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Heather is a contributing editor at the-dah. She is a Los Angeles based writer, improviser, snacker, social media mistress, and aspiring adult. Read more of her food-stained stories about growing up weird at Terrible-Twenties.com, or follow her digital alter ego @MissHezah on Twitter.
Neuroses shows no preference to gender. Over the course of their lives, both men and women will spend too much time devoted to deciphering mixed messages from the opposite sex. There’s no avoiding it; humans have created a complex language and too many channels in which to use it. Messages, especially those of the written variety, can be particularly tricky because they can be sent at any time, and lack any tone whatsoever. Not even the most detailed string of emojis can help in most cases.
Exhibit A.
To give you a little context for this heartfelt text message, it was sent completely out of the blue, hours after a meaningless chit chat exchange. One of my best friends graciously offer up this gem from a guy whom she met on a trip. She pursued a casual relationship for a short time upon their return, until he fucked everything up. This text came about six months after they ended things. Here are 5 ways this dumb-ass text can be interpreted.
1. A light-hearted message; almost like a friendly punch in the arm.
“You know…you’re alright, sorry some bum shit happened and you felt bad, maybe. Let’s grab a cold one.”
For almost two years, I have lived alone. Prior to that, I lived with my ex-boyfriend, a touring musician who was travelling half the year. Essentially I lived alone most of the time then too, but still cohabited with men’s clothes in my closets and a plethora of musical instruments in my living room.
But for the past couple years I have lived completely on my own, which I’m not going to lie, is absolutely wonderful. I have filled my walls with whatever “art” I found at the flea market, and overstuffed my apartment with bird paraphernalia. Because dammit, I like birds and I pay the rent!
As an only child, I have grown accustomed to a lifestyle that includes a hefty amount of ME TIME. Returning home from a long day and not having to talk to anyone is magical. Complete ownership over the DVR, fridge, closet, bathroom, and bed is unparalleled.
My boyfriend’s brother and I zapping zits with clay.
I awoke the morning of Thanksgiving with a huge zit. I felt like a sixteen year old on the morning of prom. I have since affectionately named it, “The Abscess.” This was my first Thanksgiving spent with my boyfriend’s family. Granted, this was not my first visit nor my first holiday with them, but no well kempt twenty-seven year old wants to wake up to that on any day, let alone a national holiday with people who have no obligation to love you unconditionally.
That’s pretty much the only thing downside to spending a holiday with someone else’s family; you have to be on pretty good behavior and look nice. At my own family gatherings, especially if my parents are present, I have a tendency to brat the fuck out. Other than immense difficulty it takes to act your age, holidays at other people’s homes are the best. All the food, without the drama.
There he is, Instagramming away.
In the land before time, pre-modern technology, couples had regular meals…in silence. Well, that’s what I assume anyway. In general, people were probably all really exhausted from trying to survive.
Post techno explosion, it used to be that wives would have to beg their husbands to turn off the ball game blaring from the television during dinner. Even in their earliest days, devices still interfered with meal time.
In today’s world, things have only gotten worse. So much of our lives are dependent on looking at a screen all day, and now our computers are also phones. As we greet every New Year, it becomes increasingly harder than ever to disconnect. Let’s face it, we’re all hooked, and no is more negatively affected by addicts than their loved ones.
I am afraid of debt and bad with money.
You do the math.
When I was a child, my limited understanding of marriage included knowing I would have to eventually share all my stuff. As I got older, I realized I would have to split my money as well. But it wasn’t until very recently that I learned my debt would also be a shared asset. Aside from the scary business of marriage, what with the merging of emotional assets and vowing to love one another, it’s the union of two banks accounts. The Spice Girls were singing about when two credit scores become one, right?
I don’t suppose I had really given the idea of asset integration much thought until one of my best friends got engaged a couple years ago. After dating for seven years it was time for both their last names checking accounts to merge. My friend put her foot down and insisted that her soon to be husband pay down his entire credit card bill before the wedding; starting their new life together with a clean slate. Good for her; well both of them really. Once you sign a marriage license and file for joint taxes, finances become muddled. Sadly, we live in a world where all too often divorce rules and romance drools. Even more confusing, in the case of divorce all the assets and debt brought into the marriage, as well as those accrued during the union, would be up for grabs. Despite my cynicism, I still believe in the sanctity of marriage, and my friends’ marital financial situation made me pause and think about assuming my future life mate’s debt.
Well, it’s official. You can actually pay people to validate your existence… virtually speaking of course. What the hell am I yammering on about? Oh just the fact that Facebook is testing paid, user-promoted posts, and it is possibly the weirdest thing ever.
There has been a lot of discussion around Facebook’s waning worth in the stock market, and even more clamoring over its ineffective advertiser experience. So I suppose it shouldn’t really come as a shock to anyone on Wednesday when Facebook started testing user promoted posts, AKA users pay to have certain posts prominently featured in “friends’” news feeds. Is Facebook really that hard up for money, or are its users that desperate for attention?