Day 68: Crazy Ladies

In case anyone thought I was kidding about these being all-purpose jeans, here they all in all their versatile glory--standing in for a suit pant. Since the tank will cover up the top of the jean, it is likely that no one would even notice it isn't just a skinny trouser. These jeans are like the person who wasn't invited to the A-list party but snuck past security. We'll call this outfit, "Taking the High Road (Off Guard)."

In the next two episodes, the women all become psychotic. No, not really. But you would think so. Carrie realizes she loves Burger. They have it all going for them--the same careers, the same food interests, etc. When Burger lets on that he's still angry about his last girlfriend, Carrie shares her war stories in a bonding moment. Then, however, they hit a bump. Burger's book comes out, and though Carrie thinks it's marvelous, she mentions a small flaw and Burger backs away. Carrie eventually reels him back in. Miranda goes on a good date but wonders if the man will call. Burger tells her that if he didn't go up to her apartment that night, then "he's just not that into her." Miranda decides to share the revelation with random women on the street. Samantha and new lover Jerry immerse themselves in a world of sexual role play. After a few weeks, Jerry finally gets addicted Samantha to have a conversation about their real lives. Charlotte officially becomes a jew and cooks Harry their first holiday dinner. When Harry turns the TV on to watch sports, Charlotte flips out and begins screaming at him about why he hasn't set a date for a wedding. She reasons that he'll clearly never find anyone as good as she. He moves out.

Unfortunately, there's only one thing for me to talk about here and that's my own history with being obsessed with getting married. These are the moments when I can really relate to Charlotte, as nutso as she seems in this episode. But first, I must point out two things. The first is that I think Burger is a big baby. Learn to take some healthy criticism, man. Second, Hank and I realized while watching that the movie He's Just Not That Into You must have stemmed from one of these episodes. I later learned from a friend that the man who wrote that book did indeed write for SATC's sixth season. It all made perfect sense.

Okay, let me state one of the biggest paradoxes of my life. I am terrified of marriage, but I have forced the issue on almost all of my boyfriends. I don't get this about myself at all. If I say I'm afraid of marriage (and, believe me, those anxious feelings are strong), then why have I brought it up so much and pushed men to give me an answer about marriage well before any logic would dictate? I'll talk about rings and then say I never want to get married. I'll ask them to plan a future, and then, when they do, I back out. It's crazy.

Let me just say I wasn't always this neurotic. My first few relationships were somewhat normal. I was always an intense person, so I felt love intensely and often, but I wasn't hot and cold. I generally went after people who were interested in me and didn't worry about those who weren't. I didn't stalk people or call them obsessively, but I did write extremely romantic poetry at age ten. And I did always think the person I was with was the person I would eventually marry.

Then came Arnold (when I was 20). He made my intensity seem like nothing. He swore his love within days and asking for my hand within weeks. I went along with it all, thinking that we were meant for each other, even if I had misgivings about how healthy we were together. When that relationship fizzled out and I met the Russian guy, I thought the passion I felt for him was what I had been waiting for and told him so. The day before I was going to meet his family, he broke things off. Apparently I had pushed too hard too soon.

Then I met Travis, who was slow and steady, a good balance to my head-over-heels approach to relationships. He decided early on that he wanted to marry me. I wasn't so sure, but it didn't matter. I convinced myself that he was the one and that it would just take time for me to be ready. We still talked about kids and careers, as if it would all happen eventually together. Still, I feared the day when he would pop the question. When I started lusting after my married piano professor, I began to imagine the guy divorcing his wife and marrying me. That was when I knew I wasn't in love enough with Travis to marry him.

When I eventually left him for Billy, the Peruvian artist, I again thought I had found "The One" (giving up, quite fickly, on the piano professor). Billy and I had a melancholic connection. I thought he needed me. So I told him that I thought I should move down there and that we should get married as soon as possible. He was up for it (I was a pretty American girl after all), though it took me a while to realize he didn't love me at all. But by that time, I had told everyone, partly in order to justify my crazy move to a third world country, that I had met my soul mate. Saying goodbye to yet another dream of happily ever after was probably the most difficult part of our breakup.

Then, I met Jorge. He hadn't had many relationships and didn't really care about marriage. But I told him I wanted to get married in order for us to live together in the States. He capitulated and bought me a ring. We had been together for two three months. A year later, I canceled our engagement.

The months after that I spent trying to have non-serious relationships (yes, I had to try). I would go out drinking with friends and deliberately hook up with someone random. Up until that point I had never had a one night stand. I wanted to see if I was capable. After two experiences, I gave up. With the first guy, we saw each other again and talked on the phone a few times, but he said I seemed "too eager" to get into another couple. When I stopped calling, he started sending me nasty facebook messages. In the end, I had to block his account.

The second guy I picked up from a bar was cute, but I was so disappointed from the last encounter (and so inebriated) that I cried the entire night. He kept trying to say sexual things to get me in the mood, but I was a wreck. I had never had sex just to have sex, and it seemed heartbreaking to me. The next day, he said he wanted to see me again, but I said no.

Then I reconnected with Brad. Though we both initially jumped in head first, thinking we had re-found something great with each other, it soon went sour. We had both been in bad breakups that year and had loads of baggage. This time, it was the night before he was going to meet my parents again that he broke it off, saying he wasn't ready for a serious, possibly marriage-headed relationship again so soon. He said I shouldn't wait for him.

Two months later I met Hank, and I refused to talk about marriage the first week. Of course I failed. Of course, we decided within the first month together that I would move with him to Denver. Of course, I fell in love fast. But I have never felt rushed with him, and, as far as I know, he hasn't felt rushed by me. I don't worry about marrying him. I don't (for once) think about it that much. Life and our daily relationship keeps my mind and body busy enough.

My cousin once said to me that I was the type of person who should date someone at least a year before getting engaged to them, just so I could be sure. At the time, it seemed like a long time. I was on the three-month plan. Now that Hank and I have been dating for over a year, I am surprised at how quickly the time has gone without me obsessing over the marriage question. I know I'm the same person, but something is a bit different. I feel more peaceful. And yet, still quite in love. I'm not sure I knew that was possible but am so glad to find out it is.

I hope you'll be back. I will.

Day 66: The Question of Memory

It doesn't get much more glamourous than this. What? Jeans can be glamourous? Who knew (besides me)? The trick with making these pants pull fancy duty is keeping the rest of the outfit ultra shiny and even over-the-top. It helps that the jeans have a little sheen to them, too. Now, a word about the shawl. I have had so many women come into the store and ask me to find them a cardigan to go with their dress. After that first lady I helped, I have gotten into the habit of just immediately pointing them to the shawl area. The reaction is always, "Oh my God, that's perfect! Why didn't I think of that?"

So here's a word to the fashion wise: buy a shawl. But two even. It doesn't matter what color they are, though I would probably go for a neutral, single-toned one (black, beige, gray, etc) and a patterned one like above. They will keep you warm, add instant sophistication to your evening outfit, and won't break the bank. I would suggest pashmina, but cotton, cashmere, or any woven blends are good too. We'll call this ensemble, "My Symphony Jeans," after my father, who, bless his heart, jokes that if his rugged blue Levis are good enough in the garden, they're good enough to hear classical music.

To wrap up season five (it's a short one, thank God, because I have about twenty seasons and a movie to get through), Carrie visits San Francisco to promote her book and takes Samantha with her. There, Carrie meets Big and the two have some fun, but not before Big worriedly picks apart her entire book, embarrassed by how much he hurt her over the years. Back in New York, Carrie meets up with newly-single Berger at a wedding and wonders where it will go. Charlotte starts sleeping with Harry, her divorce lawyer, and finds herself falling for him despite his hairy back. He tells her his feelings are mutual, but he can't seriously date a non-Jew. Samantha throws a party at Richard's beach house and discovers she's still angry at him. Miranda and Steve hook up, and she can't figure out how she feels about it or him.

Lots going on here. I have to say that Harry's character is my favorite of the entire series, so I'm glad he's in the picture now. He's such a hoot and unapologetic about being so. For me, the most interesting issue here deals with how we experience and remember events. When Big confronts Carrie about why she is still interested in him after all he has done, Carrie says that it was all in the past and that half of it wasn't true but embellishment. In the end, I was left wondering, "How can these people have been in the same relationship and be on totally different pages?"

It made me think of my own perspective versus Hank's. Memory is subjective, of course. But then, what is truth and what is fiction? This relates somewhat to the last blog entry and the negative personality issue. How much of what we remember and think is due to our unique perception, which is based on everything from heredity and mood to blood sugar levels at the time of the event and the time of relating the event? How do relationships work at all, considering the two people have totally different perspectives? How can there be any agreement at all about what happened or what's happening?

When Hank and I disagree about a past event, we just can't come to see the other's point of view. We can try to convince the other that what they're thinking didn't really happen. But what's the use of that? I will still see a situation in my own way, no matter how Hank tries to change my perspective. And he'll see it in his way. The same holds true for remembering events. We each have our version of the story. Maybe all we can do when we disagree is respect the other's version of events and move on.

But it's not easy--especially when one person supposedly has a negative personality and the other person doesn't. It seems like so often in big blowouts, I fall into the habit of saying things like, "This has happened so many times before. It's not going to work. This is exactly what happened with ________, and it was a bad sign. Blah, blah, blah." And Hank counters that with, "That's not what happened last time. This doesn't mean anything bad. We're totally different than ________. Why are you so negative? Blah, blah, blah." Who's right and who needs to look at the situation differently? Can the two views work together to form a healthy perspective? Is that what a good union is all about?

I don't like that I remember the 'bad' things. I like to think I remember the good ones, too. But I do have an uncanny ability to analyze, and most of the time that includes being critical of whatever I'm analyzing. In relationship fights, that's the relationship. I also don't like that Hank always has to be the person who sees the 'good' things. It must be exhausting for him, and sometimes his positivity tires even me out. I would like to hear him say, just once, the simple words, "Hon, you're right. We have a problem here." Because sometimes we do.

And sometimes we don't. I guess I need to learn to see more than just the negative, learn to be more supportive than critical. In the end, it is a choice. There is always that moment where you could go either way--towards the relationship or away from it. At those times, maybe it takes a powerful desire to conjure up the good memories, the pros instead of the cons, so you can get through the moment that feels like a con, even though it maybe isn't. That's hard work for me. I get carried away in the moment. There are so many mornings I wake up and wonder why the hell I threw such a fuss the night before. I need to stop running away, and Hank needs to stop running after me. He needs to develop his critiquing skills, and I need to calm mine and maybe use them for something else.

I realize this is a lot of rambling, and I also know it is a lot of divulging. At least it feels that way. But that's life. It's too short not to think about it all, and it's too short to dwell too long on anything. The answer, like always, probably lies somewhere in the middle.

I hope you'll be back. I will.

Day 65: A Critical Review

Since I recently wore my new black skinnies and am obsessed with their versatility and coolness, I've decided to use them for the next few outfits. Watch as we go from day to night and from super casual to sleek and chic. The fashion challenge is on. Here, we have a casual day look. We're pairing the jeans with a traditional cardigan worn buttoned up as a shirt, no need for a cami. Countering the primness of the cardi is the rocker-like accessories. Instead of a formal wristwatch, we have a starfish cocktail ring. Instead of a conservative Coach handbag, we have an edgy black leather number with hardware. The flats also work to keep the ensemble looking carefree (they're next on my must-have list). The effect is studious and sophisticated without being snobbish, though I'm actually not sure you could make black skinnies snobbish if you tried. We'll call this outfit, "Study, Shmuddy."

I cannot believe I haven't posted for a week and a half. My sister was visiting, and I just couldn't bring myself to take time away from hanging out with her to write. Shopping, eating, and chatting were so much more fun. Even if I had wanted to post, it didn't seem in the cards. We were gone for three days to North Carolina for the wedding of my favorite cousin. At the reception, I decided after three and a half glasses of wine that it would be fun to jump and dance in 3-inch heels. At the time it was fine. But my back was so messed up the next morning, I was unable to get out of bed without extreme effort. I actually had tears involuntarily running down my face. So I have been taking twice daily baths for the past few days, and only today has sitting and typing really been doable, though still not comfortable. So I have some catching up to do.

The truth is even before my sister arrived, I had also been having a crisis of motivation. When you're around clothes all day and constantly chatting with your female coworkers, it turns out the last thing you really want to do is come home and pick an outfit and talk (or write) about feelings. Instead, you want a bottle of wine and a bubble bath and to talk to no one. But I have committed to this project, and, by damn, I will see it through. Besides, it's kinda nice to write, once you get going...

Here's the lowdown on the last two episodes. Carrie throws a book release party and attends it without a date. She realizes she's lonely. When the New York Times gives her a rave review, she focusses on the reviewer's one possibly negative comment (that she tosses out men) and wonders why she can't let it go. Samantha takes a shot at babysitting. When Brady's vibrating chair breaks down and he starts wailing, she improvises by setting her new sex toy next to him. It works, though Miranda is mortified. Meanwhile, Miranda's date with an old flame gets interrupted by her constantly crying child, and the new mom realizes how different her life has become. Charlotte takes her mother-in-law to court and wins the house fair and square.

Hank has a theory that I have a negative personality. Since my mother also has this theory, I have begun to seriously consider that it's true. According to Hank, there are certain characteristics of these types that I exhibit. They are as follows:

1. They often remember the bad things about past situations and rarely the good.

2. They think everything is about them.

3. They worry and overanalyze and feel anxious a lot.

Actually, I may have added the last one. It sounds right. He told me many more, but those are the ones that stick out. I don't know if he's right or not. Recently, we went to an exhibit that talked about optimism versus pessimism and the whole glass analogy (which I've never really bought). I looked at the glass for the millionth time in my life and said to Hank, "What if you look at it and think, 'It's only half full?' Does that make you an optimist or a pessimist?"

Either way, in light my work day today and these episodes, I'm inclined to think he's onto something with the personality thing. The day was pretty much like any other, but at the end of it I wanted to disappear. It seemed like miscommunications were happening everywhere, and at every moment I believed I was somehow making a mistake. If my manager looked at me funny, I thought she must be thinking I was doing a horrible job. If a coworker made a joking remark, I took it seriously. Normally, though I am not a laid back person, I like to think I'm able to get perspective a little easier than today. Today, I just took it all personally and stewed.

But maybe that's a more regular thing than I like to admit. I am often tip-toeing around people so they won't be upset at anything I'm doing (number 3). I worry a lot about what people (especially authority figures) are thinking and usually assume the worst (also number 3). When something goes wrong or someone is upset, I immediately think it was my fault and apologize for my perceived part, usually resulting in the person telling me she or he isn't upset with me at all (number 2). And I remember every detail of an interaction, usually focussing the parts that I didn't think went well and replaying them over and over again (number 1).

Like most people, I want to be liked. I am a perfectionist. I want perfect reviews from everyone. Only when I decide I don't like someone do I stop caring about their opinion. But that is rare. I usually like people enough to care what they think, which makes me very social but very anxious and neurotic. People-pleasing is risky business.

In fact, after today, I think I may just make a conscious effort to relax and tell my mind to shut up when it starts creating fantasy scenarios. My manager recently told me that "worrying is a waste of imagination," and that phrase has stuck. I think imagination is a huge driving force of anxiety. You can think off all the possibilities, so you do. What else is going to keep your mind busy? But that's just it. Anxiety takes a lot of mental energy--energy that could be used to learn your job better, think about future goals and dreams, plan trips, and listen to what people around you are saying. It's hard to do any of those things when your mind is whirring with analysis and worry.

I think opinions are important, because I like to think my opinion is important. If mine is, other peoples' must be too. Maybe Carrie does drop men. Maybe she doesn't. That's for her to decide and figure out if she wants to change, but not because some reviewer told her to. In the end, you can't live for other peoples' opinions. I know I'm not the first to say it, but I'm saying it anyway. You can't have peace trying to make everyone happy. You may get promoted, and you may be thought of as endearing. You may have lots of friends. But you will be really, really tired. And you'll always feel like you're going to drop one of the thousand mental balls you're juggling. Take my word for it.

So why not just juggle the balls you want and purposely drop the rest, maybe even make room for some more meaningful ones? I'm going to try it and get back to you.

Until then, I hope you'll be back. I will.