The New York Times ran an unintentionally comical article today about Modern Single Women ordering meat on first dates. Now, I know the Thursday Style Section is ludicrous, hence its appeal, but this article redefined ridiculous even by those standards. It hid behind a thin façade of “The Modern Single Woman is so daring! She eschews salad and eats meat, unlike women of yore who wanted to seem more ladylike on dates!” but really, it just opened up yet another avenue for women to overanalyze and overstress. A woman should order a burger to seem more “down-to-earth,” but she shouldn’t order expensive fancy burgers because those are meant for “men who want to impress women.” And she can order a steak, but she better be able to wax poetic about the nuanced superiority of Kobe beef. Seriously, gals? Then there is this terrific throwaway line that dangled awkwardly in the air:
“Of course, there are always those rare women who order what they want and to heck with what a man might think.”
…Not one woman discussed in the article fits that description. Even the lady who ordered a burger got the guy because he liked that she ordered a burger. Still with me? Okay.
I had all-you-can-eat barbecue and a Bud tallboy for dinner last night. Fried chicken, rib tips, macaroni and cheese and three corndogs – I don’t even want to think about where that puts me on this dining semiotics spectrum. Does he like me less now because I used a wet-nap and asked to take home my two remaining corndogs? More because I accidentally left them in his fridge?
I mean, I get it: eating a meal that is stereotyped masculine, choosing beer over wine or a cocktail, these are things that women can do to seem low maintenance and easy going. Sidebar: I once agreed to a first date only because he suggested dinner at a steakhouse. Then we dated for eight months. But wouldn’t ordering what you want (instead of obsessing over how it will influence his impression of you) actually make you easy going? All that faking it must get exhausting. Personally, I prefer my exhaustion to come from staying up late at night…and not faking it.
Dating is complicated enough as it is. Let’s leave burgers out of it, okay, New York Times?
Kisses and butterflies,
JackieOh
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4 comments:
"I had all-you-can-eat barbecue and a Bud tallboy for dinner last night. Fried chicken, rib tips, macaroni and cheese and three corndogs – I don’t even want to think about where that puts me on this dining semiotics spectrum. Does he like me less now because I used a wet-nap and asked to take home my two remaining corndogs? More because I accidentally left them in his fridge?"
I think he would like you more because you gave him two corn dogs. He can snack on them after you leave.
I'm a bit confused though, did you actually eat that much, or was it just an example? If so, kudos to your digestive prowess. If not, stop toying with me.
love,
aaron
Oh, Aaron, don't you know me at all? Of course I ate that much. I'm a fat girl, trapped inside a skinny girl.
More like ThursGAY styles!
ahem.
Anyway, reading this article was like being lit on fire. I'm not going on a feminist rant here in the comments section of your blog, but suffice to say that the best date I've been on since moving to Dublin involved steak frites, frog legs, creme brulee, a bottle of wine, and a 3-pints-of-Guinness chaser. So, the Thursgay Style section can blow me.
Wankers.
SKD, I love you. Come back to New York and date ME. We'll go dutch and discuss Lyn Hejinian over filet mignon.
(Also, when I met you, you were the first person I'd ever seen eat tofu. Not kidding.)
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