I was talking to my friend Gary via text message and told him I was writing for my website.
Me: Need topic for article. Thoughts?
Gary: How to get out of a relationship.
Me: Well ok. But kind of broad. Narrow?
Gary: Without hurting your partner?
Me: Hmmmm. Ok. Give me one way.
Gary: You can’t. That’s my point. That’s the end of your piece.
He makes an astute observation that’s alluded the rest of the world.
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I’ve been fascinated with the concept of identity for most of my life.
When I was in my early teenage years, I saved quizzes from magazines that would ask the reader “What’s Your Decorating Style” or “Are You A Romantic.”
I’ve been into astrology since those years too, and studied the characteristics of my astrological sign trying to figure out the validity of the traits.
In 2006, one of my communication studies students asked me to make a presentation to the undergraduate honor society for which she was an officer.
When Johanna-Joy asked what job title to call me for that night’s event publicity, I really didn’t know.
Not since angst-ridden middle daughter Jan Brady manufactured an imaginary boyfriend named George Glass has there been such a hub bub over the mysterious dating habits of another.
Notre Dame linebacker Manti Te’o had been very publically talking about his California-based girlfriend Lennay Kekua. The Heisman Trophy runner-up was dating the woman through a serious car crash and her diagnosis with leukemia. She died last autumn. Her life and spirit helped the athlete through the football season, he says. He soared through the season and sports insiders say the linebacker will be a first-round pick in the NFL draft this spring.
The catch?
New reports have found that the long-suffering and now dead girlfriend does not exist. She never did.
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One of the challenges I face as creator, editor, and primary writer for a website about relationships is making sure I also stay true to my journalist roots. This means that while I might tell a seemingly far-fetched story about a person, place, or thing, the story is true and I tell it without embellishment. Thus, you won’t see a sentence like this:
“And he very stupidly took the door handle and, like a big imbecile, decided that…”
My goal is not to mock. It’s to learn, teach, and share.
Nevertheless, there is the possibility that someone somewhere is going to read an article in which his name is used and feel sad or angry that I’m talking about him. One of the ways I also try to get around hurt feelings is by allowing some time to pass between the date or experience and when I publish the article.
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I think the big meeting places for finding potential mates back in the day were houses of worship and barn raisings. You would go to church or temple and hear the quiet bachelor farmer Wrzesinski was lookin’ for a wife. Lo and behold, you became Mrs. Wrzesinska and began a life of making a lot of food for the farm hands.
I didn’t make up the surname. That’s one in my family history.
My point is that times have changed. A Gallup poll shows 41% of Americans report they regularly attend religious services.
That’s one reason match.com, plentyoffish.com, and OK Cupid exist. People want to meet somewhere and there are few barn raisings anymore. There’s so little stigma attached to online dating now. I’ve been there and done that and so have countless other people who I like and admire.
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I tend to think when I’m blue that the rest of the world is feeling fabulous. And I’ve been blue recently. But the last few days, I’m starting to notice that while not everyone might as blue as me, there’s still a general attitude of “Boy am I glad this year is nearly finished” and “Boy I really hope the next year is going to be better.”
I’ve been to Las Vegas, Nevada perhaps eight times. Most recently, I was there for my birthday in April 2012 with my sister Renee’ and her husband Eric.
I also met Renee’ there for a Kylie Minogue concert in 2009. The rest of my visits have been for media and academic conventions.
I’ve been there enough times that I know Vegas is a unique place. It’s a place that creates and perpetuates the fantasy. A fantasy that it’s all about sex.
The Virgin Mary is everywhere in the area I live.
The Virgin of Guadalupe painted on a hillside along a major highway between Magdalena and Santa Ana, Sonora, Mexico
I was raised Roman Catholic. I like the ritual of the religion and the strong foundations it has to my ancestry in Poland, Germany, and France. I share the very core beliefs of the religion, like the changing of the wine and bread into the Eucharist.
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A few months ago, my co-worker and friend Michelle was celebrating her 29th birthday. A large group of us met at a restaurant for drinks and appetizers. At some point, someone decided we should head to a night club for some dancing.
That’s when the crowd began to thin.
The reason for leaving the party?
People were tired.
Another co-worker and friend, Greg, was less than impressed with the sleepy heads. It’s a special occasion, he told me. They can’t sleep in the next day?
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I was going through an emotionally wrenching time when it seemed nothing was working out to my advantage and the bad luck just didn’t seem to end. Even some relationships with family and friends were not doing well.
I felt isolated and unloved. My self esteem and self worth were temporarily trampled.
I told my friend Andrew that no one cared.
He agreed fully and wholeheartedly with me.
