- "You're very deferential."
- "That is pretty much humanity and respecting people."
- "Because I like you but I think it's shitty of me to keep seeing you if you want a serious relationship and I know that's not going to work for me."
- "That kind of behavior is not acceptable. Let me know if it happens again."
- "That explains why you're so nice!"
- "You're precious."
Instructions
[The names have been changed to protect the innocent. The story has not, as I'm fairly certain our 3 mutual friends are not reading this blog. Prove me wrong? I'll bake you cookies.]
I misread signals from a guy that I had been talking to and/or seeing for over 4 months as shyness. I saw his endearing nerdy nature (he's an MD/PhD student) as an excuse for his distancing of feelings/emotions and lack of public affection. I chose to see the best in him. Or did I?
Since he ended things a few weeks ago, via text including the "shitty" message above, I've been contemplating how much my choosing to see the best in people is a choice. Having grown up Catholic, raised by two deeply compassionate individuals, constantly surrounded by patience (my mom worked in special ed and my dad in a steel mill about which he rarely complained), hoping for the best in others and situations has always come naturally-- so naturally that I hadn't even realized I've been doing it. Thank goodness there's always an MD/PhD student to show you the way.
Let's get back to the juicy gossip: I had excused-- let's call this guy Long Con, as through his actions I learned the meaning of that term-- Long Con's previous long breaks of communication because he'd given due reasonings behind them (final exams and then later an emergency trip back home). I told myself that he was busy in such a chaotic curriculum, so of course I, as an incredibly busy person myself, understood why he'd prioritize studying over seeing little old me. When we did hang out, he was so funny, sweet, interesting, and interested; and in between, he'd initiate texts, make me laugh, ask to see me soon. I believed that he would truly come around... until I didn't. Because I'm not stupid. I started to excuse his final, last break of communication... until I couldn't. Because I'm not totally hopeless. I realized the ship was going under, and, since I like a good disaster, I went out with a bang: I texted him again. Then, even after his much belated and poor excuse to his absence, without my wanting to, I still asked to hang out two more times-- because in order for me to fully relinquish hope in something, I must burn it to the ground. There, I'll receive my final, clarifying message from the boot about to stomp on me.
This particular message, in Long Con's case, was a text that barely apologized and instead placed blame-- subtle, but there-- on me for assumedly not wanting "something casual." Index finger pointed up in the air: When someone says sends a series of 3 long block texts stating "I don't want to lead you on at all if we have different expectations, taking it upon himself to not be "shitty," he is actually saying he's doing you a favor by doing the right thing. A quite advanced "it's not you, it's me," this message actually places the noble crown on the one doing the let-down. You want more, but he is too busy, and even though he likes you he will-- martyr-like-- sacrifice his liking for the betterment of your mental health, for which you should be grateful, and therefore you should feel guilty for his attaching the word "shitty" to his behavior. Damnit, you have been saved!
Let's get back to the juicy gossip: I had excused-- let's call this guy Long Con, as through his actions I learned the meaning of that term-- Long Con's previous long breaks of communication because he'd given due reasonings behind them (final exams and then later an emergency trip back home). I told myself that he was busy in such a chaotic curriculum, so of course I, as an incredibly busy person myself, understood why he'd prioritize studying over seeing little old me. When we did hang out, he was so funny, sweet, interesting, and interested; and in between, he'd initiate texts, make me laugh, ask to see me soon. I believed that he would truly come around... until I didn't. Because I'm not stupid. I started to excuse his final, last break of communication... until I couldn't. Because I'm not totally hopeless. I realized the ship was going under, and, since I like a good disaster, I went out with a bang: I texted him again. Then, even after his much belated and poor excuse to his absence, without my wanting to, I still asked to hang out two more times-- because in order for me to fully relinquish hope in something, I must burn it to the ground. There, I'll receive my final, clarifying message from the boot about to stomp on me.
This particular message, in Long Con's case, was a text that barely apologized and instead placed blame-- subtle, but there-- on me for assumedly not wanting "something casual." Index finger pointed up in the air: When someone says sends a series of 3 long block texts stating "I don't want to lead you on at all if we have different expectations, taking it upon himself to not be "shitty," he is actually saying he's doing you a favor by doing the right thing. A quite advanced "it's not you, it's me," this message actually places the noble crown on the one doing the let-down. You want more, but he is too busy, and even though he likes you he will-- martyr-like-- sacrifice his liking for the betterment of your mental health, for which you should be grateful, and therefore you should feel guilty for his attaching the word "shitty" to his behavior. Damnit, you have been saved!
Again, it barely apologized-- and also insinuated "something casual" for a busy man of letters who enjoys disappearing from communication for a week or three to mean "selfishly see you whenever I want you"-- for his sudden silence and, whether it be necessary or not, his months-long period of leading me on (which he did). AND YET. And yet, my text back included the words "appreciate" and "thanks" and the apologetic "I simply wanted to know what was going on."
WHAT?!
The next morning I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk on my run and texted my mom, "Is giving everyone the vendor of the doubt a Catholic thing?"
She answered, "What are you talking about?"
I corrected my autocorrect and retyped the question. However, that wasn't her confusion: "But what are you referring to?"
"Well, I guess forgiveness and believing the most/best of people... So yeah that sounds pretty Catholic."
"That is pretty much humanity and respecting people."
WHAT?!
The next morning I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk on my run and texted my mom, "Is giving everyone the vendor of the doubt a Catholic thing?"
She answered, "What are you talking about?"
I corrected my autocorrect and retyped the question. However, that wasn't her confusion: "But what are you referring to?"
"Well, I guess forgiveness and believing the most/best of people... So yeah that sounds pretty Catholic."
"That is pretty much humanity and respecting people."
 |
| Right. |
That night, my improv 401 teacher gave our class our first personal notes-- my first ever personal notes as an improviser. Seeing as UCB would like to see us continue paying into their system, and this is still is a core level class, our notes were compliment sandwiches. After sitting through everyone else's sandwiches and sandwich-utilizing scenes, my name was at last called. My leaning-positive note?
"You're very deferential."
[I nodded as if I knew what that word meant. I swore I did, anyways, so it was easy to pretend.]
"You typically defer to your scene partner. You tend to always play other people's games."
"You're very deferential."
[I nodded as if I knew what that word meant. I swore I did, anyways, so it was easy to pretend.]
"You typically defer to your scene partner. You tend to always play other people's games."
 |
| Great. |
The following week, the kid I babysit had a friend over and sass-mouthed me in front of him, because that's what you do when you're 10 (read: my excuse). Immediately, his dad opens the bedroom door into the living room and bellows in his commanding presence, "What did you say?" (His dad sometimes works from home, so it's like I have a Secret Service or something.)
After pulling from the kid that he did indeed say what he, the father, did indeed hear, and after the boys went to shoot some foam hoops in a different room, the dad said, "He shouldn't talk to you that way." And I made up some lame reasoning of his friend being over, etc etc, to which he rightly replied,
"It doesn't matter. That kind of behavior is not acceptable. Let me know if it happens again."
That next weekend, I get new headshots taken. My friend, the illustrious and talented Justin Schuman, did an incredible job and we had a jammin' time. Though there was an entire series in my navy dress that he labeled "I'm not 16 anymore, bitch," what ended up being the catchphrase of the shoot?
"You're precious."
You know what? I am. I am damn precious. I just now pasted that GIF of Boo above and am having difficulty concentrating because I'm thinking about how great that Halloween costume would be, especially following my past two years as a Beanie Baby and an American Girl doll! I am precious and I know it, but I'll be damned if that makes me soft.
I'm sick of playing other people's games-- in dating and otherwise. I mean, sure, it's currently more apparent in dating. Also, I'm not sure I really know how to play that game. There's an amazing TED Talk by analyst Amy Webb entitled How I Hacked Online Dating chronicling how, frustrated by the losers she was meeting online and the winners who didn't like her back, she made a spreadsheet of data points-- stay with me.
There: What do I want? What is important to me? Where's the nearest spreadsheet in which to type it? Guys, this Picky Nicky found her husband this way. She found a guy that met her criteria-- one of which was an appreciation for spreadsheets! I'll never create something as intense as Amy Webb's scoring system-- which mathematically calculated matchability, so a guy with 700 points got an email, 900 points a date, and 1,500 points a mere consideration of any sort of relationship-- but mainly because I'm not good with numbers and I've never really figured out Excel. I did take this away, though:
In her interview for the TED podcast, Amy made an eye-opening point: People turn up their noses at the idea of having a defined, specific set of high-standards criteria for a mate, only to go make grocery lists 3 pages long. It has to do with standards. It has to do with confidence. It has to do with being outspoken in addition to being polite. I? Will never not be polite. Here's how meeting new people usually goes:
"Wait. Where are you from?"
"Ohio."
"Oh, that makes sense. That's why you're so nice!"
I don't know if people think that, since we Ohioans seemingly deal regularly with this:
and this,
and this,
and also this,
that somehow our only way of avoiding a total devastation of existence is to be polite. I don't know; I'm not an outsider to the Midwest (though Ohio easily seems to have a stronger "nice" correlation! Why?! Someone let me in!). Clearly none of these people went to my high school.
And this is fine!-- my politeness, not people stereotyping me in an incredibly positive way. My parents are two of the kindest, most giving people I know, and I'm grateful to have been raised with their values. What's not fine is my inconsistent but general lack of spine. Even though I have incredibly mild scoliosis, my spine can afford to metaphorically stand a little taller. This includes truly questioning every time I give someone the benefit of the doubt-- because I do always give everyone the benefit of the doubt. It's not always helpful! I have such a strong inclination towards positivity and hope, towards finding the best in people and trying to understand the reasonings behind their not-so-stellar actions. As my mom said, this is a good quality. But there's a balance. I need to learn when to stand up for myself and put my foot down. Kindness doesn't equate passiveness. Compassion can live alongside pride and confidence. Would you be surprised if I pulled out another TED talk? No? Smart reader. Journalist Krista Tippet sums up "Has The Word 'Compassion' Lost Its Meaning?":
Thinking about all of this fueled me to do something today that I may not have done a year or so ago (though I'd like to think I would've). I had an audition for a fun role, perfect for my type, in a nicely paid short film. I was digging the logline and snappy script, except for one single word: retarded. My character used the term "retarded monkey" 3 times, and in no was the R-word necessary in any case; it could so easily be replaced, as the joke (I hope) was in the word "monkey"-- that a monkey could run the company I worked at, not a differently abled individual. So when the director asked if I had any questions, I calmly & confidently asked if I could replace the word "retarded" with something else. And you know what he said?
"Yes."
He went on to say that all of the lines were open to change once the actors get on set. He went on to give me great notes and adjustments on my scenes. And he went on to emit a positive, welcoming energy that made me forget I'd even asked the question. I jumped off a cliff to stand up for what I believe in and I didn't die. Instead, I got to say "monkey fetus" 3 times in an audition and have the reader repeat it to me each time, and that's a pretty good day.
We all want to be seen as nice, as good people. Compassionate people. Let'stry to get less caught up in how we're seen and more concerned with what we believe in and need. The more you stand up for yourself, the taller and stronger you'll be-- which you need to handle all the shit to which you have to show compassion. And if you live in New York... that's a lot of shit.
After pulling from the kid that he did indeed say what he, the father, did indeed hear, and after the boys went to shoot some foam hoops in a different room, the dad said, "He shouldn't talk to you that way." And I made up some lame reasoning of his friend being over, etc etc, to which he rightly replied,
"It doesn't matter. That kind of behavior is not acceptable. Let me know if it happens again."
That next weekend, I get new headshots taken. My friend, the illustrious and talented Justin Schuman, did an incredible job and we had a jammin' time. Though there was an entire series in my navy dress that he labeled "I'm not 16 anymore, bitch," what ended up being the catchphrase of the shoot?
"You're precious."
 |
| Thank you. |
You know what? I am. I am damn precious. I just now pasted that GIF of Boo above and am having difficulty concentrating because I'm thinking about how great that Halloween costume would be, especially following my past two years as a Beanie Baby and an American Girl doll! I am precious and I know it, but I'll be damned if that makes me soft.
I'm sick of playing other people's games-- in dating and otherwise. I mean, sure, it's currently more apparent in dating. Also, I'm not sure I really know how to play that game. There's an amazing TED Talk by analyst Amy Webb entitled How I Hacked Online Dating chronicling how, frustrated by the losers she was meeting online and the winners who didn't like her back, she made a spreadsheet of data points-- stay with me.
So I said fine, I've got a new plan. I'm going to keep using these online dating sites, but I'm going to treat them as databases, and rather than waiting for an algorithm to set me up, I think I'm going to try reverse-engineering this entire system. So knowing that there was superficial data that was being used to match me up with other people, I decided instead to ask my own questions. What was every single possible thing that I could think of that I was looking for in a mate?
There: What do I want? What is important to me? Where's the nearest spreadsheet in which to type it? Guys, this Picky Nicky found her husband this way. She found a guy that met her criteria-- one of which was an appreciation for spreadsheets! I'll never create something as intense as Amy Webb's scoring system-- which mathematically calculated matchability, so a guy with 700 points got an email, 900 points a date, and 1,500 points a mere consideration of any sort of relationship-- but mainly because I'm not good with numbers and I've never really figured out Excel. I did take this away, though:
...there is an algorithm for love. It's just not the ones that we're being presented with online. In fact, it's something that you write yourself. So whether you're looking for a husband or a wife or you're trying to find your passion or you're trying to start a business, all you have to really do is figure out your own framework and play by your own rules, and feel free to be as picky as you want.
In her interview for the TED podcast, Amy made an eye-opening point: People turn up their noses at the idea of having a defined, specific set of high-standards criteria for a mate, only to go make grocery lists 3 pages long. It has to do with standards. It has to do with confidence. It has to do with being outspoken in addition to being polite. I? Will never not be polite. Here's how meeting new people usually goes:
"Wait. Where are you from?"
"Ohio."
"Oh, that makes sense. That's why you're so nice!"
I don't know if people think that, since we Ohioans seemingly deal regularly with this:
that somehow our only way of avoiding a total devastation of existence is to be polite. I don't know; I'm not an outsider to the Midwest (though Ohio easily seems to have a stronger "nice" correlation! Why?! Someone let me in!). Clearly none of these people went to my high school.
And this is fine!-- my politeness, not people stereotyping me in an incredibly positive way. My parents are two of the kindest, most giving people I know, and I'm grateful to have been raised with their values. What's not fine is my inconsistent but general lack of spine. Even though I have incredibly mild scoliosis, my spine can afford to metaphorically stand a little taller. This includes truly questioning every time I give someone the benefit of the doubt-- because I do always give everyone the benefit of the doubt. It's not always helpful! I have such a strong inclination towards positivity and hope, towards finding the best in people and trying to understand the reasonings behind their not-so-stellar actions. As my mom said, this is a good quality. But there's a balance. I need to learn when to stand up for myself and put my foot down. Kindness doesn't equate passiveness. Compassion can live alongside pride and confidence. Would you be surprised if I pulled out another TED talk? No? Smart reader. Journalist Krista Tippet sums up "Has The Word 'Compassion' Lost Its Meaning?":
I mean, listening is a hugely powerful form of attention. It's presence. And if you are really listening, you are genuinely curious. And you are open to be surprised and changed by what comes back at you. So compassion is not necessarily about agreeing with somebody else. It's not even necessarily about liking them. It is about making a choice to honor their humanity.
Thinking about all of this fueled me to do something today that I may not have done a year or so ago (though I'd like to think I would've). I had an audition for a fun role, perfect for my type, in a nicely paid short film. I was digging the logline and snappy script, except for one single word: retarded. My character used the term "retarded monkey" 3 times, and in no was the R-word necessary in any case; it could so easily be replaced, as the joke (I hope) was in the word "monkey"-- that a monkey could run the company I worked at, not a differently abled individual. So when the director asked if I had any questions, I calmly & confidently asked if I could replace the word "retarded" with something else. And you know what he said?
"Yes."
He went on to say that all of the lines were open to change once the actors get on set. He went on to give me great notes and adjustments on my scenes. And he went on to emit a positive, welcoming energy that made me forget I'd even asked the question. I jumped off a cliff to stand up for what I believe in and I didn't die. Instead, I got to say "monkey fetus" 3 times in an audition and have the reader repeat it to me each time, and that's a pretty good day.
We all want to be seen as nice, as good people. Compassionate people. Let's
