Tag Archives: boys and girls

Dear Nice Guy Who’s a Better Person Than I Am But I Don’t Want to Date

25 Apr

This is one of those posts where you’re either going to hate me or like me more after I tell you what a terrible human being I am. (Here is where you say, Is there any other kind?)

So I went on a date a couple of weeks ago. Nice guy. Wore a button-down shirt to our coffee date. Let me pick the time and place (oh come on, did you expect me to wait for him to do it?). Brown curly hair, brown eyes. Graduate student in history (my undergrad major). According to his email, which was basically an online dating profile: “Hiking, playing frisbee golf, and drinking lots of Twinings black tea are the hobbies I’m most involved with at the moment.” 

Obviously, halfway through the date we started talking about Twilight. He asked me my favorite poet, and I said Elizabeth Bishop. This was the only question he asked me all night. The rest of time he spent answering my questions with interview-ready responses. When I asked why he went back to graduate school, he gave me his “list of qualifications” off his resume, did not ask why I was in graduate school or anything about what I was studying, and then he said, “I feel like I’m at an interview!”

To my credit, I didn’t mock him. Then.

Therefore I was desperate to string my one question out as long as possible, so I said, “Of course, a little farther down the line of favorite things to read…you know, Bishop at the top, but about ten down you find Twilight.”

He hung in there. “Of course,” he said, “that makes so much sense.” Or something like that. The fact that I can’t recall the conversation perfectly (one of my greatest skills in life) tells you pretty much all you need to know about how things were going at this point.

“No, really,” I said.

“Totally,” he said. I nodded. “Oh…” he said. “Really.”

I love talking to people about how much I don’t hate Twilight. You can find just a few of the reasons here. I think Stephenie Meyer writes a nice, clean sentence that doesn’t get in the way of me chanting make out make out make out. And no, I don’t care if it’s with Edward or Jacob. I just think people should make out more. I’ll save the rest of my reasons for when we talk face-to-face. I find it’s a good litmus test, and I don’t want to ruin it before I have the chance to see if you turn red or blue. So I told him that yes, I have in fact read all 4 books, but woefully have not yet made time to catch up on the movies. 

He said— I kid you not— “Well, I guess all this really does is reflect badly on me, that I’m judging something before I even give it a chance.” He said this sincerely. About TwilightAs if the hype hasn’t give him a pretty good idea of whether it’s his cup of Twinings black tea.

I should’ve known: in the email he sent me asking for the date, he wrote, “If I had one wish I would ask that the everyone on the globe have access to quality education considering many of the world’s problems are due to ignorance.”

I really, really hope he gets that Mr. America sash. That’s such a good answer. 

xxo,

MM

Dear Seattle: A Love Letter from a Native Daughter

18 Apr

I’m moving (back) to Seattle at the end of May. Back to the land of clouds and lakes. Back to where we say obnoxious things like, “My hometown is better than yours” and we really, really mean it.

Seattle is so beautiful even I can't screw up the photographs.

Search google for “Seattle tumblr” and you find (page one) long lists of tumblrs that do nothing but post pictures of Seattle (really?) and (page two) you find posts about all those tumblr authors meeting up. In bars. In Seattle. To talk about how great Seattle is. And presumably to compare the silk percentages of their favorite hiking socks and stroke each other’s facial hair and create a living Escher sketch with all that plaid.

Seattle-ites who are stupid or restless or ambitious enough to move to other cities have a reputation for being obnoxiously proud. Like: I was surprised other parts of the country were allowed to have salmon and crab. I’m still unsure about ordering it in restaurants here. Here. In San Diego. We aren’t exactly landlocked. 

My ex-boyfriend thinks he really loves Seattle, having gone to University of Washington, and having expressed a desire to live there for the rest of his life. I just smiled at him pityingly. It’s really cute that he’s enlightened enough to recognize its inherent greatness, but he just does not even know.

I mean, that’s the thing: we think Seattle is great, and we’re sort of amazed the rest of the world hasn’t caught on, but we don’t really want you moving there. You’ve seen the articles, right? About how Seattle natives are friendly right up until you actually want to talk to them or do something? In a lot of ways, it’s easier to move to New York and make friends. 

I’m hoping I won’t have that same problem as a Seattle daughter who’s returning, but to be honest: I’m a little nervous. And to be honest: my pedigree isn’t as watertight as it could be…

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Dear I Love “Texts from Hillary” and You Do Too: Here’s Why

9 Apr

Dear I Love “Texts from Hillary“ and You Do Too: Here’s Why,

Because we secretly believe that every celebrity knows every other celebrity. Because when we hear that Gwyneth Paltrow is having sleepovers with Beyonce, we nod our heads. That makes sense. When completely random celebrities date each other, we’re like– Oh. That hasn’t happened yet? 

Why do Hillary fans love it? Because it unapologetically celebrates the way we see her (yes, we, have you met me?): fierce, in charge, not impressed with people who aren’t impressive, getting.things.done.

original image by Diana Walker from Time

It recasts her for people who weren’t fans– it reframes their supposed complaints that she’s “mean,” “cold,” or “unsympathetic.” Even my friend who every single time I post about her on FB comments with something about how much he dislikes her, even he posted a link to Texts from Hillary Clinton saying, “…I think these may turn me into a Hillary Clinton fan…”

He can ellipses that as if it’s accompanied by the Jaws music all he wants— I did a little dance.

This is what her campaign needed in 2008, this is what her communications director was staying awake at night trying to find: an ability to *flip* switch the nation’s view of her. The problem was, you can’t argue your way into that.

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Dear House Husband

4 Apr

Dear House Husband,

I’ve decided that what this blog needs is some witty back and forth between me and a fed-up partner who doesn’t understand me and whom i purposefully misunderstand, preferably a house-husband. Like this, which is one of the funniest things I’ve read in a long time.

Now obviously I sometimes use my sister in this role, who is a good sport about it and not only lets me say things about her on this blog, but also very helpfully points out every single typo I make on this blog. And sometimes will helpfully say things like, “It would be funnier if…”

And sometimes will even extremely helpfully say things like, “Well maybe what your blog needs is to…” which always amounts to one of two things: 1. maybe what my blog needs is to be famous. 2. maybe what my blog needs is to be entirely different / appeal to more people so that it can become famous. The thing that kills me is I agree with her, and then I hide from writing anything for several days because of the shame spiral.

I come from a very supportive family. You’d think we’re WASPS but we’re not, we’re Catholic, so.

No, really, my sister is great, and she lets me call her when I’m crying and tells me to watch terrible TV for a while, which is great advice for almost any situation, and we spent over an hour last week talking about the sex, race, and class issues in and around The Hunger Games, so obviously I need her desperately. Also: we’re practically activists.

The point is, it might be time for me to let her off the hook. And the only reasonable solution then is to make up an imaginary boyfriend for the purposes of this blog. Weird? Yes. Potentially off-putting to new suitors? Definitely. Creepy when some creeper on the internet decides to make himself in the image of said imaginary boyfriend? Yes…but also– maybe awesome when I realize I have the power to make humans redesign themselves into my idea of them. (Side benefit.)

I’ll name him Frank.

Frank, by the way, thinks this is a terrible idea, but I think he’s just nervous that I’ll tell you all about how he secretly likes Ashton Kutcher, although he’s very upset with him right now for that whole thing with Demi. I keep trying to tell him it’s ok to express his emotions but he just glares at me and turns on hockey so he can pretend he’s crying because his team is losing.

Apparently Frank is Canadian. Apparently one of the side benefits of having Frank around is that I have cable again.

This is working out even better than I thought.

xxo,

MM

Dear Crazy Writer Person

28 Mar

Dear Crazy Writer Person,

So I’ve done this thing where I’ve spent the last three years studying and writing poetry. If you’re at UPenn getting a MBA, this makes me “crazy” and also “poor.” If you’re from my West Coast liberal academic family, this makes me “in California” and a “graduate student.” If you’re Liz Lemon or Jack Donaghy, this makes me “the worst.”

I’m not a crazy artist. Hell, I’m wearing boat shoes right now, and I just got out of the shower. (What I’m not telling is that I’m wearing only the boat shoes).

This is not to say that I don’t talk to myself. I live alone. If I didn’t talk to myself, nobody would.

I just don’t fulfill all the stereotypes, or even most of them, that people have for “artists.” For example, you should have seen the look this poet gave me when I told him I listen to “top 40″ on the radio. It was a combination of “Who ARE you?” and “Back away, don’t you dare breathe Katy Perry on my shirt.” Because it’s catchy (catching?), and even he knows it. Then he sighed and I said girl look at that body. (That link leads to Barack Obama singing ‘Sexy and I Know It’. Click on it. Now.)

But neither do most artists fulfill the stereotypes. Them being stereotypes and all. Still– they exist, and what’s even better, people you wouldn’t expect hold them. Like your mom. (And I just laughed, because I said “your mom”. Oh, poets! We’re such a riot.)

Exhibit One:

My friend A, who is super responsible and reliable (except she’s decided she wants to be a writer of rewritten Greek mythologies that explore contemporary women’s struggles (I know, what a flake, right??)), ran into this at Thanksgiving. She’d called her parents and left a message telling them when to expect her for the holiday. They never received the voicemail. Instead of calling to ask her when she was coming home, her mom told a friend, “Oh, you know that A! She’s my bohemian daughter! Who knows when she’ll show up! Today, tomorrow, an hour before dinner…I just don’t even try to keep track anymore.” That’s basically what people say about drug addicts.

Exhibit Two:

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