Day 28: Are You Good?

These are such lovely, whimsical pieces. We'll call it, "What's Your Fancy?" There are so many things you could do with this skirt. It would be great with almost any color tank, flip flops or platforms, a tote or a bright clutch. It works equally well with silver, gold, and even the brassy tone of the duffle. You could dress it up even more by subbing a shinier top and strappy sandals. It's nearly perfect for any daytime occasion.

How do we know if we're good in bed? That's this installment's focus. Carrie dates a recovering alcoholic who becomes addicted to having sex with her. She ends things, but not without wondering if it was really she or the sober sex that he was crazy about. Samantha agrees to fulfill a gay couple's fantasy of making love to a woman, seeing it as the ultimate confirmation of her sexual mastery. However, at the last minute, the couple bails, leaving her doubting her skills. Charlotte's boyfriend, a doctor (oh no!), falls asleep on top of her while they're making love. Distraught, she seeks guidance from a tantric teacher, where she learns a technique that insures her snooze-free sex for life. Miranda buys exotic sheets, in the hopes that they'll jump start her bedroom karma.

This is kind of a strange topic. I say strange, because, unlike Samantha and really all of the girls, being good in bed isn't a top priority. Sure, I don't want to suck, but if someone wasn't completely interested in making love with me one night (okay, even if, in the worst case scenario, he fell asleep), I wouldn't start bawling like Charlotte. Let's face it, there's more to life.

That said, I became curious about the central question: "How do we know?" Since it's nearly impossible to write about SATC without talking about your own sex life (though, God knows I try), I will just say that no one has ever complained. However, is this because I'm good, or because they have loved me? I mean, I don't really judge men in the sack. Well, that's not entirely true. There have been one or two strikeouts, but in general, most men know what they're doing. Anyway, my usual experience has been this: if you like the person, it's good; if you love him, it's great; if, in that rare case, you both love each other equally, well, it's the best. Maybe men aren't that way. Maybe they are. I think with the right person, you'll always think that he or she is the best you've ever had. I'm not sure that's due to how they perform as much as it is about love and your connection together, which I think is 90% of the equation.

Well, I'm keeping today's entry short. Why? First, it's a beautiful day, as opposed to the past four dreary, cloudy, 30-degree days. Second, Hank's going to be home early, and it's our date night--the first we've had in a couple of weeks. That means I need to A. change out of my sweats and wife beater and B. apply to a job or two before he gets here.

Hold onto your hats for the next episode, because let's just say there's a big surprise.

I hope you'll be back. I will.

Day 27: A Little Family Lovin'

"I'm Sort of Neutral About It." Just when you think only color can be fun, accessories like these come along. I mean, look at those shoes! And that purse! Again, we're mixing opposite tones (warm gold vs. the its cool silver counterpart), but it works, especially since the bag and bangle feature both colors. This outfit is close to my heart, because I rarely leave the house without a bangle like this one. So far, I have about 20, but I plan on accumulating many more. Even if I'm wearing a t-shirt and jeans, something jazzy around my wrist takes it up a big notch. Before bangles, I relied mostly on statement earrings--either really colorful or really big. But I've nearly given them up. I like how a bangle balances out the whole picture--something about it carrying the eye away from what you're wearing and towards your hands I find very sexy.

Today's episode is about families--our own and the ones we date into.

I woke up this morning feeling thankful. "It's about time!" you may say. I wouldn't blame you. My entries have been pretty dapper these past few days. I wasn't sorry for feeling the way I did yesterday. I still think it's fine and healthy to accept my feelings. I just realized the monster of self-pity I was facing and that it--probably more than any job market--is what I have to fight to overcome. Two other things also happened last night to make me appreciative. The first was that I received a call from my sister at 11:00 pm, telling me that she and Mom had just sent me a funny email. I'm pretty sure she doesn't read my blog religiously, so I don't think it was out of sympathy. She just had good timing. The email contained pictures of the two of them that were stretched to look like reflections in a carnival fun mirror. Absolutely goofy. I couldn't help but smile and say a prayer of gratitude.

The other thing that happened was that Hank read my blog, came out of his study to give me a big hug, and then asked if he was doing something wrong. It seemed from what I wrote that I was sick of him. It melted me. I reminded him that he has been completely helpful during this whole time, that he's a wonderful partner, and that my feelings of being cut off from the world have nothing to do with him. They have to do with me. In that moment, I realized how good I have it. I have a family that makes me laugh and a boyfriend who does everything he can to make me happy. It was time I started making myself happy.

Speaking of families, Carrie dates a man who (surprise!) has wonderful parents and siblings. His mother and Carrie immediately connect. Unfortunately, things with the guy don't work out, and Carrie realizes that the hardest part of breaking up with him is breaking up with his family. Miranda starts seeing a divorced guy with a child, despite her reservations. Things are going well, until she accidently slams the door on the kid, giving him a head wound. The guy tells her to leave and not come back. Familial love first, I guess. Charlotte consoles her visiting brother, who's in the middle of a terrible divorce. She takes him out with her friends, thinking it will cheer him up, and it does. He sleeps with Samantha. Charlotte freaks, yelling at her friend for having a vagina that must be "in the New York City guidebooks...because it's always open." That must be one of the best lines in the entire series. She later feels terrible, brings Samantha muffins and thanks her for making her brother so happy, and the two make up.

Family really is a complicated part of dating someone. In my relationship history, I've seen what seems like every family issue known to woman. With Arnold, the first guy I was engaged to (remember there was more than one of these) who was and still is terminally sick, his mother loathed me, may she rest in peace. Seriously, she died two years ago. We had to live with her for a few months, and it was hell. Stressed out that her son was sick, disappointed that he was not settling down with a woman who dusted the furniture every week, and bitter about her own failed marriage, she tried to push me as far away from him as possible. It worked. It wasn't why I broke up with him, but it didn't help his case.

Then there was my ground school instructor, Tom, a pilot with a sweet 5-year-old girl. Although he was very nice and was a good father, I couldn't stomach that at 20 years old, I would be raising someone else's child before I had finished college. I liked him, but family planning was off.

I dated Travis next. Hanging around his family was so easy. They were accepting, low-maintenance, and real. Since Travis and I were together for three years, they fully expected us to one day get married. I even thanked them for their support in my graduation speech, right after thanking my own family. (To illustrate further, his sister came to hear me speak, while my sisters played hookie.) When we broke up, saying goodbye to them, like for Carrie, was one of the hardest parts. We all bawled.

Jorge, the second Peruvian man I dated and the second man I was engaged to, no longer had parents. His mother had passed away when he was 13, and his father had died when Jorge was 21. He and his two brothers had been alone, but for a sweet aunt, for most of their adult lives, basically taking care of each other. When I met his aunt for the first time, she hugged me for a long time and whispered in my ear, "Por favor, no hurt him. He had very sad life." It nearly broke my heart. I think I stayed with him for the last five months almost exclusively because of what she had said, even though things were clearly not working. Even when I took him to the airport to catch his flight to Argentina for work, though neither of us cried, I couldn't help but feel I was failing in my responsibility to take care of him (not a healthy relationship dynamic, I have to add).

After that was Brad, the man I dated right before Hank. His mother had been my 1st and 2nd grade teacher, and she had always encouraged him to date me (the doctor's daughter) throughout high school. He did. Even though we always felt an attraction to each other, her insistence was actually a turn-off for both of us. We both knew it was the wrong reason to be together. You want your partner's mom to like you once she gets to know you, not because of who your parents are or because she heard you did well on the ACT.

Then there was Hank. I first saw pictures of his parents on Facebook (ah, how times change). His mom looked so sweet and classic, with beautiful, long, grey hair and perfect facial features. She was also fashionable (that'll get me every time). His dad looked a little dorky (a really good sign in my book) and had on a great suit. I put a lot of stock into photos--how a person smiles, etc--and while I didn't want to meet them right away, they looked promising. I wanted to take that part of things really slow. I didn't want to fall in love with his family or he mine until we knew it was the right time. I didn't want to add that pressure to the situation.

But sometimes you can't help forming a relationship. The last time we were at his parents' house, we played a somewhat raunchy board game, and his mom let Hank and I sleep in the same bed--both big bonding moments. When she calls him, she asks to speak with me too, and has been known to talk to me longer than to Hank.

Yes, family brings complications, good and bad. I have cried when my sisters have broken up with certain boyfriends, and they have cried when I have. My Mom has gotten so attached to my significant others and their families in the past that when I met Hank, she said she was fine not meeting his parents until our wedding day. If two people are together for any significant amount of time, they are bound to form strong ties with their partner's family of origin. It would be sad not to.

So, for a post on families, let me just say that mine--my parents, my sisters, my boyfriend, my dog, and my friends--couldn't be better. Here's to getting along with your partner's family but not better than you get along with your partner.

Hope you'll be back. I will.

Day 26: Over the Hump, Buddy

"Spring is in the Shirt." I am still wearing my parka, but I'm already mentally in spring. I figure if I delude myself strongly enough, I can start to believe that, despite it being only January, green trees and flowers and tank tops are right around the corner. It's working so far. The thing I love about neutral-colored clothing is its practicality. Everything is interchangeable. It's smart, sophisticated, and virtually hassle-free. The thing I love about color is that you can do whatever the hell you want with it--play it up, play it down, mix contrasting colors, stay within one color scheme--depending on what mood you're in. Take this shirt. You could virtually accessorize with anything. Black flip flops? Fine. Sexy, bright yellow heels? Awesome. Brown, black, gold, silver, jeans, trousers, skirt, doesn't matter. Just pick something and go with it. Here, our motto is: the crazier the better.

The next episode on our list deals mildly with the concept of a "fuck buddy." "What's that?" you ask. It's an acquaintance you keep around just for on-call sex when you're feeling low. The installment also talks about each of our dating patterns--if and why we tend to date the same sort of people over and over again.

In an effort to keep her morale afloat, Carrie makes a bootie call. Miranda dates an angerholic (just made that up) and realizes that she gravitates toward pessimistic, crabby men. Charlotte tries to brake her pattern of first, waiting to be asked out by a seemingly ideal man, and second, on their first date, projecting onto him all her fantasies of the perfect husband. She decides to ask out random guys and keep it casual. All's fine, until one of her dates finds her kissing another of her dates on the same night. She decides to go back to her old approach. Samantha's neighbors invite her, via a note under her door, to join their nightly sex-a-thons. She's thrilled, until she realizes they're both over fifty and overweight.

The fuck buddy is kind of a sensitive subject for me, gotta admit. A relationship gal to the core--meaning the concept of sex without strings attached is beyond my comprehension--I feel almost angry that I never got to have this experience. People I know had fuck buddies. Why not me? After watching this episode, I actually found myself fuming a bit. Why couldn't I have had, at some point, a friend I could rely on for sex but no drama? Why did I always just get the drama?

Then it hit me. Everyone I've known who had this type of pal thought the person (out of bed) was a total freak. However, since the sex was so good (or so easy), the "freak" part wasn't important. The theory was simple. Who cares if a girl's obsessed with wolves and gummy bears if she gives good head? What's the big deal if a guy is a nymphomaniacal singer, who raps about sleeping with 97 women, if he'll come running over to make love to you at the drop of a backwards hat? The point was to look beyond the bad stuff and just see the sex. I realized that was my problem. It wasn't that I was opposed to the concept of a fuck buddy. I just couldn't handle the thought of kissing someone who disgusted me.

Today, I met a friend for a walk around the park. She has been trying to land me a job as a cashier at her workplace. After submitting my resume and application and hearing nothing back, I found out today that the position went to a recent high school grad with experience working at Trader Joe's. When my friend asked her boss why he didn't call me, he asked, "Would she really be okay being a cashier?" Hmm. I thought putting my cumulative GPA on a resume was a good thing. Apparently, it can also say something about your inability to be happy (and therefore reliable long term) in crap jobs.

As I parked my car to meet with this friend, I realized I was tired and cranky. I was also possibly seriously depressed. I felt like an empty shell, a fragment of the busy, vibrant person I was only five months ago. I had almost canceled, fearing the prospect of having nothing interesting to say about my life and therefore just appearing dull, but I figured getting out of the house was a good thing. It didn't matter what happened. Hopefully, she wouldn't judge. As we talked, my mood lightened. I asked her about the details of her upcoming wedding. She asked me about the job search. I felt alive in a way I hadn't for days, maybe weeks. Maybe it was talking to a woman, a person who felt and thought in similar ways as I. Perhaps it was talking to someone at all besides Hank, or just getting out of my head for an hour. Whatever it was, it felt good.

On the way back home, I thought about what had been happening to me in the past few months and realized that it had gotten pretty bad. I seemed to be succumbing further and further to the feeling of hopelessness I'd been trying to avoid since the day I graduated, no longer seeing possibilities, just obstacles. Not only was I drowning in a sea of indecision about what to do with my future, I couldn't even find something to fill my days. I felt cut-off from society and unable to access my usual resiliency and determination--to pick myself up and attack the job search as I used to attack midterm papers--that I now desperately needed. Instead, when I talked, there was a lackluster in my voice, like someone who was far away. In conversations, I found myself asking the same questions minutes apart from each other. Exhausted by my mental chatter and the quietness of the house, I often wished I could disappear and be someone else for a few days. At least it would be interesting.

I got to thinking about craziness. It would be so easy for any of us to go insane. Just lock us up for three months without access to the outside world. I almost think that's all it would take.

I didn't realize all of this until today, until I imagined myself through my friend's eyes. I hadn't realized that I'd been trying, in fact, to be invisible. I just knew I was distancing myself--from my family, from Hank, and even from this blog--about what I felt, worried that it was old news, that everyone was tired (including me) of hearing about my fruitless days. No wonder Hank and I had been fighting.

I know I have to continue looking for work. I realize that bills don't stop, because you're feeling depressed, and that jobs don't land on your doorstep. I also realize that, of course, I have things very good, and it could be much, much worse. It's so hard--and so essential--to remember that. I just have to keep pushing forward, even on the days I don't feel like it. And somehow, knowing that--that I don't have to be happy about being in the third month of job searching or not having money, that I don't have to make myself feel chipper--makes the prospect of looking at Craig's List more manageable and actually makes me in a much better mood. So, off I go. Wish me luck. I could use some.

Hope you'll be back. I will.

Day 25: What's in a Game?

To justify spending $900 on this shawl, the event better be worth it. I can't imagine dropping that much cash on anything but a car (and a certain wheaten terrier that I'm still paying off). Maybe diamond studs. If you handed me the shall, I'd take it (it's gorgeous after all), but otherwise it's probably forever beyond my reach. (Law school's looking like a better option all the time.) The rest of the outfit, though, is really reasonable. If I remember right, the dress and owl necklace are both from Forever 21, the shoes are under $150, and the purse is from a vintage website and probably sits around $200. I'm obsessed with beaded purses. As far as evening bags go, I think they come in third in importance after black and gold satin or sequin clutches, respectively. What's so great about them? Two things. 1. They're colorful, so they go with everything. 2. They manage to be incredibly elegant and flirty at the same time. Go beads.

Games. That's today's topic. Do we have to play them in relationships in order to survive? After her friends put a moratorium on talking about Big, Carrie decides to see a shrink, who tells her she picks the wrong men. Not taking heed, Carrie picks up a fellow patient (Jon Bon Jovi, aka. Seth), who seems really nice (Hello? Fellow patient? This cannot be good.). She sleeps with him, convinced she's proving her therapist wrong. As they lay in bed together, she learns that Seth goes to therapy for an unfortunate reason: he looses complete interest in women after he gets them in bed. Samantha dates a sports-obsessed male (are there other kinds?) but leaves him when he chooses watching the game over watching her. Miranda, after seeing her neighbor staring out his window towards her, decides to play seductress. She later learns the guy was flirting with a dude who lives below her.

Lame. There's only one respectable word for this episode. I just want Big to come back. Immediately after watching, I flipped through the next few episodes. He doesn't surface again for three more. Even then, it's not in a good way. Damn.

Okay, so, do we really play games in relationships? If we define games as things we do or say that are aimed at getting a particular result and are not always in direct accordance to how we really feel, I'd say the answer is a resounding, "Yes." I think we always play games. I think it's part of life, the way we interact with the world and understand what happens in it. I'm reading "The Black Book" by Orphan Pamuk. It's magical. There's a line one of the philosophers speaks: "One day, when you're older, when you ask yourself if a man can ever be himself, you'll also ask yourself if you've ever understood this secret." In other words, do we play games even with ourselves? Do we change ourselves to become more acceptable to ourselves, much less to the world? Do we delude ourselves into thinking we're something we're not or try not to be something we are? If so, how can we ever not do some acting--and hence game-playing--within relationships of whatever kind?

Bear with me. The point is this: the Authentic Self may be elusive for everyone anyway, and I'm not sure we'd survive very long in the world if we were always our Authentic Selves. When we say something, it may be a product of what we've seen in a movie, or it may be what we are expected to say. Maybe we were taught to say it. It is very hard to tell from where our actions, feelings, and words stem. In this way, I think it's awfully hard to expect ourselves to be completely authentic in love. Love is a relationship with another person struggling to be (or not to be, ala Shakespeare) his or her Authentic Self. There are bound to be some complications.

Besides, all games aren't bad. How about when you tease the other person to make him or her laugh? Charlotte says games are necessary in all relationships. You play certain roles to get certain results--even with your mate, with whom you hopefully feel more comfortable than with anyone else. When a woman wears lingerie to bed, what's the intent? When a man takes out the trash, is that a product of his Authentic Self, or something he think he should do to be nice? Would it be better if he didn't? I don't think the game has to be dishonest. That's not game-playing; that's just dishonesty. When either person is purposefully withholding something to gain the affections of another, saying and doing things that are exactly opposite of what he or she wants to do or thinks is right (ie. ill-intended manipulation, like Samantha learning sports stats just get her boyfriend to sleep with her), that's not fun. That's just stupid. It's all going to come out anyway, and in the meantime, you're wasting everyone's time.

Oof. Maybe this episode wasn't that lame after all? Or maybe I need to not drink caffeine before I talk about philosophy.

I am going to try writing in the mornings--especially on days when I'm feeling lackluster. I figured out this morning at 7:20 when Hank left, that if I think about writing, I get out of bed. If I think about job searching, I have been known to lay there until 9:30. Not a good start to the day. So here's to early morning mental meanderings and (debatably) caffeine.

I hope you'll be back. I will.

Day 24: Stepping Back

In case you wanted to raise the question, "What About Men?," well here you go. (That's also the title of the ensemble, because, well, I'm lazy.) This is my tribute to the sleek-dressed male--not too preppy, not too formal, not too boring. Just casual and cool. And expensive. It is also fulfilling a promise I made to Hank--that I would include men in this fashion quest.

I am developing a purchasing theory, and it goes something like this. The more body real estate a piece takes up or the more use you need it to get, the more you should spend. Obviously, if you can find quality items for cheap, great! However, if you come across that perfect something and are wondering if it's worth the price, my theory may help. But that's just a theory.

Worth-it:

1. Everyday shoes (work or play), bags, bras, and coats. Brown Frye harness boots? Yes! Red cowboy boots? Not so much. Especially included here are things you need to pay money for to get their full function, such as waterproof raincoats, sturdy winter boots, and down parkas. Skimp on these, and you'll be sorry. I know. I'm from Montana.

2. General statement-making basics like neutral-color cashmere sweaters and little black dresses (especially ones you can layer with to wear all year long and ones that are great for packing). If it's one of the only pieces you're wearing, you want it to be good. And if you're wearing it a lot, you want it to be even better. Think about it: you could bring a great cashmere sweater on vacation and wear it every night with five different ensembles. It makes sense to spend on the sweater and save on the tanks/dresses/blouses that go under it.

Now, a note on jeans. Some say not to buy designer, because the material doesn't really change from brand to brand. First, this isn't entirely true, because some jeans are blended with varying degrees of spandex. Besides that, I can really tell the difference in fit between, say, Lucky jeans (my favorite) and a cheap pair from Wet Seal. But that's me. Cheap pairs work for some body types. Since I live in jeans and I have hips, I buy good ones and have them tailored whenever I can. It makes me feel glamourous when my jeans fit like a glove.

3. Real gold and silver, especially earrings. I confess that I love Forever 21's bangles, and I'm a sucker for cheap cocktail rings. As long as only you can see the green and are fine with it, great. But cheap earrings almost always leave an olivey haze around the earring hole. Ick.

Save It (or, Pretty Much Everything Else):

1. Anything trendy like military jackets, plaid shirts, and animal prints (or any prints for that matter). Be careful of cheap sequins and lace, though. Both don't hold up well under handling and just look, well, cheap.

2. Besides real gold and silver earrings, almost any accessory unless you plan on living in it. This includes belts, sunglasses, hats, scarves, and evening bags. For me, watches count here, but I don't wear them often. The rest of the world probably wishes I did.

3. Anything that you will not wear a lot or will by nature not last more than a few seasons, including summer dresses, flip flops, and basic tees that will discolor around the armpits. I'm tempted to add swim suits to this category, but you can usually find great quality ones for cheap (Victoria's Secret and TJ Maxx), and the fit and fabric beat out those from Target. What's more, let's face it, they take up prime real estate for us gals, so get one that looks good.

4. Anything you can get away with buying cheap without an appreciable decrease in quality. A tank is a tank, whether you buy it from Target or James Perse. And who really needs a designer tank?

So, I haven't left much room for Sex. And it's actually a Big episode, pun intended. Carrie and Big break up. That's the Big news. I'm sorry. I can't stop using that word. I will stop. Just when you think they're going to make it forever, just when they make a grand step forward, things fall apart. Big travels to Paris and tells Carrie that he may have to move there for work. He has known for a while. Carrie goes crazy, infuriated that he didn't tell her earlier nor consider her in the decision, but she tries to be optimistic. They can make it work, she tells him, and maybe she can even move there. He says that would be fine, but to move "for herself," not because she expects anything from him. She goes crazy again. She tells him she can't do it anymore, that they should stop pretending they're good together, and that if he moves, she won't follow him. He walks away.

Strangely, after Hank and I finished this episode, we just sat for a few moments in silence. It's like neither of us could really figure out what happened. I had seen it before, of course, years ago, and I remembered thinking what a cad Big was. Now, though, it all seemed so dramatic and unnecessary. I felt sorry for Big because of Carrie's flip-outs and the fact that she doesn't really ask him how he feels. However, Carrie had been holding so much back while they were dating, never revealing to him what she really wanted or felt. In that way, it was a huge relief to see her be honest and passionate towards Big about her feelings. It seemed real. Hmm. I asked Hank what he thought, who he thought was in the right. Didn't someone have to be right?

"Well I don't think Carrie should have blown up like that, throwing the food at the T.V. and all, but I think Big should have said he was more committed to her." Touche. I started thinking about what I thought they both should have done. Since we never get Big's perspective, we don't know what he was thinking, but he still didn't fight to stay with her. But why should he have to? Why was Carrie always so dissatisfied with him anyway? Was it that they just didn't mesh?

Because I like to make a decision about these sorts of things--you know, decide who's right and who's the asshole (I'm so judgmental)--I got to thinking about Hank and I, how I would feel, what I would need/want. And then it hit me. We actually had that same situation. Hank was moving to Colorado to go to med school. He had to go. Like Big, he told me to come only if I wanted, if I thought I could be happy there. But he did not say not to expect anything from him. He said the opposite--that he would do everything in his power to help me be happy there, and that he'd be by my side. He said he wanted me to come more than anything, and in the end, if he had to, he would drop out of med school and stay in Montana with me--as long as we could stay together.

After remembering this, I realized one thing. At that time, it was important, wonderful, actually, to hear all that. That's all. Maybe no one is ever all right or all wrong. Hank didn't necessarily have to say that stuff for it to work between us. I probably would have still come to Denver. But there are nice ways to do things and important things to say, and it made me feel secure. Maybe the one thing Big didn't realize is that love is more important than any job. If there's one thing I know, it's that.

I hope you'll be back. I will.

Day 23: Beyond Black and White

This borders on Emo, but I think the patterns, the relaxed coat, and sexy necklace save it. I thought about adding a bright jacket, but that just seemed cliche. Then I decided to do as much with just black and white as fashionably possible. We're going to call this one "Black to Basics"--horrible, I know, but oh well.

I am not feeling much like writing today. Sometimes I feel such a surge of energy from thinking about relationship issues and questions about love that I can't wait to get back to this blog and spin out all my ideas. Today, I'm not feeling that. I just feel tired. Maybe it's because Hank and I have fought for two nights in a row, first about money, then about something really stupid. We've been getting home (him from school, me from Starbucks) around 7, when we're both hungry and tired. Who knew you could get tired sitting at a computer and doing errands and house stuff all day, every day? I'm here to tell you not only that you can, but it's not a good tired. It's a restless, defeated tired. I've pulled all-night study sessions, prepared for countless music recitals, and worked my ass off in a flower shop on Valentine's Day. Nothing compares to how tired you get from doing nothing.

That said, I am going to post, because I have to. But first, here's what's happening on the employment front. I have been spending more time on each job application/submission, often putting in two hours or more responding to one Craig's List ad. I've also been getting pickier, as I've said. A fearsome thought was born in me a few days ago. Say I get a job as a receptionist in a medical office, as a gas station attendant, or as a waitress (all worst case scenarios). Fine. It pays the bills. But then what? In six months, I will inevitably hate my job and want to move on and will have to go through all of this again. No, thanks! So, I am looking for positions in companies and industries I would actually enjoy working in for a while. That means either in a company with growth potential or in a creative industry that can give me tools I can take with me to go out on my own later. The other option is to get any old job and prepare to go back to school in a year, but that would mean figuring out what I want to study. Oofta.

Okay, enough of that. On to pleasanter things like SATC. This episode deals with the subject of evolution and raises the following questions: Are women evolving beyond needing men? Do we no longer need relationships? What about the phenomenon of the gay straight man? How does a relationship evolve, and how do we progress beyond past relationships? How do each of us evolve on our own? Last but not least is the question Carrie asks Big, "What is the ideal living situation for two people in a relationship?"

Those are a lot of questions. Thankfully for us all, I'm not going to talk about them all. First synopsis. Carrie tries leaving personal items at Big's, but he doesn't get the hint and returns them to her. She talks to him about it, telling him the reasons why a woman needs a hairdryer, tampons, etc. Though he's charmingly clueless, he says he prefers to keep things separate. Later, a distraught Carrie finds a picture of the two of them nestled in one of his drawers and realizes she has nothing to worry about. But for good measure, she leaves a thong. Samantha runs into the only man who ever broke her heart. Convinced she's over him, she decides to get revenge. She plans to flirt with him and leave him at the last minute, as he did to her. However, she falls for him again, and again he leaves her for another woman. Charlotte mistakes a straight friend for gay. After he pursues her, she realizes her mistake. They date, but she ends it, deciding that his feminine side may just be as developed as hers. Finally, Miranda discovers that she has a lazy ovary and that her chances for motherhood my slowly be disappearing. Desperate, she starts hormones and gives a old suitor a chance, only to find out he's a misogynist asshole. She stops the hormones and renews her faith in natural romance.

I love the question about how we each evolve from one relationship to the next, especially in light of what has been going on in my love life the past few days. Assuming we all have defining characteristics (good and bad) and carry these over from one relationship to the next, do we really individually evolve? If so, how?

Over the past few months, it has become clear to me that Hank's issue (maybe his only one) is jealousy. I will tell the tale of last night. Coming home from the coffee shop, I entered the house in a dress and tights. I rarely wear dresses. In fact, the only reason I was doing so, dear reader, is for a very feminine personal issue that makes it very uncomfortable to wear jeans. Maybe you get my drift. Our extremely boring and heated conversation went something like this. Hank said, "Nice tights." I said, "Thanks." He said, "Why did you get dressed up to go out?" I said, "None of your business, jerk." No, what I actually said was, "I didn't. I just got dressed." He said, "Those tights are kind of provocative, don't you think? Who are you impressing?" It deteriorated from there.

Two hours later, after me saying in the heat of battle that I would really enjoy my own place at that moment just to get away from him (advice: don't do this), he confessed to me that he had had the same fight in all of his past relationships. He knew it was his fault. He didn't trust women to not be flirting with other guys, and he got extremely jealous at the thought of men looking at me. In fact, he said, it was a big reason why his last girlfriend broke up with him. He also said that with me it was a lot less of an issue, because he trusted me. Even though his jealous feelings got the better of him sometimes, he knew it was stupid. It was more just a habit.

For some reason, this disclosure disarmed me and made me feel really compassionate for him. At least he was admitting his issue. Lord knows, I had my own. I got to thinking about my history. In every relationship I'd been in, I dramatized things to the point where the other person just got tired or angry. I analyzed every minutia of every facet of the relationship--what he said two weeks ago and what his actions meant--and often dragged the other person into analyzing it with me. I've also always been super defensive. I think it all comes down to a fear of abandonment, and I'm pretty sure both guys who broke up with me did so for a reason related to these issue.

There are many times when Hank wants to stop talking about something, but I won't let it go. There are many times he says something benign, and I take it really personally and attack him. I can fight really unfairly--like the wounded animal caught in the hunter's trap, lashing out at everything that comes to try save it. The thing that saves us, though, is that I trust him completely, as he trusts me. Eventually, in every fight, I realize that what I'm freaking out about is nothing, even if I'm going on and on about it. But I won't pretend I'm easy to live with in those moments, and Hank never talks about wishing he had his own place.

So, maybe we all have behavioral baggage--ways we've learned to deal with the world that we bring into each relationship. Maybe they have to do with our childhood or past relationships or even genetics. Maybe it doesn't matter where they come from. Probably, like Samantha with her ex, we're all doomed to repeat ourselves to some degree. But we evolve, too. After we see our default actions aren't getting us anywhere, we slowly shift our perspectives and see the new situation for what it is. Then, we conform to the reality. Like Mr. Big, we learn to trust again and try, timidly at first, later with more certainty, to follow our hearts instead of our old patterns and assumptions. Good luck to us all. It's a noble and worthwhile endeavor, for sure. And my answer to Carrie's question? Together, in good times and bad.

I hope you'll be back. I will.

Day 22: For the Love of Money

Hank titled this one, "Money Can Buy Happiness," after I told him how much this ensemble costs. Nothing here is cheap. In fact, the whole thing is probably close to $2000. I just couldn't resist. I love this dress. Could a LBD any sleeker, sexier, understated, comfortable, and versatile? Too bad it's $500. The cuff bracelet is also grand. Imagine the possibilities. It would look as good with jeans, boots, and a rocker tee as it does here. But the thing that makes me gaga about this outfit is the mix of brown and black. It really can be done, though I admit it can be done badly. Black/brown works here, because the purse and shoes still match (an old fashion maxim), making the brown seem purposeful. Also, the brown pieces have shimmer, pushing them toward gold. Since the jewelry is gold, it ties the brown in even more. Since black is the main piece and runs the length of the silhouette, it doesn't look like a color mistake. Plus, let's face it. You can wear any color with a LBD, and it will look right.

"Tell a man, 'I hate you,' and you'll have the best sex of your life. Tell a man, 'I love you,' and you'll probably never see him again." Samantha

Money is tough. Saying "I love you" can be equally as hard. Both are especially difficult when one person has it/says it and the other doesn't. Enter, today's episode.

Steve, a career bartender, and Miranda, an attorney, have a big income difference. It starts to cause problems. When Miranda asks Steve to go to a work function with her, she finds out that he doesn't own an appropriate suit for the occasion. She offers to buy him one. Big no-no. Steve freaks out, buys the suit, returns the suit, and breaks up with her, saying there will always be things that are out of his reach. Samantha dates a man who has a female Thai servant. The woman pretends not to know English in front of her "master," but secretly sabotages every gal he dates. After all, if he gets serious about another woman, she may be out of a job. Charlotte makes out with an egomaniacal movie star but breaks away just short of becoming a groupie. In an extremely awkward moment, Carrie tells Big she loves him for the first time. He doesn't say it back. A week goes by. They go to one of his high-society parties and fight the entire night. Assuming Big doesn't love her nor care about her feelings, Carrie ends up leaving without him and goes home with a guy friend, who she ends up kissing. Big wakes her up the next morning with a phone call in which he says, "I fucking love you, okay. Are we okay?" Carrie feels terrible, but relieved. She doesn't tell him about the kiss, justifying that "Everything before 'I love you' just doesn't count."

This subject of money and coupledom hits home with me right now. Since we're living only on Hank's meager med school loans and a small sum I made working over Christmas, we're money-stressed to the max. We both know it could be worse. Hey, we can still pay our rent and eat. But we're conscious about money every day, especially since I'm jobless. What's more, unemployment breeds a certain amount of money shame that follows me around all day and whispers in my ear, "You don't deserve anything until you start making more money. Right now, by buying this coffee, you're draining your resources and taking Hank down with you." And yet, I still make the odd purchase, which understandably infuriates Hank. I argue that it's money I earned over Christmas. I also figure that since I contribute my half to rent and groceries, who cares if I put $20 here and there on my credit card? He's not paying that back. I am. And I'm so much better than I used to be, yada yada.

But he doesn't see it that way. He doesn't care where the money comes from. It's our money, and I'm spending it on stupid shit like gold heels on sale at Aldo that we (debatably) don't need to survive. Then, he reminds me again that he hasn't bought anything for himself in the past few months. He hasn't skied or gone to a hard rock concert, even though I tell him to go. He says we can't afford it. He's right. I know this. I also know that it would take a near act of God for me not to spend any money during a month--even if all I buy is a damn $6 bracelet at Forever 21, which I did yesterday. I'd almost sacrifice one meal for that. Who knows, I may soon start having to do that.

This all brings up the issue of Whose Money Is It Anyway--especially when you're not married and, like me, have a lot of debt you accrued before you were even together. Every marriage guidance book (when I use to read that crap) says you should share all finances, regardless of who makes more. Merge your accounts. Merge your debts. It's the only way to be a truly united force. I tend to agree with this. But I'm not used to it. I'm used to making financial decisions on my own, even if those decisions are bad ones.

What's more, I come from a family where both partners make enough to justify personal expenditures, but they rarely ever agree on what to buy. To avoid confrontation, they just buy things without telling the other, causing a truckload of resentment. Dad gives a thousand dollars to the Republican Party. Mom buys her tenth garage-sale piece of furniture this year. They both secretly fume. So financial independence within a couple isn't necessarily healthier. In the end, your financial behavior can't help but affect your partner, and visa versa. You have to work together--for your sanity and your partner's.

So, realizing this, I made Hank a deal. Until I have a job and we then make a budget, I will not go to the mall. At all. Since the poor man naively didn't state anything about online shopping, I am taking the initiative to include it (a painful decision). It will be hard, but in the end, no matter how cute those shoes or how much I like a dress I saw in Glamour, I like Hank more.

As far as "I love you" goes, here's our story. When I first said it to Hank (and I did say it first), I was afraid for a second that he wouldn't say it back. I had wanted to wait until he said it first. I was trying to be cautious for once. But after a few weeks of dating, he wasn't saying it, and I couldn't wait to tell him. I knew it was early, but I couldn't help myself. I blurted it out. To my own relief, he said it back right away. He mentioned that he had only told one other girlfriend that in his entire life, and even then only under duress. He had always refrained from saying it, because he wanted it to be really special when he did. He always let the girl know his stance at the beginning of the relationship. I was shocked at this--I had said "I love you" to all of my boyfriends, mostly because I thought that's what couples did--but I admired him for it.

A few minutes after we said it, I worried I had made a mistake. I thought maybe he had spouted it off just to make me feel good. However, as the days went by, I saw his floodgates burst open. Every time I looked at my phone, there was an "I Love You" text. We never went a conversation without saying it. His friends even teased him for being so in love. I realized I really was getting all his saved-up love.

Nine months later, I still get those texts--nearly every morning. I know I'm a lucky woman. I think if you feel it, you say it. You have to in order to be true to yourself and life. Besides, who cares who says it first or more often? Even if no one ever said it, you would feel if it's there or if it isn't. The biggest part of love is active, not just a few words. But when the actions, the words, and the feelings are all there, man, that's hard to beat.

I hope you'll be back. I will.