Sidney debated whether to answer her cell phone. She was sort of in the middle of something, out of breath, and the (strategically) unflattering picture of her ex flashed back and forth with his name on her picture phone. She knew he would give her hell for what she was doing, and she quite frankly wasn't in the mood. But she answered anyway.
"Hi Michael," she panted.
"I can't believe this," he predictably shot back. Here it comes, she grimaced. "You're working-out."
Michael had two bitter gripes post their relationship. The first was that Sidney had taken up cooking now, whereas when they dated she refused to do anything more than watch the bacon ("Sid, it's burnt. Watching the bacon entails more than watching it. You are suppose to actively turn it when you notice it is burning." "Seriously?").
The second--and far more pertinent--grievance was the fact that she now insisted on staying in shape, compared to what they had called Fat Period (similarly depressing as Picasso's Blue Period) that had been the second half of their relationship.
As opposed to the former quirk, which legitimately may have emerged slightly out of amusement/spite, the latter trend is a common occurrence in relationships. Couples get comfortable, opt to spend time they might have spent working-out instead lounging around, and come to the realization that their chances of hooking-up that night are in no way correlated to whether they eat that next (fifth) slice of pizza.
Like the andocentric (yet still decidedly funny) joke goes: At the beginning of a relationship, when you look down you see your girlfriend's head; at the end of a relationship, when you look down you see your gut.
The last year of Sara and Ray's relationship more closely resembled the Titanic than Love Boat. They fought and fought but none of their numerous breakups ever came to fruition. "Why are they still together?" onlookers would constantly ask. "Their stock has gone down," one wise commentator assessed. "When they got together, they were both catches. Then they kind of let themselves go. Anyone either of them could get now wouldn't be on the same level."
Growing (metaphorically and physically) together is relationship insurance. Like Mutual Assured Destruction, both know the other will have to stay together with them for lack of other options.
A year into her relationship with Luke, Lili noticed the unhappy trend. "We're getting fat," she grimaced. "By 'we,' I mostly mean Luke, but I've gained a little too."
Lili had a plan to cut the problem off at its root (much like Duke's decision to limit the number of social accepted students to make the campus more like Yale). "We're going on a diet," she declared. "By 'we,' I mostly mean I'm putting him on a diet, but I'm being supportive."
First stop in the Diet 2004: field trip to Kroger's. Most certainly feeling somewhat emasculated, though being a great sport, Luke picked up a can of soup to add it to the cart. Lili snatched up the can and read they label. "No. It's bad," she chided, putting it back on the shelf.
"But it's soup," he did not understand the direction his life was taking.
"But it's ba-a-ad soup," Lili smiled, pleased she was making progress.
Without such intervention programs, the comfort of the unconditionally wonderful acceptance of relationships can lull one into apathy about everything else. A good relationship is the elixir for "effortless perfection."
Which is wonderful one some levels (this article was intended to be a little un-PC, but not to induce eating disorders), but some things that were legitimately important in non-relationship life begin to fall lower on the priority list than giving your $20.04.
When not in a relationship, being social, studious, and, well, not the poster child for the McDonald's lawsuit all are priorities. "When you get comfortable with someone, you tend to forget all the things that made you attractive to them in the first place," Michael lamented to Sidney when they were reminiscing about the time she had accidentally eaten both their portions of pancakes. "Not just physical things, but interests and mysteriousness."
Sidney, Sally and Anne discussed this phenomena over brunch at Vin Rouge on a recent Sunday morning.
"Relationships are wonderful, but you have to remember not to lose yourself in them," Anne said.
"Lose yourself, gain a dress size--that should be the slogan," Sidney laughed. "Perhaps the real must-have look for spring is singleness. It sure helps with swimsuit shopping, at any rate."
Whitney Beckett is a Trinity senior. Her column appears every other Friday.
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