Posted 6:54 AM by Blah blah

What Other People Think

Whenever I have a chance to glance at Min Jung's blog, I find at least one entry that is eloquent and profound. Here's her latest. "What I want to say is 'Oh, you know what? He's really cool. He treats me well. I like talking to him. He's tender & kind and I'm never bored or feel like I can't be myself, even totally cranky, when I'm with him. He makes me laugh, and I have a little ray of sunshine in my heart after I hear from him.' But if I ever honestly answered like that, I'm afraid that half of my friends would follow up with the question 'So...is he cute?' Of course if I'm interested in someone they're cute. They become cute in my eyes." I so agree with her about this frustration with others' standards. It's like that page of The Little Prince:

When you tell them that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions about essential matters. They never say to you, "What does his voice sound like? What games does he love best? Does he collect butterflies?" Instead, they demand: "How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?" Only from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him.

If you were to say to the grown-ups: "I saw a beautiful house made of rosy brick, with geraniums in the windows and doves on the roof," they would not be able to get any idea of that house at all. You would have to say to them: "I saw a house that cost $20,000." Then they would exclaim: "Oh, what a pretty house that is!"

That's exactly what my parents say, both about houses and my new friends. My parents own their house, but they will sometimes go to see houses on sale for the hell of it. Not because they care about architecture, but because they cost $700,000 or so and they want to reassure themselves that, twelve years later, they still got a good deal on it. That's one reason we have such a hard time communicating. Or whenever I talk to them, it needs to be in that materialistic, seeking mutual advantage-like, "grownup" way. And it's why they so little understand me.

(It's ironic I'm using this example, because I am going to an open house tomorrow. It's part of this real estate thing I'm starting to do on the side. "Field training.")

The first girl I truly loved---she was three to four years older than I. I didn't try to pin her down about her age because I knew she was self-conscious. Also, it was news to me when I discovered that she (and some of her male friends) would tell me she was overweight. HUH? I had gotten to know her gradually, through my roommate. I was enchanted by the playful sparkle in her eye, her quick wit and delicious laugh, her character, and her romantic view of life. I could talk to her about the Caltech physicist Richard Feynman and she liked him too. She was one of the best listeners I had ever met. She not only got my jokes and thought I was funny, she understood what I had MEANT to say even when I said it clumsily, awkwardly, with a hot feeling under my cheeks. She could tell my intentions before I did.

I'd say: "Yeah, that was like the time I got with my brother and we taped this radio play for our parents for Christmas. I got this book of scripts from the library, and we acted out all the characters together, complete with sound effects. Silly, huh?" She'd shake her head, fix me with her gaze, and say something like "Wow, Raymond, you are so kind, so original!" Just the thing every man wants to hear.

Every night, after dinner, she would excuse herself to go to the cafe in our dorm. It has a fantastic view of San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge. "Why?" I said. "To see the sunset," she said, rubbing her knuckle on her chin. Then she would go to the lab and work till about 2 am.

She was unique. She didn't fit into any "category" of girl I had met up till then. The result: I found her really sexy. My emotional and intellectual attraction to her naturally burst into physical attraction. I'd fantasize about her and her body, her voice. Her plumpness became wrapped up in my sexy picture of her, to where I started to like women with her fuller figure and assume positive things about them.

She'd wear these tight black jazz pants (?) that had these "stirrups" around her heels. "Why?" I said, completely innocent. It was a trick to make her legs look thinner. Through her, I learned for the first time about the harsher beauty standards of the world from which she came. And it made me unhappy thinking that she could be a brilliant scientist (which she was) and a wonderful person but still have people dismiss her with a glance, a phrase. "Oh, you remember what that chubby girl said...?"

From the SIRC guide to flirting: "80% of women think that they are too fat. In one American survey, women were asked what were the three words they would most like to hear from a male partner. The most common answer was not, as expected, 'I love you,' but 'You've lost weight.' "

About a week ago, I had dinner with someone whom I think is gorgeous. She watched me eat by myself for the whole meal and refused to touch anything except her drink. She had just finished telling me how she was going to the gym everyday and what she did there.

"So why aren't you ordering any food?" I asked. "It can't be...because you think you are..."
"FAT," she said.

You there.

Yes, you. Please stand there. Let me look at you. Don't squirm now. Well whaddya know! You've been taking good care of yourself, lady!

Don't be shy with me---you've lost weight, haven't you?