Thursday, July 26, 2012

...and the City

The other night, at dinner, my friends and I were having a conversation that I realized could have been a plot point in Sex and the City.
"How long do you wait until you text them after the first date?"
"I haven't heard from them in a day. Does that mean all interest was lost?"
"I'm over it."
As much as I'm a fan of television manifesting in real life, this actually bothered me a bit because I just thought we were a bit too old to be having this conversation. I understand that twenty and thirty-somethings have long had these conversations, but at some point, don't we have to mature out of the immaturity of the sexed up culture we live in? Personally, I'm not interested in jumping into bed and a relationship simultaneously after a first date. But that seems to be the trend. Actually, the trend is to just leave the relationship part out of the equation. That is, until you are sitting at brunch with your friends and complaining about how you can't find anyone to be in a relationship with.
It's a self-perpetuating cycle our culture has a hard time stopping. Like a special needs hamster named Bucky, stuck on the wheel, unaware he can get off and breathe if he wanted to. But the cycle continues and all the while, we wonder why we can't find that real relationship.
There are plenty of Sex and the City moments that I find profound and meaningful in my New York experience, moments when I think, 'Yeah. That's exactly how it happens here,' or 'Wait. That same thing happened to me the other day.' But this conversation is something I have no interest in reliving in the syndication of my life.

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