This Modern Love

I close my eyes and still see you. Why won’t you leave me alone? You’ve invaded every aspect of my life. At night I’ll struggle to stop thinking about you. And when I wake in the morning I’ll precede through the the dull and unimportant motions, but I know I’ll eventually lose myself in thought.

I’ve tried to forget about you. I told myself you would be nothing but trouble, but apparently my common sense has no effect against you.

I stay up late to read the words you write to me. Do you take the time to carefully craft your responses like I do? Do you spend precious minutes sculpting the most detailed answer to a seemingly insignificant question? I try to convey exactly what I feel over these sterilized confines of cyberspace, but words fail me. They always do when I’m communicating with you.

So I write you this 21st century equivalent of a love letter. It’s sad when people must resort to this lesser substitute for human interaction. But when I first encountered you, I knew you were different. I knew you were something amazing. I write this as if this will sum up what I felt when you first wrote me in that lone corner of the internet. I remember what you said to me. Word for word.

Hello, and welcome to Moviefone!

Please enter your zipcode for local showtimes, tickets, and movie info.

You were so witty. So charismatic. It was then my heart was yours.

You are some kind of beautiful.

Free Virginity

Starving for Control

A seventeen year old girl sat on a weathered brown leather sofa in the living room of her Yukon home. She flipped past the channels each time a diet commercial aired. Jenny Craig? She couldn’t stand it. McDonald’s? A Big Mac was utterly repulsive. The sheer sight of food sent this blond teen into a cycle of guilt, disgust, and rage. At five foot one she was a gaunt eighty-nine pounds, yet she desired to be thinner. She didn’t quite understand why she felt this way, but she realized not eating made her content.

Emma Baker, a University of Oklahoma freshman, remembers her struggle with anorexia nervosa as she describes this event. The warning signs of an eating disorder were present, but she could not identify her behavior. “I didn’t realize until a year after. I didn’t see it then,” she says.

But with the evidence clearly indicating a problem, why was this cycle so hard to identify? And why is it still difficult to comprehend why eating disorders happen? According to American author, Clare Boothe Luce, “advertising has done more to cause the social unrest of the 20th century than any other single factor.” While there is a constant barrage of unobtainable beauty personified in the media, Baker does not think this is why girls like herself choose to engage in such unhealthy behavior. Baker believes media’s depiction of women is not to blame, but rather the lack of understanding about what causes eating disorders.

According to the National Eating Disorders Association, depression, trouble with relationships,and low self esteem can cause eating disorders. Anorexia Nervosa and Related Eating Disorders, Inc. explains there are multiple risk factors that may be responsible for this behavior: negative self-evaluation, perfectionism, and high level of perceived stress can be related to unhealthy behavior.

Scott Miller, Ph.D., of Goddard Health Center commented via email about the issue. “While severity and frequency of problems differ, [eating disorders] have in common using food as a way to cope with difficulties,” he explains. “Often, there is an underlying belief that being thinner would be a solution to troubles and demonstrate proof of control in one’s life.”

Baker can relate to this first hand. She was depressed before her struggle started, and her recent breakup with a boyfriend of two years didn’t help her self esteem. She couldn’t understand why her life was falling apart or why she couldn’t control it. So, she stopped eating. At least she could control that. She started skipping meals and avoiding food altogether. She continued working her summer job, but felt dizzy from the lack of nutrition. At night, when her empty stomach would ache, she slept through the pain. Her mother finally confronted her when Baker blacked out while working. “… I woke up from a black out and my mom came to pick me up from work. We drove to Taco Bell and she said to me ‘If you don’t start eating, I won’t eat.’”

Baker understands her actions at the time were detrimental to her health, but couldn’t resist the lure of a slimmer body. “It’s not so much the pressure that society places on us, it’s how we take it,” Baker admits. She explains that seeing an unrealistic view of females isn’t the only reason why she began to starve herself. She didn’t only want to have a perfect body; she wanted to be confident. “You look back and don’t miss the weight you were. You miss the feeling of being skinny,” she admits. “I can see where [those with eating disorders are] coming from. People that haven’t been through it can’t understand,” she states.

When OU freshman Courtney Cassidy was questioned about her understanding of eating disorders, she describes them as “a way to take control of your life.” She mentioned a childhood friend who developed Anorexia Nervosa after an injury. “She was in the hospital for a long time,” Cassidy says, “and she had mild depression to begin with.” Cassidy admits she doesn’t completely understand the motivation of an eating disorder, but her friend “felt like she couldn’t control anything. But she could control what she ate.”

According to the South Caroline Department of Mental Health, one out of every two-hundred women suffer from Anorexia Nervosa and Two to three in 100 American women suffers from bulimia. Many are afflicted with the inability to maintain a healthy relationship with food. It is accurate to target advertising when those affected with eating disorders aren’t agreeing these images are the cause?

Love Type Thing

     Sometimes I think about what the perfect female would be like. Well, I say sometimes, but I do this relatively often. The overwhelming desire to evaluate my lack of meaningful relationships seems to find me after a couple of drinks. It’s like that annoying friend that always finds you at the most inconvenient times. The socially awkward person that you feel bad for, so you talk to. Then they decide they’re your best friend. You know who I’m thinking about. You even have a name in your mind. Anyway, I could go on this tangent about how the sound of this person’s voice can make you wish you could instantly commit suicide…. but in efforts to keep this story on track, I’ll continue telling you about this fabled woman.

     The perfect woman I envision would have dark brown hair and a nice smile. The kind that would render even the smoothest ballers/shot callers into blabbering idiots. She would be educated on the current events of the world and well spoken. This particular female would be able to be the support I need in a relationship, but yet still be able to kick my ass at Burnout. Yes, that would, by all means, be the most perfect person I would ever meet. This female wouldn’t question the excessive illegal activities I engage in, and would never question my sanity when I spoke about the magic of unicorns and biscuits. Because she would understand them as well. She would obviously not care about the less than approving opinions of others. There would be just us. And psychedelics. And that’s what would matter…. 

     And then I realize I’m not thinking about a woman that doesn’t exist… I’m describing someone. Someone so unobtainable, but yet still so present in my life. I did it again. I set my sights on someone completely perfect for me in every way… except she isn’t attracted to me in the least. Or any female for that matter. I know I’m wasting time by thinking about her. I shouldn’t entertain the idea of what could never happen…

     Sometimes I find it utterly pathetic that I do this. That I set myself up for failure by allowing these feelings to develop. Maybe it’s my own twisted way of assuring my delicate heart will stay intact this time. Dear God, why must I always fall for the straight girls… Connie Chung, you slay me.

Based on Actual Events

     There are times, not unlike this very moment, when I become aware of the void that has been present within me for so long. In this moment I think about her. Not a particular “her”. It might be more accurate to say them. But during these times I think about what could have been. I remember the first girl I fell in love with. She was seventeen and year above me in high school. She was possibly the dimmest girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, but somehow, someway, she managed to steal my heart. Yes, steal my heart. Just as if I were in one of those 80s rock ballad videos. You know the ones. With the leather pants and poofy tunic shirts. The kind of non realistic romance those paperback harlequin novels promise. But regardless this story isn’t about those ballads. Honestly, it isn’t even about the first girl I fell in love with. This story, with all its nonsensical banter and less than clever remarks, is about me. Yes, I am so egotistical I think you will find these self appraising words and thoughts I think about myself are entertaining.

     That said, I can now tell you about one of my less than fruitful adventures in world of dating. I have found many suitable women worthy enough to earn the prestigious title of ‘girlfriend’. I just so happen to fall in love two to three times a week. It’s really becoming a damn hassle. I can’t help it if I happen to be a sucker for a pretty face. My last girlfriend was quite a catch. She was a self-employed woman, which I really admire. She was the most successful drug dealer in her area and when she expanded her territory to the northern part of town, I congratulated her and the two of us celebrated with champagne and “special” brownies. I have no idea why she called them special. Perhaps it was the tender love and care she put into making these delicate morsels. Maybe the sprinkles and chunks of ooey gooey chocolaty goodness made these particular brownies so extraordinary. Then again it could just be the marijuana she cooked into them.

     I still remember the day the federal police forced our break up and honestly, I’m glad it happened that way. I knew I would have to end the relationship soon and I just couldn’t handle having to break the poor girl’s heart. I mean honestly, how can I be expected to have a healthy relationship with a woman that isn’t comfortable spooning for more than four hours. I know you’re giving me this incredulous look right now, thinking “but everyone loves to spoon”. Well my friend, you would be very very wrong. This woman was just not like everyone. She just wouldn’t compromise. There we would be, laying on the Posturepedic® dream of a mattress and she would start complaining about needing space. I mean come on. Here I am trying to be considerate and show the unyielding love I have for this independent entrepreneur and she’s calling me a clingy freeloader and telling me stop coming over if I’m not going to put out. Anyway, after the trial, I managed to have a brief moment with her. I told her to call me and well, she hasn’t, but I’m not bitter. I know they only let you have a certain number of calls in prison.

     She really got me thinking about the future. Sometimes I like to think about random tidbits of what lies ahead, like what kind of house I’ll live in, or about the kind woman I would marry. I think I would marry a smart and articulate woman; the kind of female that is outspoken and actually has opinions on subjects. She would be the kind of woman that I could still find entertaining for more than a few months or a year. I like to think that she would be able to make me laugh no matter what the situation and when we would walk down the park with our little adopted Asian baby, she would put her hand in my back pocket like some singers sing about in those cheesy rock ballads I love to mention. We would grow old together in our little blue house with a white picket fence and she would bake some of those delicious special brownies that my previous girlfriend would make while I waited for her in the living room with a glass of milk and our Boston terrier named Shenanigans. She would have short brown hair with the most amazing hazel eyes I’ve ever seen and answer to the name Jackie Monroe. But then again, I haven’t really thought that much about it.