Not-So-Sweetest Day

Ben:

Just say no!

…to Sweetest Day.

Oh, no. A male is lobbying against Sweetest Day? He’s no romantic!

Well, before some of you readers go grabbing the torches and pitchforks and offering Kleenex boxes to Esther, allow me to explain.

If you’re in a healthy relationship, then you’ve most likely put forth time, thought, and effort to get there. We don’t (or rather should not) let perfect strangers into the most intimate areas of our lives, so naturally you get to know someone and let them get to know you in order to have a close, personal relationship with them.

How do we typically do this? First, we learn about each other. We ask questions and share meaningful details about ourselves in return. In short, we engage in honest and heartfelt conversations with one another.

The problem with words is that, even if we’re completely honest with one another, they typically don’t carry the same meaning for all of us.

For Example:

She says: “I dabble in literature and fine arts.”

The reality: She runs a rare books store, and spends every weekend in art exhibits and every evening in book clubs, writing groups, and crafting circles.

He says: “I like to watch football when I get a chance.”

The reality: He has every cable sports package known to man. He has season tickets to every local professional, college, and high school team within a 100-mile radius. He experiences clinical depression during the off-season.

 It's one thing to make all sorts of claims about oneself or to hear someone make theirs, but until you see one another in action, the words are just that: only words. Our words reflect how we perceive the world, therefore inherently have a lack of objectivity.

This leads me to another element of the familiarization process: doing. We have to witness how one another lives in and interacts with their world, because this speaks volumes about values, character, and temperament. This is where you see one another in action and measure their words against their actions. If words and actions don’t mesh, it doesn’t mean they’re a liar necessarily, it might just mean you two see the world differently. However, doing things together is an excellent crucible in which to test your newfound relationship and whether you are truly fit to be a couple.

The final element to all this and the common denominator of both words and actions is time. You’ve got to spend time getting to know each another. Time bears most things out and will help you both discover if you are, in fact, compatible and capable of existing in harmony.

Okay, now, what has all that stuff got to do with Sweetest Day?

Once you’re in a long-term relationship, spending time, having conversations, and doing things together has got to continue. Unfortunately, some people operate under the notion that once you’re together you can coast. Doing those things is strictly reserved for people in the dating stage. Still others just get plain lazy and don’t feel like putting in the effort once they’ve “won” the person they were “gunning” for. Sadly, this neglects the other person’s needs for those things and the relationship languishes.

That’s where these silly holidays come into play.

Instead of consistently meeting the needs of their partners, these lazy relationshippers opt, instead, to spring for tokens of affection on romantic holidays. They believe that a prettily wrapped cardboard box filled to the brim with sugar, chocolate, and nuts will be able to take the place of these crucial relationship elements. Instead of routinely nurturing their relationship with time, acts, and words, they try for these grand (or even not-so-grand) romantic gestures, expecting it to make up for the negligence of the other 364 days.

A neglectful partner buying token gifts on romantic holidays for their lonely partners is akin to the early European settlers giving the Native Americans shiny beads in exchange for acres of land and natural resources.

In short, if you settle for a box of chocolates instead of being treated well on a regular basis in a relationship, you’re being ripped off.

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Esther:

When Ben and I were getting to know each other, he made the unfortunate mistake of saying he was a romantic.  I say "unfortunate" because the very word romantic launched me into a diatribe about what's wrong with the notion of romance.  For those of you who know anything about Myers Briggs personality typing, I'm an ENFP, and the reputation we ENFP females have is that we are paradoxically quite romantic and yet stubbornly unimpressed by displays of "romance."

I'll explain.

Imagine (A) your typical Casanova, who has perfected the art of romance.  His well-oiled voice and hair have seduced many a woman, and he always has roses and chocolates on hand.  He can recite pretty phrases at a moment's notice, and never lets a holiday pass without a flourish of gifts and songs scientifically designed to reduce his lover to putty.

I have actually heard - and observed - that some women respond favorably to this sort of cookie-cutter treatment, and it baffles me.  Would you want to be no more than the current stand-in for this narcissist's imaginary lover, knowing that when he moves on or cheats on you, he will give identical flatteries to the next woman, and the next?

Now, for contrast, imagine (B) your typical mouth-breathing American male (I said typical *mouth-breathing*, because I don't think all males are this way).  While it's true he's more honest, he also completely misses the spirit of romance, to the point that, when he manfully tries to execute romantic occasions, well - bless his heart - it's almost painful to watch:

Him (checking his watch with a sigh): "You almost ready? The dinner reservations are for 7:00. How long does it take to fix yer hair, anyway?"

Her (emerging from the bathroom, wearing a new dress): "I'm ready now. How do I look?"

Him (grunting): "Fine. Oh, and here's a card and some flowers. Now c'mon, let's go."

Having only come into contact with Column A and Column B type men, I'd decided the mouth-breathers were disappointing but at least more authentic than the Casanovas.  Therefore, despite my need for romance, I'd determined to ignore my occasional pining, and beg whatever man I ended up with to just please, for God's sake, ignore all romantic occasions (because he was going to botch them anyway).

Thankfully, I am wrong once in awhile, and have discovered there is at least one more Column.  A man in Column C is not boxed in by romantic occasions, and will treat his woman so well on any given Thursday that she does not starve until the next Valentine's or anniversary bone is thrown her way.  He'll take time for a simple walk with her some evening, and during that walk he'll remember something funny from the early days of their relationship, and he'll tell her how his life feels now that she's in it.

The Column C kind of guy will notice his girl having trouble with something, and he'll quietly find a solution for it, not for her praise, but just for the pleasure of making her life better.  He'll stop everything when he catches her looking just so, and he'll tell her she's beautiful.  He'll listen when she talks, and love the things that make her who she is, despite the down sides of some of her traits.

This is real romance, in my opinion.  It's an attitude, not a special occasion; a journey, not a destination.

On the off chance that a mouth-breather has somehow read this blog post, however, and you now feel less than adequate because you don't know how to be a Natural Romantic, it's okay.  Go buy some chocolates.  Today is your day.

Beware of Momzillas! (And why you don't want to be one!)

Ben:

We have teenagers. This means dates, dances, roller coaster rides of emotions, etc. We have solid relationships with them and are able to communicate back and forth about their personal lives. This puts us in a good position to advise, but to do so at a comfortable distance.

So, being a new inductee as a parent to teenagers in the dating world, I learned of a rather peculiar phenomenon – Momzillas.

I believe parents should keep a comfortable distance from their kids’ dating lives. (It feels strange to say “dating,” considering they’re still kids, but I digress…)

What do I mean by “comfortable distance”?

I’m not suggesting parents leave their credit cards on the table, vacate the house, and tell the young couples to have at it. However, I do think that parental involvement needs to end at the front door. The politics of school romances need to play themselves out. School is not only where kids get their scholastic educations, it’s also where they get their social training. Young couples get together and break up. There’s unrequited love, unfaithful boy- and girlfriends, grand, stupid gestures, and horrible poetry – and it all unfolds in the little social Petri dishes known as middle and high schools. The point is, they work it out amongst themselves (or at least they should).

It’s maddening as a parent to hear the litany of social developments in a given school day:

“Greg said that Marsha saw Bobby holding hands with Erica after she just got done passing a note to Lisa to pass to Suzie to pass to Brad that said, 'BFF’s Forever? Circle Yes or No!'”

What’s even harder is when your kid is the one being rejected or treated poorly.  It’s so difficult to not get caught up in all the drama and to not step in and deal with things personally. I mean after all, it’s been your job to look after them so far; doesn't that include intervening in their love lives?

Absolutely. Not.

This is where Momzillas come in. I’ve witnessed (first- or second-hand, I won’t say), control-obsessed parents who cross healthy boundaries for the express purpose of meddling in their teenagers’ romantic affairs. I don’t mean buying Haagen-Dazs ice cream, renting chick flicks, and having a swearing-off-boys evening after a tough breakup. The Momzillas I refer to assert themselves into children’s domains, applying adult-level pressure to young people situations. For example, I’ve heard of grown women pressuring teenage boys to date their daughters, or those same grown women contacting a girl that rejected their son to ask why. I’m sure it’s a common occurrence, but to me that makes it no less creepy. In addition, it adds a whole new level of completely unnecessary drama. School relationships are complicated as it is without some forty-something adult getting in the middle of it.

Why these people do this, I’m not sure. I suspect there is any number of reasons they behave the way they do, but I’m certain they’re unhealthy. You don’t give your kids the chance to find their own way if you’re involved in every aspect and nuance of their lives. They’ll be ill-equipped when they are facing things on their own for the first time. There’s a season for control and a season to let go, and this period falls in between.

Let me be clear: I’m not suggesting a total hands-off approach – just the opposite. It's imperative you stay involved in your kids’ lives. Be at the ready with advice, consoling, and guidance. Be the safety net for them when things go awry (And yes, it's school. Things always go awry). Set good, healthy rules and boundaries, and maintain solid relationships with them. Set the example for how they should expect their prospective mates to treat them. Also, be ready to step in when things get out of control – just be sure to handle it on the adult level when you do. It’s much more appropriate to address parents when resolving romantic conflicts than to address their kids.

So, in short, don’t be a Mom- (or Dad-) zilla.

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Esther:

Now, there are some issues I struggle with, and some I don't.  Let me tell you why becoming a mom-zilla is NOT a tendency I have to fight against.


1.  It sends the message that my kid isn't much of a catch.

"I can't believe that boy you've had a crush on broke your heart by asking out another girl!  What a jerk!  Well, I bet if you wear this and we do your hair tomorrow, he'll notice you then..."

If I were to treat my daughter like this, I think I'd be saying that (A) she'll never find someone who's wild about her, so she should settle for someone who isn't into her, and (B) he's somehow a jerk for just not requiting her feelings, but he's also someone we're still wasting time on, so she should totally keep chasing after jerks.  Oh, and also (C) she's a failure if she can't manipulate someone into liking her back.


2. Trying to make a teenager date my teenager is as creepy as shoving a toddler who takes my toddler's toy.

Seriously not cool.  If a kid disappoints my kid, my job is to focus on my own kid - comfort him, encourage him, and teach him coping skills for the next time someone disappoints him.  If the other kid actually *harms* my kid (as opposed to breaking my kid's heart, which, while it feels like harm, is a good learning experience), then I'm gonna take it up with that kid's parent.  But if a girl breaks my son's heart and then I confront her about it, I'm ignoring one of two important truths: I am not that kid's parent, and I am not that kid's equal.  Ignoring the former is crossing a boundary; ignoring the latter is deciding to be a bully.


3. Mixing my personal feelings that much into a teenage romance might be a red flag that I need to see a therapist.

Because, you know, I'm a grown woman, and not a teenage girl whose world will come unhinged if a teenage boy chooses someone besides me -- I mean, my daughter.

I don't expect that those first romantic interests out of the gate will end up being my children's soul mates.  Instead, I expect is that my kids will learn, as they begin dating, what sorts of people they're attracted to; which personalities work with theirs, and which don't; how they should treat someone in a relationship, and how they should expect to be treated.  I expect that I'll get the chance to guide them through the giddiness and heartache, to teach them about pacing and picking up cues, and to encourage them to find out who they are and then be patient until they find someone who fits uniquely with them.  If I conduct myself appropriately during my kids' dating adventures, I'll be a valuable resource they'll keep close even during their angst; and, at the other end of it, my kids will have a better-than-average chance at romantic happiness that lasts.

Oh!  I've just realized we've spent this post on why one doesn't want to be a Momzilla, and not necessarily how to beware of a Momzilla.  I'll keep it brief: DO NOT ENGAGE.  Do not take the bait when they act all crazy and dramatic.  Stay sane, clutch your children close, and avoid eye contact.  Eventually, they will be drawn away by the next thing that moves.

Ben would like to add here, "They'll go after the next person they imagine hurts their kid, which is pretty much everybody."  But I'm not including that because this isn't his part of the post.