We are from Venus, they are from Mars

Recently, a close friend of mine in the industry began a super hot and tawdry affair with her first civilian. I was fascinated to watch it unfold. Grappling thru the intricacies and oddities of this strange creature, it was like she was walking in the dark. Foreign territory for sure. And I wondered, will pro’s ever find conventional love? But towards the present thought, are pros the only ones that understand love?

Complicated doesn’t even begin to describe what occurs when these to species take on the daunting task of dating. I watched as my friend, who we will call Carrie, fall victim to everyone of Mr. Bigs odd civilian quirks. Last week she calls me on Friday nite, wants to borrow a dress. Not just any dress. Like, The Dress. $2200 Dolce & Gabbana I’ve never found the justification to christen myself and this bitch thinks she’s going to? Well, it’s been almost 4 years since I bought it, the dress is starving by now-someone should feed it so I relented. Wait where are you going? She says she has a date. Like, a civilian date. With this guy. Who is a civilian. Fuck. I don’t think they work like that, you know? It’s just not that simple with them. I closed my eyes and tried desperately to visualize this date coming to fruition and all I saw was the backs of my eyelids. I told Carrie she could wear the dress since now I knew she’s getting stood up and then asked her if this is What Samantha Would Do or What Charlotte Would do. For any of you that have been living as Amish for the past 20 years, the names of these characters in this very real story are adopted from Sex in the City, because unfortunately-it’s the only civilian dating experience I have. When this ridiculousness started I had to binge watch a few seasons to prepare myself for the imminent theatrics that were sure to ensue because basically I just always like to be right. Anyways- Samantha (Independant sexually liberal boss bitch) and Charlotte (thirsty, whiny, desperate, co dependent archaic girl) were our strategy. When Big did something incomprehensible, we didn’t ask Jesus. What does he know, he loved hookers too. We asked Samantha and Charlotte because Miranda was obviously a lesbian and Carrie was a myth. So “Carrie” if Big asked Samantha on a date, would she go I say. What she said pulled the floor out from under my feet. She says to me: “I don’t know, because he didn’t ask Samantha or me. I asked him.” She proceeded to list in detail the really adorable and naive things she had done in preparation for this date and I started having a panic attack. It’s not going to be pretty.

The day of the date came and like clock work the texts and screenshots of text threads started rolling in from my sweet silly friend Carrie. I saw it coming like a train wreck in front of you, you can’t stop it, the result of it is grievous, and you can’t look away. He had canceled. And in the worst way. Sick. HA! I’ll make him sick. Should we have him tuned up I asked? She’s sniffing and says her face is hot and wet she hates it. But that commissioned violence is not allowed for several reasons I already knew but was hoping out of hysteria she would overlook. Well, that’s the end of that I’m sure. That’s what I thought anyway. It’s been 2 weeks since I watched my friend have a really cliche meltdown and her and the civilian are still up to their theatrics. One day they are in love, the next day he’s terrified of love, then the next day he stops by to pick up the ankle sock he left there when they went to the gym. I said sock, not socks. Because he left one. Did he go home with only one? Or is he saving the other for next time? I don’t understand. When I want to send out a text I don’t count the days since the last time I was the one instigating communication. I just fucking send the text/email. When I tell someone I’ll go to dinner, I don’t magically fall ill and unable to keep plans. Are all civilians on this time table? How do they get anything done? Perhaps they might even benefit from their own time zone, like the farmers. We could call it “saving dating time”. At the very root of it, is what we’re dealing with here a society unequipped to not only express thier feelings-But get a read on them to begin with? Was Big playing civilian games like on Sex in the City-or is Big just genuinely intimidated by my inhumanly perfect and gorgeous friend?What does this stuff mean? And if civilians and professionals were animals instead of humans-would we even be the same species?