Waiting in Vain
The younger version of myself loved to declare how her future boyfriend would be a tall and handsome man who was romantic and had a real way with words. Last week, I received a Tinder notification from a five foot seven Jewish boy asking me if he could break my back. Naturally, I wondered if I should readjust my expectations.
It’s challenging being a romantic in the age of hookup culture. Each and every day it becomes increasingly tempting to succumb to the less than stellar pickup lines and late night “u up?” texts. And while it’s often fun to Tinder swipe and respond to the occasional drunk Snapchat, this was never what I wanted for myself.
On my parents’ first date, my mom mentioned that she liked a song that was playing in the restaurant they were eating in and later that week, my dad had the CD sent to my mom’s office. I frequently complain to my parents that they repeat their stories ad nauseum but I never seem to get sick of this one. I think it’s because my mom always lights up when telling it, almost like she’s back at her office receiving a gift from a boy she liked all over again. I sometimes wonder if that kind of effort is unique to their generation; if it's unreasonable to expect genuine thought and consideration from a boy in this day in age. With the rise of technology and the fast-paced nature of modern existence, sexual norms are changing. Casual hookups and an emphasis on meaningless fun over long-term relationships are good and well so long as both people are okay with it. And in this social media driven society I find myself craving the relationships I see online and on TV. This is where I find myself at a crossroads; my head tells me that beggars can't be choosers while my heart tells me not to settle for anything less than I deserve. It wasn’t until today when I got lunch with a friend that I finally got off the cross and chose a side.
I was asking her about her boyfriend, how they met, and how she felt about him when she said something that completely invalidated my looming thought that a love like my parents’ was unrealistic and unattainable. She said that being with him is like being with her best friend; anytime an event occurs—good or bad—he is the first person she wants to tell about it. And there it was. In the era of 140 characters and eggplant emojis my friend was able to find her missing piece, her lobster, whatever you want to call it.
So, after deliberate consideration of whether or not I should let go of the man of my dreams, I have decided to hold onto the prospect of him for a little longer. I’d be naive to think that someone will send me a CD but maybe there’s someone out there who would make me a Spotify playlist. And if he happens to be 5’7, I think I can get past it.
by Jolie Horowitz, University of Wisconsin-Madison class of 2023