Thursday, February 27, 2003
*circa february 10:
her: i'm sorry i'm so needy. i realize it isn't fair to ask you to cater to my rampant insecurity.
him: i really like you. do you just not believe me?
her: aaaaaaaaa. i promise it's the last time it comes up this weekend.
him: this sounds awful, but . . . it is getting a little old.
her: woah. gulp.
*circa february 26:
her: blah blah blah taxes and CPA blah blah blah wish you were here blah blah blah.
him: i'm sorry i keep fishing for compliments by giving you so many. you're going to get tired of it.
her: well, there's nothing wrong with being a little needy. remember when i was like that?
him: yeah. and i told you it was getting old.
(pause.)
her: wow. you did. good thing i'm nicer than you, huh?
* * *
growing up and knowing more about the world, loss of innocence, bladiblahdiblah . . . why kids are sweet and full of faith and magic and grown ups smoke too many cigarettes, yes? mostly, i've noticed i like knowing more about the world. it decreases my chronic agitation. except i was thinking yesterday about how experience teaches us to see even the sweetest, most intimate relationships as funny small powerplays. not like Enron or anything, but . . . it's tricky, to me, that how often i hear the word "love" has more to do with the happiness-to -sadness ratio of the other person than my actual worthiness. or any actual feeling, maybe. reassuring in that clearly the love part doesn't die off when Other Person is more quiet, but . . . no one likes thinking that the causal factor of the big L word is the self-image of the partner. i-love-yous per hour should not act as a reflection of investor self-confidence. except that they do, and that kind of makes it harder to ever not watch yourself from the sidelines.
in ten years, we'll know a lot more, and it'll be pretty useless.
i suppose it's good that that makes me want to giggle and not, you know, cry or anything.
her: i'm sorry i'm so needy. i realize it isn't fair to ask you to cater to my rampant insecurity.
him: i really like you. do you just not believe me?
her: aaaaaaaaa. i promise it's the last time it comes up this weekend.
him: this sounds awful, but . . . it is getting a little old.
her: woah. gulp.
*circa february 26:
her: blah blah blah taxes and CPA blah blah blah wish you were here blah blah blah.
him: i'm sorry i keep fishing for compliments by giving you so many. you're going to get tired of it.
her: well, there's nothing wrong with being a little needy. remember when i was like that?
him: yeah. and i told you it was getting old.
(pause.)
her: wow. you did. good thing i'm nicer than you, huh?
* * *
growing up and knowing more about the world, loss of innocence, bladiblahdiblah . . . why kids are sweet and full of faith and magic and grown ups smoke too many cigarettes, yes? mostly, i've noticed i like knowing more about the world. it decreases my chronic agitation. except i was thinking yesterday about how experience teaches us to see even the sweetest, most intimate relationships as funny small powerplays. not like Enron or anything, but . . . it's tricky, to me, that how often i hear the word "love" has more to do with the happiness-to -sadness ratio of the other person than my actual worthiness. or any actual feeling, maybe. reassuring in that clearly the love part doesn't die off when Other Person is more quiet, but . . . no one likes thinking that the causal factor of the big L word is the self-image of the partner. i-love-yous per hour should not act as a reflection of investor self-confidence. except that they do, and that kind of makes it harder to ever not watch yourself from the sidelines.
in ten years, we'll know a lot more, and it'll be pretty useless.
i suppose it's good that that makes me want to giggle and not, you know, cry or anything.
