The "Social Constructs" of Society

Like it or not, society holds women to a higher standard when it comes to dating, partying, hanging out with friends, or just about anything that falls within the basic "social constructs" that we dictate.  Call it sexist, unfair, or just flat out wrong, more is expected out of a woman than a man in a social setting.  The thing is though, both sexes are guilty of these heightened expectations.  Who are the first people to point out the babe wearing the too short dress, or low cut shirt?  Women.  Who generally gossips about the seemingly shameless girl who is sleeping around?  Once again, the answer is almost always women.  Not to say that men are blameless.  We expect girls to be subtly seductive and yet not slutty.  We demand that a woman give us our space to be "men" and yet we assume that whenever we are in need she will respond with resourcefulness and ingenuity.  

I never said it was fair.  Quite simply, I can't imagine the pressure.  Despite this, I have to admit, I expect a woman to at least try to live up to these expectations.  I realize none of us are perfect.  I make mistakes, and so will any girl that I date.  However, society has taught me to look for certain attributes in anyone I consider dating.  When we go out, I assume that she will drink, but not so much that she losses control.  When we enter a room, I expect everyone's head to turn in awe of the beauty I've managed to make mine, but I don't want anyone to mutter the word "slut" upon our entrance.  When the night is through, I want her to show me how badly she wants me, but not so much that I don't take time to cherish every moment for fear that it could be the last.  

To be honest, I am unsure if this is too much to ask.  However, for better or worse, I believe it can be accomplished.  Furthermore, I suspect that society has dictated that women be held to a higher standard.  In return, I try to give something back.  I do my best to be intellectual, charming, and charismatic.  It may not be a fair, but I don't make the rules.  I just live by them.

The Reality of Love

This summer I have dipped into the seedy underbelly of community college.  Having lost credits upon transferring schools, sucking it up and taking a summer class became a necessity.  I choose public speaking not only because it was guaranteed to transfer, but also because I figured it would be exceptionally easy.  Thus far, my prediction has been accurate and I have breezed through the first few weeks without so much as cracking a book.  

Three days a week I go to class and am given fairly obvious advice on rhythm, poise, and diction that most of my fellow classmates can't quite seem to grasp.  For most, the seemingly repetitive nature of the class would be rather dull, but every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday I awake with a certain curious excitement.  I have been through countless hours of high school, attended classes at two reputable colleges, and studied with friends from all over the world, and yet there is nothing quite like community college.  The class is full of college dropouts who fancy themselves as "hipsters" questioning the social construct of education while at the same time puttering through the very system that they carry such disdain for, and middle aged women going through a mid-life crisis, hoping that education will be the key in redefining themselves.  We often do b.s. group work and I mutter comments about the class being a complete joke while others look at me startled, because to them giving a five minute lecture or writing an analysis on some famous speech is pretty damn arduous.  

What interests me though is not what the professor forces down our throats during lecture, but rather what I learn from those around me.  I always seem to end up in the same group working with the mother of two who met her husband in the 7th grade, the divorced Russian who has teenagers and seems fascinated by my experiences with the opposite sex, and the woman in her 50s with a seemingly endless supply of tales about men.  I find it unusual how comfortable they all seem with me.  Surprisingly however, their stories of love, men, and sex don't revolve around romantic dinners and passionate encounters, but rather about disappointment and heartbreak.  Through all the failure a certain animosity has grown.  Gone from their minds is the possibility that a man can not only be your lover, but your best friend as well.  Instead are the stories of men standing them up on dates, and as they like to say "constantly thinking with their dicks."  To them, men are selfish, and incapable of any real emotion.  Its as if their heart has been broken one too many times, and the romantic notion of love that they must have once had is gone and irreplaceable.  

I find it sad that they think of men this way.  They are so convinced that they are even comfortable sharing their beliefs with me.  Now it is obvious that I haven't always been the best dater.  I've cheated on high school girlfriends, and hooked up with girls in college and then never called, but I like to think that a piece of all of us is capable of raw and boundless love.  When expressing this opinion, my classmates label me a "romantic" and "too young and innocent" to really know what love is all about.  If this is true, I hope for my sake I never discover the truth.  I'd much rather live in illusion, than deal with the reality that they face.

Finding the "Perfect" Moment

When it comes to dating, we all fear being vulnerable.  The realization that you are not only physically, but also emotionally involved in a relationship is an idea that can be difficult to handle.  This realization marks the loss of any real control; its like riding to the top of a roller coaster, enjoying the slow and steady assent, and all of a sudden slipping over the peak, careening downwards with no way of slowing down.  The feeling is exhilarating, and yet in the pit of your stomach lies an understanding that you are no longer responsible for merely yourself, but someone else as well.

It is because of this, that we avoid the inevitable.  We ignore our feelings, and push the butterflies felt for that girl we see walking around campus to the back-burner.  Instead, we wait in the wings.  Both men and women are obsessed with some outdated and romantic notion of the "perfect" moment.  With this in mind we hold off on admitting our true feelings, instead waiting for the party where everyone is a bit tipsy and the mood has been lightened, hoping that the right girl will just miraculously fall into our arms.  We hope and pray that the "perfect" girl in the "perfect" moment will appear in front of us waiting for that "perfect" kiss, the kind of fantasy that generally only comes true in those corny chick flicks where the guy always gets the girl.  Unfortunately, more often that not, the guy doesn't get the girl, and things don't work out in the cute and unpredictable way we all hope it will.

Being aware of how dating usually works, I was stunned when one of my friends from school called me the other day to tell me that she had recently told the boy she had been pining after for the last month or so how she felt.  There was no slutty dress attempting to grab his attention, or any thinly veiled flirtatiousness.  She did not try to show off to him in front of other girls, or execute any elaborate plan in order to make him realize that she was the one.  No, all there was, was the the truth.  The simple notion that she liked him.  The funny thing is, he bought it.  He told her he had feelings for her, and they ended the semester both on the same page: both parties knowing that there was the possibility of love in the fall.

Now to fully understand this story, and how unlikely it is, you have to know my friend.  She is the type of girl that obsesses over everything.  From planning out her study schedule during finals week, to deciding which sorority to join, she is never without a plan.  I often find myself helping her with her plans of action, as she is often too nervous to execute it without the input of others.  Despite this, she is smart and charismatic in just about any social situation.  While she worries over many details, she wants a straight answer, and doesn't like b.s.  I suppose it is because of this that she was so direct about admitting her feelings for this boy.  She had told me about him several times and each time she had no idea what to do about it.  However, in the moment she was direct and forthcoming in a way that most would terrified of.  What is odd, is it worked.  Maybe, just maybe, we shouldn't wait for the "perfect" moment.  What if it never comes?  Perhaps, the simple words "I like you" will make any moment perfect.

Every Bros Favorite Time of Year

This is every bros favorite time of year.  The reason is exceedingly simple, and undeniably shallow.  You see, as the weather turns warm, and the days grow long, another yearly tradition occurs too: the spring dresses come out.  You all know what I'm talking about, and just about every girl owns at least a couple.  They are the tiny, tight fitting contraptions that reveal almost everything, and yet hide just enough to stay somewhat appropriate.  They are unbelievably sexy, and yet somehow remain innocent.  They allow girls to capture the casualness of just another day, and yet they mark the turning of the seasons, and what it means for everyone's love life.  The spring dress symbolizes promiscuity.  It represents the coming of endless relaxation and yet intense passion.  It teases every bro by revealing a small piece of the prize.  It makes us comes back for more.  It manipulates us into devising pick-up lines and creating romantic dates for the perfect girl in the perfect spring dress hoping for the perfect night.  It controls us, taunts us, drives us crazy.  Yet it brings something else as well: excitement.  It signals the beginning of the chase.  The period when gorgeous babes look for someone to lie under the stars with on warm summer nights, and go on crazy and unorganized adventures with; the type of adventures that happen only when you are young and unattached and feel untouchable.  It is for these reasons that we love the change from winter to spring and eventually summer.  What we are all presented is the fleeting opportunity to live for ourselves, completely unfettered from any real responsibility.  And it all begins with the sighting of the first too tight, slightly slutty, spring dress.

Trouble in Paradise

I just walked past the couple that lives across the hall from me.  Yes, thats right, I said couple.  Earlier this semester the guy that had been living there moved out, and in moved the other dude's girl.  Its been a couple of months now since the switch, and at first the situation seemed to be paradise.  Both are pretty big on getting f***** up, and from taking prescription drugs to help their "focus" to experimenting with other illegal substances, they at least have one obvious thing in common.  However, as the living arrangements went from fresh to expected, and everyone lost the initial shock of seeing the babe enter her new room, paradise began to experience stormy weather.  It all started a couple weeks ago when around midday their shouting carried clearly through their door and into our room.  The fight was ugly: thinly veiled threats were hurled and accusations were sent back and forth.  As the fight continued for several minutes I mused that there was finally trouble in paradise.  As time would show, the fight was not an isolated incident.  Every couple days, arguments can be heard spewing from the room as if something insidious was growing there.  In fact, I have come to view the room as infected, contaminated beyond a cure.

And yet as I walked by the two this evening, they seemed in the highest of spirits.  Both happily said hello to me, and they were walking together with a flirty playfulness.  They were headed most likely to dinner where they will inevitably share romantic lines and appear to to be the peak of happiness.  But alone, they are different.  Their behavior is far from romantic and cute; it borders on ugliness.  Of course I am aware that at times all couples argue.  I would even go as far to contend that once in a while a fight can help a relationship: it can start things out fresh, and allow each individual to realize and work on their flaws.  In this case though I seriously doubt that these fights are beneficial.  If anything they are frightening. An outside observer would conclude that the clashes were between two people not very fond of one another, not a couple in "love" as they claim to be.

I guess what baffles me, is why either of them would ever want to move in together.  Living together is hard enough without having to share the tiny and cramped spaces of a college dorm room.  Now don't get me wrong, having a girl stay over can be a whole hell of a lot of fun.  The dude had a single, she could've stayed over whenever they wanted...for days in a row even.  But that doesn't mean that they had to give up their individuality.  At the college age, who wants to spend every single moment with their girlfriend?  What about chilling with the bros...or even just having some time to yourself?  There must be times when both much desperately want space.  The more I think about it, the more I begin to realize what the room really signifies for me: a trap.  By moving in together, they have trapped themselves, stifling their individuality and preventing their relationship from flourishing.  I'm not saying that you can't be with someone, or have a committed relationship, but please remain yourself.  We have the rest of our lives to make decisions with a spouse, and have to deal with the daily worries of living together.  For now, be yourself...

Premature Adulthood

Earlier this week a girl in my calculus class returned from her honeymoon.  She returned, contrary to my misconceptions about marriage, the same girl that she left as.  I have long felt that saying the words "I do" has an immediate and noticeable impact on someone, but as she sat in class today, she was still the same nameless girl that always sat two rows over and four seats up from me.  She was, except for the gaudy ring perched on her finger, unchanged.  The only senior in my class, (calc isn't something one generally takes in their last semester of college) she inevitably sits in her seat acutely aware of her status as class "elder."

We did some group work today, something done as a way to break up the long monotony of taking derivatives and sketching graphs, and for the first time all semester she landed in my group at the back of the room.  Too distracted to actually focus on work, I instead tried to catch glimpses of her ring, which she seemed to hide from us, pressing her hand against her shirt or hiding it underneath the desk.  I had never had a classmate who was married before, and I was suddenly aware that marriage had made her completely and utterly different from me or any other kid in the room.

 I finally got up the nerve to ask where she went on her honeymoon, and she responded that they had gone to Disneyland.  She proceeded to tell me that they went to all four parks, and began to list the different stops during their week of ignorant bliss.  I couldn't help but thinking to myself that Disneyland was far from the romantic getaway that I would want to spend the first precious days with my new bride.  Disneyland was a for the married couple with a family of three, looking for endless fun and warm weather all at a cheap price.  It was a place where families went for a brief respite from the constant struggles of life.  It was where I imagined I might be ten years after my marriage, not on the first night.  It was then as I looked at her giving me all the details that I realized she was still just a kid.  She was taking calculus and still worrying about final exams and which party she wanted to go to on friday night.  She was still in college probably exhausted from spending countless hours in the library, and yet exhilarated by the simple pleasures of learning, and dreaming of a future.  Its college...every one of is just a kid...

Except her future was decided.  At graduation there would be no opportunity to bask in the glow of the accomplishment, and start her first job with the carefree attitude that she could do whatever she wanted.  No, she had responsibility.  She had a husband, and had to be a wife.

I suppose in a few years I will come to look at these responsibilities as a blessing.  At some point I will be able to relish the opportunity that she now faces...but not yet.  Even as I write this, I doubt she is there either.  Life is crazy, and its made far more complicated by love.  Maybe her husband is everything she has ever wanted, but everything can wait.  We can't control when we fall in love...but that doesn't mean we should be in any rush to grow up.

Letting it Happen

I was recently talking to a friend when we landed upon our favorite topic of conversation: babes.  When I met him in the fall semester I took him under my wing when it came to girls and he returned the favor when it came to my engineering homework.  Having been born in Pakistan, and living in a variety of places throughout the world growing up, he was a little naive when it came to dealing romantically with the opposite sex.  Despite this, the more time we spent together, the more I began to realize just how damn popular he was.  Everyone knew him...and more importantly girls were always talking to him.  Countless times we would be getting some food, or walking to class and babes would shout out to him from the table next to us, or from across the quad.  At first, it confused me that amongst all the drunk hook-ups and slutty behavior on a college campus, that he couldn't easily join the fray especially considering how popular he was becoming.  I figured, hell girls were never as happy to see me as they were him, and I didn't have any problem meeting someone different every weekend.  

This was a dilemma I could never quite figure out, until our most recent conversation.  He told me that he was adopting a new approach: he was going to let someone come to him.  He told me that he had always gone out looking for girls, but he found it to be rather pointless now.  For whatever reason this realization made a whole lot of sense to me.  You see, it always seems a lot harder to find whatever it is you want when you are actually looking for it.  The best things come naturally, and are unexpected, which makes them that much more rewarding.  My friend's greatest mistake during the fall semester was trying as hard as he did.  Yes, of course everyone knew him because he was outgoing and involved on campus.  There was no doubt he was well liked, but his intense friendliness came off less personally than he meant it to be.  People notice when you are trying too hard, and sometimes have difficulty relating to the kid that everyone knows.  I think when applied to girls, letting things happen is vital.  Trying too hard is unattractive.  Caring too much is considered nerdy.  Every babe is looking for the "cool guy."  Now this doesn't mean you can't be a genuine bro, but its important to chill.  When you desperately search for love, it always seems that you wind up disappointed.  Go out, and live without expectations...if you do that, I think you'll appreciate whatever you find.