A couple of years ago, as Christmas neared, Devan Carter and his friend sat down and talked about what they would give each other for the holiday. Though they did not call each other boyfriend and girlfriend, they had been dating for a while -- six months. And as a result, they decided to go all out, Carter says.Or so he thought.Carter, now 19, gave her a bracelet, some clothes and other gifts, $300 worth of stuff, he says. What did he get?
"She gave me a hat," he says.With the holiday season in full swing, questions of whether to give, what to give and how much to give hang over people's heads like mistletoe in the doorway. How do you navigate the gift-giving season without hurting your relationship?"Part of it is people have to use common sense," says Peter Post, author of Essential Manners for Couples and a great-grandson of the queen of etiquette herself, Emily Post. "Look at the relationship, and see how long you've been committed to the relationship."He says you likely should take it easy if you've met your S.O. (or potential S.O.) recently."I think probably if you have one date with a person, a diamond is a mistake," he says laughing.When it's new, Post says, it's better to approach the idea as if you're giving a gift to a good friend.A CD of a band or music genre they really like, a book or poster are good beginning-relationship gift ideas, he says."Keep the romance or personal statement out of the gift," he says.Thom Reznik, 28, of Hanover, did that when he and his wife of three years started dating, which was around the holidays. He gave her chocolates and a little teddy bear."Especially for Christmas, if they celebrate Christmas, you should give them something," he says. "Even if it's small."Ronnie Pulley, 19, of East Baltimore, says it's not a matter of whether to give, but what to give.One year, he gave a woman a bath set."She tried to play it off, but I knew she didn't like it," he says.Post says you can avoid displeasing people if you try your best to think about what they would want, rather than what you want."I'm going to make a conscious effort about your interests, how you live your life," he says. "I'm not going to buy a French maid outfit for fun. That's for me."And beyond the material goods, focus on the words, Post says. Give a card with your gift and write down how you feel."The word that underlies all that we're talking about is 'sincerity,' " he says. "If you do it within your heart, it's going to be received well."Nidhi Goel, 26, of downtown Baltimore, got more than she gave one year, for Valentine's Day. The guy she'd been dating for about four months gave her concert tickets. She gave him a cactus.But he says her boyfriend didn't mind; it was the thought: "He always killed plants," she says. "... You can't kill a cactus."Though it is a cliche, the adage is true: It's the thought that counts. Beyond price and relationship length, it's all about the feeling and intent behind the gift."The point of the gift is to give out of your heart," says Pulley, "not to expect something equal in return."Carter of East Baltimore agrees. He says he broke up with his not-official-girlfriend not long after Christmas, but that the gift disparity was not a big deal. He has no regrets about giving her the gifts, he says."I give because I can," he says. "Not because I must."
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Friday, December 7, 2007
Single Shot: Online dating really sucks -- your time
By DIANE MAPESSPECIAL TO THE P-I
Like many people, I've been Christmas shopping online, surfing around on Amazon, Abebooks and what I've always referred to as "eBoy." What can I say? I decided to get a little something for myself, too.
I've tried online dating before and had mixed results: a handful of mildly pleasant misses, one real stinker (I still remember his snide "thanks for nothing!" post dinner, sans sex), and a pretty decent click that lasted several months.
As a tool for meeting people quickly and efficiently, the online sites are hard to beat -- or at least they used to be. These days, they have so many flashy bells and whistles it's hard to see the forest for the tease.
Put simply, my toolbox runneth over.
A couple of years ago, all you had to do was upload a photo -- preferably one without a potted palm coming out of your head -- and type up some clever verbiage about who you were and what you were looking for. After a few days, you'd start chitchatting with your hottest prospects about sushi and snowshoeing, movies and the Mariners; after a few weeks, you'd have a handful of good, bad and ugly dating stories to share with your friends. It was simple, straightforward, streamlined.
These days, things are a little more complicated. You log onto a site and a flashing icon tells you that you have Three New Crush Alerts! Six guys have winked at you; eight others have added you to their hot lists. A relationship chemistry predictor has kindly alerted 300,000 members to the fact that you're a dictatorial conservative who's dying to get married and have kids (despite the fact your profile says exactly the opposite) and your personality type has been flagged as The Crusty Philosopher. Also, you owe some guy in Tukwila three roses and there's a virtual smell waiting for you in your inbox from somebody named DirtyDirk.
Now I know all these gadgets and geegaws are part of the exciting new Facebookization of the interweb. And, granted, some of the interactive stuff can be fun (I'm on a hot list!) even for those of us who grew up with a sock monkey -- as opposed to a mouse -- in our pudgy little fists. But at some point all the flashing lights and popping windows and winking icons that you have to wade through in order to find some poor sap who likes "Project Runway," Frank Sinatra and blondes with "a little extra padding" just seems a bit too much.
Who has time to create their own bling and record a video introduction and keep a dating blog and spend the day tossing out winks and roses and testimonials like some parade clown throwing candy to the kids? Who has the stamina to spend hours ranking photos and calculating their compatibility quotient and relationship needs via 1,001 personality tests?
Ah, the tests -- another recent innovation. These days, you can't even browse the, uh, merchandise without answering a barrage of questions about the length of your index finger, your capacity for spontaneity and the exact amount of time you want to be held, you know, afterward. Personally, I think it would be far more useful to ask how often you clip your toenails and yell at the neighbor's dog, but apparently the online dating gurus think it's more fun to focus on your self-esteem, work habits and doodling style. That way, they can pseudo-scientifically match you up with all the other neurotic perfectionists with control issues. (Click here for your NPCI icon!)
What's behind all these shiny new add-ons? Love, naturally. Love of money.
When online dating got started, it was touted as a speedy alternative to the time-consuming sifting and sorting one normally had to go through to find a decent date. Big business didn't pay much attention at first; computer dating was for freaks and geeks. But after the sites raked in that first billion, everything changed. Advertisers shouldered their way onto the scene like party crashers on New Year's Eve, and soon singles were able to not only find a date but book a vacation, pimp their profile and learn how to "catch and keep a man!" Shortly thereafter, the interactive onslaught began. The more time singles spent winking and linking and clicking and sticking, the more chance there was they'd spend some of that fabulous discretionary income.
As a result, online dating has gone from celebrated time saver to serious time suck. And as painful as it is to admit, I've been sucked right in with everybody else.
Mouse-happy monkey that I am, I've spent two weeks on two sites, and between all the winking and blinking and hot-listing and test taking and preference setting and blog surfing and personality matching and how-to-go-about-man-catching, I've barely had three conversations. And not one date.
So far it's been a pleasant but completely unproductive experience, though I now can say with some confidence (although apparently not enough) that I'm a workaholic extroverted feeler judger with a tendency for procrastination and exaggeration. No kidding.
Considering my capacity for distraction, I'll probably continue to link and wink and deliberate and delay until the cows come home (cash and otherwise). Maybe by March I'll actually go on a date.
But I'm not worried.
I recently stumbled onto a new tool that I'm going to start incorporating into my regular online routine. It's on the left side of my screen and is fairly simple to operate. It's called the "turn off computer" button and I think it might be just the thing to help me get out there and meet people.
I'll send you a link so you can add it to your favorites.
Diane Mapes is a Seattle-based freelance writer and author of "How To Date in a Post-Dating World." She can be reached at dianemapes@gmail.com. "Single Shot" runs every other Friday.
Like many people, I've been Christmas shopping online, surfing around on Amazon, Abebooks and what I've always referred to as "eBoy." What can I say? I decided to get a little something for myself, too.
I've tried online dating before and had mixed results: a handful of mildly pleasant misses, one real stinker (I still remember his snide "thanks for nothing!" post dinner, sans sex), and a pretty decent click that lasted several months.
As a tool for meeting people quickly and efficiently, the online sites are hard to beat -- or at least they used to be. These days, they have so many flashy bells and whistles it's hard to see the forest for the tease.
Put simply, my toolbox runneth over.
A couple of years ago, all you had to do was upload a photo -- preferably one without a potted palm coming out of your head -- and type up some clever verbiage about who you were and what you were looking for. After a few days, you'd start chitchatting with your hottest prospects about sushi and snowshoeing, movies and the Mariners; after a few weeks, you'd have a handful of good, bad and ugly dating stories to share with your friends. It was simple, straightforward, streamlined.
These days, things are a little more complicated. You log onto a site and a flashing icon tells you that you have Three New Crush Alerts! Six guys have winked at you; eight others have added you to their hot lists. A relationship chemistry predictor has kindly alerted 300,000 members to the fact that you're a dictatorial conservative who's dying to get married and have kids (despite the fact your profile says exactly the opposite) and your personality type has been flagged as The Crusty Philosopher. Also, you owe some guy in Tukwila three roses and there's a virtual smell waiting for you in your inbox from somebody named DirtyDirk.
Now I know all these gadgets and geegaws are part of the exciting new Facebookization of the interweb. And, granted, some of the interactive stuff can be fun (I'm on a hot list!) even for those of us who grew up with a sock monkey -- as opposed to a mouse -- in our pudgy little fists. But at some point all the flashing lights and popping windows and winking icons that you have to wade through in order to find some poor sap who likes "Project Runway," Frank Sinatra and blondes with "a little extra padding" just seems a bit too much.
Who has time to create their own bling and record a video introduction and keep a dating blog and spend the day tossing out winks and roses and testimonials like some parade clown throwing candy to the kids? Who has the stamina to spend hours ranking photos and calculating their compatibility quotient and relationship needs via 1,001 personality tests?
Ah, the tests -- another recent innovation. These days, you can't even browse the, uh, merchandise without answering a barrage of questions about the length of your index finger, your capacity for spontaneity and the exact amount of time you want to be held, you know, afterward. Personally, I think it would be far more useful to ask how often you clip your toenails and yell at the neighbor's dog, but apparently the online dating gurus think it's more fun to focus on your self-esteem, work habits and doodling style. That way, they can pseudo-scientifically match you up with all the other neurotic perfectionists with control issues. (Click here for your NPCI icon!)
What's behind all these shiny new add-ons? Love, naturally. Love of money.
When online dating got started, it was touted as a speedy alternative to the time-consuming sifting and sorting one normally had to go through to find a decent date. Big business didn't pay much attention at first; computer dating was for freaks and geeks. But after the sites raked in that first billion, everything changed. Advertisers shouldered their way onto the scene like party crashers on New Year's Eve, and soon singles were able to not only find a date but book a vacation, pimp their profile and learn how to "catch and keep a man!" Shortly thereafter, the interactive onslaught began. The more time singles spent winking and linking and clicking and sticking, the more chance there was they'd spend some of that fabulous discretionary income.
As a result, online dating has gone from celebrated time saver to serious time suck. And as painful as it is to admit, I've been sucked right in with everybody else.
Mouse-happy monkey that I am, I've spent two weeks on two sites, and between all the winking and blinking and hot-listing and test taking and preference setting and blog surfing and personality matching and how-to-go-about-man-catching, I've barely had three conversations. And not one date.
So far it's been a pleasant but completely unproductive experience, though I now can say with some confidence (although apparently not enough) that I'm a workaholic extroverted feeler judger with a tendency for procrastination and exaggeration. No kidding.
Considering my capacity for distraction, I'll probably continue to link and wink and deliberate and delay until the cows come home (cash and otherwise). Maybe by March I'll actually go on a date.
But I'm not worried.
I recently stumbled onto a new tool that I'm going to start incorporating into my regular online routine. It's on the left side of my screen and is fairly simple to operate. It's called the "turn off computer" button and I think it might be just the thing to help me get out there and meet people.
I'll send you a link so you can add it to your favorites.
Diane Mapes is a Seattle-based freelance writer and author of "How To Date in a Post-Dating World." She can be reached at dianemapes@gmail.com. "Single Shot" runs every other Friday.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Report: Ethan Hawke Dating Former Nanny
NEW YORK — Ethan Hawke is dating the woman who used to be his children's nanny — when he was married to Uma Thurman — and has been for two years, the New York Daily News reported.
"They are incredibly in love," a friend of Hawke's told the News.
A second pal said: "Yes, they've been keeping a lid on this for some time."
Click here for the Daily News report
According to the News' first source, the former nanny, Ryan, contacted Hawke about a year after the split from Thurman to confess her feelings.
"She had nothing to do with the divorce, and they started seeing each other after she was no longer the children's nanny," said the friend.
In August, Hawke said being part of a celebrity couple can be hard on the ego.
"It's unfair when one person's career is taking off and the other is really suffering," the 37-year-old actor told AMC's "Shootout."
"What happens -- it's not that they're jealous of each other; it's that the person you share your life with isn't in the mood to support," Hawke says. "You want to have a pity party for yourself, but they're off to the Golden Globes and you don't want to go because everyone is going to think you are jealous."
/**/
Hawke and Thurman were married in 1998. She filed for divorce in 2004. The couple have two children.
"There's a certain geometry to life -- that life has a certain math equation to it and if you're never together, you can't build a home," Hawke says. "Joanne Woodward put her career on the back burner for that marriage (to Paul Newman) to last. And something's got to give."
Hawke received an Oscar nomination for his role in 2001's "Training Day." His film credits also include "Dead Poets Society," "Great Expectations" and "Before Sunset."
Thurman, 37, has starred in "The Producers" and the "Kill Bill" movies. She was nominated for an Oscar for her role in 1994's "Pulp Fiction."
"They are incredibly in love," a friend of Hawke's told the News.
A second pal said: "Yes, they've been keeping a lid on this for some time."
Click here for the Daily News report
According to the News' first source, the former nanny, Ryan, contacted Hawke about a year after the split from Thurman to confess her feelings.
"She had nothing to do with the divorce, and they started seeing each other after she was no longer the children's nanny," said the friend.
In August, Hawke said being part of a celebrity couple can be hard on the ego.
"It's unfair when one person's career is taking off and the other is really suffering," the 37-year-old actor told AMC's "Shootout."
"What happens -- it's not that they're jealous of each other; it's that the person you share your life with isn't in the mood to support," Hawke says. "You want to have a pity party for yourself, but they're off to the Golden Globes and you don't want to go because everyone is going to think you are jealous."
/**/
Hawke and Thurman were married in 1998. She filed for divorce in 2004. The couple have two children.
"There's a certain geometry to life -- that life has a certain math equation to it and if you're never together, you can't build a home," Hawke says. "Joanne Woodward put her career on the back burner for that marriage (to Paul Newman) to last. And something's got to give."
Hawke received an Oscar nomination for his role in 2001's "Training Day." His film credits also include "Dead Poets Society," "Great Expectations" and "Before Sunset."
Thurman, 37, has starred in "The Producers" and the "Kill Bill" movies. She was nominated for an Oscar for her role in 1994's "Pulp Fiction."
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