As she rambled on, dragging the gaggle of gay men through another one of her stories—an altercation in café society—I did my best to dodge the plume of smoke exhaled from her non-stop mouth and headed toward my end of the sofa. To appear attentive, I focused on the gold, ruby-encrusted fish pin fastened to the lapel of her lipstick-red pantsuit. “
Oh!…yes!…It was awful!” she declared, giving the cloud one last push into the already smokey room of festive fags.
After completing the proclamation, she immediately drew another breath of smoke through her coordinating, red cigarette holder, then continued babbling on. The fish pin that I’d been fixating on began to disappear behind a nicotine cloud, as if it were drowning in industrial waste. While surrounded by nothing but non- smokers, she continued to pollute Mo-ville with smokey, self-endorsements, while everyone literally, choked on her words!
Although her stories alleged that she was well bred, wealthy and worldly, she was the personification of my greatest fear: Becoming an SOS = a Socially Oblivious Single.
Well into middle age, I’ve become increasingly aware of the alarming rise of the SOS—a condition, which, if you’re not careful, can effortlessly ensconce itself in one’s life, rendering you comatose to a balanced social interaction and stuck in an egocentric world revolving entirely around numero uno.
Akin to my fish-pin-smoke-stacked-society matron, unfortunately I’ve also encountered the SOS when dating. Recently, while dipping my toe into the dating pool, I sat through an entire dinner politely nodding while my date unrelentingly touted his attributes, never soliciting me for a single fact about myself. All that’s missing is the gold and ruby fish pin, I thought, while choking on his run of narcissistic declarations.
But, his energy was sweet and conflicted with his non-stop talking. So I chalked it up to maybe he’s just nervous, and agreed to another rendezvous. Halfway through date two, thoughts of the gold-and-ruby fish pin returned for another swim—a repeat performance of SOS. As he was utterly oblivious to my facial distress signals, I decided to throw up a flag.
“How come you haven’t asked me anything?” I inquired.
“Cuz, I figure people will tell me what they want when they want to.”
Ok, I thought, that’s fair. So, while he was momentarily stunted —noshing on his pizza—I quizzically asked, “Have you ever read any of my writing?” One of the few things I’d been able to get out on date one—figuring it would evoke an
incessant tête-à-tête.
He continued chewing, accompanied by a nod back and forth versus up and down. Nada. This I found especially interesting, and thought (once he’d begun talking again…about his job!), if I were he, dating a guy who wrote about dating and relationships, I would want to read his shit, for fear of becoming fodder! Enter fodder.
Thus, throughout his endless rambling (our final date), my mind rambled too. I thought of the gold and ruby fish pin and the smoke signals. I thought about the excessive amounts I’d learned about him and how little he knew about me. I thought about how lonely it felt to be so close to someone, yet feel so distant. Then, I wondered if, behind all of that talking, he was lonely too.
Before the invention of the telephone, the computer, e-mail, texting, IM-ing, Facebook, Match.com (you get the drift), there was just one simple, unembellished form of communication: a person-to-person conversation; the exchange of ideas; the back and for th Q and A, which is not only the foundation, but also the creation and ultimately the definition of a relationship. And, if we get that par t right, then the relationship gives us suppor t and the knowledge that we are valued.
Communication through a person-to-person conversation seems basic. Right? But, with all the elaborate ways we’re able to communicate today, has this helped or hindered the evolution of our relationships? Have we become so connected that we’re disconnected at our headquar ters?
While contemplating, I decided to ask a few people for their thoughts on the dynamics of a good date:
• “Whenever someone asks me a question and then starts looking around the room while I answer, well, I take that as my date doesn’t care about my answer—or me, really!”
• “If a date brings a cell phone, then plunks it on the table…then constantly checks it during the date? Gross. If it rings and my date picks it up, unless it’s an emergency, I’m done.
• “If I haven’t learned as much about my date as I’ve shared, it makes me think that that person is hiding something.”
• “If I’m talking, and my date interrupts me…it immediately makes me think that that person thinks what he/she has to say is more impor tant. I hate that, and I never go out with that person again! Doing that is only the beginning of a bad relationship!”
• “I really like it when someone looks me in the eye while talking to me.”
Living a single life has its merits. It means never sharing the bathroom, guilt-free farting in bed, no negotiating at TV-time, leaving your clothes on the floor, and buying only your favourite foods. The list is endless and rife with freedom and tons of “me” time. Yet, the downside can, at times, be lonely. And reminiscent of my smoke-spurting, fish-pin-wearing society matron, as well as my departed date, you can run the risk of becoming completely oblivious to the basics of a give- and-take relationship. Thus, as long as (it appears) people are listening—becoming an SOS.
Every day, we coexist with friends, family and coworkers. And, if single, we (generally aspire to) date. It’s through those relationships, if all goes well, that we acquire social recognition, which is motivation for a repeat experience, another question, a paycheque, a deeper bond and a second date.
As a culture, with our admiration and fascination with the allure of technology-the big connection—if we’re not careful, it can easily eclipse our most basic form of connection: how to have a proper conversation.
For me, writing this column (for the past four-plus years) has kept me seeking social connection, especially at its most basic form—asking a lot of questions and relishing in the reply. Because life is filled with little tests, and no matter what the response, it’s always good to know the answer…I’m just sayin’.
But, more importantly, what do you have to say?
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