bloch, check yo spelling. it's "gangsta," not "gangster."
meatball cupcake
· 6 months ago
oh yeh and i love you for citing a study on this blog. win!!!
Meggiebeans
· 6 months ago
Oh my God, Steph, I love you so much! That you cite a source in your blog post makes you more gangsta' than you even realize. But I don't think Lulu and the pizza man were right for each other, I'm glad that never actually happened. He just was in it for the cookies.
byrneunit
· 6 months ago
"in it for the cookies" is my new favorite euphemism
Anewbarak
· 6 months ago
You shouldn't count Steve's rejection against you. in your week he only got rejected once, whereas in his normal weeks he gets rejected at least 5x. and in your case it was a totally common and acceptable rejection, from a girl on a date. In his normal life he gets rejected by the drive-through window when ordering a milk shake, his mom when asking for a hug, google when attempting a search. i have no doubt that during his 7d7d steve felt more worthwhile than he has ever had a right to before.
Ann Droginus
· 6 months ago
Nice post, babe. It's just like you to cite your sources on a blog. That made me laugh out loud. :-P Maybe if I come to NYC, I will try out your "everyone wants to meet people" thing. Talk to you soon!
Sam Frank
· 5 months ago
I don't know, Steph. I'm wary of prefab friendship (or relationship) possibilities, just as I've been famously skeptical of those much-talked-about opportunities for closeness and mutual understanding at Yale naked parties. The comparison may seem silly, but I think it all comes down to the same thing, namely springing for artificial community when one doesn't have enough of the real thing.
Don't get me wrong, I believe in making connections. I just think that if we dated for friendships the way we date for love, we'd end up with roughly the same result--a bunch of awkward conversations, acceptably fun evenings and relatively blah retrospective reactions. Less sex, probably, but not much less, on the whole.
In those situations where real community is difficult (say, for 20-somethings marooned in Manhattan with ladder-rung jobs, one year leases and only our angst to keep us company), some personalities are suited for enjoying transient, surface-level experiences with other people, and some aren't. That's pure pragmatism. People are different. There are those who love crowds and those who love solitude.
But no matter which sort you're dealing with, when you bring folks together you also introduce an artificial set of circumstances (very much like a date) that's tough to maintain (very much like a date) and limited in time, scope and commitment (very, very much like a date.) So in effect, when you bring people together, you're also pulling most of them apart in the very same breath/e-vite. You're creating an encounter without any foundation. These meetings are generally efficient and anonymous. When I meet someone at a party in the next decade, how many times will I ever see that person again? Emotionally speaking, does it mean much one way or another? Probably not.
Whether you're a wallflower or a crowd-monger, everyone's ultimately looking for that elusive connection that actually sticks, the relationship that means enough to be worth extending and developing. It comes along, although far more naturally, I think, for neighbors or workmates stuck in the same place with similar interests or similar problems over a long period of time, invested in a neighborhood and a common lifestyle. It's the sort of thing that develops naturally in certain situations and is practically antithetical to others.
And here we are, most of us, stuck in community's Death Valley. So are the substitutes we construct--the dates, the mixers, the e-mail chains--awfully chancy stepping stones to minutely possible authenticity, or are they just our brain-spoofing relationship methadone that we pursue because it fills in the gaps of our own isolation? They appear not nearly so often for the first reason, I think, as for the second.
All Comments
Don't get me wrong, I believe in making connections. I just think that if we dated for friendships the way we date for love, we'd end up with roughly the same result--a bunch of awkward conversations, acceptably fun evenings and relatively blah retrospective reactions. Less sex, probably, but not much less, on the whole.
In those situations where real community is difficult (say, for 20-somethings marooned in Manhattan with ladder-rung jobs, one year leases and only our angst to keep us company), some personalities are suited for enjoying transient, surface-level experiences with other people, and some aren't. That's pure pragmatism. People are different. There are those who love crowds and those who love solitude.
But no matter which sort you're dealing with, when you bring folks together you also introduce an artificial set of circumstances (very much like a date) that's tough to maintain (very much like a date) and limited in time, scope and commitment (very, very much like a date.) So in effect, when you bring people together, you're also pulling most of them apart in the very same breath/e-vite. You're creating an encounter without any foundation. These meetings are generally efficient and anonymous. When I meet someone at a party in the next decade, how many times will I ever see that person again? Emotionally speaking, does it mean much one way or another? Probably not.
Whether you're a wallflower or a crowd-monger, everyone's ultimately looking for that elusive connection that actually sticks, the relationship that means enough to be worth extending and developing. It comes along, although far more naturally, I think, for neighbors or workmates stuck in the same place with similar interests or similar problems over a long period of time, invested in a neighborhood and a common lifestyle. It's the sort of thing that develops naturally in certain situations and is practically antithetical to others.
And here we are, most of us, stuck in community's Death Valley. So are the substitutes we construct--the dates, the mixers, the e-mail chains--awfully chancy stepping stones to minutely possible authenticity, or are they just our brain-spoofing relationship methadone that we pursue because it fills in the gaps of our own isolation? They appear not nearly so often for the first reason, I think, as for the second.