So, Let’s Hang Out? Considering “The End of Courtship”

“Ok. Let’s do this! Let’s hang out!”

I confess, I was caught completely off-guard. It wasn’t exactly the declaration of affection or attraction or, hell, even interest that I had hoped for from a guy I considered “most likely to be cast as leading man in the movie that is my life.”

"Let's do this!" was more game-time cheer than romance. I wanted romance.
“Let’s do this!” was more game-time cheer than romance. I wanted romance.

“Let’s do this!” was less romance and more pre-game pep-rally.

Were we going to jump off a cliff together? Maybe metaphorically. But if his “I want to hang out with you” was the 21st century equivalent of Mr. Darcy’s “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,” then we were certainly in for a bumpy ride.

But such are the times we live in….

In all likelihood, you or someone you know shared that NYTimes Sunday Styles piece about dating in the age of texting and social media. About how traditional courtship has been replaced with the flippant one-offs of the hook-up generation.

For the most part, I thought the essay was a gross generalization that painted a bleak picture favoring an ever-increasing divorce rate.

But Alex Williams was on to something — “hanging out” has exited the realm of friendship and infiltrated the realm of courtship, leaving singles (particularly, single women) hoping to make the jump from “gone fishing!” to “got him!” in a perpetual state of confusion.

“Let’s hang out.”

When I was a college student with more male than female friends, this was something I heard fairly often. In those days, it’s meaning was crystal clear: we’re going to keep it casual, keep it low-key, throw on a movie or pull out a deck of cards, open a bottle, maybe some people will join us, and by the way, we’re going to keep it platonic.

Oh! How fast things change!

Imagine my surprise when, a half decade later, a “let’s hang out” has translated into everything from “I’d like to take you to dinner” to “let’s hook-up” to “I’d like this to be serious.”

“Hanging out” as a colloquialism is the new “hooking up” — an appropriately non-committal term that keeps your options open and your morning-after stories vague.

Saying "let's hang out" is like putting on a suit of armor to protect yourself from harm
Saying “let’s hang out” is like putting on a suit of armor to protect yourself from harm

It’s a sort of self-protective statement, one that doesn’t put your heart on the line while still implying an interest in spending time with the other person. A sort of “let’s see if we click as friends” is partially implied — and isn’t the fundamental base of a successful relationship a strong friendship? Isn’t it a good idea to see if you can be friends as well as lovers?

What’s the problem?

More of my 20-something friends are married or in domestic partnerships or engaged than are single. Is Williams’ point, that this behavior might be fostering the kind commitment-phobia that makes it more difficult for people to really develop worthwhile relationships, accurate?

Maybe it is and I just cultivate romantically stable people? (unlikely…. you’ve never met some of the guys I dated…)

Let’s be honest, if you’re an urban singleton, getting a foothold in the industry of your choosing, filling-up your time with friends and social groups, drinking up all your environment has to offer, the notion of keeping it casual when it comes to dating is your best laid plan (pun intended.)

Here’s the problem — it’s the phrase itself.

Instead of "hanging out" consult the thesaurus. Let's phase out that phrase
Instead of “hanging out” consult the thesaurus. Let’s phase out that phrase

“Hang out.” It’s still flippant, casual, an afterthought. If  saying “I want to see you” carries implications of  serious commitment and so you shy away, say you want to “get together” or say you want to do something specific.

We don’t need the guy that says “I want to spend every waking minute with you” (though, when faced with a choice between him and Mr. Let’s Hang Out, Mr. Let’s Hang Out is shown wanting). But it’s nice to feel like we’re more than an addition to a plan.

“Hanging out” leaves lots of things hanging in the air. And frankly, hanging out gets old quick. Before you know it, she/he will be hanging up the towel on this casual courtship and moving on.

 

 

 

 

Hello, 2013. I think we’re going to get along famously: Considering Resolutions

The beautiful Waterford Crystal Ball atop Time Square touched down at midnight, marking the first day of 2013 for those partying in EST. Glass slippers were left on staircases up and down the eastern seaboard. At 12:02AM, ABC cut to commercial and America watched 2 ads for Weight Watcher’s new 360 plan. The second, which featured Jessica Simpson made me reach for another cupcake.

the weight watchers commercial made me reach for another cupcake.... happy new year!
the weight watchers commercial made me reach for another cupcake…. happy new year!

Soon there after, they cued the roll for eHarmony.

So, America, what are your top 2 New Year’s resolutions?

I’ve written about this before — how for the most part, I’ve given up on writing conventional, and arguably sensible New Year’s resolutions. No more “lose 10 pounds” or “find love.” Both of those have gone nowhere in the past (though, in 2012 I did drop a dress size… booya!…. and then, there were those roses….). Instead, I opted for mantras or theme-songs for the year.

My 2011 theme song was “Jump!” by Madonna. My theme poem was “Invictus.” My mantra was “make it work!” I should note, I was unemployed in January 2011.

2012 flew in and before I knew it, it was July. It seems I had forgotten to select a theme song or mantra, but I suppose Keep Calm and Carry On might have been a late-in-the-season pick up.

For 2013? I’ve had some thoughts…

Bubbly is lovely
Bubbly is lovely

Along with several bottle of Veuve Cliquot and Pommery sitting next to my recycle bin, there’s a stack of cheese paper and half torn labels that hint at triple-creme cheeses to suggest that I gave 2012 a graceful, indulgent and highly appropriate send off.

Apparently, the dieing words of John Maynard Keynes were: “I only wish I had drunk more champagne.”

Every New Year’s Eve I am reminded why he was so regretful. Bubbly is lovely.

2013 New Year’s resolution 1: Drink More Champagne.

In the past, I’ve secretly resolved to read more. This has typically started off well in that I used my lunch hour to browse the shelves at bookstores and came home with a stack of classics along with a few recent “notable” publications. 2012 was my most successful year. I read a whole 2 books.

The men in my life keep giving me massive books as gifts. In 2013, I resolve to read them.
The men in my life keep giving me massive books as gifts. In 2013, I resolve to read them.

For 2013, I joined a book club that will meet monthly around potluck wine & cheese parties. This is great because not only does it help me achieve New Year’s resolution 2 (read more books) it also helps me achieve resolutions 3 & 4 (join more clubs and drink more wine, respectively).

I’ve also resolved to do more yoga. The challenge with this one is not in finding the time, but making sure that it doesn’t run into conflicts with resolutions 1 and 4.

Next step: google yoga studios with open bar…..

Can we make that "Forever 27.5" cuz that sounds like me right now
Can we make that “Forever 27.5” cuz that sounds like me right now

Here’s a drink to you, 2012

As 2012 draws to a close, I confess, I’m a little sad. It was a good year. Nay, a great year. The kind of year you look back on and think: “Gee, I hope I have another 2012.”

I got my moment to shine, curating my first NYTimes reviewed exhibit
I got my moment to shine, curating my first NYTimes reviewed exhibit

2012 got off to a rickety start. I was frustrated at work and play. I was suffering from typical mid-winter doldrums, the kind that come with a restlessness that makes you start looking at new job postings or considering applying to culinary school. On January 2nd, I had lunch with a guy I had met online and thought would turn into Mr. Right. He didn’t call me back. Humpf. I was uninspired as January began to click down.

By March, I was singing a different tune. Life was off and running. After a few small-scale successes, I was curating my first marquee exhibition for my organization. I’d see a raise, a promotion, and  a full-page spread in the New York times. There would be failed but funny first dates. The guy that didn’t call me back became a trusted friend.

Old friends made their mark as we planned new adventures. Reunions happened on a grand scale. Close friends got engaged or said their “I-dos” with joy and really delicious wedding cake. Love blossomed under a moonlit canopy and carried through the summer into late autumn, when the changing weather brought with it new prespectives. We closed one chapter and began to write another.

Guadi stole our hearts in Spain
Guadi stole our hearts in Spain

My mother and I packed our suitcases and gallivanted across Europe, embarking on the kind of ramble through five countries that can only be summed up as a trip of lifetime.

A hurricane hit. We were left relatively unscathed, but others were less lucky.

Yes, as it turns out, 2012 was one exciting, raucous ramble from beginning to end. There were some rough patches, some catastrophes, some heartbreak, some unpleasantness that will leave their scars, but all in all, 2012 was a year of highlights for me. I’m lucky, and grateful to be so.

My wish for you, and perhaps my hope for me too, is that 2013 is the kind of year where we’ll all look back and say: “Gee, I hope I have another 2013.”

 

 

We All Need a Little Christmas

“Wishing people a Merry Christmas feel wrong right now,” my mother said as she put her stack of to-be-written Christmas cards aside and moved on to the monotony of ironing my father’s shirts. “It doesn’t seem like there’s much to be merry about.”

The Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting has punched the nation in the gut, taking the air out of our collective lungs and with it, the joy out of the season. Elementary schools are more than institutions of learning. They are supposed to be community builders and safe havens for our children. Something sacred has been desecrated.

“We’re being extra sensitive. People don’t feel like celebrating. People just need Christmas to be over with,” the publisher of a news paper observed in a phone conference with me and my boss.

Indeed, our hearts are all heavy. Making merry seems out of place.

People just need Christmas to be over with.

The 2012 Rockefeller Christmas tree makes me feel like a happy 5 year old.
The 2012 Rockefeller Christmas tree turns us all into children, full of wonder

As I walked up Manhattan’s 5th Avenue from Bryant Park Friday night, watching families walk hand-in-hand to take in the Saks windows and Rockefeller tree or make their way to the Bryant Park skating rink, I was struck with a realization — we don’t need Christmas to be over with.

What we need is a little Christmas.

Christmas is about family. Christmas is about togetherness. Christmas is about healing. Christmas is about transcendence.

Think about it: here we are in the middle of winter, the trees are bare, the thermometer low, and yet the world is lit-up with beams of multicolor lights. Christmas is something we can rely on — it comes back, year after year, no matter what the circumstances. It’s a time to remember and to be thankful, and this year we must all be thankful for each other, for having a Christmas to share.

26 families in Newtown, CT are having a hard time in finding joy in the season, of this there is no doubt. For those of us that are lucky to be with friends and family, this is the year to hold everyone we care about a little closer and acknowledge how precious these moments of togetherness are.

Life is short.

Embrace the season.

Let yourself be joyful.

Get caught under the mistletoe.

Drink that extra cup of cocoa.

Hug your child/parent/spouse an extra time.

Leave cookies & milk out for Santa.

Look in wonder at your bedazzled Christmas tree.

Be a kid at heart.

And at the end of the night, say an extra set of prayers — one for the families in Newtown, whose Christmases will never be the same, and one to say Thank You for the Christmas you have today.

christmas time 2009 002

Just Call Me “Duckie”

Keep Calm & Carry On.
Keep Calm & Carry On.

My parents are children of the Common Wealth — this means, Keep Calm and Carry On is something of a family motto. Indeed, as I grew out of a student into the professional world, I’ve become characterized by a cool-under-pressure, feathers-never-get-ruffled demeanor.

“The whole building could be burning down and you’d just be chugging along, with a smile on your face, telling everyone everything is going to be fine,” a friend said to after he witnessed the crises of miss-printed labels, wine shortages, hidden-ladders-becoming-unhidden, and the myriad of other assorted exhibition opening night calamities that I quietly wade through.

I think I was flattered at the time, but then I realized, sometimes being known as the girl who keeps calm and carries on can get you into trouble.

When the metaphorical building is burning, you’re always the first sent into battle the blaze.

Alternatively, when all of a sudden you don’t look so calm, the people around you start to panic.

koln 2010 079
Sisyphus and his uphill battle, but one must imagine him happy… he owns that rock.

I confess — as far as my life is concerned, things have gotten crazy busy. Working weekends, travel, exhibition installations, committee meetings, public lectures,  holiday craft markets, exhibition openings, de-installations — all things that need organizing and completing. Indeed, the stretch between now and the end of January is the relentless, burdensome push of a boulder uphill.

Just call me Sisyphus.

Il faut imaginer Sisyphe heureux.

 One must imagine Sisyphus happy.

About two weeks ago, somewhere in the early stages of my stretch of craziness, I walked into work on Monday morning carrying a bouquet of my favorite flowers. My eyes were puffy with fatigue and my skin chalk white and my boss immediately commented on my pallid complexion.

“Why are you so white?”

“Am I? Oh. Well, that’s what I look like without makeup.”

Then she saw the flowers.

“Who are those from!”

“From me! I thought it was a good week to have some flowers at my desk. The Italian exhibition. Gala. Ya know. Lots going on!”

“I was hoping they were from the boy. How is he?”

“We broke up on Saturday.”

“Oh! Really! Why?”

“We’re still friends.”

A few hours later, she called me into her office.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m great!”

Just Call Me Duckie
Just Call Me Duckie

I think I probably started to well up at that moment. It wasn’t that I was upset about the break-up, quite the contrary — there’s no way anyone witnessing the evening would have believed the two people sitting across the table from each other were ending a romantic affair, it was that congenial. No, the tears started to build because, frankly, I felt overwhelmed. And the last thing I needed was to be asked if I was okay. I just needed things to get done.

When I was in high school, my English teacher assigned the class a “quote” personal essay. We had to find a quote that described us and write a personal essay illustrating how. I chose something uttered by the great actor Michael Caine:

“Be like a duck. Calm on the surface, but paddling like the dickens underneath.”

I walked out of my boss’ office feeling very much like a duck.

“I’m going to get those exhibiting artist emails off now,” I said and walked back to my desk, feet paddling like the dickens to stay afloat.

Thanks America! Big Bird & I Get to Keep Our Jobs

When Obama won the Presidency in 2008 I was a graduate student living in Harlem. The streets erupted with joy.

A new age had been ushered in.

I wandered out of my shoebox of a studio and walked through the streets, reveling in our victory for America. Eventually, I ended up at the apartment of a younger guy friend who liked to have me help him with his term papers. We got high.

In the morning, I woke up with a headache and the promise of the possible.

When you work in an industry like “the arts,” you learn to navigate a complex funding system that includes everything from federal grants from the National Endowment for the Arts to county-supported grants to corporate grants.

It’s a system of non-profits supporting non-profits where at the end of the day, government endorsement is key to keeping the support system in place.

Big Bird and I were getting ready to find our street corners.

When Governor Romney said he wanted to cut the federal funding that would go to supporting things like PBS, the repercussions of that went well-beyond the assassination of Big Bird.

I live in a region of New York state represented at the State and National levels by Democratic candidates. But, my county is run by a traditionally Republican Republican executor. A Republican executor who plans to eliminate a quarter-million in funding to the organization I work for.

And so, every year between September and March, my organization has to go to war.

State budget hearings in Albany.

County budget hearings.

We call in the troops and head out, en mass to tell the local government that the arts matter. Our ability to stay open and in turn, support hundreds of cultural organizations in communities throughout the region depends on the benevolence and good-judgement of legislators who realize “place-making” is about more than building highrises.

Blouin ARTINFO ran a summary of the Arts Action Fund’s analysis of  how the 2 candidates fared when it came to the arts. The punchline — a Romney presidency could easily have undone what Presidents since JFK have maintained as a cornerstone of American cultural stewardship.

The NEA, the IMLS, PBS, Title I… all of these faced uncertain futures. All of these provide my organization, and thousands of others with the funding support that allows them to keep arts professionals employed and the community engaged.

To be very blunt, my job and my co-workers’ jobs depend on having Democrats in public office.

How sad is that?

So today, the day after election day, all I can say is: Thank you, America! Big Bird and I get to keep our jobs, and you get to keep Downton Abbey.

Thank you America!
Love,
Me & Big BIrd