My girly factor

I've done a fair amount of soul-searching on this blog, contemplating big questions like "am I a snob?" and why I thought I'd be married by now. But last week, as I sat in a vibrating massage chair watching Sex and the City and sipping prosecco while someone painted my toenails, I was struck by how behaving so girly felt unnatural to me. As Carrie Bradshaw would say in voice-over: "I got to thinking: how girly is too girly?"

I think it depends on the girl. Or woman, rather. I have recently started thinking of myself as a grown-up woman. Which brings me to an interesting point re: nomenclature. When I have asked men my age if they self-identify as "men," usually they tell me they prefer to think of themselves as "guys." "Man" seems too somber, too cowboy. Girls, unless they want to associate themselves with 1940s gun molls ("gals"), don't really have an in-between label like that. You're a girl until magically poof! you're a woman. (Except for a brief, confusing period of time articulated best by Britney Spears when you are "not a girl, not yet a woman" - thanks, Brit!).

In terms of my own gender and how it manifests itself in performative behavior (did I mention I taught a class called "Gender: Myths and Truths" at Emerson?), I have never considered myself that girly by traditional markers. I wear little make-up and often forget to wear jewelry (though I do like receiving it, future boyfriends!). I have always had more male friends than female and better roommate experiences with men, I mean, guys. I own very little pink. So when my last boyfriend told me I was the girliest girl he'd ever dated, I wondered if he had been dating, uh, mannish types. And it turns out, yes, many of his exes are androgynous in appearance and are now in relationships with women. So in comparison, I was a delicate lady flower.

I do own one very "girly" thing -- my phone, the HTC Rhyme. When this phone was introduced, it got a lot of press due to the fact that it was ostensibly marketed to women (despite HTC's claims to the contrary). It's slim and purple and came with a bunch of silly purple accessories (like a light-up charm to help you find it quickly in your giant Kate Spade tote).

Why did I buy the Rhyme? Because I'm a poet and I couldn't resist a phone called "rhyme." And also, I like purple (though not as much as Marie on Breaking Bad). In hindsight, I probably should have read some product reviews and bought a better Android, or just sucked it up and gotten an iPhone. The Rhyme did not sell well and HTC is not making any software updates for it. And my tech blogger friends tell me I'm the only person they have ever met that actually bought one. I do love to be unique!

The bottom line: I love being female and take great pride in my femininity - I just don't typically wear it on my sleeve. And sometimes I wish I felt more camaraderie with my sex. Like when I'm invited to bachelorette parties and baby showers and feel a little awkward and out of place. There's just something so parodic about certain female rituals. While harmless, they reduce being a woman to its worst stereotypes and celebrate the most normative of female roles (wife and mother). Don't get me wrong, I someday hope to be a wife and mother...in addition to being a poet and teacher. But I want all those labels on the same level of importance; why do I only get thrown a party with tiaras and penis balloons once I decide to get married?

Oh, and FYI hypothetical future bridesmaids in my wedding: No penis paraphernalia at my bachelorette, please. Let's just go somewhere with a good wine list and shoot the shit.

What Kim Kardashian and I have in common

Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd write. And for those of you keeping track, no, it's not that we've both been linked to a pro-football player or star in a reality show on E!

It's this:


Hey Kim, you and me both, sister.

As I approach my next birthday, which happens to be one of those decade-milestones, it's hard not to reflect on what I've accomplished in my life. I've never had a strict timeline of events in my head, and yet when I graduated from college, I did have vague ideas about where I saw myself 5, 10 years down the line. If you had asked me, back at the tender age of 22, where I thought I'd be now, I would have speculated that I'd still be acting in some capacity, hopefully at a professional/respectable level. And that I'd be married. No kids yet -- I would have figured that for the early chunk of my 20s, I'd casually date before finding my soul mate around the age of 26. We'd date for a couple of years, be engaged by the time I was 28ish and right around now, I'd be walking down the aisle.

Ok, so maybe I did kind of have a timeline. But it's not like I wrote it down or anything.

Actual recap of the post-college years goes like this: give up on acting after 5 exhausting years of doing bad plays in New York, decide to move to a new city and get my MFA in poetry, have a slew of serious monogamous relationships that ultimately fizzle, largely for reasons unknown (i.e. not for lack of love or basic incompatibility).

Now, this next statement is going to sound, well, snotty: historically, I tend to get what I want. This is due to some combination of luck and stubbornness. But the truth is, I got the lead in the high school musical, went to prom with the guy I wanted, and got into my first choice college. I usually get offered jobs I go after. In short, when I want something and decide to fight for it, I often get it. Hate me, call me a lucky bitch, but it's the truth.

Finding someone with whom to share my life and raise a family is something I want. Doesn't have to happen now, but as the years tick by, I get increasingly nervous that it will never happen. I know, 30 is not exactly over-the-hill. But it's also not 25.

Of the 6 girls in my 6th grade class at Wilson School, I am the only one that is not married. Three of them have babies already, too. The high school stats are equally staggering -- I am definitely in the minority as a single woman with no offspring to pose with in my Facebook profile pic.

I know, it's not a race. It's not a contest. Over 50% of marriages end in divorce, blah blah blah.
And I consider myself a feminist, so I HATE admitting that these "traditional" things, these 1950s housewife-sounding things are things that I covet. I do want professional success as well -- if I didn't, I wouldn't be accruing thousands of dollar of debt to go to graduate school. I'd just join e-harmony and spend all my time/effort/money on trying to "settle down." I don't plan to stop working and pop out babies.

But I hate feeling guilty/old fashioned about wanting these things. I hate admitting that I want them. I wish I had a "it''ll happen if it happens" philosophy, but that's not how I'm programmed. I have a very good life and I have a lot to be thankful for -- good friends, a supportive family, enough money to pay my rent and occasionally eat at a nice restaurant. But I guess I buy into that cultural fairytale that until I find a person to share it all with, I can't be completely happy. Partly, I do blame my genes -- both of my parents are terrible at being alone. Within a year of divorcing, they were both remarried. So I can blame them, I can blame society, I can blame myself. It doesn't really matter.

Kim K. came clean in People; I'm coming clean here. I'm not married and I'm a little disappointed about it.

It's wedding season, y'all!

I have a big announcement: I'M GETTING MARRIED!!!!!!!!!


Someday. Groom TBD, but I'm working on it. (For explanation of the above photo, keep reading)

Memorial Day marks the official beginning of Wedding Season. For the past several years, I've been averaging two weddings per year, which is manageable. And while yes, the gifts/travel involved are tough on the wallet, I gotta be honest: I love weddings. I always have -- in 1st Grade, I dressed up as a bride for Halloween. My 1st Grade boyfriend, Colin, was supposed to dress up as the groom. When he showed up in a pirate costume instead, I knew the relationship was doomed.

This past weekend, I attended my first 2009 wedding in Rochester, NY. It was a beautiful ceremony and, as usual, I cried during the vows (as did the groom). At my own wedding, I'm sure I will start bawling as soon as my Dad starts walking me down the aisle. My Dad giving me away might be the thing I'm looking forward to most in my wedding. I mean, that and the whole committing-to-the-person-I-want-to-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-with business. That will be pretty cool too.

Getting married strikes me as wonderfully hopeful. The odds are against you, though the oft-repeated claim that "60% of marriages end in divorce" is not statistically accurate (according to the Census Bureau, 60% of second marriages end in divorce; the rate for first marriages is closer to 40%). When you get married, you are making a promise. You are saying to your partner, in front of your family, friends, and whatever God you believe in if you believe in a God, that you hope to love and stand by him/her no matter what. Your other relationships may have failed, but you think this one won't. You hope it won't.

But enough philosophy. How much do I love weddings? Well, for my 22nd birthday, the theme of the party was...my wedding. To Jon, my gay best friend (also celebrating a birthday). We decided we liked weddings so much that we had to have one. Check out the photos -- realistic looking, no?


We even had a cake, courtesy of Shaw's supermarket:

Who knows, maybe for our joint 30th birthday, we'll have a bar mitzvah!