beanthinking

Ok, I’m gonna get deep here today, I hope you are ok with that and can come along with me.

I was reading an article online about generosity and it made me think how some people may consider themselves generous individuals, when in reality, that’s not entirely that case at all.  In some instances what they think is them being giving, is actually Conditional Generosity, and they are two completely separate situations.  The irony is that Conditional Generosity is totally self-serving.  It’s giving with the explicit expectation to get something back.  I’m not talking about giving to charity here, as I happily claim a charitable tax receipt for my donations.  No, I’m talking about person to person generosity, and it’s relation to how individuals may mistakenly perceive themselves as totally selfless.

Some would loudly toot their own horns at how selfless they are in their giving (the act of which diminishes the very idea of generosity, by the way), whether it’s the gift of their time, or of material items.  But if they stopped to look at it from a different angle, if they’re reaching one hand out to you in giving, while holding out the other expecting reciprocity as a reward, then it really can’t be claimed as generosity.  What they may perceive as being altruistic actually translates to them actually being selfish, and it is such a fine line that’s drawn with the reasons behind their “generosity”.

There are also those who fall into this category who are quick to judge those who don’t immediately reciprocate, or don’t reciprocate to their liking, and write them off as selfish.  Here is where it’s the double edge sword.  Are you giving because you truly feel good about giving or is it to get something in return?  If it’s the latter, then you can put yourself in the selfish category too.

Don’t get me wrong, everybody wants to be recognized and appreciated but when your main drive for your generosity is recognition then you have to first ask yourself why, and then you have to appreciate that maybe you aren’t as generous as you may think.

I would prefer to give from my heart, and not when it’s just expected of me or if it’s just going to be used as a scorecard, or a gauge for what kind of person I am.

Seemingly forever ago, I had some friends who used to host Speed Dating nights and one of the nights they found the women to men ratio was way off, so I agreed to come and participate.  I thought, what the hell, why not?

Turns out I ended up making somewhat of a connection with one of the guys, and we arranged to set up a second date under more “normal” circumstances to get to know each other better.  The second date went well, and in the course of the conversation he mentioned how he loves to cook.  What a coincidence, I said, I love to eat!  He suggested that for our next date, he’d love to cook me dinner and asked me what my favorite cultural food was.  At the time, I was on a Greek food kick, so he agreed and we set a date.

I arrived at his building and took the elevator up to the top floor.  I got the tour of his penthouse apartment, and the stunning views of downtown Vancouver from his 500 square foot patio.  It was fantastic.

Then he tells me that he hopes I like what he’s cooked for dinner, and I replied that I love pretty much all food, with the exception of spinach.  As soon as I said it, his face froze and a look of panic came over him.  Oh shit.  When he said he had indeed cooked spinach, I felt like an ass and tried to reassure him that well, really, I hadn’t eaten spinach since I was a kid, so I am totally game to try it and see if I like it now.  He started to look a bit relieved.  As long as it wasn’t that horrible mushy frozen stuff, I said.  Another look from him, this time an even deeper look of panic.  Oh shit.

Turns out that dinner was fantastic, and to my surprise I had acquired a taste for spinach since I’d eaten it last, even if it was that mushy frozen kind.  And luckily the taste of my own foot in my mouth didn’t ruin dinner, or the company.

I was out with some friends a few weeks ago, and was introduced to this cutie who was the friend of an acquaintance.  We got to chatting, and I was kinda digging him and it seemed pretty mutual.  He was attractive, funny, intelligent, and the conversation flowed very easily.  So, we’re chatting and flirting away, and I was thinking, “wow, this guy seems really cool, I would love to exchange info and hang out with him sometime.”.

Then it happened.  Outta nowhere.  He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out……..a pack of cigarettes (insert Debbie Downer theme music here – mwah mwah mwaahhhh).  In that very instant he went from potential prospect to ‘nuh-uh’.  Just like that.  There’s something about even just the THOUGHT of kissing somebody with ashtray-mouth that makes me want to vomit.  It’s not even something I’ll entertain, no matter how cute or charming he may be.  I just can’t do it.  I was giving him a hard time about then cigarettes, trying to gauge how attached he was to them, but I guess as any smoker might be able to guess, his attachment was very real.  Le Sigh.  Bummer.

He had gone outside to light up a cancer stick, and in the meantime I had left the venue to head home.  He texted me a few times later that night to see if I’d come and meet him for a drink, but, aside from the obvious that “meet me for drinks” = invitation to booty call, I had to lay it down that I just can’t date a smoker.  Well, to be honest, I COULD date a smoker, but I choose not to.

An interesting and thought-provoking conversation came up today around a friend who disapproves of her 13 year old’s boyfriend.  To make matters worse, the boy won’t show his face around her home, and is disrespectful.  It’s one thing if he’s a nice, genuinely respectful kid, but if he’s the douchey sort then you need to make sure the girl is equipped with the knowledge and tools to make the right decisions.

Of course my initial reaction is “wow, 13 is too young to be dating”, but telling a 13-year-old that they can’t do something is pretty much a guarantee that it’s gonna happen, only then it will be behind your back without any injected wisdom.  And besides, when I think back, I ventured into hanging out with boys at that age, and I can guarantee that was not out of the ordinary.  This generation now seems to be growing up faster than previous generations.  It’s not to say that they are ahead mentally or emotionally, because sadly that’s seemingly not the case.  They want to be grown up so fast, but they don’t quite have the adequate emotional maturity to properly deal with all of the hormones and emotions running rampant through them.

Now, I certainly don’t have any experience rearing children to contribute any useful parenting advice, but I do have experience in dating, including the valuable experience gained from dating the wrong people.  I try to think what I would say to her if it were my daughter.  I would certainly want to do everything in my power to save my daughter from making the same mistakes that so many of us make and to impart the wisdom gained through those misguided errors in judgement.

“Oh, but he’s the cutest boy in school mom!” may be the case, but what if the kid’s a little asshole?  Tell her that straight out and that might make her revolt and like him even more.  What to do what to do?

I guess all you can do is to try to make sure that your kids value and respect themselves enough to be able to discern when somebody’s being disrespectful to them, and then to be able to turn around and tell them to piss off.  Hopefully they can muster just enough self-esteem that they can stand up for themselves and not let somebody treat them with disrespect.  The more they love and respect themselves, the more they will attract the same.  And they need to understand that they deserve it.

I imagine one of the hardest parts of being a parent is when your nuggets get to an age where you have to trust that you’ve taught them right from wrong and hope that they make the right decisions for themselves.  Scary.

Dirty birdies!  Get your minds out of the gutter! I love it. But the V is for volume.

Something out of the blue the other day made me think about somebody I dated briefly.  I can’t recall exactly what brought up the thought, but there’s so much that rattles around in my brain at any given time it’s hard to peg it all down.  It’s like an information super highway during rush hour in there sometimes. In any case, there it was.

We met, hit it off on a lot of levels. He was funny, smart, tall, dark, handsome, and relatively charming.  We had the same sense of humor and that was a great way to ease into getting to know each other.  Conversation flowed very easily and we genuinely seemed to have a good time together.  We both weren’t looking for something serious, so that was a mesh as well. Things progressed at a perfectly casual pace and we saw each other a number of times, either out for dinner or chilling out sipping wine.  It was nice.

One of the nights after dinner we were back at my apartment enjoying some more wine on the sofa, and things started getting hot and heavy, and before long it was a solid make out session.  But one thing just wasn’t sitting right with me, and I was having a hard time ignoring it.  I couldn’t help but take note of how loud a kisser he was.  I mean, he was a good kisser, don’t get me wrong.  Just really loud.  I’m not even kidding you, it was really distracting.

I tried really hard to push on, I was digging the action.  But all I could think about was how it was the same sound as when a dog licks its balls.  Slurp, slurp.  How do you recover from that?  How are you supposed to keep on keepin’ on with the make out?  I guess I could have stopped and told him, but how awkward would that be?

Slurp.