Monday evening roundup and ramble

Emirati women have done well for themselves and their country.

Yes, exactly: we discussed the First Amendment thing with regard to the now-forgotten Tosh episode (and by the way, even rapists know it's not a joke). Anyway, this issue resurfaces over Chick-fil-A: the First Amendment guarantees your right to speak, but it doesn't protect you from the (non-violent) responses to what you say. And people do have a right to buy according to their values. Unfortunately, I doubt my vegetarian values would allow me to support The Heart Boys restaurant and their values of inclusion, but if they have any vegan sides, I'm there.

Lest you had any doubts, a survey confirms that few women dress for men. This is interesting because my impression is that many guys think that women dress for them. I've heard/read guys talk about how women take summer as an opportunity to show skin. Really, guys? I've had about a gazillion conversations at work over the last few weeks--prompted by complimenting women's dresses or being complimented on my dresses--about how we wear dresses because (1) they're easy--one outfit! and (2) it's too hot to wear pants. But really, why are we gonna dress (to show off) for men, when most of the men who appreciate a nice outfit aren't interested in what we've got, anyway? Crazy thing is--though not surprising in light of my last point--men do dress to impress women (see question #13).


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And now for my rambles...

(1) I was thinking about how dark "Sweeney Todd" is, so much so that, even though I knew it was dark going in, I was still caught off guard. The darkness just kept building upon itself. But the oeuvre pulls it off, unlike some. I think of more recent shows, like "August: Osage County," that try for the same, but the added nooks and crannies of darkness just ring false. It's almost too much dysfunction to be believable. I feel the same way about "Clybourne Park," not in its darkness but in its pettiness. It just gets old. But in "Sweeney Todd," which you'd think would be less believable, the incredulousness works. Maybe because it's removed in time and place; maybe because the music is so good; maybe because the storyline is already so f*ed up that additional nuggets of f*ed-up don't throw you (but then, wouldn't that be the case with "Osage"? I don't know. All I can say is, it's dark as hell, but it works.

(2) At a party on Saturday night, I had the opportunity to do what I should probably do more often: get men's perspectives on dating. I was complaining to the hostess--who is one of my foremost partners in sharing dating woes--about guys who lack conversational skills. A guest, a guy, overheard, and advised me to throw out my template of "the ideal guy;" conversational skills are not important. But, but, what if they're important to me?? Besides, my last, failed relationship was a result of my having thrown out my template of "the ideal guy;" been there, done that.

Back to the conversational skills, though: you'll be pleased to hear that this was in the context of a guy whose sole topic of conversation was vegetarianism/veganism ("how long/why?" he asked? "who the f* cares?" I wanted to say). I did, in not so many words, say, "can you--i..e, are you capable of--talk(ing) about anything else?" Apparently, not so much.

Another guy at the party was asked his opinion as to whether vegetarianism is a turn-off for men. He said he would, indeed, think twice about it; after all, a vegetarian might be judgmental. A vegetarian might have a sense of superiority about matters of health, etc. Like non-smokers, he added. To which I added that I'd date a carnivore, but I wouldn't date a smoker. Not because I judge smokers, mind you; I have friends (and parents) who are smokers. I don't believe I'm a better person than they are. I just wouldn't want to date them. I wouldn't want to deal with the smell of fresh or stale smoke, nor with the fire hazard, nor with the health risks.

Ahh--you may be thinking--that "health risks" thing! You could say the same about carnivores. Yeah, you could, and I wouldn't date someone who eats a $hit-ton of meat, for various reasons. But it's still not about judgment. Or a sense of superiority. Oh, and here's the other thing that goes for both smokers and carnivores: I don't try to convert them. I figure they know what's best for them. I know what it's like to be nagged about things (health-related and otherwise; see label: mom blog) and I'm not interested in nagging. I'm not interested in trying to change people. If people ask me for advice or resources, I'm happy to share them. Also, I'm not about to stop talking about the things that are important to me or that work for me (case in point: plant-based eating), and I'm not going to stay silent in response to misinformation (mom). But I'm also happy to live and let live; just over the weekend--same party--I was telling a friend who'd just gone to Boston about a cheese boutique with one of the few cheese caves in the country that enable it to sell less processed Gruyere. And god knows my vegan heart wouldn't kick anyone out of bed for loving Gruyere (unless they were actually eating Gruyere in bed; I have to draw the line somewhere).

This whole thing brings up an issue that is sometimes, but not exclusively or even usually, limited to food choices: feeling judged doesn't necessarily correspond to being judged. We feel judged, criticized, etc. based on our own insecurities and sensitivities. I can speak from experience: I've found myself getting stupidly defensive when no insult was meant, but when the issue was something I, personally, felt insecure about (being stuck in a bad job (years ago); not working out enough). Conversely, I've found deliberate insults to roll off me when the issue is something I'm perfectly secure about (not wearing makeup; being single; being "chubby."). It follows--if I may project my experience onto others--that when one feels judged, or, especially, when one feels bothered about being judged--one probably feels that there's room for improvement in that area of life. More than a few people have qualms about eating animals, and so, people who actually act on those qualms are threatening to them. Others have no such qualms (and I count plenty of the latter among my friends) and could give a $hit about what I do or don't eat. More than a few people feel that they should eat more healthily than they do, but many of those aren't not ready to do so, and so they paint people who do eat healthily as humorless extremists to distance themselves from the possibility of living healthily themselves. I've blogged before about people who are convinced that I live a life of deprivation and blandness. They just can't imagine that plant-based eating can be gastronomically fulfilling. Some of that is ignorance, but a lot of it is defensiveness.

Another reason that I don't judge people for their food choices, among other things, is that I don't care to be judged. Where would it end? I don't welcome opinions from people who only eat local or completely unprocessed food, so why should I have opinions about people who eat differently from me? I don't hold myself to the fitness standard of people who run marathons, for example--my fitness standards are my own--so I know better than to apply my standards to other people. This is apparently an issue in relationships (NYT trend story, a few years ago, probably posted on these pages). I can go on and on and on about the things that I don't do ideally. And about the things that other people believe are ideal (makeup, anyone? perfectly manicured nails?) that I could give a $hit about. I said as much to one of my flatmates in Prague, who was thankfully very forthcoming about any insecurities that surfaced, so that I could (I hope) diffuse them. I think the first one hit when we were cabbing back from the wedding. Someone was asked me how similar Russian was to Czech, and--you know I love that $hit--I answered. J. kept saying, almost apologetically, "I know nothing about languages." "It's okay," I said; "I know nothing about a lot of things." A couple of days later, she displayed a similar form of nervousness over the fact that I was dressed nicely for brunch. "Eh, these were the clothes I packed," I said; just as easy to wear a skirt as it is to wear pants. That's all. I was probably overdressed (but I was comfortable).

But I wonder, for every J., how many people are thinking, "she must think I'm underdressed," without vocalizing it, and stewing in that feeling. Look, there's a time and place where I will roll my eyes at people who are underdressed (perhaps at the same time that I'm fretting over whether my own outfit is appropriate), but I'm certainly not the fashion police; I have neither the credentials, nor the temperament for it. Not only do you know that I'm not the arbiter of who's appropriately dressed (except in extreme cases, in which most of us are the arbiter), but I certainly know that, too. I also know that I'm in no position to be the arbiter of "who knows enough about languages," unless I want others to be the arbiters of "who knows enough about..." say... physics, or arts and crafts. Again, I will become judgmental when someone starts talking out of his or her @ss about something I do know about (again, see label: mom blog), but I should hope that there will be others to put me in my place should I do that. The point is, I know that I know I'm sufficiently, humanly flawed that I'm in no position to judge. But that's not going to stop other people from channeling my judgment onto their insecurities (or, perhaps, me from channeling other people's judgment onto my insecurities). So next time someone makes you feel judged, the question is, "what does that feeling tell me about me?"