It changed my life," a friend said, plopping a pink-jacketed hardback down in front of the assembled girls and our Indian take-out.
"It's like my Bible," another friend told me. "I carry it with me. Every girl should read it."
The title in question was "He's Just Not That Into You," a dating book describing the courses of action that men take when they're just not interested in dating you. Sample chapter titles: "He's Just Not That Into You If He's Not Asking You Out" or "He's Just Not That Into You If You're Not Having Sex."
Seem obvious? Maybe not. Apparently women can be so irrational when infatuated with male-kind, that they fail to pick up on blatant, public displays of un-affection. "Men find it very satisfying to get what they want-particularly after a day of running the world," one of the authors, a male, writes in the first chapter. "If we want you, we will find you." The negation of that statement is also true: If a guy is not actively seeking a girl out, then he don't like you, boo.
In many ways, and for many women, this is refreshing-especially given that, in the book's terms, there are no exceptions to the rule. He's not shy. He's not too busy. He just not biting. Simple.
But there is a recurring theme underlying every chapter: Women should refrain from asking men out. It messes with the natural order, the authors say; there's a reason why such traditions are in places. Women asking men out not only thwarts this sacred tradition, but it also renders a woman desperate and needy. If you're "fabulous" enough, the men will flock. In the meantime, Miss Fabulous, have a cocktail!
Perhaps such a thesis is to be expected from the pair of authors, both of whom moonlighted as writers for the now-defunct HBO series "Sex and the City." The characters on the show never wanted for a date, and despite their status as four independent, well-off, educated, professional women of the millennium, they rarely asked men out.
Last week, I heard former Washington Post foreign correspondent Thomas Lippman speak in Sanford about the United States' complicated relationship with Saudi Arabia. But Lippman didn't just stump about oil politicking. In the lecture, he described Saudi Arabia as having covered a lot of evolutionary ground in a relatively short time. Just 70 years ago, he said, the country was one of the most "primitive" on earth.
Despite these rapid strides toward modernity and urbanization, Lippman describes Saudi Arabians-in particular, women-as still clinging to their very conservative, religious traditions of the past. "Inside of their heads, they still live in the old village," he said. Women still prefer to assume subordinate roles, to wear burkhas, to not walk around open-air markets without a male companion. Such customs, he says, are specific to the region's culture-and as outsiders, Lippman argues that it's not exactly fair for us to use our own moral creed to judge them.
Fair enough. I'd wish, Pollyanna style, for a universal code of gender equality. I'd also like to think the oozing of modernity into both Saudi Arabian and U.S. society would cause us to leave some of the more confining characteristics of femininity behind. So I can vote. I can also wear whatever I want, short of nothing. I go to the Great Hall without an escort. But according to at least one No. 1 New York Times Bestseller, I can't ask someone out.
Why do we cling to the familiar, even when progressive change is possible and very real? First of all, it's what we know. And if the spin doctors behind "He's Just Not That Into You" have anything to say about it, it's what works. I might not see June Cleaver on television anymore-"Beav, I'm really not intellectually equipped to make that important decision. Ask your father."-but is the Botoxed cast of "Desperate Housewives" really that much better?
I'm not hating the player here, however, because I'm one of them. I might bristle at the book's point, but I certainly can't deny that it is based in truth. How many girls feel comfortable asking a guy out, or, in terminology befitting our "hook-up culture," making the first clumsy move? I know I don't.
It's the game, then, that deserves criticism. So you might send out "signals," or use body language conveying your interest. You can share your juice box (beer?) or allow yourself to be chased at recess (in section?), because the dynamics of flirting haven't changed since second grade. Even the luscious Elizabeth Bennett, Jane Austen's female personification of confidence, intelligence and witty defiance in "Pride and Prejudice," had to wait for Mr. Darcy to ask her out-twice. A guy friend told me that in a recent course he took on the 18th-century novel, he learned that all women characters who initiated contact with men were either killed or castigated to the convent. This is our history, so really, we're just being traditional. No judgment!
Hence why I laugh when I hear a girl tell her friend to "just put yourself out there," as if her guy-related woes will then disappear. If it's gauche to go chase down a crush-just typing that makes me cringe with theoretical embarrassment-what exactly does "putting yourself out there" entail? Changing your relationship status on facebook? Or getting juuuuust drunk enough to overcome your lack of confidence?
Lippman will tell you there's a world of difference between American and Saudi Arabian culture, even if Riyahd now "looks just like downtown Phoenix." But if women in both places are huffing indignant sighs, steaming the glass ceiling of an unevolving gender role, are we really that different?
In the meantime, uh, anyone want to be my date to formal?
Sarah Ball is a Trinity sophomore and editorial page managing editor for The Chronicle. Her column runs every Thursday.
Get The Chronicle straight to your inbox
Signup for our weekly newsletter. Cancel at any time.