Part II: Benefits

It's been a while, I know.  So here's something for all you emotional guppies out there:

It has become the standard for a lot of people to forgo the emotional connection and settle on a purely physical relationship.  I mean, you get to have all the fun without the emotional tie, I guess, but then what? You're just left lying there alone feeling exactly the same as you did before because you're still missing what you don't have and craving what you won't admit you want and in the end you're still left alone, in the dark, listening to Deathcab for Cutie while you try to reconcile and convince yourself that you have exactly what you've wanted all along.  And fine, maybe it's true, maybe all you want is the physical thing so that you don't have to deal with the prolonged wooing or the constant state of proving yourself when all you want to do is curl up on the couch watching some mind-numbing show where everything goes wrong but ends up alright in the end.

Slight non sequitur:  What is it with those shows, anyway?  Take Parenthood, for example.  A single mom must move back into her parents' house with her misbehaving children and her cheating, lying father and deal with her dysfunctional siblings and at the end of the day they all gather in the backyard eating barbecue chicken as they relive their past transgressions with humorously witty banter.  All the while, the country is eating it up.  Sure, some people watch Secret Life of the American Teenager because it makes their life seem more normal, and some people read FML to prove that their day wasn't as bad as they thought, but some people watch Life Unexpected because it gives them hope that one day they can work out their problems with their family just like that poor girl of Shiri Appleby's.

But what about the rest of us?  Those of us who watch these shows and can only think "If these people with all this unaired laundry and baggage so heavy the airline had trouble loading it can work through their problems and become stronger, happier families, why is my life so incredibly defective and unrevisable?  Why can't my parents just suck it up and learn how to work through their problems?  Why can't I resolve my issues with my family or their issues with each other?  Why is it that no matter how much time or energy is spent trying to explain why what is happening is not a good thing, everything just stays the same?"  These stupid shows about love and happiness and people lightening their load for a better tomorrow are setting us up for disaster, because in the end, your life is not a sitcom.

Which brings me back to my original point: Friends with benefits is a cop-out.  Did anyone watch No Strings Attached?  Because that is more like how it really is.  One party is far more invested in the proceedings than the other, and one side ends up hurt because life is not a movie and it rarely concludes with happy endings.  At some point someone falls and they think that if they keep this up then he'll see it too and he'll realize that we're perfect for each other and then we can get married in a castle and my wedding gown will make me look like a princess because I lost all this weight just so he would fool around with me and so that dress better damn well make me look like a princess and we'll have three children and I'll name them after things that don't matter to him because this fantasy isn't about him anyway and then we'll be happy forever and die in each other's arms like in The Notebook (or Titanic because I haven't actually seen The Notebook and have no idea how it ends) and then someone will write a beautifully romantic movie about our lives and some gorgeous girl I've always wanted to look like but never ever will will play me and it will be just like Romeo and Juliet because everyone dies at the end only this time it will be happy.

But in all seriousness, what is it with friends with benefits?  Is it just the wooing process?  Are the flowers and chocolates just too much to handle?  I mean, what if he buys you the wrong brand of chocolate?  What if she's allergic to flowers?  What if -- God forbid -- you don't wear the right outfit on the first date and your date thinks you look tacky and they never call you again and this person you only kind of liked to begin with doesn't even think twice about it?  .......  Lost the serious a bit there, didn't I?

Let's try again.  Emotional attachment: People aren't meant to live without it.  You crave it, you search for it, you pine without it.  Am I supposed to believe that if you found someone you were head over heels for, and they reciprocate, that you would stop them and say, "No, I'm sorry, this is strictly a friends-with-benefits zone, so despite our mutual feelings I'm gonna have to turn you down."?  No.  My point.  So why then is it the preferred relationship status?  Is there something that I'm missing?  I thought I was on the right track with the whole "Let's look for something more than a fun buddy" thing but perhaps I was mistaken.  The problem I always run into, though, is who do I call when I just want to cuddle on the couch and watch Stardust or The Day After Tomorrow?  I can't call my fun buddy because he'll think that I'm calling him to hook up and I can't call my best friend because she doesn't smell quite as good as the boy-shaped couch ornament I was hoping for, and besides, it's not a fun buddy's job to be around for the emotional stuff; the flattery, the self-esteem boosts, the comforting.  The only thing a fun buddy is expected to do is be PG-13, because anything less was not a part of the agreement.  So who do I call?

The end result, the point I may or may not be getting across, is that friends with benefits just aren't as fulfilling as people portray them to be.  What fun is it to be dirty with someone you don't even really care about all that much?  Doesn't it get old?  Don't you get tired of putting on your shoes while you're still catching your breath?  It could just be me.  And hey, as long as they're not using your uvula for target practice, who am I to tell you it isn't worth it?  I'm just wondering how long it can continue before it stops being enough and someone gets upset.  I don't think the memory will still bring a smile to your face if when you lose the benefits the friend goes with it.

Part I: *"Like"*

Originally, there was "Become a fan."  Then it became "Like."  Both of these things seem fairly straight forward.  However, when people start "liking" pages that begin with the phrase "I hate it when," what is the point?  You don't like things you hate.  You hate them.  This isn't exactly a trick question.  When your best friend looks at you and says "I absolutely hate that volatile, ridiculously dressed excuse of a human being," you don't look at them and say: "Like."  Never in my life have I seen a person watch one of those animal shelter commercials where Sarah MacLauchlan sits with an adorable puppy on her lap while she begs you to take pity on poor, defenseless animals with no where left to go and only one eye and have them say: "You know what?  I should make a facebook page for these poor, unloved creatures--made with love and care by God himself--so that I can click 'Like'."  It doesn't happen.  And yet it seems that the entirety of the facebook constituency looks at life's tween problems (and ones further into adulthood, I'm sure) and thinks to themselves: "Where is that 'Like' button?"

Furthermore, I have a Brobdingnagian-sized problem with all of these "likes" that include the term "real men."  What is a real man?  Are they men who have been around the block a bit (no dirtiness intended)?  Are they men with their sea legs (a bit of dirtiness intended)?  Or rather are they men who have moved past songs and dances and marionette strings?  According to Facebook pages, real men love a single woman a thousand ways, they don't cheat, they are a little bit jealous (but not too much), and will let you brand them as yours on the internet for all your mutual friends to be excited about.  What is that?  Men are not golems.  They are actual people.  You don't create a man, you find one.  Believe it or not, your perfect man is not a result of one of Rita Repulsa's weird putty-army collection gone terribly awry.  The Charmed Ones will not conjure you a beautiful, loving, considerate, feeling-sharer to keep you company at night and protect you from all the scary things in the world that threaten to enlighten you.  "Real men," whatever they might be, are fought for.

And for that moment when all of your facebook dreams are dashed and all your perfectly laid plans have gone astray, you can always "like" the classically pessimistic: "Don't fall in love, fall off a bridge.  It'll hurt less."  Oh the wonders that button has done for me.  Just the other day I was actively contemplating falling in love.  Oh, I was.  I had a boy in mind and everything.  Then, whilst randomly perusing the facebook clicks of my peers I came across the page previously referred to.  I read it, ruminated on the idea it contained and decided: "You know what, facebook users are right.  Why go through all the hassle of choosing a man and getting to know a man and kissing a man who will just break my heart and meander off into the sunset with his exotic mistress?"  After which I scampered off to find myself a bridge.  Oh, wait.  That never happened.  I'm not delusional.

Somewhere along the vast, ridiculous social networking that is Facebook, someone blurred the line between "Like" and "Dislike."  I understand.  The two are very similar.  One means what you intend, and the other is the opposite.  Anyone can make that mistake.  Even more, millions of people have.  I do not, however, intend to be a part of this massive misunderstanding of the definition of the word "like."  I understand having a page all about domestic abuse.  It would include warning signs, so as to help you be aware when a friend or loved one is being abused; a phone number so that you can get in touch with someone who could help get you out of the situation; a free video rental for Sleeping with the Enemy; and a current copy of state law with a highlighted section that reads: "Self-defense."  I cannot, however, in any way, shape or form, comprehend the employment of a "Like" button.  So please.  I beg of you with all my heart:  Stop "liking."  You're becoming an oxymoron.