On License

What do you not allow yourself to do?

I have recently become twenty-one (in the words of the great Larry Miller, one does not "turn" twenty-one in our society... they "become" twenty-one). Among other things, this means that I can now legally imbibe alcohol, something which I have been doing for some time now without legal permission, but which I now have an increased amount of freedom in. As such, I feel that now is a good time to air a concern which has been growing with me for some time. It has to do with license. I do not mean anything legal in this use of the word. Rather, I am retreating back to one of its more basic, yet often overlooked definitions.

License: noun: Latitude of action, especially in behavior or speech.

The specific spectrum of contexts and behaviors that I now wish to address are not regulated by the government so much as they are regulated by each person for themselves. As most of my concerns seem to run, this has particular weight for girls, but certain males would do well to heed the issue as well. The specific issue of license is at the junction of passion and alcohol.

Those of you who have known me for a long time will remember the days in the not so distant past when I did not drink at all. When questioned about my abstinance from spirits, I would cite the fact that I did not need them to have a good time. It seemed to me that people drink to do things like loosen up and lower their inhibitions. Well, I naturally have very few inhibitions and more often than not I am so laidback in attitude that it sometimes gets me in trouble. Therefore, I had (quite correctly) judged that alcohol was unnecessary for me to interact with people in the same sort of party atmosphere that accompanies heavy drinking for most people. I maintain that spirit to this day, drinking more from the cultural significance of the actual drinking than for any effect that it has on my attitude or behavior.

Because of the comparitively late start of my drinking career and my naturally gregarious state, I quickly saw the need for a code of behavior to regulate my drinking for the benefit of all. The rules that I came up with for myself are few and universally simple, but I have adhered to them to this day, which is not small point of pride.

1) I will never do anything in a drunken state that I would not have done in the same situation were I sober.
2) I will never drink in such a way that I unduly endanger myself or others (e.g. driving under the influence).
3) I will never drink so much or in such a way that I lose my memory of what occured while I was drunk.

The first rule may surprise some people given my admittedly bawdy behavior while drunk. To them I would say, "Remember how bawdy I am sober." There is truly no difference.

I arrived at these rules for the simple fact that, through them, I remain safe and regret-free while still enjoying all of the pleasures of an inebriated state. I never have to worry about what I would do while drunk, because I have sworn to myself that I would retain enough self-control to act exactly as I would sans liquor. Most importantly, the person that one sees in me with alcohol in my system is the exact same person that I am at any other time, if perhaps a bit moreso.

I seem to be almost completely alone in this.

A few months ago, a friend of mine committed an act that I could only classify as a betrayal. It came as quite a shock to me, since never before had a friend performed treachery against me. Left reeling in the wake of such a thing, I did the only thing that I knew to do: I talked to him about it. His only defense of his actions, which he fell back on time and again, was that at the time, he was drunk. Upon sobering up the next day and realizing it, he had attempted to make amends as best he could (despite the fact that much of the damage was irreperable). I accepted this out of the spirit of goodwill and we continue to be friends. With one small change: when that friend is drunk, he ceases to be my friend and becomes a stranger. This is not malicious, but simple fact. If he, or anyone else, for that matter, wishes to excuse an action because of drunkenness, they are effectively saying that, while drunk, they are not themselves. They are instead completely out of their head, doing things that the real them would never do. So, if they ceased to be themselves when drinking, every aspect of themselves must follow suit, including their familiarity with me. They wish to be excused from a standpoint of a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde transformation, which is satsifactory so long as they realize that one cannot execute the lechery of Hyde while maintaining the civility of Jekyll. At any given moment, it must be completely one or the other.

With increasing regularity and increasing frustration, I hear people constantly cite a state of inebriation or lack thereof as a reason for behaving a certain way. This is nothing short of confusing at best and madness at worst.

The other day I was talking with a friend of mine about her exploits of the past week. She was describing how she had gone to a party but refrained from drinking (if memory serves, she was the designated driver for her group). At the party she met a young man who she found very attractive and they hit it off, talking for some time and enjoying each others' company. Both were single, young, mutually attracted, and in the perfect situation for at least mild sexual contact. Naturally, my next question was whether or not they hooked up (or perhaps I used the more specific term "made out"). In response, she looked at me like an idiot and replied, "Oh, no. I wasn't drunk."

Let's recap here.

Hot girl, hot guy, party, want each other, not hooking up. Why? Because she was not drunk. She would not kiss a man she was attracted to because she was not drunk. This is right below ethnic clensing for horrors that really get my blood pumping. So much so that I'm going to say it again, just so everyone can really get a grip on what I'm mad about.

People are so uncomfortable with themselves that they cannot even respond sexually to people they genuinely want just because they have not been drinking.

I'm really losing my hope for humanity right about now.

What is so horrible about acting on feelings for someone that an induced state of consciousness is needed to do it? This is not someone else's life. This is not someone else's body. This is not some stupid drunk shit that doesn't count or doesn't matter because it's not really you making the decision. This is not a booze-worshipping theocracy in which all decisions must be made under the influence on pain of execution as a heretic. This is your life. This is someone you want, this is something you want to do. What is so special about a chemical in your bloodstream that makes you refuse to let yourself have fun without it?

If you're willing to go somewhere and make out with someone drunk, then why not sober? Why are you fine with sweaty closet time just so long as you can't walk a straight line? Why would you be so enthused to rock the headboard all night long, but as soon as the booze works its way out of your system, think it was a mistake? This is your mind, your heart, not someone else's. All this shows is a bizarre lack of self-trust and self-control. If you do not have those things to begin with, maybe you shouldn't be drinking in the first place.

There are two angles to consider here. One is doing things you don't want to while drunk. The other is not doing things you do want to while sober. There has to be an equilibrium here. There has to be enough self-control to go for the things you want and shy from the things you don't, in any state of consciousness. You made the decision to drink, and you made the decision not to. That was decisive, and you made the choice either way of your own free will. Can't that sort of clarity be maintained given any circumstances?

If it can't, then God help us all.

If it can, then get ready to party.

On Romanticism

Are you, or are you not, a hopeless romantic?

My social adventures are such that I tend to meet and talk with a lot of different people from many different subcultures of young America (and, to a lesser extent, other age groups and nationalities). This provides me with joyfully unfettered opportunity to indulge in my fascination with people's conception of their own identities. In the course of all kinds of conversations, self-proclaimed labels leak out from around the seams of our interests and activities in frank declaration of what may or may not be true. Social status, religion, philosophical base, world view, entertainment preference, sexuality, racial socialization, sub-gender, and so many more that it will cause your brain to dislodge from you skull come out in an unbounded symphony of self-perception.

As diverse as these labels may be, there is one that has come to puzzle me, namely the label of Hopeless Romantic. More than any other abstract moniker, this emotional life-state is claimed by anyone and everyone who has the werewithal to realize that such things exist. Virtually everyone seems to call themselves a Hopeless Romantic. Even (and I might be persuaded to argue "mostly") those who have no right to call themselves that.

So you think you're a hopeless romantic? Think again.

I was reading somebody's blog the other day, as I often do with certain blogs. Now, this girl thinks, behaves, and talks in ways that would cause many people to rightly label her a "bitch" (don't ask me why I might choose to associate with her given this fact, just accept that the association is there). Her view of men and how she interacts with them is somewhat non-traditional, even to the point of being horrifying. Her cynicism is rampant, her sexual ethics paltry, and her coquette status will eventually, I have little doubt, lead to ruin. There will be anger, and men will die.

So, naturally, she refers to herself as a hopeless romantic.

This is not an isolated case. So many times over the last months and years have I heard a girl (and in lesser numbers, a guy) refer to herself by this term only to have a Piven-esque "What the fuck" response bubble up inside me like so much falsely idealistic bile. Of all these girls I have heard call themselves hopeless romantics, not one has ever measured up.

What does being a hopeless romantic mean? I ask this only because it seems like many people, in describing themselves as such, have either never thought about the meaning or have exercised heights of poor social concept in doing so the likes of which are normally only seen in the declaration of holy wars. Take a minute and really think about what it means.

Being a hopeless romantic means falling in love hard and fast and not recovering in accordance with rational procedure. It means never citing potential or past pain as a reason for not acting on that love. It means surrendering to your feelings for another person, be it boundless passion or burning envy. It means acting on those feelings. It especially means accepting grand gestures of love when they are offered, and accepting them in that same spirit. It means recognizing fear as just a sign of something that is meaningful enough to you to pursue by any means necessary, and it means disregarding that fear as soon as it comes time to pick up the phone, walk across the room, or lean in for a kiss. It means taking joy in candlelit surprises, grand declarations, spontaneous trips, unexpected gifts, and new loves. It means returning all those things in kind and with a song in your heart. It means forgiveness instead of anger and action in the face of despair. It means stopping for a moment before you say "no," and really thinking about what it would be like to say "yes."

Does this sound good to you? Think about it before you answer.

Here's a test (forgive me my bias, this is designed for the women in the audience). Most of us by now have seen "Hitch," starring the ever glorious Will Smith and the incomprably beautiful Eva Mendes. It is as fine a romance on the screen as I have ever seen and is quite popular right now, so we will use it as an example. Think, if you will, about the last few minutes of that movie. Hitch goes to his estranged lady's apartment and levels with her, essentially telling her in very impassioned terms that despite all of the romantic horror he has experienced, he is completely at her mercy so deep are his feelings for her. He is so dedicated to making her understand that he leaps onto her moving car just so he can explain, braving severe injury in the process. Oh, yes, and he does most of it in the presence of another man who he assumes is her new beau. The final line he says in the grand speech is "There is only one person who makes me feel like I can fly. And that's you." When we watch the movie, we "awwww" appreciably and think what a great guy he is (as does his lady love, predictably).

Test Question: If a guy actually said this exact same thing to you, how would you react?

I would give heavy odds that, when the chips were down, virtually every one of you, your friends, and everyone like you would think he was the biggest freak this side of the Mississippi and refuse to have anything to do with him.

People in our culture simply can't deal with romance. They don't want it. We are brought up in the belief that our amorous interactions either have to be meaningless or coldly calculated. The rationale here seems to be that anything we really and truly care about and might heavily affect our lives should not be decided upon while the amor in question stands underneathe our window serenading us after filling our room with flowers (sidebar: Don't think that guys wouldn't go for that, ladies. Serenading and flowers may seems immasculating to some, but they also show you care).

In fact, most of us are so removed from all things romantic that they can't even recognize what is romantic and what is not, and when we do recognize it we react with revulsion. I believe that there was an episode of the much-lauded "Sex and the City" regarding the subject. The conclusion of which, I am sorry to say, supports the idea that American women can not/should not even attempt romance, that they are "romance intolerant." I hear this declaration and witness women agree with it and then see those same women turn around and declare themselves hopeless romantics.

I myself have fallen prey to this in the past, and I still wrestle with the question of whether or not I myself am I hopeless romantic. It is an ideal that I aspire towards, but the necessities of daily life lead to devices to prevent it (not to mention the horrid lessons of romantic actions failed), which I constantly battle against. I can only suggest that others do the same. If you are one of those rare and fortunate individuals who truly eats, sleeps, and breathes romanticism, then I salute you. If you are one of those who, like myself, truly wishes to achieve that highest light, please just think about it enough to realize what you truly are. Only then, once you know what you're in for, can you make headway into all those things that it means to be a hopeless romantic. Only then can we begin, ever so hopefully, to take that leap.

And hope to God we can fly.