Category Archives: relationships

himym7

Last episode creates real-life HIMYM experience

How I Met Your Mother has ended after nine long years. It was a crazy journey, and one that ended quite controversially.

The show has gone down a windy road full of situations that were relatable and situations that seemed completely implausible. For every tragic moment about the loss of a loved one, there were several moments involving robots fighting wrestlers. But sometimes, even the craziest moments of our favorite shows can come to life.

In the most amazing instance of life imitating art, I found myself in the role of the gang in the season 2 episode, “Monday Night Football.”

In the episode, the gang realizes at the last minute that they will be unable to watch the Super Bowl live. Still, they all want to experience the game as everyone else did: with all of the thrill and uncertainty of a live viewing. To accomplish this, the entire gang had to find ways to avoid every spoiler that could come their way. No news, no talking to anyone, and no televisions that might give away the results.

Replace the Super Bowl with the series finale of How I Met Your Mother, and you will understand my Monday night experience.

I was called in to work at 8:30 p.m. on the night of the finale. With How I Met Your Mother running from 8 to 9, there was no way I could catch the show. Even worse, I work at a CBS affiliate.

Prior obligations held me up until 8 p.m., and immediately upon arriving at CBS, I had to keep myself occupied and away from television for half an hour. That’s pretty much impossible inside a television station. Then, when the finale was over, I had to preface every conversation with, “No spoilers!”

Co-workers had tears in their eyes and wanted so much to talk about the finale. All social media was off-limits until after I could finally watch the show. And to top off the wonderful humor of my night, the news did a segment on the How I Met Your Mother finale.

In a scene practically identical to Robin’s in “Monday Night Football,” hearing that How I Met Your Mother was in our rundown caused me immediate panic. I begged the producers not to run the story, but with no such luck. I fell just short of putting hands over my ears and shouting nonsense to drown out the sound of spoilers.

Luckily, the conversation on-air remained vague, and I was able to make it home, spoiler-free, to watch the finale of a show that took me on a journey: a show that made me feel wonderful and terrible — that was relatable to me, while still reminding me of the sitcoms of my childhood.

The final episode of How I Met Your Mother was difficult for many of us to watch. All shows naturally have a difficult time wrapping up all of their stories in a way that is acceptable to the fan base. The creators of How I Met Your Mother made the task even more difficult by using the finale as an epilogue of sorts, to show where every member of the gang would end up. Unfortunately for this fan, their journeys were unsatisfying. Spoilers ahead.

An entire season was built around the wedding of Barney and Robin. After years of development and tremendous growth, these characters finally felt like they were gaining a measure of happiness and closure. Barney and Robin were each other’s perfect foils: a man and woman who loved each other, warts and all, and brought out the best in each other. The last two seasons of the show were dedicated to showing fans why Barney and Robin deserved to be together. But that doesn’t matter anymore, because they will only be together for three unhappy years.

Ted’s journey has always been the center narrative of the show. The final season was dedicated to the tragedy of Ted and Robin. Ted had spent years imagining a world in which, against all odds, he and Robin would somehow end up together. The idea that he was wrong, and his need to find love was so strong that it was distorting his judgment, made the show better than any other traditional sitcom of the day. Ted’s difficulty in moving on from an unhealthy and unhappy relationship was something every one of us could relate to. But he had to move on because there was still something better out there for him. There was someone waiting for him who would love his calligraphy hobby, his long-winded stories, and the way he pronounced “renaissance” faire. It was a lesson in patience and self-respect. By not settling for a poor match, Ted was able to finally find a woman who wasn’t perfect, but was perfect for him. Ted was able to accept the love he deserved.

But that doesn’t matter anymore because they will only be together for 10 years. Robin is the happy ending. By shifting to the ending that saw Ted and Robin back together, the show abruptly changed from one about false hope and overcoming preconceived ideas about our future to one that said, “Yeah, you totally will end up back together.” Was Tracy, The Mother, just a consolation prize? And is Ted going to spend the rest of his life with a woman who doesn’t even appreciate his interests?

Despite my misgivings, I am thankful for what Carter Bays and Craig Thomas gave to us. Even when the show was not at its peak, it was still enjoyable. The creators of How I Met Your Mother created a television classic that was unafraid to take risks, a show that knew how to play with the classic sitcom formula in a way that felt both familiar and unique. I may not be happy with the ending of the show or its final message, but that is only because I am able to relate to it so well. We’ve all had a Robin in our lives that we just can’t shake. And we all hope one day to find our Tracy. We need to appreciate every single second we get with those we love and remember why they were so special even after they’re gone.

How I Met Your Mother reminded us that love stories are often messy, and happy endings are only a matter of when the story cuts off. If nothing else, the show will always be relatable, even in the most obscure and seemingly impossible situations.

After all, I never thought I would ever need the Sensory Deprivator 5000, but it certainly would have made last night a lot easier.

virgin

Currency of virginity could use some deflation

Last spring, I was plowing through my reading list, and I finally made time for The Purity Myth by Jessica Valenti. I’ve always been a huge fan of Valenti’s work, from the time I was introduced to her Full Frontal Feminism during college. Valenti is the kind of writer that challenges me to see the world in a different way, and while I may not always agree with her 100 percent, she makes me a better person by providing a different lens through which to view the world.

In The Purity Myth, Valenti notes that there is no medical definition of virginity and, furthermore, a clinical definition of virginity can not possibly fit both genders. If the concept of virginity is tied to a specific physical act — vaginal intercourse — it creates an outsize burden on the female: the physical transformation of the act of intercourse is something a male can never experience. And a physical definition of virginity is irrelevant in same-sex relationships.

Virginity, and often times the lack thereof, is a concept that I have struggled with for a long time. As a society, we encourage young ladies to “hold on” to their virginity because it’s so precious. Moreover, any young woman who decides that she will not remain a virgin is often forced to bare the label “slut”.

I’m certainly not advocating that sex is something that should be taken lightly. It’s not. It can adversely affect your health and welfare if the proper precautions are not taken. I’ve advocated on this site for a calm and rational sexual education, which is good and important, but perhaps we need to be spending more time thinking about the mental health aspect of sex, specifically virginity.

The reality is that we live in a world where young girls are auctioning off their virginity to the highest bidder. This is because we, as a society, have delivered a message that virginity is valuable, that it’s a commodity in demand. I have to wonder how the world would change if we stopped thinking this way. What if, instead, we told young girls that, yes, sex is a big deal, but there is no value to the physical reality of an intact hymen.

I know that’s a pretty radical thought for today; it’s even a bit jarring to see it there in front of me in black and white. I think one of the reasons this concept is so frightening is because young girls use their virginity as a morality guide. It’s not difficult to see how removing virginity as a criterion for morality can lead down the path of a slippery slope argument, where all of the human race goes to hell because we will all get chlamydia and die.

I’ve stated before that feminism is about taking the path that you want to take. I certainly don’t mean to be advocating the position that everyone should be out there sexing it up. I have friends my age who still consider themselves virgins; they totally own that position, and it works for them. They adopt that Cher Horowitz ideal: “You see how picky I am about my shoes, and they only go on my feet!”

All I’m asking is that we take away the pressure associated with remaining a virgin. Let’s turn the focus to empowering women to make informed decisions, to have healthy sexual relationships without stressing the virginity question. OK, and maybe I’m asking for a little bit more discussion with families and in the classroom regarding the mental health component of sex and, specifically, the first time any individual engages in sexual activity.

Most of the views I’ve mentioned above took a long time to cultivate and, honestly, they are still changing with every intellectual morsel I digest. That’s the wonderful thing about being human; we get to change our minds and evolve. I’m sure if my husband and I ever get around to cultivating tiny humans, my opinions on this matter may evolve again.

vd-sucks

Valentine’s Day a sham; no one really likes it

Does anyone really enjoy Valentine’s Day? Sure, you may think you do, and you may remember some amazing moments in the past, but did any one of those moments surpass your hopes?

If you answered yes, then you are certainly in the minority, because despite what we all want to believe, very few people — married, dating, or single — end up happy at the end of February 14.

Let’s start with the obvious. Single people hate Valentine’s Day. This day that is supposed to be celebrating the martyrdom of a Catholic Saint has turned into a greeting card holiday about expressing your undying love for that “one person” in your life. To single folks, that means a stark reminder once a year that you are alone and no one loves you. Great.

Single Valentine’s Days are the worst. If you are recently single, the day reminds you of your lost opportunities. You sit alone, watching you ex’s favorite romantic comedy, eating Ben and Jerry’s, wondering what you could have done better.

If you’ve been single for a while, like I have, you spend the entire day trying to figure out how your life got so sad that you spend your nights watching anime, hoping the kung fu god and the demon-hunting vampire will finally get together. You are left with a crushing feeling of emptiness as you wonder what it is about you that just is not good enough, while you know that plenty of the worst kinds of people are out for steak dinners and wine.

This feeling of self-doubt is usually a bogus one, too. If you love who you are and where you are in life, why does it matter if no one else sees what makes you great?

People often tell me that I need to lower my standards. Why? I’m not looking for a rocket scientist/supermodel with an encyclopedic knowledge of Batman stories. But what is so wrong with wanting a person who understands me and accepts me and is attractive to me? We should not have to settle for somebody who doesn’t make us happy.

So, if you are spending Valentine’s Day alone, drinking Captain Morgan and watching Clerks 2, just remember that it’s better than being out with someone you don’t like, trying desperately to make him or her happy, even though you know deep in your heart that you just don’t care.

I have been single for the past four Valentine’s Days. Obviously, that must say something about me. I get it. I can be pretty abrasive and very self-assured. But that certainly wasn’t always the case.

There was a time when my smugness was just an outer shell, and I was looking for someone with whom I could share the world. Valentine’s Day was the day every year when all I wanted was to be with someone and to show her how much I cared. Of course, that doesn’t make any sense. Why would I want to be with someone just so I could tell her how much she mattered on one particular day each year? Doesn’t it make more sense to actually fall in love with someone and spend a day of your choosing devoted to showing that person how special he or she is to you? Valentine’s Day acts as a constraint for some relationships in order to fulfill some false sense of what should be.

And then there are the couples. While I’m sure millions of couples have sweet Valentine’s dates with each other, how many of those dates have at least one person wondering, “Is this it?” Do these sweet dates of restaurants and movies ever truly measure up to what we expect when February 14 rolls around?

One of the few times I was actually in a relationship on Valentine’s Day, my then-girlfriend asked me what I wanted for the holiday. I, of course, trying to be sweet, answered that all I wanted was time with her. My girlfriend, sarcastic human being that she is, got me a clock and a picture of her. Time. With her. Just what I asked for.

It was brilliant. It was funny. It was completely clever and I was so frustrated by it. Not because I wanted a gift or because I didn’t laugh, but because I actually just wanted to spend time with this girl. Unfortunately, we were busy people and we really were unable to spend any time together for the holiday, so I spent the day angry.

A lot of people share stories of disappointment with Cupid’s favorite day. The problem is that we all have ridiculous hopes for what is supposed to happen, our realities shattered by John Hughes movies and every season finale of Glee. Even those among us who know not to expect much will still hold out hope that, somehow, things will change and our own romantic comedy will begin.

For those of you who are married, I first offer my respect. Marriage is difficult and requires a lot of sacrifice. But for wedded couples who are in a rut, Valentine’s Day is a painful reminder of a love whose romance has waned after years of living together, paying bills and raising kids. Sure, there are always exceptions, but I have to believe they are rare.

Marriage is obviously a different animal than young love. Marriage, when done right, is an evolving love, uniting two partners whose shared experiences will forever bind them even if their romantic feelings fade into oblivion. And for 364 days a year, that evolving love is enough. However, Valentine’s Day is the one day each year when even the happiest couples are left wanting more. They want to have a romantic dinner and a memorable night ending with fireworks and lovemaking like neither has never experienced. That won’t happen. That doesn’t happen.

In theory, Valentine’s Day is a wonderful thing. We should take a moment to tell our significant others how much we love them. Perhaps designating one day a year to this task is helpful for the aloof among us.

The problem with this holiday is only in the heightened expectations, driven by works of fiction, that destroy the beauty of those true moments of actual love between two individuals. We see so many last-minute confessions and public displays of affection that simply lying on a couch holding each other is not enough on the most romantic holiday of the year. And those of us who spend the day alone just wish we had someone to hold.

If you have someone to spend Valentine’s Day with this year, I hope you enjoy yourself. Treat each other well, and make sure you remember that this is the real world and not a Nicholas Sparks novel. Love each other for who you are, not what you want your partner to be.

Those of us who are likely to spend the day alone will be sad. But don’t worry about us. There’s always Netflix.

her

Her puts twist, new lens on love

Valentine’s Day has relationships on everyone’s mind, and it leaves some asking themselves, “Just what is love?” The film Her attempts to answer that fundamental question from a unique perspective by asking a question of its own: Can a man and a machine be in love?

Her, written and directed by Spike Jonze in his first feature film since 2009, tells a complex and unusual love story that’s surprisingly poignant and relevant. Jonze has created a world where computer operating systems are self-aware artificial intelligences. In this setting, a reclusive man named Theodore develops a relationship with the “woman” in his computer, Samantha.

Joaquin Phoenix brings sincerity and heart to a character that could easily have been seen as pathetic or creepy. Instead, the audience can’t help but feel for the lonely, anti-social Theodore Twombly. As his relationship with Samantha, voiced by Scarlett Johansson, progresses, it’s evident he has genuine feelings for her, despite the fact she isn’t human.

Early in the film, it becomes clear Theodore spends much of his time alone. However, as his relationship with Samantha grows, so does his confidence. He begins interacting with the world again, spending more time with friends and even going on a double date with his coworker.

Theodore’s evolution over the course of the film makes a case for the authenticity of his love. If one of the signs of a healthy relationship is that it helps one grow and become a better person, then Theodore’s relationship with Samantha, however bizarre it may seem, is more productive than the toxic ones many humans endure. For Theodore and Samantha, this relationship is completely real.

Her is the only film nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards that takes place in an imagined future, incorporating some elements of science fiction and fantasy. As many of the best science fiction stories do, Her shines a light on certain aspects of our current society. By changing elements of the reality we are familiar with, Her frees us from so many of the constraints we have when evaluating the nature of love.

Many people today turn to the Internet to find friends and significant others. Granted, there is another person, made of flesh and blood, sitting at the computer on the other side of those relationships. But by altering the present just slightly, Jonze introduces a near future that isn’t so far-fetched and that has relevance to relationships of any era.

In fact, the film draws attention to the lack of authenticity that plagues many traditional human relationships. Theodore works for a company that produces handwritten letters for clients who want to send a “genuine” message to relatives, lovers, or anyone else. Theodore mentions one couple he has worked with for eight years; he likely knows them better than they know each other — or even better than they know themselves. This scenario calls to mind the current state of our society, where people often spend more time texting and staring at their smartphones than having face-to-face conversations with those right in front of them.

The sci-fi elements of the movie blend seamlessly into the film in a subtle and understated way. In this world, computers are completely integrated with cell phones and obey voice commands spoken into a Bluetooth-like device. There’s just enough advancement in technology to tell that this film takes place at some point in the future, but the audience is not being hit over the head with shiny distractions. This environment creates a rich backdrop for an intriguing film.

Amy Adams is delightful as Theodore’s neighbor and friend. She adds a much needed lightness and humor to the film. Plus, her rapport with Theodore demonstrates one of the few positive human relationships he maintains. Their interactions provide some added insight into Theodore’s character; he’s not incapable of maintaining a human connection, he just needs someone who understands him.

Her is sweet and sincere, but sometimes feels a little too saccharine. Its soft focus and pastel color palette create a jarring contrast during the heavier moments of the film. Compared to much larger-scale films like The Wolf of Wall Street or Captain Phillips, one wonders how it made it into the Best Picture category. This is a much more subtle and nuanced film than any of the others in the category with the possible exception of Nebraska.

This isn’t the type of film that appeals to a wide audience. The viewer has to be willing to think about the story beyond what’s on the surface; otherwise, it may just seem depressing or awkward. Unlike the aforementioned films, Her didn’t provoke an immediate reaction as I walked out of the theater, but I soon found it had gotten in my head and stayed with me for days after viewing.

Fans of Jonze’s previous works will likely know what to expect and will enjoy the film more than those who are just looking for a simple love story. But if you let yourself reflect on the film, you just might find yourself reevaluating your real-life and online interactions, and perhaps the definition of love itself.