WotWentWrong

“Do I Look Fat in This?”

Now that’s a question that irked my friend, Adam; a question that was posed by his girlfriend, Jill.  Jill is a beautiful woman, inside and out, and Adam adores her.  But Jill is convinced she looks terrible on a regular basis.

Jill’s routine goes as follows:

• Jill gets dolled up for a night out, with flawless makeup, curly hair, and a dress that would make Carrie Bradshaw proud.
• Jill looks at Adam and says, “Do I look fat in this? My thighs/butt/stomach is/are huge!”
• Adam shakes his head and tells her she looks beautiful.
• Jill changes anyway and spends the rest of the night talking about how she needs to lose weight or change something about her looks.

The thing is, Adam is perfectly cool with her body, and in fact, thinks she always looks great.

Contrary to popular belief, “Do I look fat in this?” is not the phrase men loathe to hear.  The answer to that one isn’t as complicated as a mediocre sitcom makes it out to be: “You look good” will suffice, or even a “It looks fine, but I love you in this other outfit.”
Or, as Ross says in this “Friends” episode: “You don’t look. You just say ‘No.’”

http://youtu.be/emHSO5dr6dk

No, the real thing that drives men up the relationship wall isn’t the question. It’s the implication.  What really gets under Adam’s skin is spending so much time trying to convince someone they look fine only to have them dismiss it.

When a man hears “Do I look fat in this?” again and again, he’s really hearing a woman who doesn’t believe him when he says she’s beautiful.

A lack of self-confidence is a kind of hidden killer of relationships, because it’s not as obvious as being terrible in bed, a lack of chemistry or relationship baggage from an ex.  It simmers like a stew – a stew that tastes great but thinks it tastes bland.  It’s one thing to casually ask how you look. It’s another to not take a guy at his word and make him be your own personal pep squad.

Adam told me he always felt like he was dealing with her confidence issues and never about anything he was worried about.  Eventually, he decided he didn’t want to spend his nights telling someone something they’d never accept.  Have you ever been the one who felt like you weren’t hot enough for your partner, and needed them to support you? Did you ever get to the point where you believed them?  Or were you on the other end, and got tired of validating all the time?

Carrie was smitten.  Ever since she clapped eyes on Cory, she felt her stomach churn into a fluttering butterfly zoo.  She had never felt such instant attraction.  The bassist in a band, Cory was a touring free spirit. He emanated fun, youth and excitement.  And to further amp up the electricity, the sexual chem was clearly a two sided current. However, they had two very different styles of relating to the opposite sex. Cory lived in the moment. The concept of tomorrow never really occurred to him. Carrie on the other hand, though attracted to his libertarian ways, wanted the security of a relationship. But she knew an outright declaration of this would scare him away.

She decided to orchestrate a sleight of hand.  She decided that if she could go along with the casual for long enough, sleep with him, they would naturally bond, and he would arrive at the realisation that she was the one for him.  Each morning, after tossing her hair nonchalantly into a ponytail and strolling airily out of his apartment, Carrie edged nearer to   the realisation that her plan wasn’t really working. From his end there had been no, “do you have to leave?”, “stay for breakfast” or “so, what shall we do for Valentine’s Day?” Eventually, the situation started to chip away at her ego, her insecurities snowballed and she decided to abandon her reverse psychology stance and ask, “where is this going?” She was met with a stunned silence, followed by a “I thought we were cool as we were? I’m not really looking for a girlfriend.”

Carrie felt cheated. She had put her own needs onto the back burner, compromised her comfort levels, and this was all she got in return. After a few rounds of punching her pillow, and three or four viewings of John Tucker Must Die, Carrie had to admit to herself that her rage at him was actually rage at herself.  She had operated from a hidden agenda, and rather than make her needs clear, she had catered to his needs in the hope that he would, in turn, fulfil hers. A bargain he had no part in negotiating.

Do we shy away from declaring our desire for a potential relationship because we fear being rejected for it? Are we afraid to let go of crumbs because we know deep down there was never a loaf to be had? Or is it the fear that if we state our needs clearly, we’ll be left with only men that actually want a relationship, which means the even scarier possibility of actually having one?

You’d be hard pressed to find a more virginal citizen of the 21^st Century than Penny.  During college, she stated that she would keep her V plates firmly intact, and save herself for ‘The One’. Her friends admired her rock solid boundaries. Would be lovers, depending on their bitterness levels, either placed her on a sanctified pedestal, or compared her to a certain food cooling kitchen unit. Whatever people’s stance, Penny stuck to her guns. She was adamant that only upon meeting ‘The One’ would she hand over the keys to her most preserved possession: her chastity.

At the tender age of 22, in walked Michael, a deep thinking Phd student. Over picnics, opera viewings, and riverside walks, Penny declared her quest for her male version of the holy grail at an end.  Michael was ‘The One’.  Their love was consummated one evening under the stars, and that was that.  Juliet had found her Romeo.

Years later I caught up with Penny over coffee.  She was still with Michael, and wishing to escape wistfully into someone else’s paradisical world, I asked about their lives. After a long pause, her face fell.  She told me that Michael had been unfaithful twice, and they were working hard to put their relationship back on track. Penny was doing this by organising couples counselling, having long chats, making quality time, and Michael was doing this by agreeing not to move out. Nice. While aching to implore her to cut her losses, and shake her into seeing this guy had transformed into the ultimate douchebag, I could see that Penny was too attached to the notion of ‘The One’ to draw the line. Despite the fact that Michael’s idea of ‘The One’ meant, one for Saturday, one for late work nights, and one to clean and cook, this did not prise her away from placing all her eggs in one pretty shoddy basket, and though there were many better baskets available, her eggs were staying put.

It begged me to question whether this age old notion of ‘The One’ is actually less self preserving and more self sabotaging.  Does it lead us to discard our boundaries and make allowances for deal breaking behaviour? According to Debra Berndt, healthy love comes with boundaries fully installed:

When we afford someone ‘The One’ status, are we affording someone unconditional love at the expense of loving ourselves unconditionally? Should ‘The One’ status actually be preserved for the one person we know will be on our side through thick and thin? Ourselves?

Caitlin was mortified.  The reason?  The guy she had been seeing for the past few months had tarred her with the one of dating’s more humiliating brushes. She had been tarred as needy.  Over breakfast, we all bit on our fists as we prepared ourselves for the embarrassing story to unfold.  Preparing for a tale of Fatal Attraction proportions, we all feared the worst.  What came was slightly anti climactic.  “I asked him if he was still seeing other women”.  Oh. “He told me to stop being so needy”.  Hmm. “I think I blew it”.  Right. Was it my imagination or was Caitlin’s question to her beau residing in the field of …. perfectly rational?

Neediness, in both men and women, as a characteristic, is a well known source of ridicule, embarrassment and fear:

Feeling like you have to constantly be there to prop someone else’s ego up is draining at the best of times, and we have all borne witness to incidents of partners carpet bombing their wearier halves with texts, emails, phone calls, pigeons and every other form of communication at one’s disposal.  But is asking whether a relationship is exclusive or not a needy crime?  Is asking whether someone is looking for a potential relationship a needy crime? Is expecting someone to be interested in the potential of a relationship before you sleep with them a needy crime?  More than once I’ve heard people use the phrase, “Don’t worry.  I’m not expecting a relationship” as if to ease the other person’s mind, or to appear uber cool, and low maintenance. I’ve felt that pressure myself, and realised that not honouring my needs, even if they’re at odds with the other person’s, has never led to anything other than heartache.

My cousin Martin threw another perspective into the mix.  He announced that if he felt his wife Sue didn’t need him, the relationship would fall apart. Even in such simple terms as fixing a fence, or massaging her stresses away, all these things made Martin feel needed, and like The Don in his world.

It could be that we have an overactive pride-o-meter, but being branded ‘needy’ can produce heart palpitations of shame. And both sides of the gender fence can attest to the fact that feeling responsible for someone else’s self esteem can turn the attraction stakes to Power Level 0. However, is the word needy too often used to fend off the fact that sometimes men and women have perfectly reasonable, perfectly understandable, and perfectly natural needs?

It used to be so simple. Painful, of course, but simple at least. He sent his buddy to break up with you (if you were in grade school), or he did it over the phone. Now the possibilities for breakups are almost endless. IM, Skype, Facebook, Twitter, Text, Email… It seems the more connected we are these days, the easier it is to avoid the uncomfortable breakup by hiding behind these technologies.

Drew Barrymore said it best.

Men and women alike are using these technologies to send the message “I’m just not that into you!” But have we gone too far? Are we eroding all sense of courtesy and responsibility by employing these tactics?

I had a friend who was de-friended on Facebook – that was the first inkling he had that she wasn’t seeing him anymore. Ouch. But perhaps it says more about her than it does him. They had been seeing other for about 6 weeks. Surely she could have braved a conversation, or perhaps a less cowardly text message. Wow. I never thought I’d hear myself say that a text message is less cowardly.

Facebook leads to the demise of countless relationships. Pictures, status updates and wall posts from the wrong person can lead to jealousy and lack of trust. Like my friend, it’s even possible to find out you’ve been dumped just by logging onto Facebook! A text is bad, but breaking up with someone on a social network – that’s like making an announcement about it to everyone you know. It’s humiliating! Not to mention you were probably the last to know.

Will we get to a point where I will think a Facebook de-friend is preferable to something else? Where does the degradation end?

For anyone who watched last season of the Bachelor, I’m sure you remember runner-up, Lindzi Cox. On the show, Lindzi shared with viewers that prior to coming on the Bachelor, she was dumped by a text message sent by her (now ex) boyfriend of about a year! The text read: “Welcome to Dumpsville…population YOU!” Lindzi said that the Dumpsville text was worse than being dumped on national TV.

It’s not about the method of technology used (they’re all bad), but the message being sent. Using technology to breakup with someone is like saying ‘our relationship meant nothing to me, so little in fact it’s not worth my time to talk about it, so I’m going to send you a one sentence text and then move on with my life.’ It’s harsh, I know.

When technology is used to end a relationship, there is no sense of closure. Julia, a friend of mine, was dumped via text message. She called her ex to try and get some answers, but he labeled her as a stalker and told all of his friends she was crazy.  She’s not crazy; she just wanted a straightforward answer. To this day she doesn’t understand what went wrong in that relationship.

It’s common courtesy people!  Breakups are uncomfortable, awkward and painful for everyone involved, but having an adult conversation is still the best way to do it. With a deep breath and little bit of confidence (and maybe some rehearsing) you’ll get through it. In the end, you’ll still have your dignity and your ex will— in time, respect you for it.

Girlfriend, partner, wife, friend, dating, seeing, hanging with, fooling with, banging (not a favourite); these are all labels that mean different things to different people, but that said, how much do we need these labels, what do they mean and what do they broadcast to the outside world?

From a street voxpop in Toronto, it appears “dating” and “seeing” represent two very different levels of commitment:

My house mate Ray had been seeing Sarah for four months.  They had met each other’s parents, were in a physical relationship and saw each other every weekend.  So, when I referred to Sarah as his girlfriend one day I was surprised to hear Ray protest, “She’s not my girlfriend! We’re not there yet. We’ve only been seeing each other four months”.  When I expressed my surprise, Todd, my other house mate chipped in, “Some people just don’t like to put labels on things”.  Fair enough, but I couldn’t help but wonder if his unwillingness to label was less related to a belief against categorising human relationships, and more about his unwillingness to commit to a certain relationship. If love is in the air, don’t these labels ward off any potential rival suitor shaped threats? By nature, humans are territorial, and as peeing a circle around our partner is not socially acceptable, isn’t simply labelling them as our other halves doing an equal, and cleaner job? I had my reservations about Todd’s theory.

My inclinations appeared to be confirmed a few weeks later when Sarah and Ray broke up following a talk, which led to Sarah asking Ray to confirm the status of the relationship. Were they girlfriend and boyfriend, or casually dating? She asked.  Ray expressed his reluctance to label their relationship, and so Sarah broke it off. On hearing of this, Todd piped up once more.  “She shouldn’t have put pressure on him to label it. This labelling business will always kill a relationship”. Was he right? Was labelling the issue here, or was Sarah picking up on an imbalance in the relationship and wisely opting to save time and cut her losses? After four months, isn’t refusing to put a label on it a label in itself?  A label that says “uncommitted, hence no label”?

When we avoid labelling, are we waiting to find out more about what’s in the pot before we assign a label, or simply uncomfortable with what the label might say?

Martha’s ex Dave had a problem closing doors.  When he broke up with a girl, and she was just about over him, some sort of alarm seemed go off in his ego department and he would dip back into her life just to confirm that the door could still be prised open if need be.

Once he dipped in, and could tick the ‘she’s still an option’ box, off he went again, just in case she thought this meant something, and wouldn’t it be wrong of him to make her think that?  Dave Ja Vu could not commit to a break up any more than he could commit to a relationship.  He inspired passionate wrath from ex’s and protective friends alike.

But whilst I sympathised with Martha every time he pole vaulted in to kick another crack into her heart,  I couldn’t help ask myself, do we hand over too much responsibility for closure to our partners?

I thought back to a time where I had chased down an ex who wouldn’t commit, insisting that he own up, and break up with honesty and directness.  At the time, I felt I was owed this and caught up with him in the rain after a night out.  I was anguished that he would not say the words, “I’m no longer interested”.  I felt that he needed to do the right thing and let me go, give me permission to move on and let go of the power. But who was giving him this power? Me. There was no cage.  I had invented it.  Looking back, like Martha, was I guilty of giving away too much personal power to another person?  Why is it so easy to feel that only they have the keys to lock the door? Where did we leave our keys, and is it time to cut some new ones?

If Carrie had fully functioning keys to her own door, would she be so angry, or would the door have been locked and soundproofed at Mr Big’s first exit leaving no need for anger?  My grandmother always used to say “If a man walks out on you, be sure the door shuts behind him.” So, why do we so often give these houseguests the keys to our own doors and misplace our own? Guests can go as they please, but when they are given the power to decide when our house is locked or open, can we call it our house at all?

This week we unveiled our eagerly awaited ‘Breakup Stats’ page, allowing users to filter out anonymous, aggregated Top Breakup Reasons and Methods data by age, gender, length of the relationship and region.

We also released a new infographic, diving deeper into the top reasons users gave for breaking up.  Anonymously aggregated data from 500 random users during the site’s first three months revealed surprising takeaways, including:

• The site’s users are equally split between genders.  Everyone thought the site would skew much more female, but the difference is only one and a half percentage points.
• Early tech adopters don’t want kids?  Among people who said children were a reason for breaking up, four times as many users said the problem was their partner wanting kids when they didn’t vs. the other way around.
• Losing the ability to compromise:  The top three reasons among users who selected from the You’re Too Much category were: “too high maintenance,” “too demanding,” and “too inflexible.”  We all know people get married later today than previous generations did.  The top three reasons in this category all have something to do with rejecting a partner who requires a lot of work to be with.  Being single longer seems to have made us quite attached to that lifestyle.  It’s spoiled us a bit, and suggests the ability to compromise has dropped.

My friend Caitlin shared with me her latest dating scenario the other day.  She was really very perplexed and without a clue as to what went wrong.  Here is what happened.

Caitlin went to a concert to see one of her favorite bands. While walking up the stairs to the balcony for a better view, she passed a really cute guy. She caught his eye, smiled, and continued on her way, feeling good because she sensed him watching her walk away.

Later that night, he found her and bought her a drink, and they started talking. She learned that his name is Jeremy, he’s a photographer, and he recently moved to her town – just a few blocks away from where she lives, in fact. Caitlin was digging his company, and when he asked for her number, she didn’t hesitate in give him her real number.

She heard from him later that night, saying how great it was to meet her. She loved that he wasn’t into playing the waiting game, and they started a back-and-forth SMS flirtation. Jeremy sent cute hellos to let her know he was thinking of her, and after a few days, they made plans to hang out in their neighborhood so she could show him around a bit. As they wandered, Jeremy wrapped his arm around Caitlin’s waist, pulled her close, and kissed her temple. She leaned in close, enjoying the connection between them. They walked for hours, had dinner and ice cream, and then Jeremy walked her home and kissed her goodnight. A perfect first date, in Caitlin’s mind.

The fun and flirtation continued after that, and Caitlin felt at ease. Jeremy contacted her daily and they hung out a few times a week; though things progressed slowly physically, she wasn’t worried. After a few weeks, he met her friends, who adored him. Caitlin met Jeremy’s best friend when he was in town for a weekend, and it was clear that Jeremy had told him all about Caitlin. Things seemed to be progressing nicely.

That is, until two months later. Caitlin and Jeremy finally spent the night together. After they had sex for the first time, he told her she was beautiful and wrapped his arms around her.

One thing was clear: Caitlin was really happy she chanced that smile at the concert!

But after that night, something was different. The charming, flirty messages stopped; they began to seem forced. Every time she asked to make plans, he turned her down. For the first time in their brief relationship, she felt needy. She wanted more from him. After a few drinks one night with her friends, she succumbed to the drunk text and finally asked him what’s up. “I’m exhausted”, he replied. “Life is just really busy right now.”

I suspect you can guess that after that, Caitlin stopped trying, and she didn’t hear from Jeremy again. She never understood what happened between them.

Surely, it wasn’t because she had slept with him too soon – she held off for 2 months!  Perhaps it wasn’t as good for him as it was for her? Or was it something she said or did?

Well, Mat Boggs has a really interesting perspective on this, which he calls the law of elasticity:

What do you think?  Is there some truth to this?  If Caitlin had just let Jeremy have his time away from her without pushing him, would he have come back to her on his own?

Always the hero, my friend Phil is the one you’ll find administering a plaster onto a child’s knee, catching a spider and gently releasing it into the wild all eight legs intact, and descending from a tree carrying a neighbour’s thankless cat. When he met his wife Gwen, his heroic ways translated to his relationship.  Soon into the relationship it became clear that Gwen was about as secure as a Blu Tack bungee rope.  In the first year of their relationship Gwen banned Phil from keeping women’s names in his phone. “To be fair, her last boyfriend cheated, so I can understand”, Phil would insist.  When asked why he wasn’t coming to a work’s xmas party, he replied, “Gwen prefers us to socialize together.  I don’t want her to feel left out”. Her Facebook status is regularly updated with statements along the lines of “Gwen cannot live without her wonderful boyfy woyfy.” With less boundaries than a safari park, to the average onlooker, their relationship seems less awe inspiring and more ew inspiring.

After an episode in which Phil had raced home from a housewarming because Gwen had phoned, upset about her dog, who had died two years ago, there were murmurs of dissent around the table. This was when I heard the statement  “It’s Phil’s responsibility to make Gwen feel secure and safe in the relationship, so that she never feels the need to be jealous”.  Wow.  Say what now?! When did it become our partner’s job to pick up the stray pieces of our psychological jigsaw?

From childhood, it seems.  From Hercules to Aladdin, we’ve been raised to applaud the image of a good man rescuing a damsel in distress from an ivory tower, just like we’ve been raised to applaud the nurturing hands of the Mother Theresas of this world.  But in the context of a relationship, how far can we travel this route, before we reach Dysfunction Ville?

How long before people start to think you are under her control?

Should there come a time when the knight in shining armor draws the line, heads back to the castle and this time says to the maiden, “I think it would be good for you to rescue yourself on this occasion.  Maybe carve out an ivory tower skeleton key, learn to abseil or take self-defence against wicked stepmother classes? That way, you won’t be completely reliant on me, and you’ll be with me, not because you need me, but because you like me”?