Daily Elite Daily #9

If You Have Savings In Your 20s, You’re Doing Something Wrong by Lauren Martin on Sept. 16, 2015 (suggested subtitle: Throw away your life! Have fun NOW and live in despair once you’re 30!)

I don’t know about you, but I like to enjoy my life.

You’re right, you don’t know about me. I, like everyone in the world except you, don’t like to enjoy my life.

This goes back to a piece of advice a very successful friend gave me: “Don’t save money. Make more money,” he nonchalantly stated, pushing me into a taxi.

He’s a successful friend because he states things instead of saying them.

Before this piece of advice, I was frantic. I was always doubting and always feeling guilty. I lived in the most exciting city in the world (also the most expensive) and had yet to experience it.

This confusingly vague advice coming from a likely very privileged friend was enough to completely cure her.

I was trying to save, which meant trying not to eat. I wasn’t going out with friends, had yet to go to a club and had never seen the inside of a taxi.

You are not truly a person of the world until you’ve seen the inside of a taxi.

I couldn’t enjoy my life because I was too busy worrying about my bank statement. I was too busy watching my savings instead of savoring my youth.

And it’s that kind of snappy wordplay that got you this job, Ms. Martin.

When did our 20s start to feel like our 40s? When did we get weighed down with the same pressure and stresses as a woman with four kids and a second mortgage?

Things “we” don’t have in common with a woman with four kids and a second mortgage: four kids, a second mortgage.

I’ve recently figured it out: This pressure, this third-party stress, is ingrained within us.

You did it! Where thousands of years of human thought has failed, you have swooped in and solved our problems! It’s all over, no need to write anything further.

But like most things our parents have ingrained in us, we must consciously work to push it out. Because while they may have the best intentions, they don’t always have the best insight.

You heard her, folks; push out your urges to help around the house, be kind to people, etc.

They want us to save because it provides us with a safety net, but that’s exactly why we shouldn’t. Their need for us to have a safety net is just a giant metaphor for the difference between our parent’s generation and ours.

The difference between our parent’s generation and ours, or yours?

They were getting married at 20 while we’re just getting our first apartments.

BREAKING: Things were different a few decades ago.

We’re taking our time growing up, refusing to be shackled by mortgages and diapers.

I’m glad you’ve grown out of diapers, Ms. Martin.

We’re not trying to live with safety nets; we’re trying to live on the edge.

Wouldn’t you rather live on the edge with a safety net? What if you fall?

When you live your life around your retirement fund, you may as well retire now. You can’t make a mark on the world if you’re too cheap to live in it.

Money-free solution to this problem: break off a tree branch and make a mark in the dirt.

People who are saving in their 20s are people who don’t set their sights high. They’ve already dropped out of the game and settled for the minor leagues.

1. If they’re saving in their 20s for a mansion later on, are they still setting their sights low?
2. Technically you’re still a part of the game if you’re in the minor leagues.

$200 a month isn’t going to make the dent that a $60,000 pay raise will after spending all those nights out networking.

So far this is the first she’s mentioned of somehow finding a high-paying job to fund these hedonistic sprees.

You’d be surprised at how cautious people get with just a few thousand in the bank. This isn’t the time to safeguard — it’s the time to bet all your chips and hope to make it big.

And if you lose?

When you live your life by numbers, you strip yourself of poetry

???

What memorable experience does money in the bank give you?

Knowing you have enough money to live?

How well-rounded can people become sitting at home, watching their limited funds gain interest?

Is that what non-funded people do now?

Life is to be lived, not watched from the inside of your rent-controlled apartment.

If the “life to be lived” outside is a family of bears, I’m staying inside my goddamn rent-controlled apartment.

When you’re acutely aware of your mortality, it makes spending money that much easier. Those who don’t plan for the future aren’t planning for their death.

Maybe not consciously…

It’s good to be cautious and plan for unexpected events.

What? Is this reason I’m seeing?

It’s also good, however, to learn how to release and destress. Everything works out, and if you’re smart, able and had a job once, you’ll have one again.

Stressing and de-stressing will help pay off those student loans!

When you’re 40, you’re not going to look back on your 20s and be grateful for the few thousand you saved. You’re going to be full of regret.

If I’m living in a mansion in my 40s I will not regret saving a fucking penny.

Daily Elite Daily #8

We’ve Traded Board Games For Dating Games And No One’s F*cking Winning by Lauren Martin on April 17, 2015 (suggested subtitle: A frequent Daily Elite Daily offender rehashes everything ever said about dating, but this time with game metaphors)

Besides checkers, chess and Monopoly, I’m not one for games.

That’s it? Not Cards Against Humanity? Any video game ever?

I don’t like losing, and I definitely don’t like strategizing.

Well, I mean, I’m sorry, but you need strategy to win at a lot of games. Sorry to burst your bubble.

I hate that going on dates means knowing someone is trying to play me. Whether it’s to win me over or to win over me, I just don’t like it.

So you’d rather go on a date with no prospects?

There’s no denying, however, that a few games are necessary.

But I’m sure she’ll never specify what those are.

We like things because we can’t have them — we’re drawn to the unattainable and elusive.

I like the clothes I’m wearing. CHECKMATE.

If people told you they loved you after two days, you’d be more freaked out than turned on.

True, but given its positioning in the story, Ms. Martin makes it sound like this is something that might have been okay before the advent of…hookup culture.

There’s a certain level of honesty we respect, and then there’s just crazy.

Classic non-sequitur. How does that sentence relate to the previous one?

There’s a certain level of game play we expect, and then there’s just uninterested. Or, if they are interested and just playing games to play them, it’s f*cking annoying and a waste of everyone’s time.

Game-playing has become a minefield! Give us a strategy guide!

Because life is too short to waste with games that don’t make sense with rules that no one understands.

Tell that to QWOP!

We now present an evaluation of Ms. Martin’s games

The “Waiting To Respond To Their Text” Game
There are two players. The first player texts first. The second player can either respond or not respond. If he chooses not to respond, he forfeits his turn and either risks his chance for another turn or gets a double text from the first player — and bonus needy points.

If he does respond, he risks losing cool points or gains access to the second round. It’s a game of risk and luck and, most times, the dealer always loses.

Too convoluted. Too many different points to keep track of. Cool points? Needy points? And what function to they fulfill? Why did the “first player” become “the dealer” at the end? What happens in the second round?

The “Excessive Social Media” Game
This is a new game with new technology. It takes as many players as you can find and can involve nudity, drinking and poking. It can either turn the second player on or very, very off. Score is usually kept with “like” points.

I’m even more confused on this one, especially because “drinking” is somehow intersecting with “new technology.”

The “Holding Out” Game
This game involves strategy and skill. If the first player makes a move, but the second player doesn’t, there is a stalemate — where the first player usually stays until the second player gives out.

I don’t think you quite understand the word “stalemate.”

During this time, the second player can employ other positions and gain extra points. If he holds out too long, however, the first player could get bored and quit.

Wait a minute, you just said the second player can’t make a move! Whatever employing other positions means in this context (I literally have no clue), it’s a move.

The “Being Too Busy” Game

This is a one-player game in which there is no winner. You could play for days and still never get to the end. It usually involves a second player dropping out or forfeiting after waiting too long for his turn.

You just said it’s a one-player game.

The “Flirting With Other People In Front Of Them” Game

This is a multiplayer game (even though it’s ideal for two). The more players that get involved, the more complicated it gets and harder it is to keep track of points.

A game for two is multiplayer.

The “Playing Dumb” Game
This is when players act like they don’t know how to play the game to get you to think they will be an easy win. This is a form of hustling, and it’s usually pretty damn obvious.

In a pure game context this could be fun. You have to convince all the players you’re the dumbest in the room.

The “I’m Not Looking For A Relationship” Game
This game is a lot like bullsh*t. It’s about holding on to your cards the longest and not letting anyone see.

She finally makes a decent simile but doesn’t capitalize “Bullshit” to reference the card game and not the expletive or cow crap.

It’s about how well you can lie and deceive, however, if you play the game too well, you’re just going to end up alone with all the cards.

But in the game Bullshit, playing well means you’re not holding any of the cards.

The “Talking About Exes” Game
This involves a ghost player who comes out at special occasions or strategically planned events. He is usually used to knock the second player down, but runs the risk of costing you the game.

Dude, a game with ghost players? Sign me up. Though the physical injury doesn’t sound great.

The “Keeping Score” Game
This is a game in which points are everything, but they really mean nothing. Players go point for point trying to one up the other. Unfortunately, having more points doesn’t guarantee a win.

You just said the points don’t matter though, so how does one win?

The “Pretend You Don’t Like The Games” Game
This is the worst game there is. It involves players who act like they don’t want to play, yet use every chance they get to score on you. They act like they’re too old for games, but cry when they lose.

This sounds kind of like the same principle of the “Playing Dumb” game, but was thrown in at the end so that it could be a neat list of ten games.

Daily Elite Daily #7

Why No Matter How Much You Think You Do, You Never Really Know Anyone (Suggested subtitle: One of the most incomprehensible things you will ever read on Elite Daily)

by Saima Khan on Feb. 25, 2015

We talk, we laugh, we cry, but do we know what goes on behind closed doors?

What if it’s laughing, talking or crying? Mind. Blown.

Thin walls separate one from millions and what’s on the other side creates all the confusion.

I often employ the classic “??????” for phrases like these but there are so many of them that I’m going to have to up my game.

During an intent gaze, a curve on the lips, a crease on the forehead or a gesture of the hand, could there only be a single meaning behind each motion, or could it be a matter of a thousand?

You know what they say: a crease on the forehead is worth a thousand words.

You can never really know people because you can never really understand a personality, figure out the words behind the emotions or comprehend the perfections behind the imperfections.

Unless you explicitly ask someone, then maybe.

It really isn’t possible to know someone just by talking or being with him or her.

How are you supposed to know a person then? Telepathy?

Yes, you could be talking to your partner all the time before marriage, and you are certain that you know him, but are you 100 percent certain about your certainty?

Don’t pull this meta shit on me, Khan. You’re either certain or you’re uncertain.

To be honest, as much as we make ourselves believe that we know people, we never actually do.

I sense this is going to come up several times more.

She closed her eyes and a teardrop fell. When asked what had happened, she would just say nothing. But, that “nothing” could mean everything.

The attempt at poetry fails thanks to the awful passive voice.

But, that could also mean every syllable in his mental conversation was way beyond his answer. People exist for a reason and reasons exist for people.

There’s a place for that.

Individuals have different perspectives and different approaches.

Give her a Nobel for that feat of reasoning.

However, the most difficult equation of life exists here — an equation where the value of the unknown is infinite because we can never get to know people from all the angles they offer.

Okay, I said I wasn’t going to do this but: ?????????

We realize later that we just knew them superficially when we found out the equations didn’t match.

I don’t think you’re supposed to match equations, are you?

We can never really know people, but we can understand certain people in our lives and based on that understanding, we create wonderful relationships that promise to last.

“You can never really know people, but you can know people.”

Of course, new people will come in and fill holes made by the ones who left. On the canvas of life, we often go off color.

How did the first sentence connect to the previous one? Who knows?

But, as long as there are special people to add the right shades, life goes on to be a rainbow.

I defer my final comment to the only comment on this story:

Daily Elite Daily #6

Why Celibacy Before Commitment Is Rare In Today’s Hook-Up Culture (Suggested subtitle: “Think you’ve seen enough hand-wringing about hook-up culture? Think again!”

by Slater Katz on Feb. 21, 2015

Dating is a game, a multiplayer one, with unwritten rules and regulations that generational norms impose.

By “unwritten” she likely means “Written in pretty much every article Elite Daily has ever churned out.”

Men and women alike are inspired to follow these rules in order to achieve an equal and opposite partnership.

Is she confusing relationships with a law that Sir Isaac Newton came up with?

It’s not until both parties land at the doorstep of an apartment that the climax begins.

Those living in houses need not apply.

The mark of a successful first date used to be a timid peck on the lips and a promise of a ring-a-ding-ding emanating from a cell phone in the near future.

For an elaboration on what a “ring-a-ding emanating from a cell phone” is, read Slater Katz’s best-seller Dating: An Explanation for Aliens.

Not even 10 years ago, 20-somethings easily understood a kiss was step one and there was no necessary haste to sprint to step two at such a delicate moment during stranger status.

“Such a delicate moment during stranger status” is another phrase that puts alien minds at ease.

Today, leaving a person with a peck that lasts mere seconds is admission into a danger zone where penalties are forever goodbyes.

“I must bid you forever goodbye…” he said.

“No!” she cried. “I thought what we had was special!”

The casual hook-up culture our generation has cultivated has pushed the pressure to go beyond a quick peck to rapidly underneath sweaty sheets, made of Egyptian cotton.

Though “casual hook-up culture of our generation” is such a great awful phrase, I especially love that she has to only do her business under Egyptian cotton sheets.

Just as we expect our wishes and whims for immediate gratification, the slightest twitch of excited genitalia screams for the instigator to satiate it.

If you listen very carefully, excited genitalia will also offer financial tips and general life advice.

The pressure to put out before someone else comes alone, who is willing to do so, haunts the clarity of the decision-making process.

??????????

For those who aim to acquire more than a forgetful, meaningless encounter, time is of the essence when it comes to sex.

I think she means “forgettable” but hey, this guy obeys no one’s rules of clarity in writing.

Bravo’s sharp-tongued love guru, Patti Stanger, preaches that whether you’re 18 or 80, the key to establishing a successful relationship is to have no sex before monogamy…Considering, in sane terms, it should take between two and four months before two people decide to commit, the “Millionaire Matchmaker” owes every Millennial viewer a refund.

You chose to watch The Millionaire Matchmaker, she doesn’t owe you shit!

For those of us who find sex emotional, as opposed to a sport, prematurely engaging in sex is dangerous territory when you’re seeking more than a notch on your bedpost.

Very few can see it as a sport, looking at how devastating the last Sexual Olympic Games were. Huge waste of money.

When do you give in? And, more importantly, do you have to give in to hang on to someone?

Stanger vehemently says no. Her flaw, however, is ageist ignorance. First, acknowledging the fact she’s a reality-TV-produced “celebrity,” her clients are stereotypically middle-aged male disasters, who offer bribes for tolerance.

Exactly. Her clients aren’t anywhere close to millennials, so what’s your beef with Stanger?

Putting off intercourse supposedly brought out our innate personas as complementary hunters and gatherers, and produced an organic chase to satiate a craving with a special prize.

Does the hunter come free with a purchase over $50?

The difference is, back in the day, when cavemen roamed the earth, pickings were slim. There were only so many berries scattered across a barren landscape, making it possible to hone in on the gold with total occupation.

Her word choice is starting to make my head hurt. Don’t know if I can go on…

Alongside society’s progression, there has been the proliferation of the human race cramped into congested hubs and forced to mingle among their differences.

“Mingling among their differences” is basically the definition of life, you asshole.

With so many beings in so many varieties, everyone has the ability to taste the fruits of life until he or she finds one that soothes his or her taste.

Note the word choice: “so many beings” leaves all the options open! “Soothe” your taste to your delight, friend!

If your body does not freely and willingly shed itself of a clothed exterior with tenacity, there is surely someone a swipe away who is willing to compensate for your “weakness.”

Shit, no wonder dating is so hard. Bodies have to shed clothes by themselves now?

The argument that having sex has developed from innate to sensual ignores the powerful community technology has created.

Did she present this argument anywhere? Better question: what the hell does this mean?

Only if technology halts its persistent advancement will options be slim and monogamy seem plausible.

So…an article about celibacy was actually a missive against technology? Magic. Pure magic everyone. Elite Daily, you’ve found your best writer. Promote her, I tell you!

Daily Elite Daily #5

10 Reasons Why You Should Always Go For the Girl Who Drinks Whiskey

by Dan Scotti on Feb. 18, 2015 (Suggested subtitle: A bunch of generalizations about women based on alcohol choice)

You can tell a lot about people by their drink choice.

You’ve got your beer drinkers in one corner, crowding around the keg, chanting “America!” and talking about college.

This just in: if you’re a beer drinker and not college-age or a blatant American patriot, you’re doing it wrong.

Then you’ve got your wine drinkers, twirling their glasses around, most likely judging everybody else around them.

I feel like wine drinkers could also be chanting “America!” and talking about college.

There are the vodka drinkers, busting shots of whatever variety was the cheapest and the gin drinkers, arguing over what their favorite Hugh Grant film is.

If anyone can explain the correlation between gin and Hugh Grant, I will pay them $20.

Whiskey drinkers are some of the most generalized members of the alcohol community.

But wine, beer, vodka and gin drinkers aren’t generalized at all. And I’m sure you’re not going to generalize women based on their drink choice…

Unless you’re trying to convince her you’re dining at Dorsia, you’re definitely going to want a girl who can hold her liquor, especially when you’re taking her out to places.

The correlation between Dorsia and holding liquor is also as confusing as hell.

Ordering whiskey shows confidence — and confidence can be a good indicator of strength.

I’d also think anyone ordering Snake Venom beer is pretty damn confident.

If her drinking habits are any reflection on the rest of her habits, she doesn’t like to half-ass things.

And if her drinking habits aren’t a reflection of the rest of her habits? What then?

There are certain drinks that are just… not hot.

If you are calling drinks “hot” you are probably a douchebag.

There’s just something hot about watching a chick throw back shots of whiskey with a purpose.

Is there?

For whatever reason, whenever I think of people who drink whiskey with any regularity, I feel like they also have a slew of obscure, sophisticated hobbies in addition.

“According to my 100 per cent objective and scientific opinion, whiskey drinkers have weird habits. Also, I’m really running out of ideas already. Why did I agree to list 10 reasons?”

Put it this way: I doubt any true whiskey drinker is going to laugh her ass off after listening to a penis joke, and that’s a good thing for anyone seeking mature company.

No true whiskey drinker would laugh at a penis joke!

She doesn’t just drink whiskey because it’s going to get her drunk faster or because she has anything she’s trying to prove.

Sure, she could throw back shots of cheap vodka, but simply getting pissy drunk is far from her only motive. She sips slow.

So what is her motive?

Is she a people person? Eh, probably not, which is more or less the reason she’s a “whiskey person” in the first place.

This just in: to compensate for introversion, people turn to whiskey.

She’s very in touch with her emotions – thanks in part to whiskey – especially after she has one too many whiskey shooters and lets you know how she really feels.

I had no idea whiskey could put me in touch with my emotions! Where do I sign up?

But just because she doesn’t drive a motorcycle or play bass guitar doesn’t mean she can’t have a little wild streak you don’t know about.

Mr. Scotti’s sense of what is badass appears to come from the 1980s.

Daily Elite Daily #4

Dear Mom: 9 Things I Wish You Understood About Why I’m Still Single (Suggested title: Another Broad Indictment of This Deplorable “Dating Culture”)

by Lauren Martin on Jan. 19, 2015

I hate to break it to you, Mom, but dating just isn’t what it used to be.

Is this going to be another dating article that assumes we’re in a hookup culture? You bet it is.

Texting is an acceptable form of rejection and it’s no longer dinner then sex, but sex then maybe dinner (if it was worth it).

This is an absolute fact. No one has dinner first anymore. What is this, 1897?

It’s men in sneakers and women on Instagram. It’s rejection across five forms of communication and sex on seven.

????????????????????

You believe there’s a ton of good guys out there and it’s me jumping to wild stereotypes and scathing assumptions.

Well actually, that’s exactly what you’ve done in this article so far, Ms. Martin.

I’m sure there are good guys out there — actually, I know there are. They’re the ones with girlfriends, or they’re living celibate as monks in Thailand — believe me, I’ve looked and they’re not around here.

So…look elsewhere?

Then again, it may not be the men. It could be the dating culture we’ve created (now downgraded to “hook-up culture”)

And thus, the prophecy is fulfilled.

It could be a collection of things, a mash-up of men, women, social media and the example you’ve set.

This is about the closest she’ll get to anything resembling an intelligent reason, but I fear it will only go downhill from here.

They know if they’re not getting it from you, they can get it somewhere else.

That’s generally how dating works.

Don’t blame it on alcohol; blame it on social media. Try being honorable and dignified in 2015, and all it gets you is a left swipe on Tinder and another Friday night in with Netflix.

I think alcohol can most definitely be blamed more than social media.

You know when you used to say nothing good happens after 11? Well, you were right. Unfortunately, we’re forced to date between 10 and 12, and men know exactly what this means.

The new law, the “Standard Dating Times Act,” passed in 2010 to much controversy.

Cell phones have changed everything about the dating landscape.

Literally everything. Kissing, eating, all changed thanks to cell phones.

You don’t even know what mind games are until you’ve experienced what it’s like to date with texting, Tinder, Instagram and Facebook.

A subtle callback to her previous gem.

You guys did such a sh*tty job that we’re in less of a rush.

I know it seems like a low dig, but it’s the truth. You led by example, and that example was that marriage doesn’t work.

Whose fault is it? Anyone but yours, apparently.

We’ve learned how to date from your mistakes, and if you taught us anything it’s that there’s no greater mistake than committing.

Because 100 percent of marriages lead to unhappiness or divorce, according to recent statistics.

We’re not sold on any American dream.

Um, isn’t the American Dream to get rich and live a wonderful life?

We change course every day, wrestling with those complex choices of guac or no guac, relationship or Netflix.

But the real would you rather: Guac and relationship, or Netflix and no guac?

We’re innovators and inventors, refusing to conform to the mold left by previous generations.

And here the contradictions begin. Clearly she’s not too happy about the current innovations and inventions for this modern dating scene.

We’ve changed the idea of the 9-5, the office culture and the perfect partner. We’re not just looking for someone, we’re looking for “the one.”

But weren’t you just saying that that isn’t the case anymore? And wasn’t your mother probably also looking for “the one”?

We’re thinking about our careers, our friendships and that amazing life we always dreamed of for ourselves.

So was your mother.

Daily Elite Daily #3

Why You’re Mind F*cking More Than You’re F*cking In A Relationship (Suggested title: “Shitty things shitty people do in relationships that don’t last”)

by Lauren Martin on Jan. 13, 2015

Relationships aren’t about love, they’re about f*cking… not each other, but with each other.

I think centuries worth of philosophers might want to argue with you.

Getting a boyfriend is like enrolling in Jedi school for mind tricks.

Not just anyone can enroll in a Jedi school. Show some respect!

You jump into these old, deceptive tricks you forgot you had up your shallow sleeve, and suddenly you’re a f*cking master at psychology and mind reading.

This is probably just semantics but why is the sleeve “shallow”? Or are you collectively saying that all people who have boyfriends are shallow?

You’ve become a professional manipulator, and most of your time is spent plotting your next move rather than spending any time with your partner.

“I don’t have time to eat dinner right now! I’m plotting.”

You study, strategize and calculate each play until you’re basically walking on water.

And here I thought you needed to be the son of God to walk on water.

It’s a wonder any of us manages to get into relationships at all. But that’s what the games are for, aren’t they? We play them to entice and lure our opponents, hoping to trick them into falling in love with us.

Or, I don’t know, maybe we hope to let our qualities speak for themselves and let love develop naturally?

That’s part of the fun of getting into a relationship, isn’t it? If we were upfront with each other to begin with, what else would there be to look forward to?

A healthy relationship?

The number one mind-f*ck in the game. Text me once, I’ll text you an hour later. Text me twice, I’ll delete your number.

I wouldn’t call this a game so much as “severing any chance you have with someone.”

But in reality, I needed to know why you haven’t texted me in the past 36 hours… not that I would respond if you did.

?????????

You don’t actually use dating apps, but in case he checks your phone, you’d like to make it seem like there’s some competition. If this guy wants to be with you, he’d better be willing to work for you.

Does anyone actually do this?

When a woman says she doesn’t want to be exclusive, it doesn’t mean she wants you to start sleeping with other people — it means she wants you to wonder why the hell she doesn’t want to be exclusive.

It can’t possibly mean she doesn’t want to be exclusive?

I haven’t texted you in two days, but I’ll let you know I definitely still have my phone by posting pictures that show me having a great time with hot guys.

Hot guys that you don’t text back? Is there an infinite loop of guys not being texted and desperately refreshing your Instagram?

If you’re hasty, you’ll jump the gun early and reveal in a semi-coy manner how many men you have, or haven’t, slept with.

I’d be much more interested in how many people someone hasn’t slept with based on modern statistics. “So there are currently 3.5 billion men in the world, I haven’t slept with most of those 3.5 billion men.”

You may even somehow manage to throw how big your ex-boyfriend’s package really was into the conversation.

Excellent tactic, I’m sure.

Toward the end of the game, you can start throwing more chips in. Maybe you allude to the idea you won’t know him next month…

WOAH WOAH WOAH. If a girl told me she might not know me next month I’d be afraid she was suffering early Alzheimer’s or something.

You’re getting to the end, the last round, the final leap. So now it’s all about who caves first, who says, “it” first and who cares less — who comes out the lover and who comes out the loved.

Because a healthy relationship involves only one person being in love.

Daily Elite Daily #2

8 Reasons Why you Should Marry the Complicated Girl (suggested subtitle: Marry the Special Snowflake)

by Lauren Skirvin on Dec. 4, 2014

“Why wasn’t it me?” Carrie asked the love of her life right before he married another woman. “No, seriously. I really need to hear you say it. Come on, be a friend.”

“I don’t know. It just got so hard… and she’s…” replied Mr. Big.

“Yeah.”

I know it’s cliché to quote “Sex and the City,” but it’s still so relevant.

Is it cliché to quote Sex and the City? But the bigger question: will this lead to using more Sex and the City analogies to talk about the dating world? The answer is undoubtedly yes.

This episode revealed to girls like me what we’ve subconsciously known for a long time: We are the type of girls you should be with, but you don’t want to be with.

Sweeping generalities: 1
Logic: 0

Carrie is complicated. She doesn’t put up with not getting everything she deserves. She craves more from Big. She has opinions and a life and dreams for the two of them together.

This just in: complicated women don’t put up with not getting everything they deserve, have opinions and lives. Wow, the word must be full of complicated women.

Not that Natasha doesn’t care. But, she is a basic girl who wants to keep the peace at any cost, even if that means she put her needs aside. Her mind isn’t quite as analytical and imaginative as Carrie’s, so she can put up with more. She’s simple.

Nothing screams “A MILLENIAL WROTE THIS” more than using “basic” to describe a woman.

I am not simple. I am a challenge for any man, I will admit. As hard as I try to be the simple girl, it is just not in my nature to be one. I demand more from everyone because I see great potential.

Yes, I’m sure women actively try to be “simple.”

But, a real man knows that by being with a complicated girl, he will be better for it.

Or, I don;t know, I’m just spitballing here, maybe men should be with women who love them, and vice versa.

This is the type of girl you should marry. You may think it’s not what you want, but you want her.

So wait, do I want her or don’t I? I’m confused.

Even stubborn Mr. Big came to realize he didn’t want it easy, and he ended up cheating on Natasha… with Carrie.

SPOILER ALERT

No one will encourage you to follow your dreams.

Literally no one but a “complicated” girl will encourage you to follow your dreams, so you’d better go find one, gentlemen.

And now we finally get into the “8 reasons…”

Marry the girl who tells you exactly what she expects and follows through.

As opposed to the girl who tells you exactly what she doesn’t expect and doesn’t follow through? Because that would be pretty complicated too.

Marry the girl who can talk politics, even if her opinions are different from yours.

If she can’t talk politics, forget about her. Even if she has a PhD in chemistry.

Marry the girl with whom you sometimes fight.

My cousin married a girl he’s never fought with even once and she’s a very articulate woman. Checkmate, atheists.

Don’t get me wrong; a complicated girl who is not yet mature will be a pain in the ass. She will pick fights with you about everything, and you will always feel like a failure in her presence because you won’t know how to make her happy.

But, with a little experience and wisdom, this is the girl who will become wife material. And, once she’s at that point, you better never let her get away, or you’ll risk losing the best thing you ever had.

Experience I get, but wisdom? How does one chance upon that? It seems key to the whole argument here.

Daily Elite Daily #1

Elite Daily is a generally terrible website. So why not take down a bunch of its non-news content? As often as I can, I’m going to do a close dissection of one Elite Daily article. I will not link to it, because that is what the website wants. I will give the headline, date of publication and author so you can search for it, if you so wish.

Why I Believe in Marriage, Just Not Weddings

by Laura Argintar on Dec. 5, 2014

In this article, Ms. Argintar argues, I’m sure for the first time ever, that weddings are insane. I will give her a tiny bit of credit, however, in that she actually backs up some of her claims with links. But that won’t stop me.

I know many of you are already on the defense.

The first line of the piece doesn’t even attempt to hook the reader in. Instead, Argintar smugly assumes people who are reading this have no idea how fucking insane weddings are and will support them to the death.

The $51 billion industry, with over 800,000 employees (including a personal social media concierge who will live-tweet your wedding for a cool $3k…)

Of the 800,000 “employees” of the wedding industry, only one can be the social media concierge. Everyone else is out of luck sorry.

While marriage remains an institution that benefits just two people, weddings are an enterprise and the people who profit most aren’t the bride and groom.

Really? The bride and groom don’t profit from a wedding? But people the bride and groom pay money to actually do profit? Please, tell me more.

It’s the caterers, event spaces, planners, decorators, florists who stand to gain the most from two people falling in love.

Uh, yes. Because they are paid to do their jobs.

Why do we feel the need to consummate the sacred act of marriage by shelling out thousands of dollars on superficial extras, like gold-trimmed place cards?

I don’t think she’s using the right word here, unless somehow spending thousands of dollars on gold-trimmed place cards can now replace having sex on your wedding day.

My friend once received an invitation to a wedding that was a mini record player with a pre-recorded song. This novel prop was just the start of what he recalls was an “insane wedding.”

GODDAMNIT. This was marginally interesting, but she doesn’t expand on what this “insane wedding is.” Is anyone still following her train of thought? Hard to when the next part goes:

Every time I see a 32-year-old woman on TLC saying she wants to look like a princess in a poofy fairytale ball gown, my heart dies a little. Since when did weddings become the new Sweet Sixteens?

In what way does this thought connect to the previous one? I’m lost.

Why are we squealing over penis straws at age 25 like we did when we were 12 and shopping at Urban Outfitters for the first time?

Okay I’ve only ever been in an Urban Outfitters once. Do they sell penis straws?

Beyond the reception, the add-ons to the wedding celebration cost an elaborate amount as well. Instead of One Big Day, a typical couple now has multiple big days: engagement parties, his and her bachelor fetes, bridal showers and rehearsal dinners, further fueling this economic complex.

Engagement parties might be new but I’m pretty sure everything else she mentions has been around for a very long time. Also, nice use of “economic complex.”

It’s basically become more about an exchange of goods and less about an exchange of vows.

I thought it was about people other than the bridge and groom profiting?

I understand that the reception is important. In a cultural context especially, weddings are a time when two families and friends come together and rejoice in the expansion of the clan. But if two people become contractually betrothed and they don’t throw a party after for everyone to celebrate it, does that mean that their union wasn’t legitimate?

No.

Despite 500 words to the contrary, I’m not saying that I’m against celebrating the love and joy and union between two people.

And now 500 words in, any readers still hanging on are throwing up their hands.

What I am conflicted about is the commercialization of this special love. We already have Valentine’s Day, we don’t need to be sold and marketed another overpriced holiday all in the name of finding The One.

Presumably, if you’re getting married you have already found The One.

When I say “I do,” I want it to be to the person I love, not the table linens.

What a way to bring this to a close. Who the fuck would ever say “I do” to table linens?

Epizootic

“I learned a new word today,” she said. They had been silent for a few minutes so it startled him when she said it. They were both enjoying the summer sun and the controlled chaos of Trinity Bellwoods Park.

“Oh yeah?” he replied. He opened his eyes and sat up, sweeping off the grass that inevitably stuck to his hair, arms and shirt. Whenever she said that she learned a new word, it would always be an unspoken challenge between the two. He was no walking Oxford dictionary, but he had a decent vocabulary. So did she, of course. “What would that be?”

She also sat up, also sweeping the grass off of herself in a similar fashion. “The word is…” she paused a moment, perhaps trying to make sure she got the pronunciation on her first try. “Epizootic.”

A short word, but a fun pronunciation. He asked her to repeat the word, then said it to himself phonetically. “Ep-ih-zoh-aw-tic…” He shook his head. “Nope. nothing.”

“You can probably figure out the definition if you think about it,” she said. “But I’ll tell you anyway. It’s the animal version of an epidemic.”

“Oh, I probably could have figured that out,” he said. “I was just so flustered by not knowing the word.”

She laughed. “So in other words…”

“Yes,” he said with a sigh. “I lost.”

***

He met her two years ago, and he had his high school to blame. Growing up in the small town of Paisley, Ontario, he was surrounded by people who were happy with their lots in life. As he progressed through his four years with no interest in school sports, he found himself increasingly uneasy talking with some of his classmates. What were you in a small town, if not an athlete?

Not to imply that Saugeen Shores Secondary School was a scene from some teen comedy, but sports were always a big deal. He instead found a passion for chemistry, taking to learning the periodic table by atomic number, by heart, by the time he was in his final year.

On encouragement from his teachers, he applied to the University of Toronto’s chemistry program and got in easily. His friends were a little shocked that he would within a year be making the transition to the “big city.” He had no such qualms. He wanted to get the hell out.

His first visit to Toronto (to tour the campus, of course) was a little terrifying. The subway wasn’t too complicated, but once he got to St. George Station he got a little confused by which exits led where.

Things went a little better once he moved in. He took to his studies with vigour, as always, but he made more of an effort to be involved with extracurriculars. He ended up, on a whim, getting involved with a U of T theatre group. The first production he had a role in was As You Like It, as Duke Senior, a role his friends described as “eerily suited to him.” Apparently he always had an air of authority, even when he didn’t mean to.

In third year, he met her. She tried out (and got) the part of Katherine in The Taming of the Shrew. He did not get the part of Petruchio, but he still worked up the courage to talk to her after her audition.

He wasn’t sure how to describe what drew him to her. She just had an air of confidence in the way she presented herself, from the casual, barely-there makeup around her eyes to the way she had hair piled up on a bun. During her audition (she recited Hamlet’s most famous speech) her eyes could look like they could well with tears one minute and blaze with anger the next. He wasn’t nearly so poised, which was probably why he was interested. Maybe he could learn a thing or two.

“That was really cool,” he said, somewhat choking on the words.

“Oh thanks,” she said, without looking up.

“What got you interested in this play?” he asked.

Now she looked up. “I don’t know,” she said after a few seconds. “I just felt like it.”

“You felt like auditioning for a Shakespeare play?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Can’t believe they liked me so much.”

“Wait, you just had Hamlet’s ‘To Be or Not to Be’ soliloquy memorized?”

“Everyone has something they know by heart, I’m sure you do,” she said.

“That’s true,” he said.

“That was an invitation for you to tell me what that is,” she said.

“Oh, well, I know the periodic table by heart, from atomic number 1 to 118.”

“Get out!” she said, a smile forming on her lips. “Prove it.”

Without hesitation, and now in his element, he began listing the elements. By the time he got to “cesium,” she told him to stop and that she believed him.

She glanced at her watch and apologized, saying she had to leave. But she asked him to hang out, an invitation he wholeheartedly accepted.

They met a few days later, deciding to hang out the cheap way (they were students, after all) by going for a long walk. They decided to walk to Exhibition Place, which at least an hour on foot, and so they had plenty to talk about on the way and back. She was studying history and had done extensive traveling in the year she took off before applying for school.

She spent a few months in Asia before taking a brief detour to Oceania, then headed west to Europe. By the time she was back in North America, she felt like she had to relearn customs.

They learned a lot about each other, that first real meeting, and it quickly became something more. When he finally asked her if she would be his girlfriend, she laughed in his face. He was hurt for a minute, until she clarified the reason for her laughter. “I didn’t think we had to formalize it. What is this, 1895?”

As they spent more time together, he grew to love her devotion to vegetarianism and her unabashed love for NewsRadio, and she grew to love his habit of mumbling to himself when deep into writing up a lab report and his tendency to eat slices of pizza crust-first.

***

“Say it one more time,” she said. “I don’t hear it often enough.”

“You’re really relishing it,” he said, and she didn’t disagree. “I lost, I didn’t know the definition of the word, congratulations.”

“Well thank you,” she said, doing a mocking bowing gesture (the best she could accomplish while still sitting on the grass).

“How did you come across the word, anyway? Sounds like a word I should have known, not you.”

“Came across it in some research I was doing today,” she said. Just a month ago she got an archiving job at Robarts, and when she was finished a task and had some downtime she’d skim articles for interesting factoids to pull out later. “In 1990, something like 10,000 cormorants died from Newcastle disease. It was seen as pretty bad, but it might have been even worse 100 years ago, when it wiped out a slew of Scottish livestock.”

“You really learn a lot of strange things,” he said.

“It’s what I do,” she said. There was another lull in conversation, this one lasting at least five minutes. He looked around the park, from the baseball diamond (currently hosting some adult softball game) to the dog bowl, a naturally lower-elevated part of the park where people take their pets to play in a large but enclosed space.

“Hypothetical question,” he finally said, to start a new train of thought. “If you had to pick one current world problem to be the cause of the apocalypse, what would it be?”

“Hmm, good question…” she said. She closed her eyes and ran her hand through her hair. “It’ll be something to do with Russia. Maybe Putin will overplay his hand and some country will get offended and then BAM, some other country will get spooked by the tension and launch a nuclear missile. I just know it’ll be something really stupid like that. It’ll be a few minor events that suddenly add up to something huge, like when Princip killed Archduke Ferdinand.”

“That’s a kind of cynical view of our world leaders, if you ask me,” he said, considering her answer more as he spoke. “I mean sure, they make lots of bad decisions, but I don’t think anyone would think to start a nuclear war.”

“Maybe not now, but it’ll happen, I’m sure of it,” she said. “What do you think will be the cause of the inevitable end of Earth?”

“I’m not sure if this counts, but I think it’ll be whenever the volcano at Yellowstone National Park erupts. I read somewhere that it’s had a sort of typical pattern of eruptions over its thousands of years of existence, and it’s basically been dormant for a lot more years, mathematically, than it should.”

“It’ll erupt someday, so what?”

“So what?” He did his best not to strike a professor-ly tone but he couldn’t help it. “A massive eruption could send huge clouds of ash up to the sky and blot out the sun. We’ll all live in misery for the brief time we’ll be able to survive without sunlight. I see everything going all Walking Dead, minus the zombies, of course.”

“So nuclear war or massive volcano. Fun options,” she said.

“I worry about our conversation topics sometimes,” he replied. Suddenly they both heard a shriek. They looked over to see what was happening. A small crowd had gathered.

Deciding to join the herd, the two walked over and saw three birds lying dead on the ground, with no visible wounds.

They looked at each other, and mouthed the new word in unison.