I Like That You Like What I Like
Part of the reason Samantha and I broke up was due to what we called "diverging interests." She was interested in joining a co-ed fraternity for the business school, and I was interested in being a typical nerdy pop culture enthusiast, with some interest in politics and philosophy. After we broke up, and I observed the appropriate time of mourning, I got to thinking that it would be a good idea to start dating girls that share the same interests as I do. I became obsessed with the question of which was more important--personality or interests?
So I became interested in a girl called Alice. I met Alice at a show, which led me to believe that she had good (read: similar to my own) music taste. She liked the same movies I did (for the most part), and we got along pretty well. Then several revelations grew more apparent over our time together. The most important of these revelations were:
1. Alice was flighty, had trouble making decisions, and generally seemed like kind of a flake.
2. Alice was the most idealistic person I'd ever met. I'm all for idealism, but she lived in some kind of dream world where the things that she hoped for were actually true. In short, I looked at her model of the world as a fantasy, whereas she chose to pretend that it was reality.
3. Alice just wanted to be friends with me anyway. (My reaction was that of surprise and dismay: "Hey! You can't do that! Can she do that? You can't do that!")
4. Alice's dream world was one in which she thought I could magically suspend my feelings for her so that she could have me as a buddy.
With those revelations made clear, Alice and I stopped hanging out.
Some months later, I met Grace. I also met Grace at a show, through some mutual friends. We started off as friends, but spent a lot of time together. After about two and a half weeks of hanging out, we still hadn't even kissed. To be honest, I had just come off that thing with Alice, so I was kind of afraid that she just wanted to be friends with me. But we finally kissed, and confessed our feelings for each other, and it was nice.
I'm not sure, I remember thinking when things were progressing along nicely, that there is any reason that I would ever want to stop hanging out with this girl. She was funny and effervescent. She was incredibly smart. She was attractive. She exercised regularly. She alone made up one-seventh of all the girls in the world I've ever met who made themselves more attractive by their taste in pop culture.
We fooled around a little here and there, but following the frustrating but true idea that "it's better if you wait," we decided that in fact, it would be better if we waited to sleep together. Finally the night came. Details aside, it was over before it really started, and the words "It's OK, I'm not mad," were said by none other than yours truly.
The next day I got a phone call from her saying that she thought things might be going too fast.
"That's fine," I said. "There's no pressure. I like spending time with you, but we don't have to make anything official--we can just hang out together when we feel like it."
I called her the next day, but she didn't answer. I left a message. I didn't hear from her for eleven days.
I sent her an funny but firm e-mail suggesting that she tell me what the hell is going on. She text messaged me later that day. I texted back. I didn't hear from her for nine more days.
Finally, driven insane by a situation which I had no control over, I demanded that she tell me what the hell was going on. Her reason: "I'm not over my ex-boyfriend." What's that smell? It smells kind of funny. . . rich and full-bodied, yet putrid and rank. Ah yes! It's bullshit! I didn't stick around to find out what the real problem was, and I ended up just riding my horse out into the sunset, only to be ignored by her at every subsequent occasion that we both attended.
With those two frustrating cases on the books, I began to wonder. Which is more important: what you like, or what you're like? I have three pleasant, argument-free, basically fulfilling years of memories with Samantha, who wouldn't know Bob Dylan from Bob Seger, who wouldn't know Ingmar Bergman from Engelbert Humperdink, who wouldn't know Sartre from that guy who stands on the corner and does the shuck-and-jive for nickles, and who wouldn't care about any of the following comparisons, whatever. But on the other hand, that's basically why we broke up in the first place. Then there's Alice and Grace. Two girls who I would message if they had an online profile with the "interests" section filled in, but who turned out to be as secure as a Cherokee/Confederate treaty.
I'm a big believer in the compatability of personality types. Different folks work better together than others do--in many cases, couples that seem strange to us, have in reality, a healthy relationship. However, it's become clear to me that a successful couple must have at least some of the same interests, or the ability to become interested and learn about the things that the other wants to spend time doing.
If I had to pick one of the two, I'd say that it was more important to be compatible in personality. Your interests may very well change, but our typical behavior changes much less often. This is obviously not to negate the importance of similar interests--I've always found girls who read a turn on; hearing a female voice speak the words "Don't you just love The Clash?" causes a stirring in my groin--these things are important. Our only hope for finding a partner that allows us to check off both boxes is to be a little bit flexible in what we're looking for.
It's foolish to brush a girl off if she's never heard Three Feet High and Rising or seen a Fellini film (although it's often tempting). Alternatively, if a girl is like the sexy equivalent to Lester Bangs, and is quite needy, and you yourself have never been one for emotional security, you may want to go ahead and let that one pass. However if you are have devoted your life to collecting Beanie Babies, and she's a professor of Anthropology, I wouldn't go moving the collection in to her apartment just yet, even if you two can chat all day like you've known her all your life.
All this seems to make sense, although you never know what kind of wacky couples can end up together. It's like Paula Abdul and that singing, sport-jacket-clad cartoon cat said--opposites attract.
So I became interested in a girl called Alice. I met Alice at a show, which led me to believe that she had good (read: similar to my own) music taste. She liked the same movies I did (for the most part), and we got along pretty well. Then several revelations grew more apparent over our time together. The most important of these revelations were:
1. Alice was flighty, had trouble making decisions, and generally seemed like kind of a flake.
2. Alice was the most idealistic person I'd ever met. I'm all for idealism, but she lived in some kind of dream world where the things that she hoped for were actually true. In short, I looked at her model of the world as a fantasy, whereas she chose to pretend that it was reality.
3. Alice just wanted to be friends with me anyway. (My reaction was that of surprise and dismay: "Hey! You can't do that! Can she do that? You can't do that!")
4. Alice's dream world was one in which she thought I could magically suspend my feelings for her so that she could have me as a buddy.
With those revelations made clear, Alice and I stopped hanging out.
Some months later, I met Grace. I also met Grace at a show, through some mutual friends. We started off as friends, but spent a lot of time together. After about two and a half weeks of hanging out, we still hadn't even kissed. To be honest, I had just come off that thing with Alice, so I was kind of afraid that she just wanted to be friends with me. But we finally kissed, and confessed our feelings for each other, and it was nice.
I'm not sure, I remember thinking when things were progressing along nicely, that there is any reason that I would ever want to stop hanging out with this girl. She was funny and effervescent. She was incredibly smart. She was attractive. She exercised regularly. She alone made up one-seventh of all the girls in the world I've ever met who made themselves more attractive by their taste in pop culture.
We fooled around a little here and there, but following the frustrating but true idea that "it's better if you wait," we decided that in fact, it would be better if we waited to sleep together. Finally the night came. Details aside, it was over before it really started, and the words "It's OK, I'm not mad," were said by none other than yours truly.
The next day I got a phone call from her saying that she thought things might be going too fast.
"That's fine," I said. "There's no pressure. I like spending time with you, but we don't have to make anything official--we can just hang out together when we feel like it."
I called her the next day, but she didn't answer. I left a message. I didn't hear from her for eleven days.
I sent her an funny but firm e-mail suggesting that she tell me what the hell is going on. She text messaged me later that day. I texted back. I didn't hear from her for nine more days.
Finally, driven insane by a situation which I had no control over, I demanded that she tell me what the hell was going on. Her reason: "I'm not over my ex-boyfriend." What's that smell? It smells kind of funny. . . rich and full-bodied, yet putrid and rank. Ah yes! It's bullshit! I didn't stick around to find out what the real problem was, and I ended up just riding my horse out into the sunset, only to be ignored by her at every subsequent occasion that we both attended.
With those two frustrating cases on the books, I began to wonder. Which is more important: what you like, or what you're like? I have three pleasant, argument-free, basically fulfilling years of memories with Samantha, who wouldn't know Bob Dylan from Bob Seger, who wouldn't know Ingmar Bergman from Engelbert Humperdink, who wouldn't know Sartre from that guy who stands on the corner and does the shuck-and-jive for nickles, and who wouldn't care about any of the following comparisons, whatever. But on the other hand, that's basically why we broke up in the first place. Then there's Alice and Grace. Two girls who I would message if they had an online profile with the "interests" section filled in, but who turned out to be as secure as a Cherokee/Confederate treaty.
I'm a big believer in the compatability of personality types. Different folks work better together than others do--in many cases, couples that seem strange to us, have in reality, a healthy relationship. However, it's become clear to me that a successful couple must have at least some of the same interests, or the ability to become interested and learn about the things that the other wants to spend time doing.
If I had to pick one of the two, I'd say that it was more important to be compatible in personality. Your interests may very well change, but our typical behavior changes much less often. This is obviously not to negate the importance of similar interests--I've always found girls who read a turn on; hearing a female voice speak the words "Don't you just love The Clash?" causes a stirring in my groin--these things are important. Our only hope for finding a partner that allows us to check off both boxes is to be a little bit flexible in what we're looking for.
It's foolish to brush a girl off if she's never heard Three Feet High and Rising or seen a Fellini film (although it's often tempting). Alternatively, if a girl is like the sexy equivalent to Lester Bangs, and is quite needy, and you yourself have never been one for emotional security, you may want to go ahead and let that one pass. However if you are have devoted your life to collecting Beanie Babies, and she's a professor of Anthropology, I wouldn't go moving the collection in to her apartment just yet, even if you two can chat all day like you've known her all your life.
All this seems to make sense, although you never know what kind of wacky couples can end up together. It's like Paula Abdul and that singing, sport-jacket-clad cartoon cat said--opposites attract.
posted by Chris Cusack at 5:29 PM
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