Daddy knows best!

My father and mother have been married for over 30 years. They have only been with each other. They have been dating since they turned 17 and they stood under the chupah at 21. My dad bought my mother stationary for her 17th birthday and brought it with him to her 17th birthday party. My mother saw a picture of my dad, his auburn jewfro and thick glasses in the local paper and knew right then that she was in love. It was that simple. And it still is. They STILL flirt with each other, They STILL love each other, in every way (ew), They STILL get it.

I know it is rare. I know about 50% of marriages from that generation end in divorce and the divorce rate is only gaining. But, they have managed to make it work and well.

Yesterday, February 17th, my mother turned 52. She looks fab. Great skin, like 3 wrinkles and body in tact. She is aging gracefully, as expected. My father sat next to her at dinner and I sat across the table, my two brothers have managed to escape our hometown for the time being and generally this is the familial picture. My parents on one side, me on the other. Like a panel of judges and a job candidate. I dream sometimes of what it will be like when I can round out the table with a fourth. A brother in Michigan and another in Beijing, it sure would be nice to bring a man to the table. I mean at least for my father's sake.

Alas, it is only three for now. And of course, Jewish parents and a 27.5 year old daughter brings about conversations surrounding job growth, career choices, social life and of course, the future husband prospects. Most of the time we laugh, sometimes we fight, mostly because frustration builds, they just don's seem to get it. And how can they? They have actually, believe it or not, never dated. Not the way adults do, they were married before they became actualized adults, so it just never was a reality for them. And I point that out a lot and it makes them angry. I think they do not like knowing that they may be less experienced at something then I am. WAY less experienced. Or maybe I just assume that. Maybe it bothers them that I seem to follow patterns of dating that are just unsuccessful and they are all knowing, I just never listen. It becomes a frustrating, circular conversation(BLOWOUT FIGHT) and it can be grueling. SO, today begins opposite day. Opposite hour. Opposite life.

I am going to listen to my parents.

Maybe, just MAYBE they know something I don't

Ouch. It hurt to say that.

Last night in particular, no fights arose, but we sat at Hearth on 12th and 1st ave, deep in the East Village, a neighborhood that my parents find hard to digest, but do so willfully (my mother more then my father) and we laughed. I gave in. I fed them story after story about men I am dating, men who e mail facebook messages instead of calling, men who take me out four times and cease to even kiss me, men who flake, come back, flake again. I feed them stories about my girlfriends, one who is moving across the country with a signed financial agreement in hand in case of relationship failure, instead of demanding a ring on her finger, a friend who WON'T move across the country WITHOUT a ring on her finger, one who has been left out to dry after two years of a serious relationship because her white boyfriend (idiot) put his glasses on and found out that she was black and could not handle it (wtf?)

No story ceased to amaze them, one after the other. I suppose it gave them a sense of assurance, "at least its not just our daughter," I am sure they thought. And they laughed and honestly, so did I. My father looked at me and uttered his favorite words of ethereal wisdom with his regular sense of sarcasm, and my father fancies himself wise and hilarious, "all you need is one, can't you just find one?"

I looked at him and said, "no, it no longer works like that."

And I am right. And in my humble & perhaps less wise opinion, this has all to do with technology. Weird connection, you are thinking. Perhaps. I mean think about it. We are a generation of Instant Gratification. We get what we want when we want it, we do not have to step outside to order almost anything in the world and have it appear on our doorstep, in our arms, on our computers, in our Ipods, on our movie screens, our TV's, our fridges. We don't even have to go outside to date anymore. And then when we do, forget dating, we have sex immediately. Like that is normal. We spend all this un-intimate time getting to know one another, on IM, in e mail, through blogs, profiles, dating sites, social networking sites, test message! I can not even remember the last time i picked up my iphone and went to the keypad to call on a friend. The minute we make human connection again we stick it to each other. Social and romantic negligence, all because we have become stunted and spoiled. Instant Gratification Generation.

And there it was, vomited all over the wooden table at hearth, the truth. We have lost all sense of real intimacy and any sense of working towards attaining one thing or another. Love, the forefront and the back end of this theory.

We joked about a friend who moved in with a boyfriend and wondered why after 2 years of living together he had not proposed. My dad said,

"because he has just what he wants. Do you REALLY think men are programmed to want to be married, to commit? No! But if ladies don't give them something to work for, they won't realize it either."

Wham. And I hate to say it, or write it rather, because let's face it, I am not ACTUALLY talking right now, My father is right, correct, on target, ding ding ding.

So. I am playing a game. I am going to let myself date, real, actual candidates for real, actual relationships. And they are going to court me and I will coyly hold back most everything. Fuck Instant Gratification, I am going to make them work, and in turn this will be loads of work on my end as well.

No sex. No "I think you are the one" two weeks into a relationship, no moving in, no I love you. Not for a while. I am going to see what happens.

I am going to tell you ALL about it.

Tonight. Candidate one.

Deena