New York Times Modern Love: r u kidding me? :(

Today we strike new ground in the pursuit of romantic harmony in the New York publishing world. To complement the thoroughly sophmoric fun-poking going on with the Meet Market column, we'll now be taking a thoughtful look at a column in serious trouble - the New York Times Modern Love column in the Sunday Styles section. I'll go into further detail as to why this column is seriously flawed, but for now let's tackle the issue of Sandra Barron and her text-obsessed playboy friend.

Ms. Barron's biggest initial concern - or, more appropriately, collection of warning signs that she completely ignores - is her pursuer's disregard for some commonly accepted rules of dating and romantic pursuit. To clarify: this guy contacts early, often, and lamely. His worst error is a reliance on a method of communication that's simply childish, and with his grammar he takes immaturity to the extreme. Taking it one step further, he seems to be very aggressive, and does not care for things like the "2 day rule" and the concept of giving someone new a fair amount of space. At the beginning of the article, I felt that he was encroaching upon her. This makes it very clear who we are to see as the protagonist (the author) and the antagonist (the moblie-equipped pursuer).

Immediately I'm having problems with this situation. I don't like that the Modern Love columns are starting to take on a "survivor-tale" mentality, almost as the Lives column in the Sunday magazine had been doing consecutively for many weeks to the point where it was publicly noticed (specifically, by a column by James Rarus on mediabistro.com). I withhold full trust in Ms. Barron's account because it's clearly just a "she-said" story, and event descriptions are clearly being shaped to draw maximum empathy for the protagonist - herself.

Most important, though, throughout the first half of the article, is this observation: she feels that her pursuer's encroachment is not threatening. In fact, she encourages it. Look here:

I could already hear my friends citing his enthusiasm as evidence he was coming on too strong, but I'd had enough of aloof. I found his boldness refreshing.

So, at first, she likes the attention and the direct attitude.

This all changes down the line, all because he happened to get a little tipsy at the usual Wednesday night watering hole. What was accepted in the past is now spurned, mostly because Ms. Barron does a 180 degree turn and decides that her pursuer is an embarrassment and a potential threat. Her repulsion is almost spontaneously generated, and it's the result of a few key misunderstandings.

Let's break this down:

... [I, Sandra Barron, decided] it would be awkward trying to get to know him better while hanging out with people he had never met.

This is a decision that she made while she was heading to a common meeting place where both had been patrons previously. Which is to say that he has just as much of a right to be there as she does, and there's no indication that his only context at this bar is her presence. I think this is an incredibly selfish and anxiety-ridden decision on the author's part - in essence, "don't come to my neighborhood bar."

His reply was impossibly swift for its length: I live 45 seconds from there and I would be doing my own thing. I am not leachy. Very independent boy I am. I may or may not, depends where the wind takes me. Was it just me, or had things just taken a hairpin turn for the hostile?

One, anyone typing on one of today's souped-up mobile devices can spit this out rather quickly, so the author assigns anxiety here pointlessly. Two, this claim is fair enough, assuming that he isn't lying and that his place of residence really is within several blocks. Three, I read this message as witty and non-hostile; obviously Ms. Barron had a different opinion. If she hadn't fully decided that it was a hostile message, she had certainly let her concerns overwhelm the situation. It's all downhill from here:

Minutes later: Would u like me 2 stay away? Oh, dear. At this point, yes. Wires were crossing that would probably be best untangled in person, the next day. Entering the bar, I... whipped off a quick response, attempting to be polite and clear: Yeah, I guess that'd be better; you'd distract me if you were here.
A minute later, after I'd settled in with my friends, the orange light looked like a warning: 2 late, im here.

So, now, what is he supposed to do, leave?

Of course, I'm not defending the antagonist one bit. I think he's a social klutz. He never does anything truly threatening, but he never quite shuts up, either. His responses could be easily misconstrued as creepy. That's entirely his fault.

Still, Ms. Barron's response was undeserved. She becomes offended, defensive, and evasive within... oh, say, an hour and a half on her timeline. Her approval and congeniality speed away like it's a crime scene. Wouldn't this screw with any guy's head? She provides no understanding for the fact that he's tipsy and that the liquor is making him even more clumsy. She completely shuts him out. Every message is a threat.

Typically for this column, she ends the essay by presenting this as a personal disaster and reflects mainly on her own feelings of dread and regret. It's almost of no consequence that she's now at odds with an acquaintance with whom she shared some bonding - it's as if he's not a human being, but a seemingly-friendly stray dog that bit her hand one day. There's no motivation whatsoever to try and reach a friendly, if non-romantic, resolution. The only goal of the author is to paint herself as a victim and to justify her own neurotic behavior and decision-making. It's always about me in this column, isn't it?

I think she missed out on a good dinner, if you ask me. (But that's all she missed out on.)

The Modern Love column is in serious trouble because it has been justifying this type of solipistic reflection in increasingly intense forms over the past couple of months. The crescendo has been peaking in the past few weeks, with the "froky" column and the "nanny" story - both of which were effectively rebuked on the web. I think that the editors of the Styles section are not really trying to be the fairest publishers in the world, but are rather trying to strike up a common conversation - and maybe a controversy - by presenting these stories as such. I wonder why they're doing this. Certainly the reader gets a little more of their money's worth in the article - you have to now constantly wonder if the protagonist is more flawed than the antagonist, which makes it more interesting - but is this approach moral? Is it right to let the authors bury their former girlfriends/acquantainces/nannies, and bury themselves deeper in the process? Isn't this just a bit gimmicky? (not to mention the narrative use of technology - blogs and mobile phones - as a hackneyed gimmick to instill wonder first, dread later)

Or am I giving them too much credit for trying to be clever? Maybe they really do truly expect us to trust these authors, foolishly?

I hope to figure this all out as time goes on.