they both reveal more and more. Each of them are puzzled by the person they’re now getting to know a little better and not sure how to completely understand – because they’re certainly not the same person they fell for months earlier. But they swear…..still in love.
Comes the day when they decide to meet each others’ parents. It’s a nice replay of their first date for a while – pretty clothes, manners, and the like. They get in the car, ready to head over to her parents’ place for dinner, when he mumbles “Man, it had to be tonight…the last game of the (fill in parenthesis with appropriate season’s current playoff sporting event) is on…” A surge of anger sweeps over girl, and she snaps at him for being insensitive and asks if the game is more important than her and her family. He insists he was “just sayin’ ” and she persists in getting angrier at “his selfishness” and why would he even say something like that? A fight erupts and they both arrive at their destination upset and confused. Is this the same person I was so into in the beginning? How did I not see this side of them? I’m not so sure about this anymore…
Does this scenario sound familiar? Obviously not play by play, but on a larger scale, I highly doubt any one of us hasn’t experienced something similar.
My point is….with all those raw emotions and latent expectations we try so hard not to project, I am confused as to what being in love is, as opposed to simple infatuation. When does being In Love become real and stops being some delusional, lusty game of chase? 
In lots of cases, people get through this phase and really begin to understand who they’re with and love them fully. They can deal with, look past or even cooperate with each other to help change anything that may be a hindrance to the relationship. I value those abilities highly and wish them on every couple I know. But this is how I believe mature love is born. So in the middle of it, or maybe on the way to it, was there the “In Love” monster? Was it different from infatuation in these particular couple’s cases?
I know there are studies that tell us exactly what goes through a person’s body when they’ve hit this emotional state. By this, I mean the specific chemicals have been laid out, the amounts, the reasons, the high and low points. And because of this knowledge, we are also made aware of just how long this chemical lasts at its height in our systems. Ever hear of the three month Honeymoon Period? That’s where that comes from..so scientifically, there’s a time table for the in love feeling.
So is it real? Is it infatuation cloaked in denial? … I can’t fully agree with Jack when he says ‘all love is fleeting’, but when it comes to being infatuated, is there more often than not, a secure safety net called love? This is a grey area for me, these two sides of my brain need to have a meeting ….I said it once before but it bears repeating.
Crunch time.
Wait, is it? I’m just not feeling it. Yes, i’m in my mid twenties, of course I shouldn’t be – but then, I guess that all depends on perspective.
I was put in my place today, and rightfully so. Shamefully, I verbally judged a decision about possible marriage arrangements between my relatively young coworker (and friend) and her current boyfriend. Another coworker (and friend) came to her defense and pointed out that many marriages have been happy successes and have started at even younger ages. She literally told me “…so bite your tongue!” Ouch.
Honestly, I was never the type to dream of things like the perfect wedding or the “all-American” lifestyle. Sure, I was boy crazy from the time I started pre-school (I haven’t forgotten about you, Gary) and in high school I put stock in the “schedule”. You know, the one where you go to college for your dream career, meet your future husband/wife in school and after graduation, you both get jobs in your field, get married (by this time you’d better not even think about being over 27), have 2.5 kids and you live happily ever after. 
To an extent…..I thought that was how it was supposed to happen. But I didn’t think about it a whole lot. By the time mid-college rolled around and I took a look at where I was in my life, the thought of being married two years later (had I followed the schedule to its utmost degree) scared me to death. At that point, I wasn’t consciously scouting the perfect mate, like some of my friends openly were. The frustrating internal conflict had arisen in my peers, and I ended up being subjected to their fears of ending up alone. And it wasn’t just my girl friends either. A lot of guys would come out of the wood work, confiding in me their fears of not knowing how to meet someone outside of school, not having anything to offer because of their salaries, etc. But what confused me then, and still does to this day…..was the fact that I seemed to be the only one not really worried about whether or not I was well on my way to a white picket fence.
I find it convenient that everyone in my age range seems to find “the one”, all within a span of 5 years of each other. It must be some kind of weird magic drink they’re serving at bars now, that I haven’t had the courage to try (Love Potion Number 1,357). Or maybe there’s something off about my brain and the way it processes the idea of a worthy relationship. Or maybe…..just maybe…..all these people really do know what love is to the extent that they will do everything possible to uphold their vows and stick it out through thick and thin, thereby substantially reducing the percentage of divorce rates in America within the next 30 years. Was that a run-on?
I don’t mean to be cynical. I do have faith in love and the relationship it can build between two mature adults. But I guess I just have a hard time convincing myself that a lot of it, at least for people my age, doesn’t have anything to do with the pressure of the “schedule”. And I can’t say it’s completely their fault.
It’s society. How many commercials do we still see today, geared toward the idealistic “American dream”? SUV commercials on TV marketed to the family unit that of course goes camping together every two weeks. There’s also the pressure from peers who have skipped down Matrimony Lane themsleves. The inquiries of when you’re popping the question or the “you know you’re going to want a baby as soon as I have mine” statements. And lastly in the society category: It’s just how life progression is supposed to happen. (Insert baffled look and awkward question-like gasp coming from my vocal chords). I can see how situations like that can be very burdensome and pressuring to a twenty-something.
It’s also family. Pressure from peers is one thing – pressure from blood relatives is another. And luckily for me the only reason I know this is from observation. Way too many times I have witnessed a mother say to a daughter “..well you’d better get on givin’ me some grandchildren”. 
This astounds me, as I could never imagine bringing a child into this world, raising him or her to be the very best individual they could be, only to stick my nose in their personal business and tell them they need to reproduce so that I’m not bored. The part that kills me the most about this is that on an unconscious level, children always want to make their parents happy. Talk about the ultimate pressure. And maybe we’re going off example – good or bad. Maybe we don’t want to end up divorced and “alone” like our parents or maybe we are trying to live up to a unique and rare (but not impossible) relationship that’s obviously a desirable model.
And last but not least, and for the sake of cutting this entry shorter than I could – it’s biology. Being a woman, I can sympathize with the grievous thought that our bodies will only produce so much healthy goods for so long – and then we run a multitude of health risks for both ourselves and our babies. I can see how the panic process would begin and some of us might cling to what we’ve got or what seems “ok” enough to deal with (…for the foreseeable future) in order to satisfy the biological urge to bare children.
This I believe, is where we are supposed to separate our emotional, primal instincts from that ever so seemingly illusive fatty mass sitting inside our skulls.
I just thought this playbill was sweet.
The opinion I voiced earlier today was challenged and rightfully so. That doesn’t mean it has changed….just might mean my argument needs to be stronger.
Noddin’ my head like yeaahhh….
Guilty pleasures….ain’t nothin’ like ‘em. We all have them, no one can deny it. Look at Halloween – it usually ends up being one big guilty pleasure-filled fest, particularly ridden with scantily clad females and guys dressed in some ambiguously gay get up…last night, we actually saw two guys who were probably anything but, dressed as the Ambiguously Gay duo from SNL 
- and they looked amazing!!! This is the one night a year where everyone usually lets it all hang out, so to speak. And for the most part, that’s cool.
Back it up a bit to a few weekends ago in my “ever-so-social” life, I was hanging out at a little place called The Shadow Lounge on the east end of Pittsburgh. I usually enjoy going there with a bunch of friends, dancing to throw back Motown, soul music and other melodic goodies. I run into lots of people I know that I don’t expect to see (this is a good thing), I end up knowing people that work there, and dancing my proverbial (I stress proverbial) pants off. To me, the Shadow Lounge draws a good range of people and they’re all pretty open and respectful of each other. It’s different from your usual popped collar, fake baked dance club crowds (not that there’s anything wrong with that………). It’s refreshing, if you will.
This last visit was a little different. About a half hour in, the crowd became…how do I say this…….your typical dance club crowd. A group of drunk girls swarmed around me and my friends and usually this is to be slightly expected – after all, it’s a bar and there’s (gasp!) alcohol. But these girls obviously arrived intoxicated, which again, I usually don’t judge. Drink up, have a good time, whatever. It’s when the group starts to invade everyone else’s space and annoy us to no end, that I start the eye-rolling. The night was not off to a great start so disappointment ensued, especially because I had, with all intents and purposes, gone out that night to ward off a day’s worth of negativity. I wanted to shake it off and cap my day with a good note (pun?). Amidst the slight annoyance starting to boil within, a guy that I don’t know very well who was part of my group, asked me what seemed to be an innocent enough question, after one of the inebriated girls let out an intensely loud YELP when “her song” came on. He screamed in my ear “Why do women DO THAT?!” He was referring to what I will call the drunken “OMG, THEY’RE PLAYING MY SONG!!!” scream that you hear on dance floors country wide.
Self check: I do that to an extent. I won’t deny it. In the right company, with the right amount of alcohol and excitement, I have to admit….it’s something that happens to most women in groups, large or small. It’s a form of expression for us and when we feel it coming on, we just can’t help ourselves. I want to say it’s biological, but I could be mistaken. This is where it gets fuzzy though. Said guy from the above paragraph, continued to explain to me, after I gave him a semi-baffled look in response to his question “..well, you’re a woman. You should know why you act like that.”………..Act like that. Understandable and interesting. A little resent worthy.
These girls had nothing new going on. They were just drunk twenty-somethings, with too much bare skin exposed to the crisp autumn night, falling over their stilettos into my group of friends and cracking up afterward instead of apologizing. I’d seen that. But I dare say, I avoid being that. I think there’s a vast different between being out with your friends, having a good time and being pumped about it, and getting sloppy drunk with clones of you, plus your also half naked mom 
(what was SHE doing there?). I love almost all music and yes, I get excited about certain songs that would otherwise be lame but happen to be ones Iv’e created memories to (namely with other females). I don’t center my Saturday nights around the newest club, the hottest crowds or latest fashion trends, and I certainly didn’t that night. So I guess what prompted this person’s question in my general direction was his observation of this yawn-inducing social female norm and the fact that we obviously don’t know each other very well. I looked at him and asked a question back: “Do I look like I know the answer to that question?” I hoped he would say no.
Ladies…..keep it classy. Have a good time with your girls, get drinks, go out dancing and yeah, even jump up and down when your song comes on. It’s fun, it’s passionate, it’s almost inevitable if you’re being yourself. But I beg you – refrain from jumping up on the nearest chair and shaking your pelvic region to the beat of Prince’s “Pussy Control” 
while your friend’s hands are framing your crotch (unfortunately, I saw that last night too). It’s not sexy, it’s just trashy. Guys don’t want to see that – WAIT – some guys may want to see that….but at the end of the night, they don’t respect it. And you may not be out to gain other people’s respect, but at least respect yourself. Believe me, it comes off way more attractive than your slutted out version of Raggedy Anne costume. The suggestions you’re advertising do more long term damage than the short term attention you’re getting.
So throw your hands up, they’re playing your song…..Just try not to throw your hands up, while spilling your drink on your neighbor, squeezing your eyes shut and yowling “WHOOOOOOOOO” in the bar tender’s face.
Hot, hot heat.
So I tried hot yoga tonight with some girlfriends of mine. I didn’t know what to expect or better, I didn’t think to expect anything other than sweating. I know a few poses so…..I figured I was ahead of the game (thank you beginners yoga, almost 6 whole years ago). Boy was I wrong.
The class was full of people the minute we arrived. And the heat was..well, very hot. Being more of the cold weather type, I was immediately turned off by the swelter. I felt claustrophobic and unsure that I would be able to make it through. However I reminded myself that I didn’t want to be the person who doesn’t try anything new, or for that matter, hard. And so we began our rituals: Upward facing dog into downward facing dog into warrior’s pose and back down again to forward facing dog…over and over and over, in the dry heated air and the warm floor boards under the sticky mats with sweat starting to form in all folds and corners on our bodies.
Amazing Yoga, South Side Pittsburgh
But then the instructor started to speak, and what she was saying made so much sense. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before or even thought of myself when pandering the benefits of yoga. But it was something that I let life’s foibles and follies (thank you Kate) cloud up my brain. She was saying how learning to breathe through the stress of the poses would teach you how to calm down in your daily life and help you to deal with other stressful situations that don’t have anything to do with physical exertion. Basically, the benefits you feel either during or after yoga can follow you throughout your days and resurface when you need them most.
I feel like this is such an important thing to take away from tonight’s class. I’m glad it was hard, I’m glad it was different. Physically, it reminds me that trying something new can feel so much different than I have ever anticipated – my muscles feel amazing! Mentally, I was taught that following through with something even though it’s hard can be surprisingly eye opening – had I not stayed through the whole class, I wouldn’t have been reminded of how much stress I don’t have to feel in my day. I was once again made aware that I have control over my reactions to that which I may not have the ability to change.
That in one night? Wonder what the rest of my free week will be like…
Accentuate the positive…to a point.
Most of the time, I find that when I hear this phrase, it’s referring to the physical. You may not agree and honestly, I’m sort of hoping you don’t. Accentuating the positive physically, mentally or emotionally is a wonderful thing to do within yourself but I have found it to be slightly (and in some cases extremely) detrimental when someone takes it to a limit it wasn’t meant to cross. Let me explain:
We have all had those people in our lives that for one reason or another, treat us poorly. Poor treatment can manifest itself in many different forms, intensities and situations and yet for some reason, we have all let it happen to us – maybe more than once and for longer amounts of time than we should allow. This is where I believe accentuating the positive in another person or group of people can be taken to an unhealthy level. One that allows us to make excuses for otherwise unacceptable behavior and can create a very negative image of ourselves. There have been numerous times I have found myself rationalizing abusive behavior only to feel less than worthy minutes, hours maybe days later. I would tell myself almost unconsciously, that this person was cooler/better/smarter than me and for some reason, I was the one who needed to change. This activity is dangerously habit forming and a lot of the time, unrecognizable.
When I look back and apply this to my own life, I am pleasantly surprised to find that with a lot of tough love and support, I have been able to step back and look at certain situations, whatever they may have been, for what they were worth. Instead of making excuses or trying to find the most positive thing about that individual that would make his or her actions ‘ok’ (in the process rendering my initial feelings of let down undeservedly shameful), I would just get sick of it. I would no longer accept the “but she was so nice to me yesterday”s or the “but he’s so awesome when we’re not around those people”s or the “you don’t know her like I do”s. There is only so much of that a person can take until they have to stop and realize that in one way or another, they’re being manipulated or just plain blind.
I love my friends because they’re real. I never find myself having to justify their existence in my life and I do my best to make sure they never find themselves doing so for me. I am grateful for learning early on how to be able to tell when I may be making excuses for someone who is obviously not out for my best interests. This helps me to avoid future painful situations and also helps me to assess when I need to make dire changes in my circle. My mother calls this “weeding the garden”. It’s never fun but almost always necessary. I really don’t like seeing people fall for the internal “but he’s so funny” or “it’s understandable I was put down, I’m nowhere near as funny as she is”. A lot of my own self respect has come from understanding what I will and will not put up with.
We all make mistakes, we all have positives and negatives – I believe it’s when we let others hurt us that we end up hurting ourselves.
Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it…yet.
This is not the way I usually look at life, in general. I am not one who tends to dwell on daily mishaps (or my life mistakes, on a daily basis – self torture, anyone?). Although, it is a reference, and a nice virtual ice breaker I’m finding, to one of my all time favorite stories (thank you L.M. Montgomery). If you happened to recognize the reference, you’re either one of two things:
1) My kindred spirit (yet another reference), or
2) As big a fan as I am of that feisty red headed orphan…
..otherwise known as Anne Of Green Gables. Anne with an “e”. I have doted on this imaginary character since I think I was about 3 or 4 years old. I can remember popping in the video cassette (BetaMax!) at any given time of day and sitting as close as I could possibly get to the TV screen, mouthing every word of the made for TV movie. Of course this only lasted so long, as I was only 3 or 4, and again at any given time I would jump up and scramble out of the TV room – thank you short attention span and in turn, thank you Sesame Street.
Anne was orphaned at a young age, bounced from household to orphanage time and time again, always reminded that she was unlovable and unwanted. But she was extremely strong willed and unrelentingly self taught. She read books, used her imagination and was never afraid to express her thoughts – hot or cold. Of course she had insecurities (“..would you please call me Cordelia?”) and at times was unsure of her own capabilities but it never stopped her from being brave and going after what she knew she deserved: love and respect.
To this day I adore Anne. Anne embodies everything I believe a young girl or grown woman should know she has within herself. The perfect combination of inner strength and beauty. If and when I ever have a daughter, I will most definitely introduce this character to her as early as possible. In my opinion, the perfect role model.
