Tag Archives: Jezebel.com

“Just as long as we’re together…”

Yesterday Jezebel.com featured an article about childhood friendships; it was originally published in the Daily Mail. The piece is mainly about how friendships from childhood are the ones that tend to last forever. Because we are forced to spend all day with our friends during our formative years we supposedly create these intense bonds that last well into adulthood.  Now I don’t completely disagree with that sentiment, I’m still friends with a few people from high school and middle school. We’ll always share certain memories and experiences from those times in our lives that the friends we make later on won’t understand/care about because they weren’t there.  However, that doesn’t mean that the friends I’ve made over the last few years won’t be life long nor does it mean that they are any less valuable than those I’ve had for a longer period of time.  Two of the people I’m closest with are people I’ve met within the last 5 years, one of the two I met last year.

The comments on the post are mixed: some are still friends with their preschool buddies, others are really only close to the people they met later on in life, a lot have a mix. Some commenters point out that childhood friendships (turned into adult ones) can be simply friendships of convenience, or have pathological/co-dependent elements to them. I have seen that side. I’ve also seen how exclusive those friendships can be, to the point where it means ignoring friends who aren’t in that group because they aren’t as “important” as those friends are.

I once had a friend/ex-roommate, *Ellen, who conducted our friendship like the ones she had with her “friends from home.” What this meant was, I basically had to initiate contact between us, because God forbid she ever IM or email me first. I had to tolerate her flakiness and not get wished “Happy Birthday” because she didn’t see at as important. I think the cake topper was when we had a falling out she chose to side with the friend she knew longer–even though they were being false. I suppose what frustrated me was as roommates I really saw the potential for us to have a great friendship–to the point where I would’ve considered her one of my closest friends. But, when I was constantly being compared to that group of friends and their standards there was no way we would’ve been able to maintain any sort of friendship, especially when she wasn’t willing to meet me half way.

In the end I do disagree with the article’s author, Lucy Cavendish’s statements. I don’t think it’s fair to limit ourselves to the friends we made when we were kids. We never know who really will allow us to be who we truly are, who will help us grow into a better person. Saying that it will only be our tween/teen friends ends up limiting our possibilities. I want the option to have a great friendship with those I’ve met in the last few years and those I’ve known forever. I also want the chance to make even more amazing friendships.

“Chick Like Me”

Once on Boy Meets World, both Shawn and Corey went undercover as teen girls to find out what it was really like to be female. They had to deal with boys not understanding boundaries, only paying attention to them because they were attractive (Ok, this was mostly Shawn) and at the end of the day (like in any good 90’s sitcom) they learned a valuable lesson.

I only wish the poet Vagabond Andy, had undergone a similar experience before he penned his “masterpiece” for the Times, “The Trouble With Women: Forget the Fairytales.” This poem came to my attention via a former coworker who posted both this piece and a follow-up article on Jezebel.Com.

Like most women I’ve shared the poem with, she was outraged. Here’s a piece of work that thinks it’s being witty by taking a diverse group of people and boiling it down to one simple image. He assumes that we all want to be rescued by a prince, but only after a day of shopping and getting our hair done. It’s out the realm of possibility that we’re capable of taking care of ourselves, or that some of us aren’t interested in marriage, or being a size 0. According to Andy, what we want at the end of the day is to look hot for a guy who kinda sounds like a tool.

From what I gather the poem wants to be taken in similar vein to that of P!NK’s “Stupid Girls.” The difference is P!NK knows that while the current pop-culture is favoring plastic, dumb-downed girl—there’s also those who don’t fit the mold. She acts as the voice for those who don’t “want to be a stupid girl.” She understands that it’s the patriarchy and media who set these standards that some women buy into. I’m also going to go out on a limb here, and say P!NK is basing “Stupid Girls” off of her actual experiences as a woman, while Andy is just the casual observer.

The problem with Andy sitting on the side lines is he doesn’t seem to get those crucial points. He assumes that women are creating their own problems–they’re the one’s who came up with the idea of being a size 0 with double D’s; it has nothing to do with the male fantasy that’s being pimped out by a patriarchal society. This is why he has no problem reducing all females down to the image of  a Paris-Kardashian-WAG-celebutante. He is also silly enough to believe that’s what all women want to be. He misses the subtleties that each woman carries, most likely because he’s bought into the male fantasy. It’s entirely possible that the only girls he pays attention to are caught up in his image of what being a woman means. Maybe they ignore him, hence his frustration. Either way it seems his interactions with a variety of women is limited.

My friend Sara made an excellent point stating, “his somewhat sickening message is cloaked in rhyme, making it appear pleasing and acceptable when in fact his subject is heartbreaking and sexist. In this way, it mirrors the media and the society that are culprits in manufacturing the condition the protagonist finds herself in. Media/society puts forth these slick images of a happier, thinner, sexier, more buxom youthful “you” in such a way that we are lured by its gloss when, underneath it all lurks a darker, more sinister meaning.” This is why the poem is so dangerous, those who don’t read closely are likely to be hypnotized by his end rhyme and pop-culture references.

I’m curious to know how many buy into Andy’s way of thinking. I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if a good amount of men were nodding in agreement as they read this. But how many women jumped on the band-wagon? How many find this to be an excellent piece of poetry, representing the way things are today? How many of them don’t know to be offended?

The Trouble With Women: Forget the Fairytales

The trouble with women, hmm, let’s see,
Perhaps with some help from poetry?

“It’s a girl!” shouts the midwife, as she joins our world,
Long before her hair is dyed or curled,
Barbie and Ken, her first celebrity friends.
Can’t wait to see how this transcends:

From the day that she is born,
What wedding dress will she adorn?
Supposedly, the happiest day of her life,
Will be the day she becomes a wife.

Her diet starts the moment she wakes.
Of Prince Charming fairy tales and Diet Coke breaks,
Her head full of fantasies, of meeting “The One”,
A life of perfection and buckets of sun.

High expectations, from an early age,
Tall, dark and handsome, plus a good wage.
Funny too, and amazing in bed,
Completely faithful and ready to wed.

From Disney to Hollywood, selling the dreams,
Everybody lives “happily ever after”, it seems.
Hugh Grant movies, and a million love songs,
Johnny Depp in this season’s long johns,

James Bond adventure, Travolta grooves,
Brad Pitt body, Clooney’s moves,
Brosnan charm, Russell Brand wit,
She should have it all, “because she’s worth it”.

Grazia, Now and her other mags,
Breast implants, Louis Vuitton bags,
Diamonds galore, a girl’s best friend,
What kind of message does this send?

She embarks on her quest to find her hero,
But first she needs to visit size zero,
Slim-fast plans and self-help books,
A mortgage of cosmetics to help her looks.

“I’m not as slim … I’m not as pretty”,
Comparing herself makes her feel shitty,
But she doesn’t stop, likes her fantasy,
Yep, she loves to live vicariously,

She’s naked in bed, tears in her eyes,
Her naked man beside her, sighs.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “That was insane!”
“I know, but compared to THAT my life is plain.”

“The trouble with women?” Well since you inquire
You may be relieved to hear it’s not dire,
My answer is she does too much gazing,
If she ditched her fantasy, her reality would be amazing.

-Andy, 2010