Womby's blog

Calibur of Water

I had a rather strange dream last night.  Like most of my dreams, they are rather hard to relay to others.  Not because they're overly fantastical or anything, but simply because they are . . . layered.  Things tend to happen simultaneously and are reliant on said things happening simultaneously.

However, it is still possible to at least convey the essence of what a dream may have been about.

A slight disclaimer:  this dream was a representation of my thoughts regarding my relationship and interaction with everyone I know.  Since there are people that occasionally read what I write here that know me beyond the realms of this site, I will be inadvertently doing one of the things I hate most about internet blogging: talking to people by talking about them.  I do not wish for this, but it is the catch 22 associated with engaging in a discourse about all involved with my life.  This will most likely affect my writing style in some way, as I struggle with the conundrum of intent versus effect.

The dream involved various arbitrary events and scenarios, but, throughout the course of each, I was attempting to interact with someone I know (ranging from close acquaintance to good friend) . . . and failing spectacularly.  In some cases, I was overcome by the whims of fate, while in others, I was flat out ignored.

During the past few months, people have been slipping out of my life.  I am aware of and understand certain individuals' life situations, while various others very simply baffle me with their actions (and inaction).  With each person, I have been making attempts to maintain contact and trying to prevent our relationship from becoming simply a memory.

Before I start sounding like even more of a narcissistic fiend that demands the complete and utter attention of those associated with him, allow me to say that when I speak of a lack of interaction, I mean that there has been nary a phone call, email, instant message, or text with even the briefest of salutations in them.  The simple acknowledgment of my existence is more than enough to placate me (and my apologies if all of that came out overly emo/goth; old habits die hard, I suppose).

I had a conversation once about compliments and the effect of them coming from your friends versus coming from strangers.  Hell, I might have even written about it here, but my memory is shite, and I like hearing myself talk ("reading" myself "write," if you prefer).  Anyway, compliments tend to be more effective and have a greater impact when they come from strangers.  A big part of it is that words from a stranger are both unexpected and unsolicited.  If one were to take that concept, extend it and invert it in a wonderfully Willy Wonka manner, then it will be shown that if something is required to be asked for, its meaning and significance is greatly reduced.

Anyone that's ever gotten into an argument with a significant other centering around the, "You shouldn't have to ask!" concept will understand.

I bring this up because it also applies to the current situation.  Having someone call you, for example, out of the blue makes you feel quite warm and fuzzy, as it shows that you occupy their thoughts.  Having someone call you because you asked them to means that they're honoring your request, and not necessarily you.

Not always true, of course, but if one constantly makes allowances for exceptions, conversations would go nowhere.

Which is probably why the words that emanate from me usually go nowhere.

One of my business professors told me that while you should be cognizant of the exceptions, you need to focus on the 90% that makes up the general majority.  Let's see if I can do that . . . at least for the duration of this post.

So, the onset of isolation creates one of those scenarios that involve both a rock and a hard place.  Despite your efforts, people no longer seem to want to interact with you.  And, you can't inform them of the issue because then they would be responding to the request, and not to you, as mentioned above.

When I have a relationship with someone, I want people to want to interact with me.  I don't have this need for attention on a general level.  I don't want someone to talk to me simply so I can enjoy the shallow thrill of being the focus of their attention for a moment.  If someone I talked to wished for me to no longer be a part of their lives, I'd rather that they inform me of this directly, as opposed to withdrawing and engaging in protracted silence.

Anyone that's ever had a prospective love interest suddenly stop answering phone calls simply because of a lack of interest will understand.

Of course, this doesn't apply to people that are focusing the majority of their energy battling life, fate, and the universe.

(That right there is an example of my writing being affected by knowing that those I am writing about may be reading this.  I'm actually a little proud that I haven't has as many "cover my ass" moments.)

I've been wondering why it is that I'm putting forth the effort in trying to maintain these relationships.  Well, allow me some clarification.  I know why I'm putting forth effort: these people are a part of my life and thus deserve it.  What I wonder about, is why I am putting forth the effort.  Why is it that things have become so one-sided?  Is it too much to think that because I'm a part of their lives, I deserve some effort on their part?

By my own admission, there really isn't much I can do to change things.  My current actions are having little to no results, and bringing up the specific issue to those involve would effectively defeat the purpose of things.  This was just a ramble of sorts that happened to coincide quite well with a desire to write something.

I am, however, going to "give up" in a sense.  I will still interact with various people for the simple reason that I think about them.  But, with certain people, I'm beginning to feel like I'm actively intruding on their lives.  Those individuals, I think I'm going to take a step away from until things start to feel otherwise.

Whenever the word "friend" is used in any way to describe a relationship with someone, things should be done out of desire and not obligation.  As much as it may pain me to admit it, I think that I'm just not friends with some of the people I thought I was.

It'd be quite nice to be proven wrong.

Third Seven

Despite it being one of those "you had to be there" moments, and despite my proclamation of rarely writing in this style just one post earlier, here's another installment of "What happened to me last Saturday."

Well, last Monday, actually.  Saturday was another foray into the world of airsoft, and those stories are best said in the company of all involved, as well as in person.  And accompanied by the beverage (alcoholic or not) of your choice. 

There is one tale that I will share, as it was quite the "movie" moment.  'Twas the last round of the day.  Derrick was on my team, and we decided to charge up the hill to our right.  As we're running, I stumble on some old chicken wire fencing and let loose a few choice words.  Derrick sped past me while saying, "This isn't the time to cry like a baby!  Keep moving!"

Right when he got to the crest of the hill, I heard an, "Oh, shit" from him, followed by the sound of small plastic projectiles flying through the air.  The delay from being snagged on the chicken wire allowed me to duck down in some cover in response.

Karma.  It can be a bitch.

Oh, and Jeremy shot me in the ass.

Not in the field, mind you.  After we finish up airsofting, we all clean up and enjoy some pitchers of beer and wings at Hooters (well, everyone else enjoys them; I'm usually a DD).  And, I fully realize how . . . redneck it seems to spend a day shooting fake guns at each other and then spend the night at Hooters.  Meh.  It's the only place around the area that serves beer, is open late, and my 15 year old cousin can still get into.  It's also quiet enough to allow the proper reliving of the days events.

Anyway.

After being copiously loaded with beer, we all headed back to the guys' apartment.  I'm bent over my bag to put something away (why I was bent at the waist, I'll never know), when Jeremy found one of the old FAMASes that he and the Panda originally bought.  And, it was still loaded.  Of course, he did the natural thing . . .

And shot me in the ass.

He was less than five feet away, so it hurt.  But, I couldn't be pissed, and I couldn't help laughing.  Yeah, it hurt, but I just got shot.  In the ass.  If it had happened to anyone else, I'd be laughing.  So, I had to laugh when it happened to me.

Well, I guess I just shared two tales, as well as the accompanied digressions.

On to Monday's adventure.

Panda and I decided on sushi for dinner, and Jeremy comes along.  Our standard sushi haunt is right next to the nail salon that Panda's mom (my aunt) works at.  Yes, my Vietnamese aunt works at a nail salon.  And people wonder why I don't have a negative bias towards stereotypes.  My family tends to slam right into them.  Ya know, sometimes stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason . . . .

We go into the salon to say hi, and my aunt gets this smile and starts whispering to the girl she's working on.  I just know that she's commenting on how tall I am.  It's what she always does when I visit.  It doesn't help that I was standing even with the white guy we brought in with us.

We exchange some quick small talk, and then the three of us head over to gorge on sushi.  Most of the way through the meal, my aunt comes in and joins us.  She then tells me that the girl she was talking to thinks I'm cute.  I raise an eyebrow at her as she tells me that she's nice and really sweet.

My family is always trying to get me to hook up with a nice, quiet, Vietnamese girl.  The housewife variety.  Like I said, stereotypes . . . .

My eyebrow is still raised, so she finally drops the bomb.  "She doesn't speak any english."  Panda and Jeremy just bust out laughing at that point.  Panda steps in to help me out, saying that that's kind of a deal breaker for me.  My aunt tries to say it's not that big a deal, because she's sweet and that they're also training her at the salon.

Jeremy and I pick up on the inadvertent use of vocabulary and comment that she's being made out to seem like a dog.

Panda's still trying to convince his mom how difficult the language barrier will be because there wouldn't be much I could do with the girl besides wave and look at each other.  And, in attempt to try and make things seem better but achieving the exact opposite, his mom says that she can't speak any english because she arrived in the country just the other day.

I try and stay polite as my aunt is simply trying to hook me up with someone that she thinks is good for me (never mind that she would very seriously go about the whole mail-order-bride thing for us if Panda or I ever allowed her to).  I play along a bit and ask her what the girl's name is.

A pause.

"We call her Terri, but she doesn't know that yet."

Jeremy and Panda bust out laughing again.  Choosing a name for the girl was not helping the dog metaphor at all.

Luckily, we were all finishing up our food at that point, so it was about time to go.  I agree to let my aunt know, via Panda, if I ever was interested in meeting the girl.

I must say, there has to be some kind of cosmic message hidden within that whole ordeal, but I'll be damned if I can't figure it out.

Flashbang

As of late, it seems as if the thing most likely to get me to write is impending homework that I really, really don't feel like doing.

So, here I am.

I've been having some rather odd dreams.  Not quite weird in the manner of chocolate veins crawling on legs made of flower petals, but fairly surreal nonetheless.

I think I may be repressing a few things.

I don't really feel like writing about that, though.

Yeah . . . repressing.

Instead, I'll deviate from my standard routine and engage in a bit of, "This is What I Did on Saturday," style writing.

First, a little preamble (because, as anyone that knows me can verify, I take forever to actually tell my stories and get to the point . . . if there even is a point to begin with).  About a month or two ago, I noticed that my tennis racquet had a crack in it.  Not good.  I had been putting off buying a new one, as I only really play when I make it down to Bad News, and the racquet was still performing decently.  The burgeoning crack, however, made the decision for me.

So, the Crew and I headed over to the Sports Authority.  I picked out a new racquet in short time and I went into the aisle to try and track down Jeremy and Panda.  I saw them walking towards me with rather massive, shit-eating grins on their faces.  And, in their hands . . . FAMASes.  For those not familiar with anything military (through either real or virtual means), it's a French machine gun.

These weren't real FAMASes, of course.  These were airsoft guns.  For the uninitiated, airsoft is kinda like paintball, except that all the guns are accurate recreations of their real life counterparts, and they shoot BBs.  Most rifles tend to be electric powered.

They recognized the look on my face, and greeted it with, "Dude, they're only $41."  I couldn't argue with that.  It seemed a perfectly reasonable price for the opportunity to engage in tiny, pellet sized mayhem delivered fully-automatically.

Anyway, this was merely a gateway purchase.  Jeremy and Panda dove into the world of airsoft with reckless enthusiasm.  They did their research, got Derrick and Panda's little brother into it, and now the Crew is fairly adequately armed.

Furthermore, my uncle owns a small farm out in Smithfield that's quite wooded, and perfect for . . . engagements.

For those wondering about the appeal of airsoft . . . well, I think it's one of those things that one either inherently grooves with or they don't.  It's cheaper than paintball (which we used to do), you don't have to be nearly as delicate with the equipment as laser tag (and you don't have to be inside a special room), and there's just something visceral and enjoyable about shooting your buddy.  Repeatedly.

And no, it doesn't really hurt.  Kind of like someone snapping a rubber band on you.  And it's a very instantaneous discomfort that dissipates quite quickly.

Panda actually picked up a "spare" MP5, because he knew that some of us couldn't afford to get one, or, in my case, couldn't play often enough with everyone to really justify the expense.

So, Saturday.  We all rolled out and Panda and Jeremy were briefing me and Vern (it was our first excursion; the others had already played a few times) about how to play.

There were six of us: Panda and Jeremy, with their G36es; Vernon with the MP5; Panda's little brother (who has earned the nickname "Headshot Bui") with his M14; Derrick with his M14 DMR (which is fucking massive); and then me . . . with dual pistols.

That's right.  Everyone else was sporting automatic rifles, while I had two pistols, a CM30 and G19.

It was a conscious decision on my part (even if there were enough rifles to go around (there weren't)).  Since all the guns are just glorified BB guns, pistols versus rifles is doable.  The biggest obstacle I had to deal with was the low ammo count.  I only had two 20-round magazines for each pistol.  Everyone else, at minimum, was carrying over 200 rounds with them.

We played Counterstrike style: 3v3 and rounds.  Only head and body shots counted, as it would be pretty lame to start a round, get pinged in the foot, then have to wait for the round to finish.

I actually did pretty well with my two pistols.  I figured that the only way I could really compete was to make all my shots count, and to do that I had to get close.  Which meant sneaking.  So I went Solid Snake all day.  Crawled and climbed through underbrush and fallen tree trunks.  There were a lot of bugs and spiderwebs.  And burrs.  Dear god, the fucking burrs.  My body is still riddled all over with red marks.

But, it was a lot of fun.  Most of the time, nobody knew where I was, even my team mates.  I was a complete wildcard, and the other team had to constantly worry about where I would pop up, especially after I managed to flank them a few times.  Unfortunately, the tips of my pistols were painted an obnoxiously bright orange (for various legal and safety reasons, airsoft guns are sold and shipped with the tips painted orange).  So, my position was given away anytime I poked my guns out to take a shot.

***

Well, it seems I need to end this rather abruptly.  Something has commandeered the majority of focus my mind possesses.  My life has definitely been . . . interesting these past few months.

We'll see how the next few months unfold.

By any other

I really should be either sleeping or working on the speech I have to present on Monday.

Naturally, I'm doing neither.

For the curious, I'm doing a persuasive speech on how people should become friends with a person before entering a romantic relationship with them.  I certainly have enough opinions on the matter; now we'll see if I can structure them into a coherent argument.

Anyway.

My ex has been popping into my head a fair amount recently.  Or maybe it's just the relationship I had with her that I'm remembering.  Either way, it's been serving as a starting point for a myriad of other semi-random thoughts.

Imagine there are two different feelings.  If each of those feelings lead to the same course of action or consequence, does it matter that the feelings are different?  Or are they even different at that point?  I suppose this is an extension of the whole "intent versus action" argument.  Here's the example that was floating around in my head.  Julie has a old friend that she would've gone out with had he not had some severe mental/emotional issues.  This planted in my head the little seed that, if this gentleman ever got his head straightened out, she would go out with him.  No, I didn't believe she would leave me for him, but such rational thoughts have no place in the realm of "the other guy."  Now, I wasn't jealous of the guy (he was really rich; neither myself nor Julie are overly materialistic, but everyone can appreciate being completely free of financial concerns), but I was a little . . . afraid.  I was scared that I wasn't as "good" as this other fellow.

All silly thoughts, of course, but the point of the matter is that . . . was there any real difference between being afraid and being jealous?

One would think that with all the school work I have, my mind would be too busy to beat itself up.  Then again, that does seem to be one of its favored hobbies, and it has proven quite adept at finding both the time and the ability to engage in the activity.

Fogey Remembered

For reasons I have not been able to fathom, my dreams have inundated me with memories and images of females from my past.  The tally is up to three, and they've progressed, or I suppose, regressed in reverse chronological order.

The first was about the most recent ex, followed by a girl that had a crush on me, but . . . let's just say that we had rather different mental landscapes.  Then, my brain went all the way back to high school and dug up a crush I had at the time.

The common theme I've been able to discern is that each relationship is one that failed to be, and for various reasons.  My feelings for the first girl (of my past) were not reciprocated.  The feelings of the second girl were not reciprocated by me.  And while the third girl and I tried (for a decent while), it didn't work out.

After each dream (or subconscious mental meanderings; these haven't always been occurring while I've been wholly asleep), I'm filled with a sensation of . . . .

I'm given a chance at something
I refuse the offering for reasons I feel are correct and valid
After that decision, I find myself drawn back towards it
At this point, I no longer have control over the situation

A crude example would be the opportunity for a one night stand.  I could have one if I wanted, but I turn it down.  After turning it down, the desire for it comes back, magnified, to haunt me.  But, by then, the moment has removed itself.  The girl moves on to another guy, has second thoughts, sobers up, what have you.

What's odd is that I'm well aware that the aftermath desire is for something I really shouldn't engage in (despite really wanting to do it . . . hormones (regarding both sex and companionship) don't particularly respond well to reason and logic).

What does it all mean?  Am I trying not to repeat mistakes of the past?  Which ones?  Am I trying to tell myself that doing the "right thing" and adhering to reason will maintain the inertia of my life?  Is that good or bad?

A newfound obsession with influence and suggestion have me paying great attention to the workings of the subconscious.  So, now I'm trying to figure out what the hell mine is saying.

I've been trying to embrace the idea that the best thing for me would be to simply focus on school, and not try to establish any new relationships (cordial, casual, carnal, committed, or otherwise) until I finish up school.  I'm not doing too well at it.  I'm not avoiding people or refusing to let things happen; I'm just not actively looking for anything.  Trying not to, anyway.

Oy.  I'm not sure where this is going or what I'm trying to say.  I just felt like getting it out someplace and reading it to see if it makes any more sense outside of my head.

I don't think it does.

One step forward

I'm just a wee bit scared.

In less than ten hours, my class schedule from Hell shall commence, and it won't really let up until . . . I graduate.  For the summer, I'm going from 8 am to 12:30 pm, Monday through Thursday, and a night class from 5:30 pm to 9:30 pm every Thursday.

Learning Product Management at 8 in the morning just isn't right.  Nor is having Public Speaking right afterwards.

When summer ends, I have an 18 credit (six classes) schedule waiting for me in the fall.  Yay.  If I want to graduate "on time," I'll have another one during the following spring semester.

As much as I dislike being in school (my opinion would be different if I didn't have to take solely the classes required for a major I don't particularly care for), it's starting to hit me that I'm approaching the end.  I'm worried that I won't be able to handle the heavy schedule, and that my academic tenure will be extended even more.  Also, the "real world" is starting to loom over me.  In as little as six months, I'll have to start sending out resumes and hounding everyone I know across the nation for jobs.

I'm trying my hardest to finish up this chapter of my life and move on to the next, and I'm scared that I'll stumble and be stuck in it for longer than I would like.  Conversely, I'm scared that I'm not ready for said next chapter.  I've been in this one for quite a while.  Familial honor and tradition basically mandates that my parents support me completely until I finish up school and start my own life.  So, even when I lived on my own and worked to support myself, I never truly had to.  The removal of that safety net will be jarring, indeed.

I have no clue what will happen to me after I graduate.  But, the unknown rarely frightens me.  It's the possibility that I might have to wait longer to truly start my life if I can't handle things that worries me.

I guess all I can do is do what I can.

Deadbeat

I'm sorry, baby.  I know I've been neglecting you.

Shhh.  Shhh.  You know I still care.

MySpace?  Yeah, I've been over there, but it's nothing for you to worry about.  I won't leave you for her.  It's just another person for me to talk to, that's all.  It doesn't have anything nearly as special as we have.

I'm just being goofy and silly whenever I'm over there.  There's nothing serious at all.  When I'm here, I open up my inner most thoughts and feelings.  Secret and special ones that I reserve just for you.

I know I haven't been around as much.  It's just that, well, I've been talking with some of my friends, and . . . .

What?  Oh no, baby, not about you.  Never about you.  I've just been talking to them about most of the things that I normally say here, to you.  We've just been getting into some deep conversations, and I tend not to have anything left to bring to you to help me figure out.

As boring and as negligent as it may seem of me, it's a good thing.  It means I'm out and active and happy.

You want that for me, right?

I'll be around to keep you company more when classes start up.  I'll be away from my friends and busy with school, so I'll talk to you so I can keep my head straight.  You're so good at helping me with that.  Yes you are.

Now, come over here and give me some textual healing.

Oh yeah.

Vox Hunt: Puppet Show

Video: Show us your favorite TV show or movie with puppets.

Meet the Feebles - The Sodomy Song

Before Peter Jackson did Lord of the Rings, he did "Meet the Feebles."  And "Dead Alive," which you should also go see.  Any movie whose name is comprised of two adjectives is a much watch.

That, and it has just the cutest gastrointestinal monster ever.

QotD: If I Never Hear That Again...

What is the one saying that your parents said to you that you absolutely hate? 
Submitted by victoriassecret.

"Back to reality."

My father used to say this to me every time after I did anything that didn't coincide with whatever he viewed as important in life.  If I was finishing up some videogames, he would say it to me.  When I came home from hanging out with my friends, he would say it to me.

Pretty much, after anything recreational or anything done just for the sake of fun and entertainment, he would tell me to come "back to reality."

Bands with others

It seems as if my view on relationships is . . . foolishly optimistic.

I've been discussing relationships with people a fair amount since I have last graced these pages.  These discussions have been centering around a few key concepts/points/inquiries.

• Do you have to be friends with someone before you enter a romantic relationship with them?
• What's the difference between someone you're in a relationship with, and someone that's a good friend?
• Why does that difference cause such a change in behavior with how you treat your significant other and how you treat a good friend?
• If you realized that the person you were with was not someone you could spend your future with, would you end it?

The first thing to keep in mind regarding all of these questions is that I had the "serious" relationships in mind.  I have nothing against casual relationships and flings (both emotional and physical).  They have their place.  I'm focusing on the kinds of relationships where you have a desire to interact with and connect with the other person, not just cater to base and carnal desires.  I've gone off many times in many venues about people that dive into relationships (and from now on, when I refer to "relationships," I mean it as a romantic one) simply to have someone to be attached to, and the specifics of that "someone" are actually irrelevant.  I.E. wanting a boyfriend/girlfriend, and anyone that's a decent person will do.  Before I digress even further, this is not the point.  The emphasis here is on those deeper relationships.

Do you have to be friends with someone before you enter a relationship with them?

I believe so, with a near zealous conviction.  Many people that I talk to say that while it's nice, it isn't specifically necessary.  Some have said that the potential needs to be there, while others have said that you can build the friendship while you build the relationship (which can easily be viewed as similar to or an extension of the need for potential).  The reason that I believe otherwise is that when you're in a relationship, especially during the formative periods of one (usually the first six months), your covered in warm-fuzzies.  And warm-fuzzies, while both warm and fuzzy, skew your perceptions.

When you're in a relationship with someone, everything is elevated to a higher plane.  Not emphasized, but shifted up.  The good feels . . . gooder and the bad isn't as bad.  For example, I start seeing a girl, and I find out that she enjoys playing Super Mario 3.  My brain latches onto this, and I tell myself, "Sweet, she's a gamer girl."  But, she only likes the old school 8-bit games and has no real desire to play anything newer.  She's content with just her Nintendo.  I've elevated a trait to higher levels in my mind.  And, on the other end of the spectrum, things that would normally bother someone get reclassified as cute quirks.  I can't really think of a specific example at the moment, but I can remember times when things that I saw as personality quirks became annoyances once the attraction wore off.

If you aren't friends before entering a relationship, you run the risk of caring only about what they are, and not who they are.

I had someone tell me that if you realized that you weren't going to be friends while you're seeing the person (which also led us into a minor semantical discussion about "seeing," "going out with," and "dating" someone), then you just end it and move one.  This was reality check number one for me.  I feel that relationships are worth not being so flippant about them.  Waiting until after you're already seeing someone to find out whether or not you can be friends feels like a wholly unnecessary gamble.  A relationship is something special.  Something that I feel should be treated with reverence.  Which means that you take measures to ensure all that is in your power to control goes well.

Granted, this stems from my belief that a relationships is essentially a friendship, but taken to the next level.  Which leads us into the next bullet point.

What, if any, is the difference between a significant other and a good friend?

Partial emphasis on the "good" part.  Unfortunately, it seems quite the rarity to have a relationship with someone that is also your best friend.  However, someone you're in a relationship with should at least be a good friend.

My relationship with Julie is a prime example.  Whenever she came down with me to Newport News and we hung out with The Crew, people said that we acted more like good friends than a couple.

This was also reality check number two.  At the time, I didn't think the relationship I had with Julie was all that unique.  How we acted was how I felt that all couples should act.  We were friends, and we treated each other as such.  It was also brought to my attention that what Julie and I had was very rare and very special.

Well, bugger.  It doesn't make me think about what I lost or screwed up in regards to her, but it does make me worry a bit about future encounters.

Anyway, I used to think that the only real difference between a good friend and a significant other was the physical aspect.  I interacted with Julie the same way that I've interacted with many of my female friends.  I just happened to have sex with Julie.

Someone then pointed out to me that even that wasn't necessarily true, as you could have casual sex with your friends.  We're going to ignore all the issues inherent with casual sex/fuck buddies for the moment (I think it's entirely possible, but most people are too screwed up to properly pull it off).  Anyway, that would be a situation where you had a good friend and sex, but you wouldn't be in a relationship.

Unlike the previous question, this point was something we pursued and discussed because no one I talked to had a truly definitive answer.  The best that anyone was able to come up with was the concept of a "spark."  Something indescribable that elevates a person beyond simple friendship.

Thinking about this so-called "spark" led to the next question.

Why does this "spark" cause such a change in behavior between how you treat your friends and how you treat your significant other?

Your s/o will get a majority of your free time.  If your s/o and your friends are going to different activities on the same day, and you are fairly neutral to either activity, you will often choose to accompany your s/o.  Another situation that I posed to The Crew was what happens when your s/o calls while you're hanging out with your friends.  If I were to call them up while they were all together in the living room, whoever I called would stay there.  However, when one of the girlfriends calls, that person retreats back into their room.

Why?

I don't mean to apply a level of importance to one individual over another, but simply bring to attention the difference in behavior.

Someone brought up that conversations with s/o's tend to be personal.  I asked Panda his thoughts on that, and he said that most of his phone conversations with his girlfriend were actually just casual chitchatting.  The idea was then amended to say that you separate yourself when the s/o calls in case the conversation gets personal.  But, this still doesn't explain the difference in behavior.  Conversations with friends can get personal as well, so why doesn't the person isolate themselves when a friend calls?

And then, we slammed into reality check number three for me.  Someone brought up that friends are more understanding when it comes to divided attention.  For example, if I called and said something to, say, Panda, and he didn't hear me because of whatever was going on in the living room, I wouldn't get upset or hold it against him.  His girlfriend, on the other hand, would get flustered and frustrated at him for having to repeat herself.  I told them to picture a scenario where the girlfriend would act like your other friends and not respond in such a way.

I was told that that just didn't happen.  My belief that a significant other would act just like my friends was such a rarity that it didn't really warrant discussion.

When you have a discussion, you tend to focus on the generalities.  This is because there are exceptions to everything, and catering to those exceptions grinds conversations to a halt.  So, you discuss the 90% of the scenarios that are likely to occur, and leave the other 10% as isolated incidences.

My views on relationships seems to fall under that 10%.

While thinking about that, my train of thought went along the route of wondering . . .

If the person you're with isn't, "the one," do you end things?

I use the phrase, "the one" simply for ease of use.  I don't mean it in the literal sense of your soul mate, or the one you're going to marry.  The best description I've stumbled across is, "someone that you can see spending your future with."

But, imagine that you're with someone, and you've been with them for a while.  One day, you realize, that what you have with them is all you'll ever have.  You don't see the relationship progressing further; you don't see your friendship getting any deeper or richer.

There's nothing wrong with the person.  Far from it.  They're still attractive.  They're still a good person.  They haven't changed at all.  And neither have you.

But, you can't picture a future with them.  You realize, that while they're nice, they're not special, at least not to you.

When you have this realization . . . do you end the relationship?

I would.  Then again, I believe that I have a higher tolerance for being single than most people (I do have my moments of weakness, but I still think I'm better than average at dealing with it).

I ran across a fairly equal number of people that would stay and that would split.  For those that would stay, they felt that if nothing was wrong, why end it?  Furthermore, they took my belief in becoming friends and sort of used it against me.  Because, being with someone doesn't preclude becoming friends with other people.  And, if you become friends with someone else and can tell that there might be something more, then you can break it off with whomever you're with.

That feels . . . greedy to me.  And unfair.  You're essentially keeping the other person around until you find someone better.  Granted, a lot of relationships out there are basically two people consensually using each other, so . . . meh, I guess.  Still not for me.

This also goes back to where I said I felt that relationships should be special.  They should never be "good enough."  Someone once asked me advice about whether or not they should go out with a guy that was nice, cool, and whom she got along well with.  I told her that those things were what I considered bare requirements of someone to interact with, and not something you should "look for" in a person.  I told her to look at it from the other side, and see if she would consider going out with him if he wasn't nice, wasn't cool, and wasn't someone she got along with.

The point that I'm circling around is that people have inherently low standards when it comes to relationships.  They praise things that I feel should be outright necessities.

Relationships need to be special.  A "good thing" isn't enough.  Martha Stewart settles for "good things."  You don't want to be like Martha Stewart, do you?

The woman can do some amazing things with doilies, though.  And turkeys.

The sensations that accompany being in a relationship are so nice.  That feeling of being desired.  Having someone to desire.  Holding and being held.  Having someone to come home to, someone to go out with.  You get to experience all of that just by being in a relationship.  Why, then, go through all the extra effort and waiting to establish a friendship before hand, and to give it up if that deeper connection isn't there?

Because . . . it's worth it.