I rarely miss an opportunity to quote Woody Allen, because if any man can make socially paralyzing neuroses attractive and self-deprecation a virtue, I'm his lady. Allen revolutionized the way postmodern couples approach the inherent complexities that wrack our love affairs. Now, instead of dismissing one's conspicuous character flaws as obstructions to a potentially healthy relationship, we hyper-analyze them into endearments.
So when Allen compared the irrationality of relationships to eggs in his classic 1970 film "Annie Hall," I was all ears.
As Allen says, "I-I thought of that old joke, you know, this-this-this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, 'Doc, uh, my brother's crazy. He thinks he's a chicken.' And, uh, the doctor says, 'Well, why don't you turn him in?' And the guy says, 'I would, but I need the eggs.' Well, I guess that's pretty much how-how I feel about relationships. You know, they're totally irrational and crazy and absurd and ... but, uh, I guess we keep goin' through it because, uh, most of us need the eggs."
Never truer words.
The way I see it, relationships at Brown are cyclical. Never the "aggressive-intellectual" types, we simply admire one another from afar and camouflage our affections in the disguise of witty and slightly snarky banter ("Nice sweater. No, I mean it. No, seriously, my grandfather has one just like it.") We engineer so-called chance encounters and undertake background research, because flirting with someone with a boyfriend/girlfriend is a jab to the ego you just do not need. Then, with the sizeable amount of liquor and the appropriate social context, there is "the unveiling." If executed smoothly, "the unveiling" can lead to a whole other nerve-wracking level of self-doubt and social awkwardness, which most twenty-somethings read as "excitement."
Fun or not, we commit ourselves to such a process with earnest and glee, because as Allen says, we enjoy this slightly masochistic, often anti-climatic way of interacting with one another. And you know, he's kind of right.
Without slinging my own romantic life into this article, I have to admit that I am intrigued by this whole phenomenon, because it makes me feel, among other things, like a twit. The whole "Does he/doesn't he?" game brings out my anxious, misanthropic side, one which I try not to let surface too often or too visibly. Fortunately, I don't think I'm alone on this one.
Otherwise confident, intelligent, humorous and attractive friends of mine buckle at the knees and fall apart if the right person looks their way or doesn't return their text-message in a timely manner. Meanwhile, others choose to communicate in secret code when speaking of the "unmentionable", giving said person a highly clever misnomer - and clearly too much power over their emotions.
But we can't help it. We were designed to enjoy the histrionics of relationships and even more, to invite and encourage them. As my best guy friend often reminds me, college kids exist in a little bubble where everything moves with immediacy. "Real world" time and its modus operandi have no place in this environment, allowing relationships to move at a much more rapid pace. So when an e-mail or a telephone call goes unanswered, the anxiety is unbearable. Perhaps it's no surprise when a one-month relationship falls stale - though hysterics, in response, are certainly to be excused and assuaged.
While all this is quite silly and most people are just in need of a swift kick to the ass, what it really all comes down to is that this is the stuff of love affairs. It's the salt to the sugar; the potential of something, anything, to happen that fuels our crushes, our hookups and yes, even our relationships.
The old adage that Brown kids simply don't date may hold true, but that doesn't at all mean people aren't trying to communicate with one another on some level - even if that level be slightly passive and neurotic.
So go ahead, curse Valentine's Day, curse the whole Brown dating scene, but I'll tell you this much, you'll be back for more. For seconds, thirds ... hell, the whole dozen. It's just how this game works.
Thems the rules.
Marjon Carlos '05 likes her eggs scrambled with a side of hot sauce.
