[thesil_related_posts_sc]Related Posts[/thesil_related_posts_sc]
[feather_share show="twitter, google_plus, facebook, reddit, tumblr" hide="pinterest, linkedin, mail"]
After weeks of ogling from afar, everything seemed like it went well when you finally met in person. You dressed to the nines. You felt like you made a connection. You radiated confidence, proved you were educated on all the relevant topics and you laughed at all the right moments. But they still haven’t called you back. You wait a day, then two, then a week. Still nothing. You start to wonder if maybe you didn’t come off as great as you thought you did.
Even worse, maybe they’ve found someone else. You think about nudging them with something along the lines of “I was wondering if you thought any more about last Saturday,” but eventually decide against it. You don’t want to look too desperate. And when they finally do reply, it’s with the words you’ve always been dreading. So you pull out that pint of ice cream and bawl in front of last week’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy, trying hard not to question your self-worth. You just weren’t good enough for them. You didn’t get the job.
I’ve played out this scene so many times that, if I lived in the Harry Potter universe, it would be probably be my Boggart. In fact, I used to be so terrified of rejection that for the majority of my first year at McMaster, I kept my head low, and I refused to apply for anything and everything. Consequently, while my friends volunteered in Peru or earned money from either part-time jobs or their co-op term, I spent much of my summer in a slump. Only one good thing came out of it, and it wasn’t the abysmal grade I received from sacrificing my June and July to the godless art of physics: it was my determination to make the following summer fruitful.
Somewhere along the way, I realized that you simply cannot escape some kind of application for most of the things you encounter over the span of your university career. If you need a summer job, you have to apply. If you want to become a Welcome Week rep or a CA in residence, you have to apply. If you’re looking for a research position in a professor’s lab, you have to apply. Whether it’s a co-op job, an internship or even a higher-level entry program, your fate is inevitable. One way or another, you’ll have to apply.
Taking the initiative to apply for new opportunities can be daunting. For someone who lacks confidence or struggles with social anxiety, the mere thought can be incredibly off-putting, if not insurmountable. After all, what’s the point of going to the trouble of applying for something, if you aren’t likely to get the position anyway? Why waste your efforts, when they can probably be better spent elsewhere? Why set yourself up for what can only be imminent disappointment?
I’ve been ignored a handful of times, and I’ve been rejected far more than I care to admit. I’ve had interviews where I tripped on my words, only for them to untangle once I left the room with my reputation unsalvageable. I once had an interviewer laugh at me because I was so unprepared, and there have been times where I didn’t end up with the position even when I felt that my interview had gone better than I could have ever hoped for.
I can say with the utmost certainty that I detest applications with the passion of a thousand fiery suns, and yet I still continue to put myself through it at the expense of my own comfort. While that might just mean I have masochistic tendencies, the more I face my old fear of rejection, the more it becomes clear to me that getting rejected isn’t my Boggart at all: my Boggart is never knowing whether I would or wouldn’t be rejected because I couldn’t find it in myself to try.
The worst thing we can do to ourselves is to let our own self-doubts dictate what we believe we’re capable of. Just because you might not get a job doesn’t mean you won’t ever get a job, and just because you weren’t considered good enough for one position doesn’t mean you aren’t good enough, period. You are. If there’s something you’re interested in, you have to try. Maybe you’ll surprise yourself, and if you don’t, something else will come along. Whether it’s in the context of other people or your career, while rejection is an inevitable part of life that everyone has to deal with at one point or another, it’s not the end of the world. Armageddon is. And when it arrives, I know I’d like to have something to show for it.
Photo Credit: Flazingo
[thesil_related_posts_sc]Related Posts[/thesil_related_posts_sc]
[feather_share show="twitter, google_plus, facebook, reddit, tumblr" hide="pinterest, linkedin, mail"]
By: Sasha Dhesi
“Arranged marriage.” The phrase probably causes a shudder down the spine of anyone from a culture who practices it but grew up in the West. I’ve seen countless Indian-American comedians joke that they wouldn’t even let their mothers pick their clothes, let alone their spouse, and it’s a sentiment I share. The cultural difference between my mother and I means we’re always at odds about things as trivial as how I should do my eyebrows to the more serious career decisions. But you’re speaking to a girl who has seen a dozen romantic comedies a year and can’t bring herself to make a Tinder account because it just feels too much like I’m giving up on romance. An arranged marriage just doesn’t make sense for me, but after watching my parents grow and change through their relationship, I’ve learned that an arranged marriage may have an undeserved reputation.
My parents don’t have a romantic story. There was no meet-cute, no elaborate story to satisfy my inquisitive ears growing up. No, my parents had a boring arranged marriage. My parents met a few weeks’ prior to their wedding and have been married now for about 22 years. With all that said and done, I couldn’t tell the difference between my parents’ marriage and those of my friends whose parents had “love marriages.” It became increasingly clear that what made their marriage work wasn’t some grand romantic love that carried them through every fight but rather a willingness to adapt.
Now it should be noted that many people stay in arranged marriages for the wrong reasons. In most South Asian cultures divorce is heavily stigmatized, so people often stay in unhealthy or abusive relationships out of cultural pressure. I personally know of many toxic couples that are only together to avoid the community backlash. These issues aren’t due to the arranged marriage though. I doubt anyone decides to abuse someone because they didn’t specifically choose their spouse. Arranged marriages don’t magically solve the issues that may arise, but it’s not necessarily the part of the equation that’s causing issues.
The main reason why my parents seem to do so well together isn’t because they’re made for each other or that they’re soulmates. Rather, they’re happy because they’re willing to listen to each other and adapt to each other. Because they had an arranged marriage, they had very little expectations about what the other would be like, and didn’t have these idealized images in their heads of what the other should be like. Instead, they went into their marriage willing to compromise.
We often go into relationships with this concept of the ‘perfect’ person, who accepts you for everything you are. But you’re never going to find that because you yourself are not perfect. It’s ultimately unfair to assume that someone should bear the weight of your flaws. This also ignores that you’re never going to find a person who doesn’t have some sort of tick that bothers you. Any sort of long-term relationship is a commitment to that person, warts and all, but we get so wrapped up in this ideal “the One” who’s going to take care of all of your faults without having any of their own. What you want isn’t a lifelong partner, rather someone who’ll let you stagnate completely. But those in arranged marriages usually don’t have this mindset. Dating usually requires a level of idealization to work, but an arranged marriage takes it out of the equation completely. Instead, you’re left with a person who you have to listen to in order to learn how to be with them.
While I don’t have some wonderful story to share about how my parents met, I do get to come home to them sharing a loveseat together while they watch the news, and listen to one lament about how they miss the other when traveling. While I am not going to have an arranged marriage, I don’t think we should bash them altogether. Whether it’s arranged or not, the only way to sustain a relationship is to willingly adapt to your partner and grow with them. For those who are comfortable with it, arranged marriages are definitely an option that can lead to an incredibly fulfilling life.
[thesil_related_posts_sc]Related Posts[/thesil_related_posts_sc]
[feather_share show="twitter, google_plus, facebook, reddit, tumblr" hide="pinterest, linkedin, mail"]
When it comes to texting, there are two kinds of people: those who reply right away, and those who don’t. I’m a pretty strong advocate of the former. I like to think replying in a timely manner, particularly when someone needs something from you, is the courteous thing to do. Sometimes, however, that isn’t the case.
As much as I hate the archetypical teenager who’s glued to their phone in literally every family movie ever, it used to be a fairly accurate representation of me. I had a friend who lived on the other side of Canada, and since visiting each other was out of the question, our favourite form of communication was through iMessage. We loved talking to each other so much that we texted each other constantly throughout the day. We dreamt up fictional universes, shared our insecurities and when one of us wanted to rant about something, the other one of us was always there to listen.
I became so absorbed that my parents made a rule prohibiting phones at the dinner table. In retaliation, I would sneak away to the washroom, just so I could text her back. Whenever I smiled at my phone, my parents would know it was her. “What’s the hurry?” they would ask, chiding me. “Why can’t it wait?” It was never that I couldn’t wait. I just didn’t want to.
Although I had every intention of carrying through with our connection, transitioning to the demands of university was too much for me to juggle. My friend proved less than understanding to this change. If I didn’t reply, it meant that I didn’t care. Any response that took longer than 10 minutes was too long. One-word sentences like “nice” were disingenuous; “lol” seemed unengaged. We agreed to stop using “lmao” in our conversations because it seemed too “passive aggressive.” “Okay” meant things were not at all okay. They became words we used when we wanted to hurt each other–to make the other person doubt themselves.
I became antsy checking my phone dreading the exact moment she’d text me good morning. I started making excuses, desperate to find anything that could explain my inevitable lapses. I was taking a shower. I forgot to charge my phone. I passed out for a nap because class had exhausted me. I was exhausted — but not from class, from talking. Even the mere sight of an alert would give me bouts of anxiety.
Our friendship had no happy ending. The more we argued, the more I drew away. My friend went off to university herself the following year, and she got caught up in her life, much like I had in mine. The damage we had done to each other, however, was irreparable. It was impossible to part amicably, to check in every once in a while. So we cut all our ties.
Deleting her as a contact was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and knowing I could never reach out to her again made me feel incredibly alone. But it also helped me realize that texting each other constantly had been neither normal nor healthy. Texting was meant to be a convenience, not a hindrance. We shouldn’t have gone out of our ways to put texting first, and we should have never come to depend on each other in the way that we did. Life came first. When you were busy, the people you texted were supposed to understand.
I still get anxious when people don’t reply to me quickly, and the truth is, I could spend a lifetime worrying about why people take their time to reply. I always consider the possibility that people are making excuses, because I kept on making them myself. I always wonder whether I’m being exhaustive, because I felt that way so often trying to keep our conversations going. I’ve become hypersensitive to cues that indicate people are unhappy with me through text, because I was always expected to recognize the signs without ever being explicitly told.
Worrying, of course, does me no good. I remind myself of that every day. I tell myself to remember why I’m friends with people in the first place, because of their personalities and not because of the way we choose to phrase our texts. I tell myself to remember that if someone has an issue with me, I have to trust they’ll take it up with me in person. Texting isn’t meant to be a replacement for talking. If there’s something important to be said, then we have to speak up about it with our phones down.
[thesil_related_posts_sc]Related Posts[/thesil_related_posts_sc]
[adrotate banner="16"]
[feather_share show="twitter, google_plus, facebook, reddit, tumblr" hide="pinterest, linkedin, mail"]
The bar you’ve never heard of date
So you’re going out with a cool cat, eh? But you’re feeling a little scared that they’re going to find out that you have a tendency to talk to your cats for too long and you have an active relationship with the cast of New Girl? Well, first, tell them all of that because you sound like a dream. Second, dare to show them that cat lovers and New Girl diehards are cool too.
What screams “I deserve to be at this underground music show?” Culottes (Alice & UO Enalle Tie-Waist Culotte Pant, $82)! Topped with a bow. Like the present you are.
Amp up the sexy calf action going on with some sleek leather heels (Kelsi Dagger Brooklyn Lexington Heel, $145), and make sure they have a thick heel because you’re gonna be dancing like you know all the lyrics. Complete your otherwise black outfit with a blush tank featuring daring crochet work (Project Social T Andi Side-Tie Tank Top, $42).
[spacer height="default"]
The Netflix and chill date
Hopefully this date was posed ironically, with the unintended consequence that the most notorious date of them all was born. Societal expectations for Valentine’s Day plans be gone!
But just because you’re breaking the Valentine’s norm, doesn’t mean you have to break every norm. Gettin’ sexy, for example, is a great norm. So what to wear?
Well, because you two are being so cheeky, go with the obvious route here: match your undies to your mood with cheekier undies (Everly Lace Cheeky Boyshort, $10), and then slip into a Parisian-looking bra (Kimchi Blue Serena Applique Bra, $49) that won’t sacrifice the comfort promised with Netflix and Chill evenings. Top the look off with some over-the-knee socks (Lightweight Button Thigh-High Thermal Sock, $16) and the fuzziest pair of slippers (UO Fluffy Slipper, $14.99) you have.
[spacer height="default"]
The “I’m going broke” dinner date
You’re pulling out all the stops this Valentine’s Day, opting for an over-the-top traditional candlelit dinner at a restaurant where you will be the only ones who aren’t thirty or forty something. It’s fun pretending to not care about money, isn’t it? Yes, it really is.
Tonight, start with something that makes it look like you boldly accept all traditions that go along with Valentine’s Day – an elegant red number (Keepsake Interlude Lace Bodycon Dress, $219 or a shorter option, Silence + Noise Mekka Strappy-Red Dress, $109). But then bring out that twenty something rebellious nature and throw on a denim jacket that boldly displays your nineties roots (Kimchi Blue Woodstock Embroidered Denim Jacket, $129), a pair of ankle boots (Isabella Buckle Ankle Boot, $104) and some whimsical anklets (Polka Dot Anklet Sock, $16)!
[spacer height="default"]
The you-suck-a-lot date
So your date is taking you to Hawaii? Fuck you. Wear this though: (Out From Under Printed Longline Underwire Bikini Top, $54 and Out From Under Printed Flat High-Waisted Bikini Bottom, $54).
Accessorize!
No outtift is complete without a few pieces of jewelery. Your date might have a piece waiting for you at your date, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, so don’t leave with an incomplete outfit. These small details can really tie your outfit together and take it to fashion-blogger level. Depending on your personality, it can be small and subdued, like a ring, but can also be a statement piece that’s big and sparkly.
[spacer height="default"]
[thesil_related_posts_sc]Related Posts[/thesil_related_posts_sc]
[adrotate banner="16"]
[feather_share show="twitter, google_plus, facebook, reddit, tumblr" hide="pinterest, linkedin, mail"]
By: Mitali Chaudhary
Why does love feel like literally being stabbed by cupid’s arrow? Be it a bout of infatuation or a full-blown deep and passionate promise, at every step of the game, love seems to hurt just as much as it brings joy. To make things even more complicated, there isn’t just one type of pain that it causes. Instead, we get to experience an impressive range of conflicting feelings that are difficult to name, much less describe. But for all the lovers out there, we have made an effort.
Let’s start with the one the makes you feel the most insane: infatuation. This is essentially when you’re crushing hard on someone you often don’t know quite that well. Maybe they are in one of your classes. A popular activity in this phase is the social media, shall we say, “reconnaissance work.” During your research, you come across a picture of your object of affection with a (attractive) friend that suddenly makes you feel hurt. This is an interesting mix of about 78 percent cold, hard, green jealousy, ten percent indignation, ten percent hurt and two percent guilt (you stalker). “How dare they?” you might ask yourself, until you realize that they are human beings allowed to have friends and that they are not in a relationship with you.
Now let’s fast forward to when you and your darling are dating, and you think you might actually be in love. When you’re together, you’re over the moon, you have stars in your eyes and all that mushy stuff. You’re so happy that it hurts. There it is again, but this time it’s a faint pain at the back of your ribcage. Yes you’re both here, yes you’re having the greatest time, but that just makes you think more and more that you can’t live without them. Which is equally amazing and terrifying: are they the one? This pain is a strange one, as it’s 80 percent a feeling of being overwhelmed (in the best way possible), ten percent fearful and ten percent trusting. It’s pretty messed up.
Of course, it’s all roses and pink stuff when your love is right there, but when they have to go home to get some work done on their assignment (which you have to work on too, by the way, but you’ve been ignoring it because OMG IN LOVE), you feel pained once more. This pain is actually the most famous of all the love-pains: even Shakespeare thought to comment on it, as he penned, “Parting is such a sweet sorrow.” This ache is more of a piercing sadness, with about 64 percent abandonment, 20 percent grief, 12 percent powerlessness and four percent embarrassment (because you know that you’ll be seeing them the next day). This is amplified approximately 300 times when you’re in a long distance relationship.
Unfortunately, this analysis does nothing to demystify the complexities of and connections between pain and love. But it’s amazing to think that the strange and deep feelings this relationship creates has inspired thousands of years of human art and literature. These, undoubtedly, are reassurances to those suffering from love that they are not alone, and are, in fact, not insane.
Photo Credit: Stephen Phillips
[thesil_related_posts_sc]Related Posts[/thesil_related_posts_sc]
[adrotate banner="16"]
[feather_share show="twitter, google_plus, facebook, reddit, tumblr" hide="pinterest, linkedin, mail"]
By: Sasha Dhesi
Recently an old classmate sent me a private message to wish me a happy birthday. The message reminded me of how I felt when our friendship petered out. We had a similar sense of humour and shared mutual interests, but as time went on, we found that although we still enjoyed each other’s company, we weren’t running in the same social or professional circles, and fell out of touch. I struggled with losing her, especially because, for all intents and purposes, we were still friends. How was I supposed to deal with our relationship just dying like that? What does it say about us that our relationship ended?
There’s a lot of pressure during your early 20s to find that group of friends that will follow you throughout your life. We’re taught that these are the most important years in our lives to build relationships that last. Every once in awhile, this manifests on anonymous posts, like on Spotted at Mac, where an unnamed upper year stresses over not having a clique despite being at the school for multiple years. While this sentiment is understandable, there are legitimate reasons to why you should occasionally let a relationship die, as opposed to working to save it.
There is nothing wrong with hoping that your social circle will follow you through life; the problem is failing to comprehend that you and those around you are going to change. The person you’re going to be one year from now is going to have different expectations and needs than the person you are this year. Sometimes the people in your life change with you, but more often than not, they diverge onto their own paths and can’t give you what you need.
By going into a relationship with the assumption that it’s going to last a very long time, you project your own needs and desires onto a person, which they may not share. In doing so, you stop treating people as people, and instead as objects to satisfy what you imagine your future should look like. Not only is this unfair to your partner, but it’s unfair to you. You should be in a relationship with someone who wants to give you what you need, as opposed to waiting for someone else to change.
Likewise, by assuming you have to remain in a relationship with someone, you run the risk of remaining in a harmful relationship. You are always going to change, but some people may not want you to. My eighth-grade orchestra teacher liked to tell us that “misery loves company.” Although he just meant we should avoid kids who skip band practice, it still struck a chord with me. Every so often, you will run into people who promote unhealthy behaviour and will want you to conform to their desires even if it hurts you.
A lot of people in university feel pressured to stay in these sorts of relationships because they believe that they’ll lose out on that ideal group of friends you hear about in shows like Friends and How I Met Your Mother. But these are the exception to the rule, and in the case of TV shows, completely made up. Chances are, you’re not going to meet your best friend or true love during your first year of university. You’re probably not going to meet them for a very long time, actually. Psychologically speaking, the brain doesn’t finish maturing until you’re 25, if not later. This is particularly true of the critical decision-making portion of the brain. By this standard, you’re not going to be ready to make any long-term decisions until you’re at least two to three years out of your undergraduate degree.
By going into a relationship with the assumption that it’s going to last a very long time, you project your own needs and desires onto a person, which they may not share. In doing so, you stop treating people as people, and instead as objects to satisfy what you imagine your future should look like.
So where does that leave us? Should you just treat every relationship as casual? The best way to balance your desire to change with your relationships is to let your relationships die when they need to. There will be times when someone you used to speak to everyday stops responding to your texts. There will also be times when you begin to dread going certain places because you have to see this person.
The key to maintaining everyone’s dignity and self-respect during these instances is to understand that it’s completely normal for relationships to die during this time in our lives. Be clear about your intentions with someone, and let them know if you’re not happy or satisfied with your relationship. From here, you can either work on your relationship or end it.
We are going through monumental changes, and different circumstances can mean different people are needed in your life. Some people may not be emotionally equipped to handle what you’re going through and vice versa. Treat this as a moment for self-reflection and not as a personal failure.
As for my friend and I, we’re still on good terms. Our relationship may have fizzled out, but it doesn’t mean that we don’t care about each other. What it ultimately says about us is that we were mature enough to understand that we grew apart. You will meet a lot of people and many of your relationships will die. It’s not a negative reflection on either of you, but a reflection of growth. Just make sure you wish them a happy birthday, at the very least.
Photo Credit: Matt Mullenweg
[thesil_related_posts_sc]Related Posts[/thesil_related_posts_sc]
On Saturday nights, you can typically find my roommate/best friend and I studying at home. This past Saturday was no different. But as we diligently worked away and dutifully sipped our coffee, a blip presented itself in our routine.
She sent me a link to a four-minute video from this season’s The Bachelor.
I hit the play button even though I knew it was a bad idea. I knew that, if I pressed that play button, I would effectively be rendering my hard-earned productivity that evening useless. Needless to say, what ensued after that four-minute video was two hours of catching up on the episodes we had missed thus far, notes strewn haphazardly across our desks. By the time we emerged from the rabbit hole, it was two in the morning.
Let’s talk a little bit about season 20 of The Bachelor. Ben Higgins, a software salesman, is the star of the show. Ben Higgins is also a very handsome man. Now, I am not a “Bachelor” aficionado, by any means. The extent of my knowledge comes from a couple of episodes during high school sleepovers and the occasional perusing of magazine articles at Shoppers Drug Mart. But Ben Higgins has a quality about him that immediately captivated my roommate and I (plus millions of other women, no doubt). Besides his pretty face, Ben has a seemingly genuine desire for love that many people hope for in their significant others. He is also well-spoken, endearing and hopelessly charming. He just seems like an all-around good guy. Of course, reality television never portrays actual reality. But Ben Higgins has a cool, relaxed vibe makes him feel very real. This is precisely why he sells.
Besides a certifiably great choice in the candidate for The Bachelor this season, the makers of the show should also be commended for the measures they took to ensure that, even at season 20, The Bachelor remained far from stale. In the batch of seriously gorgeous women this season, there are your typical drama instigators and soft-spoken crowd favourites. But there are also a few very crazy ones and even a set of identical twins, Emily and Haley Ferguson. It’s interesting that, while every other woman has an occupation listed under their name, Emily and Haley only have the word “Twin.” (Incredible, I know.)In addition, during the first meeting with Ben, one of the women (a dentist) decided to give the bachelor a teeth cleaning in order to prepare him for a potential kiss. Unsurprisingly, he did not kiss her. On the first one-on-one date, the pair were accompanied by Kevin Hart and Ice Cube on a “Ride Along.” Reportedly, these first two episodes pretty much set the tone for how the rest of the season will play out – very strange, but also very entertaining.
It’s easy to sit here and debate over the subjectivity of what is good television and what is bad television. However, it is widely agreed that The Bachelor is not a good television show by its own merit. No matter how attractive Ben Higgins is or how entertaining the story line becomes, I know this. My best friend knows this. Society knows this. Good television series exist far and wide, but The Bachelor is not one of them.
I am certainly more predisposed to watch shows like Transparent over The Bachelor. Often, fundamentally good television shows (such as Transparent) or movies explore deeper themes and require more attention or emotional investment. While those are always fantastic to watch and gush over, it may not be a bad idea to revisit an old childhood movie (She’s The Man, anyone?) or a “trash” TV show when you’re just seeking a much-needed break from the daily stresses of school and life. It’s important to spend time being entertained over something as silly as a dating show; while it may not be a “good show,” it’s worthwhile simply in its ability to help you let loose. Spending time to be mindlessly entertained every now and again – or spending time for yourself at all – is something society has engrained within us as wasteful and inefficient. But it’s really important to not feel guilty about taking a breather; it is both a rejuvenating and regenerative activity that may benefit you in the long run.
My best friend and I met at the beginning of first year and have been inseparable ever since. Both of us are in the same program and have a pretty aligned set of values and interests. In fact, many people who meet us fall into disbelief when they realize we only met a year and a half ago and have not known each other since childhood. She is endlessly caring, kind, assiduous, intelligent… I could go on forever. I trust her to the world’s end; there are few things I wouldn’t do for her.
Lately, however, we have both been so busy that we rarely see each other despite living in the same apartment. Maintaining a healthy balance of school, extracurricular activities, work and friends is a massive challenge that many of us are tasked with. When other areas flare up, particularly school, it’s easy to let others sit on the back burner for a little while. Recognizing this, both my best friend and I have decided to make some changes in our respective schedules to fit in a time each week, no matter how brief, where we spend time unwinding together. Now, we have a date every week to watch the new episode of The Bachelor.
The Bachelor has certainly made me see that watching what is widely regarded as a bad show doesn’t diminish my personality or my other interests in good shows. It debunked my fear that watching it automatically places me in the categorwy of “people with poor taste.” It’s really not that serious. Sometimes bad TV simply makes for a really good time with your best friend.
Header Photo Credit: Star Pulse, in-article: Felicia Graham
[adrotate banner="16"]
[feather_share show="twitter, google_plus, facebook, reddit, tumblr" hide="pinterest, linkedin, mail"]
By: Sasha Dhesi
When I was in the eleventh grade, I befriended a girl named Neba. It was a pretty typical friendship: we were two girls who understood each other’s situations, had mutual interests and talked every other day or so about our lives and whatever was taking up our time, whether it be school, music or anything else two 17-year-old teenagers would encounter. It was a typical friendship, save for one thing: we met online and have never seen each other in real life.
With the advent of new technology come innovative ways of using it. Many people will join online communities based off of a mutual interest, whether it’s something as simple as a mutual love for a TV character to sharing the same political beliefs, and it is common for people in these communities to reach out to each other and form relationships. Unlike many real life relationships, the friends you make online definitely have something in common with you.
Despite this, when you say, “I met so-and-so online,” you’re met with many discouraging questions surrounding the validity of your friend’s identity and their true intentions. Shows like Dateline: How to Catch a Predator and Catfish serve as aggressive reminders to what could happen to those who trust too easily.
But these are extremes that shouldn’t represent the norm. More often than not, online communities give people a chance to explore their interests with like-minded people and build lasting relationships when their offline world is depressing. This is especially true for LGBTQ+ folks who have the misfortune to live in homophobic areas or are uncomfortable talking about their sexuality with people in real life. This is also true for a kid who really likes art but couldn’t share it with her offline friends. If you were to interact with someone a few times a week for a year who connects with you in a way that people in your offline world don’t, that person is a friend. It doesn’t matter that those interactions occurred over a forum, a blog or a chat room.
In my experience, online friends give you an interesting perspective on your life: they’re aware of it, but due to the physical distance, they’re often able to give an impartial view. Your offline friends may be swayed by how charming your cruel boyfriend is, but your online friends, assuming you tell them what’s going on, will tell you what you need to hear. More often than not, the distance allows people to be more candid about their lives and garner the emotional support they need without the risk of having it brought out to their community. Online friends give people an outlet to express themselves without fear.
However there is room for this to be abused. There have been many cases in which people take advantage of someone’s vulnerability and hurt the person beyond compare. But this is a risk that is undertaken whether the relationship is online or off. To be in any sort of relationship, platonic and romantic, means to put yourself at risk of being hurt. A friend knows your fears and intimate details about you. It’s just as likely that you’ll meet a horrible person at a bar as it is online.
The Internet is a wonderful tool to find people who share your interests, and carries its own risks. Many friendships are formed through it, and even something as simple as recognizing someone’s username in a forum can lighten someone’s day.
As for Neba and I, we’re still friends today despite the fact that we both stopped using that forum last year, and both of us continue to have offline relationships of our own. Balance, after all, is key.
Photo Credit: Adam Roberts
[thesil_related_posts_sc]Related Posts[/thesil_related_posts_sc]
[adrotate banner="16"]
[feather_share show="twitter, google_plus, facebook, reddit, tumblr" hide="pinterest, linkedin, mail"]
Disclaimer: I hate wearing jeans. I also don’t have a boyfriend. However, I promise that I am not just being bitter when I say that I dislike the new trend in denim of “boyfriend jeans” for women.
Sharing clothing with someone you are dating is intimate. It implies shared property ownership, or at the very least, the promise that you will see that person again before laundry day. Maybe it is something you wear to remind you of your partner throughout the day, or maybe it has been borrowed after spending the night; either way, this romantic exchange of clothing is something that the fashion industry has decided to cash in on. The benefit is that these jeans — and all the associations that come along with them — can be purchased without the prerequisite of an actual boyfriend.
So what exactly is the issue with this trend? Jeans cycle through fads faster than our wardrobes can keep up, meaning that this style isn’t guaranteed to stick around. Other trends such as bellbottoms or boot cuts were perfectly innocuous, so why should we care about this one in particular?
The reason is the gender dynamics that have been explicitly incorporated into your clothing. Since these pants are not marketed as “men’s slouchy jeans for women” but as “boyfriend” jeans, they assume certain things about their audience, primarily that they are heterosexual. The sharing of clothing is also not reciprocal. I have never seen a “girlfriend jean” for men, or any other form of female clothing designed for boyfriends, meaning that the denim industry is only comfortable with cross-dressing when it can’t in any way be construed as emasculation or in any way disturb the gender binary.
These jeans also dictate what your relationship should look like. The design leads us to believe that girlfriends are supposed to be physically smaller — both shorter and skinnier — than their boyfriends. The jeans are intended to be baggy with a rolled up cuff, since your imaginary boyfriend ought to physically outstrip you. Standing at five foot ten, I promise you that none of my previous boyfriends’ jeans would have fit me at all, let alone in an artistically baggy fashion. I can’t help but feel I’m somehow the “wrong” size when these jeans are just a small part of a larger message to women that we are supposed to shrink ourselves to fit into our interpersonal relationships.
Perhaps more concerning about the boyfriend jean is its function as a sartorial “no homo.” As of late, women’s fashion trends have been embracing what were previously seen as men’s styles. By labelling a jean as a “boyfriend” cut, you allay the fears of the heterosexual female shopper worried about venturing into “butch” territory. Worried that people might assume you are gay based on your pant selection? Don’t worry, your jeans are just as heterosexual as you are!
In keeping with traditional gender dynamics and inequalities, it should not shock you that your boyfriend jeans can cost you more than your actual boyfriend’s jeans. The cheapest pair on the Levi’s website clocked in at 98 dollars, while the male counterpart cost ten bucks less. (I for one resent the fact that men’s jeans were not only cheaper, but also free of stylized holes.) While this may not seem like much, when every piece of clothing that you are buying is around ten percent more expensive, it starts to add up.
It’s not news that the fashion industry has its problems, but while there has been a push in the past decade for the industry to do away with some of the more blatant issues, the banal ones remain. Do I think abolishing this style of jean will singlehandedly bring about gender equality? Not at all. But do I think this fashion trend is symptomatic of larger issues to do with heteronormativity and body expectations? Absolutely. Break out the ice cream and Netflix, because it is time for us to dump our boyfriend jeans.
[thesil_related_posts_sc]Related Posts[/thesil_related_posts_sc]
