Evolution of Self

Yesterday, gentle readers, your MatchGirl received the good news that her baby sister (nearly 8 years her junior) is engaged to be married. Such exciting news. Such good stuff!

A few years ago, this news would have sent me into a downward spiral. Not because I would not have been just as excited for my sister and her beau then, I certainly would have. They've been together for a long time and they are really good together. He treats her so well and they are very much in love. My reaction - my mixed emotions - would have had nothing to do with sis and her hunny. They would have been purely about me. They would have been purely selfish.

Because a few years ago, your MatchGirl, dear ones, did not feel so great about herself. Long time readers of this little space know that well. You've seen the evolution. Before you go jumping to conclusions that the reason I feel OK about it now is because of Boyfriend (the not so single part of my tagline), it's not. Don't get me wrong. Boyfriend is an amazing man and I am lucky and happy to have him as my partner. But he's just one part of the puzzle...

A few years ago, I felt terrible about myself. About my life. I felt like I could never move forward (and sometimes I let that dark part of my mind surface now, but I don't let it win), and, in fact, that I might be moving backward. I didn't like what I was doing for work. I didn't like what I saw as my options. I felt like I had done something wrong which led to prior relationships failing, though in my head I knew that sometimes relationships just end and it's no one's fault. I felt that I was not where I was "supposed" to be in my life. I felt lost.

I was in the dark.

But I started looking at myself in a different light. I started seeing the things that I worked on as a hobby as things to be proud of. Of things that were worthwhile. And this is where the pivot happened. This is where I woke up. This is where the light came.

And this is how your MatchGirl, gentle readers, started to take her first steps forward and out of the dark, sad place.

It's hard, when you're in a rough place, to see the positive things about yourself. It's hard to see that what you do, even if it's something you look at as a silly hobby, is important. Or that some people, who are the people who will bring you down, look down their noses at, is actually a big deal. I don't know if you'll be able to monetize your passion projects, though I hope we all one day will, but I know that they matter. And I know that you matter.

Don't let yourselves sink down those dark holes, dear ones. Your MatchGirl has been there and she's come out the other side to tell you that it's not a path you need to follow. Feel good about yourself and about the journey you're on. When you do that, you'll find yourself feeling happy for other people as they succeed in their journeys, too.

No matter what, keep putting one foot in front of the other.
You'll find your way.

Jane Austen?

A month or two ago, sitting with a girlfriend in my kitchen, drinking beer and sewing curtains, we gossiped, as people do, about relationships - past, present and future. As stories unfolded, she looked at me, gentle readers, and told me that I should write them all down, so that when she was finished reading the works of Jane Austen, she could read the tales of your MatchGirl's loves and losses.

Now, your MatchGirl has not read a lot of Jane Austen, though perhaps that would be a good summer reading endeavor, but my life's loves are certainly full of complex stories. There are none so simple as "girl meets boy". Of course, is that ever really the case in this modern society? We spend so much time online - making friends and acquaintances over social networking sites. We keep in touch with those we love over text messages and e-mails. I don't know about you, dear readers, but I barely just talk on the phone any longer.  It's a rare treat when I have the time.

I have one dear friend who met a girl in real life, and then, while living in separate countries, and chatting online and via Skype on a regular basis, decided that they should be in a relationship - before they had ever been alone together.  They've, of course, since spent time together.  And, to my eyes, and your MatchGirl has known this gentleman for a very long time, he is very happy.

Your MatchGirl, in case you could not tell, loves the written word.  And I love getting to know someone using the written word, but I wonder if all these things (of which I heartily partake) that are supposed to make it easier to communicate really make it harder.  I wonder if we were better off in those days where you met someone, in real life first, and got to know them slowly over a matter of time - over drinks and coffees and dinners and walks from the movie theater.  I remember those times.  I'm not sure my life was any better for it, but I wonder about them.

Contemplation

Gentle readers, in 4 months and 23 days your MatchGirl will be 35 years old.

Now, while that may not really be so old in the general scheme of things, I gotta tell you, my life at 35 (almost) is not really where I thought it would be when I was 25(ish).

That's not to complain about my life.  It's good.  I spent a year and a half of it being unemployed and getting to know myself and my neighborhood and my neighbors.  I have friends who, every single day, surprise and amaze me.  I have a (newish) job in a growing field, where I'm constantly learning, having to stay on my toes and working with some of the most interesting and creative people I've met.

But it's a life that is very different than the one I'd imagined for myself.

There are a few pieces that still need to fall into place.  They're the pieces that can't be forced.  The ones one has to sit back and wait for, maybe giving a little nudge here and there.  But definitely the one that cannot be forced.  And this, dear readers, for your impatient MatchGirl, is the most difficult part of the journey...

• I Wanna Be Your Girlfriend by Lush

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A Case For Friendship

Ah, gentle readers, your MatchGirl may have been a bit spotty with the posting of late, but I promise to be better from now on.  Employment won't keep me away from you.

This blog began as "one girl's perspective on being unemployed and single in Greenpoint, Brooklyn."  And I feel that I've remained true to that.  Though, often a lot more posts focus on my life as an unemployed gal, this one is about the part of my life that's me as a single girl.

Over the past year or so, dear ones, your MatchGirl has dated.  A lot.  This is not to say that she is out hooking up with a lot of men.  But this does mean that she has been on several first dates, a handful of second ones and even met some guys who stuck around for (or were kept around for?) dates that numbered into the double digits.  She has certainly kissed a lot of frogs.

While dating itself is kind of fun - anticipation, fresh conversation, meeting new people who are, whether they're a love connection or not, for the most part interesting and engaging and nice to spend an hour or two with - actually being single, meeting the people to go on those dates with and, no employed, finding the time to do so is a little stressful.

My favorite, though, are the dates that were unexpected, unplanned, unsure. Tentative meetings with men that you know through friends or work or events or just running into around the neighborhood.

And here is why - there are no nerves, just easy conversation.  It's easy to have a drink with a friend.  We do it all the time.  It's easy to meet up with someone you want to get to know better - that's how friendships flourish.

Think of it this way, gentle ones:  You're at a party and you start chatting with someone of the same sex (or opposite sex if you're attracted to those of the same sex) and it turns out that you have a lot in common or you live in the same neighborhood or you both list "Can't Buy Me Love" among your favorite movies so you decide that you should have coffee or brunch or have a cocktail and get to know each other better.  You don't think twice about texting her or shooting off an e-mail.  You call because you want to hang out.

There are no rules.  There are no games.  There is simply "Let's hang out and get to know each other better."

In my opinion, dear readers, this is a much more civilized way to go about things.

And, to that end, I have made a resolution - or, actually, committed to keeping a resolution that I made a long time ago.

I will play no games.
If I have a lovely time with a gentleman, I will let him know.
If I want to see him again, I'll tell him.
If I feel like sending him a text, I will.
If he freaks out...  then he's not the man for me.

Life's to short to wait around for games and three-day rules.  Every great relationship is built on friendship anyway, so why not approach dating the same way you would making a new friend?

Connection

Oh, gentle readers, your MatchGirl is still channeling the mid-90s Brit pop - feeling nostalgic and a little melancholy all at once. Nostalgic for the salad days of youth, perhaps. And melancholy that it was fifteen years ago and being a proper adult seemed so very far away. Back in those days, all you had to do to connect with someone was go to a bar or a concert, hang out in a coffee shop or wander through the (now defunct) Tower Records in Harvard Square. You simply had to go to class and pay attention to the people in your seminar who has interesting things to say. To get a job, you spoke to a counselor on campus. You walked into a store you liked and asked if they were hiring.

Oh my, how times have changed.

Perhaps some of what has changed is simply perception. We're not kids anymore and everything looks so very rosy and romantic in hindsight.

Or, maybe the internet has changed everything.

From Craigslist to Monster to Match, whether you are looking for a job or a date, all one seems to need to do is hop on the web and everything is at their fingertips. Don't get me wrong, gentle ones, your MatchGirl is amazed at the connections she has been able to make through this forum - through blogging and Tweeting and Facebook pages - but, I am lucky to have made a lot of those connections with people who live right here in Greenpoint. I am lucky to have met them in real life and be able to go and grab a coffee or a cocktail with them.

It is a little over a year since I was laid off and it is also a little over a year since I started online dating. I'm ashamed of neither. The economy (and my bosses stocks) tanked and my position was a casualty. I was single and not meeting anyone else who was single, so I decided to sign up for an online service and see who was out there. Both have been enriching and interesting experiences.

Unfortunately, in the desolation that is the American economy in 2010, finding a job online just doesn't seem that likely. The last place I interviewed told me they had received 450 applications - only counting the people who applied properly, answering the supplemental questions and sending their resume to the email address embedded in the body of the job listing. I felt honored just to interview. Honestly. There are so many thousands of people out there right now, searching earnestly for a job. I can't even conceive of the hundreds and hundreds of resumes that each employer receives in their email inbox. I can't imagine sifting through them all, looking for that perfect match.

Online dating is kind of the same. There are so many single people out there - of all shapes and ages and sizes - too shy to speak to someone at a bar or coffee shop. They see a pretty face on the subway and, instead of taking a deep breath and saying "hello", they rush home and write a Missed Connection - throwing it out into the ether and leaving it in the hands of whatever fate they subscribe to that their dream hunny (or an astute friend) is going to see that missive. They troll through pages and pages of online profiles, looking at pictures and sending out emails. All in the hope that not only will the object of their desire respond, but that, upon meeting, the connection will be there and that that one will be "the one".

This morning, as I sit here, perusing the job postings on Craigslist and MediaBistro, I'm over it. I am so very tired of reading these anonymous listings of job descriptions from nameless companies I know nothing about. I want a job - I desperately want a job - but I want a job that is a good fit. For both the employer and for me. I feel as though these anonymous ads on Craigslist are just wasting time. Not only mine, but the company's as well. To sift through a thousand resumes is a pain in the ass, and, by the time that the reader gets through the piles, we all know they will be less focused than when they began the process. The anonymity of the postings also leads to tedious cover letters. If you have no idea who you are addressing, how can you really introduce yourself as being the right one for the job?

As for online dating? Over that, too. Sure, I've met some very interesting people. Some I would never go out with again, but they make a good story for a cocktail party. Some have become good friends, and I'm glad to have them in my circle. But I miss the days when you talk to someone at a party or a dinner or waiting for the bus. I miss the days of making that initial connection.

I am ready to have a job. I am ready for a commute and wearing heels every day and not being able to log onto Facebook whenever I want. I am ready for conference calls and water cooler conversation and intra-office gossip.

I am ready to stop going on first dates. I am ready for dates three and four and hand holding and movie watching and that giddy excitement of actually getting to know someone. In real life.

A Little Patience

Ah, gentle readers, if you've been reading this tome for a while now, you know that your MatchGirl is not the most patient of women.  She likes to know what's happening.  She likes to have an answer.

But, as so often the case in job hunting, and, its parallel, dating, there are no quick and easy answers.  There is no fast fix.

Today I was alerted to a job that seemed made for me.  It was out there in the Twitter-verse, re-posted by a friend of a friend, who I follow for her musings of all these food and drink related.  I had just been on Craiglsist, perusing the listings, perhaps an hour earlier, and feeling completely uninspired.  Nothing was speaking to me.  Nothing inspired me to apply.  Honestly, there was nothing that made me feel like I would want to go into that office every day and do that job ad infinitum.  I felt like I should give up for the day - look at a couple of other sites, reach out to a couple of recruiters I know and then hit the streets and the sewing machine for the rest of my sunny Monday.

I, however, caught Meredith's quick re-tweet and clicked on the posting - more out of curiosity than thinking that I would find a job for me behind that url.  I couldn't have been more surprised!  The job spoke to me in ways that no posting has in quite some time.  The skills required were not only ones I have done in past jobs, they were ones that I use in my free time.  For fun!  It required organizational skills, calmness under pressure and comfort in the world of social media networking.

Well, dear ones, we all know that I can do that!

So, I've submitted my resume.

I wrote a cover letter.
I answered the included questions.
I put in hyper-links to all my blogs and social media platforms.

And now I wait.

Your MatchGirl has never been good at waiting.  At not knowing what's going on.
Just sitting back and relaxing are not really things that I have ever known how to do.

I'm the same way when it comes to dating.  When I meet a guy and I know I like him, I want to hang out with him and see where it will go.  I want to get to know him better.  I want to spend time - I want to make time - for all of that.  I'm no good at being that patient gal that waits by the phone for her man to call.  Of course, I don't want to call him to much because it's a sure-fired way to scare him away (or so all my friends - male and female - say).  The games people play in dating have never made sense to me (I think I was out of the room when that particular rule book was passed around).  I can't be bothered with them.

While your MatchGirl considers herself a virtuous (mostly) girl, patience has never been one which she possessed in spades.  Perhaps it's the Scorpio in her.  Perhaps it's because she is the first-born child.  Whatever the reason, it's an art I wish to practice, but not one that comes easily.

Of course, I believe, Axl Rose said it best:

Sometimes, I get so tense
But I can't speed up the time
But you know, love, there's one more thing to consider
Said woman take it slow
Things will be just fine
You and I'll just use a little patience

Here's to you, Axl.  And here's to me using (finding) that little patience.
In a few things that are going on in my life right now.

The Waiting Game

Ah, gentle readers. Your MatchGirl is not a fan of waiting.  That is not to say that I cannot be a patient girl, but when I want something to happen, I want it to happen.  I believe in doing what I can to make things happen and I believe in trying to figure out how to make things happen when I'm  not sure.

To be honest, when it comes to an income, I am very much in the position where I am trying to figure out how to make things happen - as I'm not really sure what my next step ought to be.  And full-time employment, job interviews, even, seem to elude me.

This is a post about waiting. 
This is yet another post about how looking for a job and the dating world are so very much the same game.

In both, you need to show interest.  But just enough.  Too much interest and you may seem a little creepy or obsessive.  Too little interest and you will not be taken seriously.

In both job seeking and dating, you need to show up the first time ready to make the best impression.  The right shoes.  The right outfit.  Hair coiffed exactly right.  You need to have fresh breath and the right accessories on hand, be it resumes or condoms, prepared for anything.

You need to spend a lot of time looking.  And I mean a lot.  Whether you are trolling the job sites on line or obsessively e-mailing employers you'd just like to work for, it's not so different than paging through the dating sites or keeping an eye to Missed Connections (just in case that cute boy in the jeans and sneakers with ironic glasses noticed you, too).  Putting together your LinkedIn profile is pretty much the same as filling out your page on Nerve.com.  Either way, it's upon you to sell yourself in a very short amount of space - to make people want to e-mail you.

In my humble experience, however, dear ones, the biggest similarity is the waiting.  And the waiting.  And the waiting.

You go on an interview.  You send your Thank You e-mails and/or letters.  And then you wait.  Perhaps you phone them or e-mail them again.  But mostly, you wait - either for rejection or confirmation.  You just hope that they ask you in again.

You are introduced to a gentleman (or lady) by mutual friends.  You chat.  You have a drink.  Perhaps you share some food.  You feel like you'd like to get to know this person better.  They ask for your number/e-mail/card, so you feel like they'd like to know you better as well.  And then you wait.  And you wait.  And that's just the way things go.

Your MatchGirl is not good at this kind of waiting.  She likes to have a plan - to have action - to know what is going to happen next.  I feel the same disappointment when I don't hear back from a prospective employer regarding my interviews (I understand that not every applicant will receive acknowledgment of their submission, but after one or two interviews a courtesy e-mail or call is only appropriate!) as when that cute guy that asked for my number/e-mail/card doesn't call.  The worst part of it?  Knowing there is nothing I can do about it.


Image from some kid's project on the 70s and 80s

Sisters Are Doin' It For Themselves

Now, there was a time when they used to say
that behind ev'ry great man, there had to be a great woman.
But oh, in these times of change,
you know that it's no longer true.
So we're comin' out of the kitchen,
'cause there's something we forgot to say to you.
We say, Sisters are doin' it for themselves,
standin' on their own two feet and ringin' on their own bells.
We say, Sisters are doin' it for themselves.
-Eurythmics

Ah, gentle readers, it comes as no surprise to any of you that your MatchGirl is a single gal. Despite her best efforts to find that special someone, it seems that not one has singled himself out (quite yet. It's possible that there is a contender, or two). And, dear ones, your MatchGirl has gotten quite used to being an independent lady.

There are times, of course, that I wish I had a hunny (a lot of times, actually). It's been so long, though, that I'm not sure I would know what to do with one. For instance, this being the holiday season, when it came time to get a tree, I did it by myself. It's not that there weren't people who could help me. Not at all. There were male friends that offered. There were male friends who were offended I didn't ask. But, dear ones, I am not that good at asking for help. Sometimes, I need it. But I feel like I should be able to do most things on my own.

Perhaps this is what makes my dating life problematic. I'm not good at sitting quietly. I'm not good at waiting for Prince Charming to call. I'm not good at letting others do for me. Perhaps that's why I'm having a hard time with the fellas.

I dunno. I do know that my arms still hurt from carrying my tree home all alone.

Thanks Giving

It's that time of year, gentle readers, when one takes a moment to reflect on all that has come to pass in our life over the past year. As you know, with the recent anniversary of my lay off, your MatchGirl is no different. And, as I am sure many others will do today - on blogs, on television, on Twitter feeds and on Facebook - I want to share with you, my dear ones, the things that I am thankful for.  The things that, though I am unemployed and single, make me glad, every day.

I am thankful for my family.  It's constantly amazing to me how very supportive my parents are, during this rough time.  And, to those of you who will e-mail or comment that you knew they were supporting me and I'm just another Trustafarian - Stop.  That is most certainly not the kind of support I mean, because they don't support me financially.  I mean that I can call my dad and talk in the middle of the day - and he'll tell me about when I was a kid and he was laid off, and now that he's retired what he does with those long days.  And my mom will tell me how much she enjoyed reading my blog and how proud she is off the things I have been doing with my time - in my job hunt, with my networking and with getting more involved in my community here in North Brooklyn.  I am thankful that they have never pushed me to do something that wasn't right for me.  I am thankful that they have stood 100% behind me - even when the decisions I've made may not be the same that they might have.

I am thankful for my friends - those close to me here in Brooklyn, those I've known forever, and those I've recently met.  Being unemployed in New York, anywhere, stinks.  Let's just say it.  When you have friends you can lean on, though, things don't look so bad.  I'm thankful for every drink and dinner and cab ride home.  I'm thankful for heart to hearts and sitting saying nothing.  I'm thankful for all of the people I can call my friends who enrich my life every single day.  They are brilliant and beautiful, witty and kind.  I have been long blessed with friends who I can aspire to be like - who inspire me to be my best - and for this, I am beyond thankful.

I am thankful for you, gentle readers.  Some of you now fall into the friends category - but I met you through here.  To those of you I've not met in real life - who read my blog, fan me on Facebook or follow me on Twitter - I am thankful for your support and your comments and your e-mails.  I am thankful to know that I'm not the only one out here going through what I am.  And I am thankful that you've found me here so that you know you're not alone, as well.

I'm thankful for all the frogs I've kissed.  Boys/men who know who they are.  Who may or may not still secretly read this little tome.  I'm thankful for you, boys, because, through meeting you and dating you - sharing a cup of coffee, a conversation, a meal, a cocktail, a kiss - I have learned a lot about myself.  I've learned that some things I thought were my truths are not and that things I'd never realized could be great.  So, guys - the losers, the jerks, the sweet ones who just didn't click - I am thankful for each and every one of you.  I'm still single (and unemployed) in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, but I'm figuring it all out.  I'm thankful for that.

And I know we're all thankful for that 14 week unemployment extension that Congress just passed!

Have a very happy Thanksgiving, gentle ones.  Enjoy your friends and your family.  Drink good wine and eat way too much food.  Forget about the hardships and the stress of your everyday.  Pause, if only for a moment, to be thankful for the little things that make you remember life's not so bad.

What I Did On My Summer Staycation

Ah, my gentle readers, yesterday was Labor Day here in the U.S. of A. and you all know what that means. Summer is over. Maybe not according to the lunar calendar, but for our purposes - done. The kiddies are back to school, the Congress is back in session (working, I'm not so sure), and it is time for the traditional essay of What I Did On My Summer Vacation.

As you know, your MatchGirl has been unemployed for a long time now, so her summer vacation was actually the ever so trendy and topical staycation. To be fair, if one is going to spend ones vacation staying put, New York City is not such a bad place to do so.

A few highlights of my summer staycation included a ferry ride to Governor's Island to see the amazing Bee Gees cover band Tragedy!, a Tuesday spent toasting on the beach at Coney Island with my freelancer roomie and one of his unemployed pals and a NJ transit bus trip to my dear friend G's parents pool in dirty Jersey. Of course, there were also countless afternoons spent reading in McCarren Park, wandering aimlessly through the northernmost parts of North Brooklyn and many a weekday afternoon drinking in my favorite artworks at MoMA. And, while most of my pals have gotten further out of the city several times this summer, your MatchGirl made one quick trip to DC to spend a suburban long weekend with a college gal-pal and her family.

This weekend, Labor Day weekend, was another one where people were away. Several of your MatchGirl's friends are out of the country. A few went to the beach with their hunnies. A few were just too hung over after a fun and fairly debaucherous bachelorette party Friday evening to do anything but curl up on their couches with a couple of aspirin, Gatorade and cable TV. But, dear ones, I had things to do, places to go, errands to run. So I treated myself to a staycation, spending most of the long weekend solo and, I have to tell you, I truly enjoyed myself.

Saturday, I needed to go to Pearl Paint to get a couple of things for school - so I took myself to Chinatown, braving the Saturday crowds. I love the smell of Pearl Paint. There is something in the scent, the moment I open the door that just makes me happy. All the kiddies were there with their Freshman Art lists of supplies, walking around in a clueless daze and your MatchGirl, normally not that excited to have to squeeze through the aisles teenagers, was overwhelmed with nostalgia. Normally, items procured, on a sunny Saturday afternoon, I would high-tail in out of the Chinatown tourist crowds. But not this day. Instead I took myself for a dinner of spring rolls and pho at Pho Viet Huong on Mulberry Street, totally cheap and within the unemployed gal's budget and tasty, too!

Sunday, due to the lack of power in my apartment, my to-do list was totally off-whack. So I sat on the stoop and read the paper. I cut some fabric to stictch up later (when the power was restored). I worked on my homework (yes. Nerd.). When the power came back, I watched a couple of girly movies (ooh - double feature An Affair to Remember and The Way We Were!) and when a friend called to cancel a potential evening out, that was A-OK. Sure, my laundry didn't get done, but I felt quite accomplished.

And Monday, Labor Day, itself, I celebrated with friends on a rooftop on the southside of Williamsburg - old friends, great food, silly dogs running about and an amazing view of Manhattan. Hey, a girl can't spend the whole Holiday weekend basking in her own company, can she?

The Facts of Life: Rejection

Rejection. It's a fact of life. It happens to all of us, from time to time. It's one of those lines that runs through so many aspects of our lives - from your job hunt to dating ...

I stumbled upon this op-ed on the NPR website the other day - a parent writing about how her son had applied for a summer job, how he had gotten so into it - even corresponding several times with the person taking the applications - and how he never heard a word. Not even a form letter saying that the position had been filled. Now, I know in this day and age, and in this shitty economy, every job listed gets hundred of applicants. I know that in my job search, I have heard back from people ... not at all. Even for jobs that were my exact job description. People just don't have the same courtesy that they used to - appreciation for the time (or feelings) of others. And it stinks.

I've written here before, gentle readers, about the men I have dated and their strange and often not-nice behavior. Here's the thing - telling someone you don't want to see them any more stinks. It's hard. You'll probably hurt their feelings. But not telling them anything, just leaving them hanging, is a dick move. It's something that guys - the world over - do. They just drop off the face of the earth. Because they're cowards.

Maybe the people in HR are cowards, too. Maybe they've all been left hanging by some guy one too many times. Maybe they've just all forgotten how terrible it feels to be left hanging, sitting by the phone, waiting for that call that never comes ...

Guide To Life

In October of 1994, your MatchGirl was about to be 19 years old, attending a small, private university in the suburbs of Boston, MA. Every week, gentle readers, for the past year and a little bit, I had run to the student center every Thursday morning to pick up that week's copy of the Boston Phoenix.

The Phoenix was something, that, as a teen in NH, we would pick up at the local college or indie record store and peruse for news of cool new bands and read the XXX advertising section out loud to each other in the noisy cafeteria. In college, I discovered Caroline Knapp and her amazing character Alice K. (not her real initial). As a young woman of Generation X, even though there was plenty I had yet to experience, Alice K. spoke to me in a way that I really felt I could relate to. And in October of that year, when her story was collected in book form as Alice K.'s Guide To Life, I absolutely had to have it.

I devoured it.

Sitting in my Brooklyn apartment in 2009, dear ones, my life is a lot closer to that of Ms. Knapp's protagonist than I ever could have imagined it to be when I was 19 years old. There is no way that, as a Sophomore in college, I could have ever imagined how things would have turned out.

The thing about Alice K., who preceded the shopaholic Carrie Bradshaw and friends into the literary world, was that she was real. Not NYC Upper East Side real, but real life real. She had a mediocre job. She had a perfectly nice boyfriend who didn't quite send her. She ate cereal for dinner, sitting on her couch watching crappy TV. She obsessed over weight and friends and men and finding the "perfect pair of shoes" like all young(ish) single women tend to do, no matter the city. But she was real. Caroline Knapp pulled Alice's story from her own experience and from that of those around her.

There were no glamorous parties, no millionaire Mr. Big with a driver. No fairy tale Prince Charming to save her in the end.

Don't get me wrong. I loved the TV show Sex & the City. I waited in line with girlfriends to see the movie in Manhattan on opening night. But it's not real. It's a fantasy. For every Carrie Bradshaw, making her way in NYC (or some other, relevant, big city), there are a thousand Alice K.'s, just getting through, day by day.

I pulled my dog-eared copy of Alice K's Guide to Life: One Woman's Quest for Survival, Sanity, and the Perfect New Shoes off the shelf this morning. It's been a long time since I've revisited her.

I think we'll have a lot more in common this time around.

Romance

A week or two ago, I stumbled upon a fun post by Jen over at Your Unemployed Daughter, offering advice to the single guys out there on how to treat a lady. The rules of dating - or, better yet, of basic, common, decency. Last night, on my way to meet an old friend for dinner, I ran into another friend, a couple of years younger than me, in a serious relationship and he made a comment about that post from YUD, that I had linked to on my Facebook page. And it made me think about dating - the good guys, the ones who don't need advice on that kind of thing are the guys that will read that blog and take it to heart and not realize that most of their friends are the guys that do all the things that are the wrong things.

And, since Jen gave the advice and gave it well, I don't feel the need to repeat it here, since, gentle readers, you can just pop on over and read "Fellas, Please" in its original context.

It did, however, get me thinking about romance. And the men I have known. And the men I have loved. And some of the most romantic things that they have done for me. Your MatchGirl, dear ones, will proffer the caveat that many of these lovely gestures were from the same man - and thinking of them used to make me very sad, but now just makes my heart feel a little warm.

A few lovely gestures:

Bring flowers. I had a beau when I was younger who would leave wildflowers on my doorstep, sometimes in a little yard sale bud vase. Sometimes in a Dixie cup.

Hold her hair back. I had wicked food poisoning one evening, not so long ago and though I don't have long enough hair to hold back, my gentleman friend took good care of me. Coming to my apartment when I didn't feel pretty enough to be seen, going out in the middle of the night, in the dead of winter, to get Gatorade and ginger ale and Saltines for my ailing tummy.

Send her a note. A real letter. A post card. A photo with a couple of lines scribbled in Sharpie on the back. A scrawled heart.

Make her something. My first real love, made me things. and he was quite a talent. He made me drawings, he made me origami flowers, he made me a gorgeous piece of furniture. He bought me things, too. But the things he made for me were then, and will always be, so much more special.

Hold her hand. In public. It's important. A gesture. A touch. It means more than you would think it ever could.

Make her breakfast. It doesn't need to be amazing. Toast and eggs and coffee. Remember how she takes her coffee. Bring it to her in bed. Let her sleep a little. My father gets up early every morning to make my mother coffee and bring it to her in bed, even though he is retired and she has to be up at 5:30am. He has done this for years, and, dear ones, it's one of the most simple, most beautiful gestures that I've ever seen.

Being a single girl, it's been a long time since I've gotten far enough dating anyone to really have any of these gestures made to me (a cup of coffee here and there, but not much more). But I have been thinking about these things, about relationships, as I watch some fall apart around me, and I know how easy it is to forget the little things, the small gestures that really are what romance is all about.

Fine Line

This afternoon, my friend popped up on my iChat with the comment, "You're Kate Monster."

I had no idea what she was talking about, but, a couple of YouTube links later, it turns out that I am (and she is, and probably a lot of you are) Kate Monster from Avenue Q.

And here's the thing ... we all spend so much time thinking about this and complaining about this, but no one can seem to connect with each other. We're all on the internet, social networking, dating sites, commenting on blogs and news stories and "liking" people's status updates. But no one is actually speaking to each other.

I've been meeting (not in real life yet) a lot of new people since I've started this blog. I've been reading other unemployed blogs. I've been fielding a lot of e-mails. And it seems there are a lot of people out there just looking to connect, on a for real, not just virtual, level with someone else. When it comes to Kate Monster, she's talking about dating, about finding a man, and, I guess a lot of the time, so am I. And I wondered how the lyricist ended up in my head. Or if it really just sucked so much to be single in New York. Her answer? "It's the anthem of all young single people in NY?"

How sad.

You can follow the link, and probably would find yourself relating to more than one of the characters, but ... here are some of the lyrics from the first song, "Sucks To Be Me":

KATE MONSTER
Your problems aren't so bad!
I'm kinda pretty
And pretty damn smart.

BRIAN
You are.

KATE MONSTER
Thanks!
I like romantic things
Like music and art.
And as you know
I have a gigantic heart
So why don't I have
A boyfriend?
Fuck!
It sucks to be me!

And here's a bit from the second, "There's a Fine, Fine Line":

There's a fine, fine line between a fairy tale and a lie;
And there's a fine, fine line between "You're wonderful" and "Goodbye."
I guess if someone doesn't love you back it isn't such a crime,
But there's a fine, fine line between love
And a waste of your time.

If it is the anthem of the young and single in New York, how come none of us have figured out a way around it? Are we all just typing away on our computers, looking at profiles on one of the hundreds of dating websites, not really ever able to break free of that stigma of what it's supposed to be to be young and single in New York? Are people just staying in shit relationships (don't pretend you don't know those who have done that!) just because being the single one sucks?

Just a couple of things, gentle readers, for you to ponder on your Sunday night.

Lonelyville

I haven't posted lately, dear readers, anything of a too personal nature. No deep thoughts. No dating stories/horrors. It's not that I haven't been thinking these things. It's not that I haven't been lookin' round for prince charming. There just hasn't been a lot to say.

But walking through McCarren Park this afternoon, after a morning spent e-mailing, networking and trying to organize an Unemployed Brooklyn event, I had some time to think about a few things of a more personal nature ... After all the amazing things that happened last week - the exposure from NY1, the amazing comments and e-mails I received from other unemployed people (in Brooklyn and other parts of not only the country, but world), old friends that I am very happy to hear from coming out of nowhere - when I take pause, I'm a little sad.

Because I've no one to share it with.
Sure. I have friends. I have a roommate. I have family a phone call away.
But it's not quite the same.

If you're single, you know what I'm talking about. Even if you are OK with being single. At the end of the day, when something really good (or really bad) happens, you just want that one person to lean on. That one person who will be excited for you. The one person who will answer their cell in the middle of the day because it's you and they are happy to hear from you. That one person who, even though there's a lot of stuff happening in their own life, is always thinking about you. Always in your corner.

I wonder if that is a lot to ask.

In Memory Of A Resume

The June before I moved to Brooklyn, a friend of mine passed away. She wasn't necessarily one of my closest friends, but we had worked together and ran in many of the same circles. She had undying spirit and energy and amazing talent. She was one of the closest friends to a woman that I will always count amongst my closest friends, my non-blood related family.

It was recently the 5th anniversary of her untimely death, and I've been thinking about her a lot lately. About conversations we had in the last few weeks of her life. About the changes we were both going through at the time. And about the expectations of the future. One that didn't go as either of us planned.

And as I have embarked onto the world of online dating, I have been thinking about an art project that she had done in the early 2000s (I think it was around 2002/2003). It was called The Love Resume Project (you can still find it here online). In it, Kirsten listed all her ex-boyfriends and the experience that she had gained through their ups and downs (knowing a handful of the guys, I can attest to the truth of it!). I have been wondering, as I look for a job and as I look for a man, about resumes and how one represents themselves. I wonder about how my profile online represents me and if it's reaching the "right" kind of man. Perhaps if I made my profile more like a resume?

Anyway. Kirsten was ahead of her time with the whole thing.

If you want to know more, you can read her obituary, donate to the scholarship fund that is in her name at MassArt, see an unfinished art project and some more art here.

As I think about her, and as I sometimes wallow in what I think of as my own crappy life, I realize that at least I am alive, to stumble through it all. And I will keep perfecting my own resume (my job resume and my love resume) until I figure it all out. And the last conversation I had with her, about all the real and hard stuff in our pre-30s lives, will always stay in my head (if I close my eyes, I am back in my kitchen in Allston, an after-party from a dance night, our mutual best girlfriend visiting from Cali, and just she and I in the kitchen, in the dark, drinking beer and talking about our next steps in life - she was killed exactly one week later). And that conversation, which seemed not so big at the time, will continue to push me forward and appreciate all the things that I do have, as opposed to all the things that are lacking.

I know it's a lot.

What A Girl Needs

I've written here, a lot, about the emotions one goes through while unemployed. I've written a lot about how looking for a job and looking for a man are both emotionally draining. Perhaps, gentle readers, I've written too much or too personally or divulged too much ... but this is a hard time in a gal's life, dear ones.

I've always been a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve. An old friend told me recently that was why it gets fractured so easily. And when I speak about its fracturing, I don't just mean the men in my life - the guys that I have dated, the ones who I perceive to have done me wrong. I mean friends, too. I know that not everyone will like me. I don't like everyone and it would be silly to expect others to have a different view. But sometimes ... you find out that someone really dislikes you. And you don't know why. And, though you may have suspected it here and there, to have the fact confirmed by others ... it's painful. Especially when it's someone in your circle, who you see often, who you have to see if you want to keep hanging out with your friends. Because we're all adults here. And you wouldn't want to make anyone choose. But they choose. They choose all on their own. The Friday nights when your phone calls to hang out are not returned. The brunches you're not invited to. And you find out who was there later and you guess why no one called you back. Why you were not wanted.

And, perhaps, if things were better in the other parts of your life - if you could get a job (or even an interview!), if any of the guys you've been going on a million first dates with would stick - then maybe this slight would not feel so painful. But it's hard to be unemployed (and it's hard to be single, especially when no one else is). You need a support system. And when one of the pieces (perceived or otherwise) is so unkind ... it's hard for your whole structure to stay standing.

I had one of those tumbles last night. After a pretty nice day - friends I believe to be my friends, movie watching, wine drinking - I had a suspicion confirmed ... and I fell apart. Because, right now, dear readers, I am only held together with little bits of scotch tape and a pasted on smile.

Dark Days

Oh my oh my, dear readers. Isn't unemployment such a gas? Sleeping late, getting dressed at noon, having no schedule to speak of, going days without a meaningful conversation ("Credit or debit?" just doesn't count!) ... what a wonderful way to live.

Now, gentle ones, I know that Friday I was very happy to go and spend the day in the park in the sunshine and I know many of you weren't even able to leave the office all day and you are not pitying my afternoon of leisure, sitting in the park and hanging out with my good friend G, who I ran into on the way to the park and convinced to play hooky from his post-work obligations. That just didn't make anyone feel bad for me.

Today is another day and it is grey and raining and wet and cold and windy and disgusting and, OK OK, I don't have to go out in it. And, to be honest, I probably won't. But on a grey day like today, the unemployed girl can go to a dark place. It's so easy to let your mind wander to those "feel bad" places. You know the places - the place where you wonder if the job isn't coming because it's something about you, the place where you think that you will never find a job again, the place where you have way too much time on your hands and your mind is whirling a mile a minute, going over every text you sent or word you said in the past week or so and trying to figure out what it was that you did wrong. You know that place. It's a dark place. a black place. A place that makes you want to pull the covers up over your head and just wait for it all to go away.

Of course, you can't do that. If you pull the covers up and hide, you are not going to find a job (you at least have to open your laptop for that). If you stay curled up, waiting for the wind to change, how are you ever going to meet anyone? These are the things that one needs to keeps asking one's self, gentle readers. And these, perhaps, are the things that one knows in one's head. But on a dark day like today, no matter what one knows in one's head, it doesn't mean that one knows how to make these things happen. And sitting and wondering what went wrong or what you did ... It's just not productive. But ... how to stop? How to push away the mood that matches the weather today?

Esteem

How much rejection can one person take? It's just so much.

Of course, in an economy like this, getting laid off from one's job is nothing personal. But it's hard to not take it that way.

And every little rejection, every non-answer to a job application, every time you feel like an offer of assistance is fruitless ... it just adds up to rejection. To feelings of rejection, anyhow. And it's hard to not take it personally.

Your friends who have been there will tell you not to take it personally. Your former co-workers will remind you of what a hard worker you are. If they are still at the company, they will tell you how much things stink without you. Everyone will tell you that it's not you - it's the company/economy/etc ...

Sound familiar? "It's not you ... it's me".

I'm coming to the anniversary of an "It's not you ... it's me" conversation. And I'm unemployed due to an "It's not you ... it's the business" conversation. And, in my head I know that both those things are true. I know that the relationship wouldn't have worked out well (and A sent me a link to a horoscope site that basically said it was doomed from the start). Doesn't mean the "it's not you ... it's me" conversation didn't send me into a tail spin for a very long time. As for the job ... things were tumultuous right before I was laid off (one of the owners was very verbally abusive to me and to most of the rest of the staff) and I had been putting feelers out for something better, but I was still taken completely by surprise when the "it's not you ..." conversation happened. Even if I know I will, eventually, find something better.

At times like this, the unemployed gal just wants a little ego boost. A little pick me up. Something/someone to make her feel like there's a reason to get out of bed in the morning. There are a ton of blogs out there about being single in NYC. There are a ton of blogs out there about being unemployed right now. I'm not trying to combine the two - but they're both facts of my life ... and it'll come up from time to time.

Thanks for reading/following ... it takes a little bit of the sting out of the daily rejection ...