High expectations

I started dating when I was 15. It was very innocent. We held hands and went out to eat ice-cream together. On my sixteenth birthday he sent me sixteen red roses and I thought he was giving me everything a girl could ever want. That and being my date to prom. I made it to 21 before being single again and after shaking off the break-up I dived relatively smoothly back into dating. There were plenty of boys to go on dates with. Everyone seemed to be single and, hence, in the same boat. 

Needless to say, dating at 27 is quite different. It is almost shocking how much of a difference 6 years make. You go from “too young to commit” to being somewhat like a pot of yogurt sitting on a shelf in the fridge - eagerly hoping someone will pick it up because its expiration date is dawning uncomfortably close. In other words, the pressure is way on. Despite resolutely reassuring other single girlfriends that we can afford to wait for the right one, because we have lots of time, I am starting to realize that we better get a move on. As my grandmother summed up my situation the last time she tried to persuade me to reconnect with my ex boyfriend: “you are not that young any more, you know.” 

And in fact, the problem really is that I am not that young any more. However, it isn't about the impending decline of collagen, or the looming effects of gravity. I don't look worse. If anything, I actually objectively look better than I did when I was 21 and generally feel much happier and more confident in my own skin. But, I am getting more experienced. And that is the crux of the problem. The easiest way to fall in love and find a partner is to be a bit naive. After ten years of dating, naive I am not. If you are a relatively social being, put yourself out there to meet men, accept invitations on dates, and attempt to build a couple of relationships, you get exposed to a lot of experience. In addition to women becoming more relationship intelligent as they get older, add personal development, education and travel to the equation and you get a rather discerning date.

Really, the big problem with age is that it seems to be correlated with expecting more not only from ourselves, but also from others. Women have become increasingly more active in the economy, received more education, and overall started taking advantage of opportunities previously only predominantly available to men. They can now work their way up to stand on a figurative pedestal, as opposed to merely watching men do the same. This means that for anyone to be looked up to in today’s society, they actually have to objectively do something. And the standards according to which achievement is judged are more transparent in the sense that they are no longer only known by men. Being a top manager, nanophysicist, or a heart surgeon are no longer areas of mystery to us females. 

Take this example: Two guys walk into a bar. They approach a group of women, young professionals in their late twenties, and strike up a conversation. In an attempt to help boost his friend’s desirability in front of the female audience, the guy playing wingman for the night says: “my friend is a brain doctor.” (Oh yes, those actual words were spoken. I was there.) Now, 30 years ago, chances are “brain doctor” would have caused a general sigh of awe among the ladies. The statement may have been even more inspiring if the speaker had though to say “neurologist.” After all, what was the proportion of female to male doctors 30 years ago? And even if a woman fought her way into the male dominated profession she would have most likely been expected to become a paediatrician due to her “natural” inclination for child care. The "brain doctor" guy could continue chatting up his captivated audience with relative ease. Not so today. Instead, the guy in our example earned himself a barrage of questions about which hospital he practices in, which part of the brain he finds most interesting and why, and which diseases he focuses on. After five minutes, his awkward answers relieved nothing more than the fact he had watched The Theory of Everything and failed to memorize enough about ALS to prevent his audience from seeing right through his ruse. Needless to say, he went home alone.

But fancy, life-saving jobs aside, there are other much more basic qualities that women look for in potential partners. Honesty, intellectual curiosity, charisma, good manners, or lack of back hair, to name just a few. So, how do we reconcile our high expectations about the qualities a possible partner should have, and the realities of dating in your late twenties? As my good friend once put it: “All the good ones are already taken.” I have been thinking about this question quite a lot over the last few weeks since I more actively put myself out there to meet men. And I am starting to see some resolution to this conundrum. Don’t get me wrong, I have hardly figured it all out. But I can see the outlines of the way forward taking shape as I spend more time out there as a “woman on the hunt.” And it is a hunt. That is the first thing I think we have to admit. No matter how deeply we want to believe that the right guy will just appear at the right time, that is a complete fallacy. Men are not sent to us at some magical moment in time, long ago determined by fate, to suddenly sweep us off our feet, because the two of us were meant to be. 

Like with everything else in our lives, finding a partner requires determination and work. But above all, it requires that we actually go out. Like actually physically put ourselves in places where we can meet the kind of men we think we would be interested in. Chances are slim that we are going to meet them while having coffee with a bunch of girlfriends or during karaoke night at a gay bar hanging out with our male gay friends. 

Over the last month I have made a very conscious effort to go out more; to accept invitations to events that I would have previously declined because I am too tired, too stressed out, or because I think I might prefer watching a movie in bed. And I actively try to meet new people - whether that means striking up a conversation with the woman in front of me waiting in line for the rest room, or someone who smiles at me during a lunch break at a conference. I cannot overemphasize how much this has worked for me. I may not be riding off into the sunset with my knight in shining armour just yet, but I have sure had more interactions with men in four weeks than I have had in the past year. And once you are out there meeting people, its just a numbers game. I know we would all love to meet the right guy now. Like right now - divine intervention shining a bright light down on him, and us just walking over, grabbing him by the hand and living happily ever after. That just isn't how it works, you have to meet a lot of them to find one you hit it off with. But more about that next time.

An affair to remember

Quite recently, I was introduced to a gem of the Golden Age of Hollywood - An Affair to Remember. Let me highlight the main allures of the film for those of you who have not had the pleasure of experiencing the on-screen chemistry between Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr: Grant, playing a well-known, handsome playboy meets Kerr, an endearingly quick-witted and beautiful woman aboard a transatlantic ocean liner. They tease and flirt their way from Europe to America, longing for each other increasingly more and more. The audience is long kept in suspense about the future of their romance. After all, they are both spoken for and both have lives to return to. But as sparks between them continue to fly, it becomes clear the attraction cannot be resisted. Kerr has completely captivated the philandering Grant. In turn, her resistance to his charms breaks down and the audience is, eventually, rewarded with their first kiss. Or at least a hint of it. Such is the importance and gravitas of this one kiss that we never see their lips actually lock; we just witness their feet approach behind the ship's balustrade. Nonetheless, the kiss must have really been something, because upon arrival to New York the couple agrees to meet in six months on top of the Empire State building to be together. True to form, Grant arrives there half a year later and waits long hours for his chosen one to appear. 

Now let me tell you another story. The story of a different romantic encounter that occurred almost 60 years after An Affair to Remember, on dry land, and slightly more north of New York in the city of Cambridge, Massachusetts. A young woman was attending a conference at Harvard University. After the opening speeches, she struck up a pleasant conversation with several other attendees at the reception that ensued. It was a lovely evening, full of friendly chatter over wine and canapés. Among her new companions was a handsome student from Germany who had come to the conference from New York. He was smart, easy-going and funny. By the end of the evening they had exchanged contact details and bid farewell expressing hopes they would bump into each other at the conference panels the next day.

And bump into each other they did. They enjoyed a long conversation detailing their experiences from the day, compared their favorite moments, and joked about some of the more controversial statements in the speeches. She felt comfortable with him and assumed he must feel the same way from his big smile and unflinching eye-contact. When someone suggested a group dinner to solidify the new friendships that had been forged, everyone hailed it a great idea. On the way out of the conference venue, the main stage was already being set up for another event. A piano had been rolled in and the music carried. Our protagonist found herself humming happily to the piano's rhythm. "We should dance" came her new acquaintance's voice from behind her, and she turned to find him grinning boyishly. She laughed at the joke but his flirtatious tone was unmistakable. 

The spark only grew from there. Sitting beside each other at dinner, they found excuses to touch each other on the arm to emphasize a point or nudge each other playfully in mock indignation over a joke. Every glance and smile became a little tease. Unfortunately, time few by quickly in good company and the inevitable departure of the German student back to New York drew closer. And so the waiter was asked for the bill, words of gratitude for such a pleasant encounter spoken, and warm goodbyes exchanged with all the other dinner companions. Finally, there they were, at the end of the night, the remaining two standing in the middle of Harvard Square. It was a truly beautiful evening. One of those first warm nights at the end of winter when you feel that spring might finally be just around the corner. "Would you like to take a walk?" he asked. The obvious answer was yes. 

As they set off down Massachusetts Avenue, our protagonist had a brief pang of misgiving. She thought to herself that no good could possibly come out of this walk. They clearly shared  an attraction, but he was leaving. They had nowhere to go beyond the destination at the end of their walk. And yet the hint of spring in the air and energetic bustle of the streets on a Saturday night were so inviting. They painted a picture of possibility and romance. Who could deny the temptation to see where it would go next? After all, it could be just a little adventure, a couple more glances and smiles - he might be too shy to make a move anyway. 

As they walked, he made her laugh and feel at ease and all remaining conference-appropriate reservations were shed. He was optimistic and full of energy - it felt exhilarating to be with him. As they approached their walk's originally intended destination, he grabbed her hand and ran across the street in front of oncoming traffic, declaring they should walk some more. Why protest? And so they went on until they reached a small square with a sculpture standing on a large, lit-up platform. They approached to admire it. All around the lights were still on in the office buildings. She wondered aloud what people might be doing inside at the late hour. Moving closer to stand just behind her, the German student outstretched his arm, brushing her shoulder, pointing up to one of the windows. "In there, is a man. He has a crush on a girl who works in the window over there." he moved his arm to indicate another window across from the last. "But she doesn't know it," he finished. What came next was inevitable and easy. His pointing hand dropped down and found her's. Locking their fingers together she could feel how shy he was as his face leaned in to be inches from her cheek. He spun her around to face him, pulling her closer and they began the dance he had proposed jokingly hours before. Forgotten were the people behind office windows, or even passers by.

His first move may have been shy, but there was no hesitation in the kiss that followed. It was bold and passionate. And yet, once the contact was broken, our protagonist could not help but wonder aloud what they were doing. "Don't think about that. How often does this happen?" came the response. He had a point. Any anyway, he seemed so nice, so decent, so truly taken up by the moment. He asked her whether she visits New York often, promised a speedy return to Boston and took her number. Despite a morning meeting back in the city, he expressed a desire to stay. "Maybe I shouldn't go." She smiled back and suggested that during his next visit he should take her out on a date. And so it was agreed. After one final, long kiss they parted ways, walking away from one another but finding it impossible not to turn back for one more smile. 

This point would be the perfect moment to end the story if it were in fact a Hollywood movie. Let the camera zoom out as the pair walks away, each to their yet unknown future. Not only would it be suitably romantic, but like the hidden kiss in An Affair to Remember, it would let the audience imagine what comes next. All those possibilities! Unfortunately, real life tends to be less perfect. The feeling of optimism and excited expectation about what might come next only lasts about a day until the great guy who was so into you just last night fails to call. The first few days you dare hope he might just be playing it cool, but by day seven you realize you are never going to hear from him again. 

If you are a single woman meeting and dating men, this kind of thing happens. A lot. Someone takes you on a wonderful adventure leaving you with the distinctive feeling that you have both just experienced something special. Its wonderful. Its life affirming. Until radio silence ensues and you are left wondering whether perhaps the guy who made such a great impression on you has in fact got some seriously poor manners, or worse, whether the moment you shared just wasn't quite so special for him. 

And so I was left wondering about how to handle similar moments of spontaneity in the future. Surely, the answer is not avoiding them all together. What would be the fun in that? But perhaps the solution is to do what we would hope any great guy would do after experiencing a wonderful, serendipitous moment with us - acknowledge the moment and show appreciation for our accomplice in the action. After all, we know all too well that men have the tendency to get lost in romantic moments and forget all about them once the allure of the seductive unknown is replaced by the sharp reality of everyday life. So why not do the right thing ourselves? 

Thus was born my new approach to making any short-lived affair one to remember - by accepting it for what it is. Going forward, I am determined to be fully committed to enjoying the moment, but at the time of parting, I will give out no numbers and make no plans to meet, whether at the top of the Empire State Building or anywhere else. Instead, I will say thank you for a truly amazing time. I will acknowledge how nice it was to meet and how fondly I will cherish the memory. And after that, I will walk away, unencumbered by the weight of expectation, into that wonderful realm of possibility looking forward to the next great adventure. 

So it begins.

I'm going to start this blog by jumping right in. Why am I doing this? Because I want, or actually need, a space where I can speak my mind and let my thoughts spill out into words on a page to try and make sense of what life throws at me. I have been doing this for years with close friends at dinner parties, coffee shops and over e-mail, so why not let you in on some of it? I want to share the little and big things that I come across in life and hopefully put a humorous spin on some of the typical challenges that all of us young woman are faced with. 

Perhaps the best way to begin will be to explain the name of this blog - Checkerboard approach. You see, when I was 18, I dated this very tall, very skinny boy who was obsessed with aviation. I could hardly say I was impressed with the long hours he spent bent over a joystick flying on a flight simulator. However, I did pick up a bit of aviation trivia from him. One thing that stuck in my memory was the route of the flight approach into Hong Kong’s Kai Tak airport, known for being extremely difficult for even the most experienced pilots to execute. 

The gist of the approach was that the pilot would first let the plane’s instrument guidance system handle the initial descent over one of the city's most densely populated residential areas. While seemingly hovering so close above the rooftops and busy streets that you would expect the gust from the plane’s engines to make the people below scatter like skittles, the plane’s nose was inching ever closer and closer to the side of a mountain that stood just ahead. The critical step in the approach arrived when the pilot spotted a visual reference point on the mountain -  an orange and white colored checkerboard. At that point, he had to act fast. Off went the auto-pilot. Mere moments from touchdown, and less than 300 meters above the ground, the pilot had to make a 47° visual right turn to line up with the runway and land.

The Kai Tak Heart attack, as the approach was appropriately dubbed by passengers, is no longer in use. In a way, however, the Kai Tak experience is not completely lost. Any single woman juggling a career, private life and family is experiencing the Kai Tak Heart attack several times a week on a regular basis. You may not be holding the control yoke to a several tonne metal aircraft, but the weight of responsibility in your hands feels none the lighter. And that is what I want to write about. I want this blog to be my checherboard; like the signal at Kai Tak instructing the pilot to take the plane off auto pilot and make a sharp turn in order to avoid a spectacular collision. This is my way of motivating myself to take the reigns by documenting the ups and downs that will inevitably follow.

I wish I could report that with the years I am becoming a more confident pilot. But the opposite is true. It isn't as though there haven't been a couple of great times when I made it nicely to my destination. I finished law school. Passed two bars. Got a job. Travelled to some seriously cool places, and had a couple of crazy, movie-worthy romantic encounters. But recently, I feel as though I am trying to make a landing and flight control has directed me into a holding pattern which I cant seem to get out of and some days I feel like I am running out of fuel.

The truth is that until now my flight path has been mapped out; there was always a clear destination ahead. When life is filled with discrete journeys like getting through another semester, or passing another exam, no matter the current situation, there is always the prospect that there is a definite end to any unpleasant experience. And after the definite end lies the optimistic land of opportunity. How many times have you told yourself “I just need to get through these next few months and then it will be better”? I have. A lot. 

Law school was easily the most miserable experience of my life. I left my family, friends, and a great guy back in Europe to be able to go to Boston and attain the “desirable” label of Doctor of law. I thought I would brave it out for three years and then get back to my life, which would somehow be there, waiting for me. But life did not wait. Nor did the great guy. And so I feel like I am at a new start and life will really be what I make of it. I hope I can be braver, wiser, and make good choices, yet, despite all the new responsibility, not grow so serious that I forget to be spontaneous and nurture my still unjaded dreams. So here we begin. And if I can add a little humor to your own journey as I document my path, then that alone will be something.