Sunday, Jul 6, 2008
Salon's new advice columnist addresses the perils of post-Sept. 11 romance, fear of being fat, a best man's toast that went too far and other scenes from the human dramedy.
Oct 17, 2001 | Ignoble responses to good fortune are many, but noble ones are few: gratitude, humility, happiness, commitment. Of bad fortune, the noble responses are also limited: acceptance, determination, grief, self-examination. For the one, you thank the gods; for the other, you refrain from blame.
As to my own good fortune, well, I'm feeling lucky today, having been asked to continue the tradition of Salon's advice column, memorably created and ably conducted lo these three-plus years by writer and radio host Garrison Keillor.
How this came to be is both simple and mysterious: simple because one day as our daily meeting at Salon was breaking up, I asked if a successor to Mr. Blue had yet been found and was told no, so I said why don't you send me the sample questions. I figured I'd give it a shot, help out if I could. I answered the sample questions. The editors liked what I did. They called me into a room and offered me the job. I said I was honored and flattered.
But mysterious because, having had my share of disappointments, I treat every bit of good luck like a marvelous non sequitur. More about that later, but for purposes of writing an advice column, let's just say that I've been through enough to be comfortable with misfortune; I've learned how to listen and how to not know the answers. And now, not knowing the answers seems paradoxically key to giving them.
When people ask for advice, sometimes there's just something right in front of them that they can't see but you can, because of where you're standing: Look, see that speck? That must be the source of your itch. Others just need somebody to say yes, go ahead, book the cruise, write the resignation letter, buy the ring. Sometimes we're hoping to be let off the hook, but what we need is to take a good look at why we're on the hook in the first place. And sometimes there are no answers for a tough situation except to put your head down and keep going, and we just need some encouraging words from the sidelines.
I guess I do have an overall philosophy, but the short version sounds cheap. So let's hope it gets revealed chapter by chapter in what I say about particular situations.
Anyway, I know doing an advice column is not like being elected president, but for me it's a pretty big thing. And I know I am not Mr. Blue. Scientists say I never will be. So thanks to all who wrote, and especially to those Mr. Blue fans who wrote to his yet-unknown replacement and encouraged him to "just be yourself ... To thine own self be true." I'll do my best to follow your advice.
Dear Cary,
I began dating a smart, athletic, fun and funny man in July. He is nearly 30 but has had only fleeting relationship experience. I was deeply smitten immediately. He expressed discomfort at the force of my feelings, but his body language and actions often contradicted his words (holding hands, kissing, when I meet his friends they always seem to know a lot about me, etc.). He'd say he feels "pressured." And when I asked what I was supposed to do about it, he'd say, "I just need to say it out loud, and for you to hear it, but you don't have to change anything that you're doing."
Then Sept. 11 happened. He and members of his immediate family worked in or very near the towers. They all saw and felt unspeakable things. The next day, when I saw him for a few hours, he alternated between drawing me closer and pushing me away, both physically and emotionally.
The next weekend, he invited me to go away with him. He told me he wanted to be friends. But again, his body language and actions conveyed otherwise. When I pointed this out, he said, "Maybe I am confused." For a whole day I was petulant and resentful. I was hurt and exhausted from riding the seesaw of his words and actions so I called a time out and said we'd make no plans or even talk much, for a few weeks.
During this period of "no talking," he's e-mailed me nearly every day. Just "Have you seen this article?" kind of messages and others on business matters that affect me. The volume of his e-mails is far greater than before. I want to be supportive of him if he is suffering post-traumatic stress, but I want to protect myself from his swinging emotions, too. Most of all, I want to be in a relationship with him, but a secure one, because I feel that we have so much in common, and are compatible in ways that I haven't experienced with anyone else.
I know he needs space, but how does one go about giving a person space during a time of need? I have a forceful personality (perhaps the key to the problem?), like things to be black or white and am uncomfortable living in the gray, so I need a little guidance on how to tread this unfamiliar ground.
Exasperated and guilty to be having such inconsequential issues in this time of collective sadness
Dear Exasperated and guilty,
We're all on unfamiliar ground after Sept. 11. In fact, the ground is so shaky it's all we can do to step carefully, the way one walks on a railroad trestle, eyes just a few feet ahead. We can't afford to gaze about us, or look too far down the tracks. Perhaps you are steadier on your feet right now and can lend him a steadying hand. But perhaps giving him a hand might throw him off balance. (In fact, maybe that's what happened. Have you ever startled a blind person by grabbing his elbow to guide him? The unexpected and unseen "help" throws him off balance. What blind people often like is for you to present your arm so they can take it and use it as they need it.)
When I was a kid, I tried making trees talk and making stones fly, just by persuading them, talking to them. The truth is that you can't persuade stones and trees, nor can you control people; they're as distant as the stars, as unreachable as pebbles. You have to stop trying. No matter the illusion of togetherness that comes of conversation and sex. Accept the distance.
If all you care about is whether he becomes the right kind of lover, perhaps you should move on. There's no telling what's going on in his head, and he has expressed resistance to your program. But if you care about his well-being, perhaps you could perform a little act of mercy by simply being there for him. Maybe it will work out the way you wish it would, or maybe you will have to content yourself with having done a kind and not altogether selfish deed in a time of fear and uncertainty.
And how do you give him space? Just decide how much you want to give him, and give it to him. But how do you measure it? It's a matter of frequency. E-mails three times a week, phone conversations twice a week, dinner once a week, that sort of thing. But don't tell him you're giving him space. Just do it.
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