Last year, while participating in the hours of procrastination that plague many college students during finals week, I found myself on Buzzfeed taking every possible quiz imaginable. The joy of Buzzfeed quizzes lies not only in taking the quiz and watching Buzzfeed know you better than you know yourself, but forwarding the quizzes to your friends so you can all not only procrastinate together, but comment on each other’s results.
A quiz in particular caught my eye, labeled “Which Carrie Bradshaw blunder are you most likely to commit?” I obviously took the quiz, and quickly forwarded it along to a few of my closest friends. Upon seeing my result, there was a consensus that I must be taking notes from Carrie Bradshaw’s relationship blunders, as I am apparently following in her path.
The blunder I’m most likely to commit? Forcing Mr. Big to tell you you’re the one, before he’s ready.
Personally, I’m never one to put words in someone’s mouth, so I was shocked that my friends found this blunder to be true (granted, this is all to be taken with a grain of salt; it’s only Buzzfeed as I remind myself). However, Buzzfeed may be psychic, or I just might be predictable, as I ran into a similar dilemma this summer.
I’ve never understood people who say they don’t like titles or don’t “do” titles–there is something comforting to be found in the validation a title provides, as there’s always merit found in knowing exactly what the relationship is. Definition is a good thing.
So, when I asked my non-labeled romantic “thing” over the summer what exactly we were– somehow, “it’s a thing” wasn’t cutting it anymore–I got an answer that, similarly to Carrie Bradshaw, filled me with disappointment, disbelief and a desire to curl up and have a wine night with my girlfriends.
“Casual flirtation” was the label that my summer fling–let’s call him that for now–decided upon. When I pointed out some things that made it seem like more than simply a casual flirtation, he responded, “Well, it’s summer…”
Did I miss the memo that nothing serious can happen in the summer? Am I missing something entirely? Is summer strictly the season of flings that we are expected to leave behind as we head off to school? Is emotional detachment something that one signs up for when engaging in a summer romance? Or is that label just an easy way out, a way to quickly close a chapter with an ending–or reality–you don’t want to face.
Labeling it a casual flirtation is one thing–especially in my personal circumstance, where there was a bit more history than simple flirtiness. But regardless, using summer as an excuse? Talk about discounting a relationship.
While not asking him to tell me I’m “the one” as in Carrie Bradshaw’s case, I was asking for the validation that a title provides, which in the end warranted a response that suggested this was too much to ask. I might be crazy, but I don’t believe him. Just call me Carrie Bradshaw. Once again Buzzfeed, you know me and my relationships better than I know myself–and what exactly does that say about me?