News
Opinion
ENLARGE
One of the things you can always count on when it comes to TV sitcoms is a character who will — in so many words — bemoan the so-called “dating scene” and how demeaning, demoralizing and utterly deadly it is.
Hogwash.
Dating was, well, FUN for me. I didn’t do much of it during college — I was the stereotypical geek who never got asked out in my much younger years — but in my late 20s I somehow got over myself and realized, “Hey, why wait for the guy to ask me out?”
I mentioned this to a younger, 20-something friend of mine recently — whom I’ll call Tamara — and she was absolutely appalled at the idea. The girl actually let out an ear-splitting shriek when I suggested that she do the same with a cute young family friend she’d had her eye on for a while. I knew that Grand Junction tends to lean more on the conservative side socially, but surely a whole new generation has matured that thinks that dating needn’t be so angst-ridden, with the entire responsibility for that angst resting solely on the shoulders of its impressionable young men?
Based on what my single girlfriends tell me, I gather that it’s hard enough as it is to find a decent date here in the Valley without having to spend half your time waiting for the phone to ring. They see mostly retirees, young married couples and families moving into town, not hot, single professionals with good incomes and interesting personalities. The few single men who do make it here often work in the oilfields for weeks at a time and have precious few hours to socialize. Native sons — and daughters — are often the first to leave to seek better job opportunities elsewhere.
So you’ll forgive me if I think that Tamara’s reluctance to ask her crush out for a cup of coffee is a little, well, silly. She’s afraid that he’ll think less of her for being the one to take the initiative, that he’ll lose respect for her as a person and as a woman, or worse: that he’ll say no, and she’ll be doomed to suffer the consequences of that rejection for the rest of her life.
All this because she wants to drink a cup of coffee and maybe enjoy his company for an hour or two.
When I was in my 20s, my friends and I saw dating as a benefit of being young and unencumbered with marriage, mortgages, children, college savings, retirement plans and general responsibilities. Our careers were just beginning to bloom, and we finally had our own apartments. We had some extra money, could legally drink and had enough life experiences to make us believe that we were fairly interesting people. We watched “Friends” and believed that we too could live that kind of carefree life, where we were had plenty of time to pursue our dreams of love, friendship and careers.
Of course, it was never that simple, but I’m bemused by Tamara’s belief that the pursuit of romantic happiness belongs solely to the man, and that the woman’s job is simply to stand by and wait for him to come along and (hopefully) notice her. Meanwhile, she’s still keeping one ear cocked, hoping that the phone will ring.
The thing is, the best part about dating for me was that, as a writer, I found myself with a bottomless source of stories and anecdotes that I hope to weave someday into books and articles (like this one). There was the bizarre first date with an overly chatty, twitchy guy freshly sprung from an AA meeting. There was the online correspondent from Yahoo! Personals who conducted an entire relationship with me — from the short introductory e-mail to the “break-up” e-mail three days later — without my ever writing a single message to him. And then there was the guy I dated for a short while who suddenly disappeared for a few weeks, only to re-emerge on my birthday to tell me that he couldn’t go out with me anymore because I reminded him of his mother.
I’m hoping to persuade Tamara — a budding writer herself — that there really are some good things about dating that she’s missing by remaining on the sidelines. After all, the best love stories, the ones we tell our girlfriends and guy friends for years to come, aren’t about the happy-ever-after. They’re about the horrible dates, the miserable rejections and lousy boyfriends of our past. People love to hear about others’ misery, especially since not a single soul is alive who can’t relate to a story of unrequited love. From such dreadful experiences arise the greatest love stories. Just ask Shakespeare any of the Bronte sisters.
Writers thrive on tragedies and misfortunes, whether theirs or that of others. It’s our sweet consolation for being such dreamy geeks in our youth. So yes, dating can and should be fun for us, especially when we can turn disasters into funny anecdotes to entertain readers and friends for years and years to come.
Happy Valentine’s Day, folks!
Marjorie R. Asturias is a freelance writer and weekly FP columnist living in Grand Junction. Reach her at marjorie.asturias@gmail.com.
Hogwash.
Dating was, well, FUN for me. I didn’t do much of it during college — I was the stereotypical geek who never got asked out in my much younger years — but in my late 20s I somehow got over myself and realized, “Hey, why wait for the guy to ask me out?”
I mentioned this to a younger, 20-something friend of mine recently — whom I’ll call Tamara — and she was absolutely appalled at the idea. The girl actually let out an ear-splitting shriek when I suggested that she do the same with a cute young family friend she’d had her eye on for a while. I knew that Grand Junction tends to lean more on the conservative side socially, but surely a whole new generation has matured that thinks that dating needn’t be so angst-ridden, with the entire responsibility for that angst resting solely on the shoulders of its impressionable young men?
Based on what my single girlfriends tell me, I gather that it’s hard enough as it is to find a decent date here in the Valley without having to spend half your time waiting for the phone to ring. They see mostly retirees, young married couples and families moving into town, not hot, single professionals with good incomes and interesting personalities. The few single men who do make it here often work in the oilfields for weeks at a time and have precious few hours to socialize. Native sons — and daughters — are often the first to leave to seek better job opportunities elsewhere.
So you’ll forgive me if I think that Tamara’s reluctance to ask her crush out for a cup of coffee is a little, well, silly. She’s afraid that he’ll think less of her for being the one to take the initiative, that he’ll lose respect for her as a person and as a woman, or worse: that he’ll say no, and she’ll be doomed to suffer the consequences of that rejection for the rest of her life.
All this because she wants to drink a cup of coffee and maybe enjoy his company for an hour or two.
When I was in my 20s, my friends and I saw dating as a benefit of being young and unencumbered with marriage, mortgages, children, college savings, retirement plans and general responsibilities. Our careers were just beginning to bloom, and we finally had our own apartments. We had some extra money, could legally drink and had enough life experiences to make us believe that we were fairly interesting people. We watched “Friends” and believed that we too could live that kind of carefree life, where we were had plenty of time to pursue our dreams of love, friendship and careers.
Of course, it was never that simple, but I’m bemused by Tamara’s belief that the pursuit of romantic happiness belongs solely to the man, and that the woman’s job is simply to stand by and wait for him to come along and (hopefully) notice her. Meanwhile, she’s still keeping one ear cocked, hoping that the phone will ring.
The thing is, the best part about dating for me was that, as a writer, I found myself with a bottomless source of stories and anecdotes that I hope to weave someday into books and articles (like this one). There was the bizarre first date with an overly chatty, twitchy guy freshly sprung from an AA meeting. There was the online correspondent from Yahoo! Personals who conducted an entire relationship with me — from the short introductory e-mail to the “break-up” e-mail three days later — without my ever writing a single message to him. And then there was the guy I dated for a short while who suddenly disappeared for a few weeks, only to re-emerge on my birthday to tell me that he couldn’t go out with me anymore because I reminded him of his mother.
I’m hoping to persuade Tamara — a budding writer herself — that there really are some good things about dating that she’s missing by remaining on the sidelines. After all, the best love stories, the ones we tell our girlfriends and guy friends for years to come, aren’t about the happy-ever-after. They’re about the horrible dates, the miserable rejections and lousy boyfriends of our past. People love to hear about others’ misery, especially since not a single soul is alive who can’t relate to a story of unrequited love. From such dreadful experiences arise the greatest love stories. Just ask Shakespeare any of the Bronte sisters.
Writers thrive on tragedies and misfortunes, whether theirs or that of others. It’s our sweet consolation for being such dreamy geeks in our youth. So yes, dating can and should be fun for us, especially when we can turn disasters into funny anecdotes to entertain readers and friends for years and years to come.
Happy Valentine’s Day, folks!
Marjorie R. Asturias is a freelance writer and weekly FP columnist living in Grand Junction. Reach her at marjorie.asturias@gmail.com.
