2001-01-29 - 986031910

Who's Who Cheat Sheet
Who I Read

On the internal soundtrack: "Carry that Weight", Beatles. It seems to be a sort of default when there's nothing else to play.

OK, so here is the most frustrating lesson I think I've had to learn about life:

When you see that people you love are about to make mistakes, all you can do is try to warn them. And then when things fall apart, as they inevitably do, you can only watch it happen, and help them pick up the pieces.

I want to be able to prevent things from falling apart, prevent them from making the mistake, but it is just not possible.

At the risk of sounding like a male-basher (which I may well be), I'd like to comment on a characteristic that is often found in the male half of the population.

Standard disclaimer: Not all males are like this, some women are like this, it may be nurture not nature.

Additionally, my husband is perfect and doesn't exhibit any of the more annoying traditionally male characteristics; only the [ahem] good ones.

Moving on:

There is a curious tendency on the part of many males to be rather sparing in their verbal communications, particularly with other males. Finding out the answer to the word "why" doesn't seem to interest them very much. Moreover, they get irritated when women start asking why.

For example: Poindexter's dad reported to us, when we were all sitting around discussing our sightseeing plans in September, that a former denizen of the area, a coworker of his, told him that Arlington National Cemetery is the big don't-miss attraction in the DC area.

Not to knock the place, but I have very little interest in wars, soldiers, and vast expanses of grass covered with identical white markers. I thought, perhaps, there was something I was missing, so I asked, "Why? What does he like about it?"

Papa's reply? "I don't know. I didn't ask."

MIL and I were all over him on that one. Why didn't you ask? The reason is important! If he likes it because he's into war stuff, that's fine, but we're not. On the other hand, if there's something about it that's more universally appealing, we want to know what it is.

I've heard the theory that men don't pay attention to detail, that the whys are not as important as the whats. I suppose this made sense back in the hunter/gatherer day -- if a rhino is charging you, it doesn't matter much why the rhino is doing it.

But nowadays, come on. People see things from their own point of view. What they get out of what you say is highly dependent on what's going on inside their own head, not yours. Poindexter and I understand each other remarkably well, but it's astonishing how sometimes he will completely misinterpret a remark I make, and vice versa. Not necessarily in a bad way, just a different interpretation. Detail is IMPORTANT.

Just to be fair (equal outcome, that is), a rant about females. Standard disclaimer applies here too:

Females are supposed to be the Great Communicators. They talk all the time (nattering on ad nauseum, men would say) about many many little details.

Ok, ladies, so why do you expect men to read your minds?

I'm amazed at how many women will just sit around and wait for their guy to do something. Meanwhile, the guy has NO idea the woman wants this because it's certainly not something HE would want, so it doesn't happen, and then the woman gets mad, etc. etc. While I agree that men could try to pay a little more attention to what their women like, we need to cut them a little slack.

I am a HUGE believer in telling men, straight out, exactly what you want from them. Over at Does it Quack? Bear reported that some straight woman was complaining about lack of a very particular type of attention from her man. I was flabbergasted. My reaction in a situation like that would be, "Hey, can you do that some more? I like that." I'd certainly expect Poindexter to do the same.

I'm not one to sit and stew, wondering why Poindexter doesn't do something I'd like him to do. Buying flowers, for instance. Some women would love it if their man would buy them flowers now and then. Me personally, I don't see flowers as a requirement in a romantic relationship, and I've never had much of a desire for him to buy me flowers as an expression of his feelings for me.

Nevertheless, one day, on a whim, I decided flowers would be nice. So I said, "[Disgustingly cute nickname for Poindexter], will you surprise me with some flowers sometime?"

And he did, a couple weeks later, by which time I'd completely forgotten the request, so I really was surprised.

It's not hard, ladies. It really isn't. Maybe at first, but eventually it gets to be second nature. And eventually, when you see how much pleasure he gets out of doing something nice for you at your request (if he doesn't, either you're not showing enough gratitude or he's a dud and you should get rid of him), you won't even mind that you had to ask for it straight out.

BTW, I saw an utterly hysterical journal entry by "Girls Suck" which had a lot of truth in it.

Just to scare Poindexter, I like to say "We need to talk" in a very serious voice when I want to discuss something which is pretty inconsequential (household crap, usually) but I'd like his input. He always reacts with a frightened look, even though he should know by now how I utilize the phrase. When I actually have something serious to discuss, I tend to start with a nervous/embarrassed/worried sigh.

Oddly enough, "We need to talk" is exactly what he said when he broached the subject, five years ago, of his suspicions that I was anorexic and/or bulimic. (I've got a small frame and a fast metabolism, so people probably wonder about it from time to time, but I am neither and never have been.)

For most of my life (I believe I have finally conquered it now), when I was nervous or excited, I couldn't eat. I would feel constantly nauseous and my throat would close up and it was nearly impossible to eat. I haven't felt this way in a long time (last time was at my wedding, I think), but I remember I would sit there, feeling SO FUCKING HUNGRY, and I just couldn't swallow the food. I can sympathize with anorexics. They have a completely different reason for not wanting to swallow it, but I'd imagine the feeling of wanting to eat but being unable to is somewhat similar.

So, given that mild nervousness would do this to me, imagine how it was when I was in California and I realized, with utter certainty, that Poindexter was very likely the man I was going to marry. I hadn't even declared my crush yet, and neither had he, but I knew that if he felt similarly, which was quite possible, it was almost guaranteed. It was the most mind-blowing thing that ever happened to me, and it scared the shit out of me, so I couldn't eat for most of the vacation.

Add IBS to the mix (meaning if I did manage to choke anything down, nature called immediately afterwards), plus the fact that I cut my food into small pieces, and you've got a LOT to gossip about.

My future MIL was convinced that I was anorexic. I'll have to ask her, but I think she was nearly 100% certain of her diagnosis. So she warned Poindexter and mailed him articles about the disorder, and he was wary when I arrived for our first visit together as a couple, over two months later.

I get there, we're ecstatic, I'm alone with Poindexter, we're getting along fabulously, and I get comfortable. No longer nervous or scared. So I started to eat. Whoohoo! We went to his sister's house for dinner and she made something that was so good I ate too much of it, sending me to the john not long after dinner. We got back to Poindexter's apartment, and I was hungry again (must've been my hungry week), so I ate a small plate of angel hair with pesto.

Finished, I took my plate to the kitchen, returning to see Poindexter sitting on the couch, looking very serious.

"We need to talk," he says.

I went into a complete panic. Is he not having a good time? Does he not want to pursue this relationship after all? Is he mad at me? What did I do?

He told me, in halting words, about how he noticed I didn't eat the last time he saw me, and now I'm eating, going to the bathroom after dinner, eating more when we get home, etc.

About halfway through the little monologue I realized where he was going with it and started to grin. I let him finish, and then I started laughing out loud. It was just too funny. He thought I was puking in his sister's bathroom, and while in actuality I'm sitting there being embarrassed about having belly troubles while everyone else is eating dinner.

I explained everything, mentioning that I hate, hate, HATE throwing up, so while anorexia might be a possibility, bulimia wasn't. And clearly, here I was, eating like a normal person.

I suppose he still had a few doubts, but they were dispelled as he spent more time with me. His mother, on the other hand, had had breakfast with my parents two weeks earlier (our mothers have known each other all their lives) and had a very enlightening experience.

During that breakfast, my father had a danish. He proceeded to surgically excise the fruit part of the danish, put it aside, and then cut what was left into small pieces which he ate with a fork.

MIL says, "If I'd seen him do that first, I would have understood why Evelynne eats the way she does and would never have worried!"

My favorite Superbowl commercial, by far, was the "What are YOU doing?" Budweiser ad. It was just too funny, all the nerdy/preppy guys. I rather identify with nerds. The Whassup-type guys sitting on the couch looking mystified at the end made it even funnier.

If any of you readers out there are honestly worried that Bush will make abortion illegal throughout the U.S., let me put your mind at ease. Go here.

Awhile back I wanted to write something about abortion. I was shocked at how little people know about what Roe v. Wade means. They were afraid that if Bush were elected, he would appoint judges who would overturn Roe v. Wade, and abortion rights would disappear in the U.S. Um, no.

Anyways, I gave up because writing this stuff is just too hard and takes up too much time, and since I'm not a writer, I don't care to take the time.

For me personally, abortion is just such a horrible thing to contemplate. I don't feel that it's my right to tell people whether they can have one or not, and I don't condemn people for having them, but I do know the thought of abortion-as-birth-control makes me sick. In any other case -- rape, incest, life of the mother, genetic disorders -- it's just a horrifying, desperate choice someone has to make, and it's not the law's place to decide it for them. I guess my ideal situation would be that abortion was legal, but that there be enormous social pressure to adopt. And, correspondingly, enormous social support (primarily by the adoptive parents, I'd imagine) to do so.

Here's a good quote that describes me pretty well:

"I am socially liberal and fiscally conservative. I believe that every good idea that was ever done in the world came from a grass-roots organization, or from one person. They did something and it mushroomed and grew, and eventually the government heard about it and it was enacted. It has to start on a level where the cities take care of themselves; it can't start at the federal government and trickle down."

Arnold Schwartzenegger, if you can believe it, in an interview on Salon.

Wow, I'm just going to quit writing about political stuff altogether. Here's another person's excellent essay describing something that bothers me about race relations in this country today.

OK, I will try to quit it with the social issues and politics for today. It's hard, though. I was always so frustrated when I was in college because I didn't agree with a lot of the stuff I was hearing and couldn't put my finger on why. Now that I do understand my political ideals better, I like to try to argue my point. But I suck at it.

Clearly it's time I thought about getting weblog, isn't it? Maybe I'll cheat, and just put all my links at the bottom of each entry. Anybody who actually gives a rat's ass about a libertarian perspective can click if they want.

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