My friends (and myself) have all been disappointed by men lately. All at different altitudes. Disappointing dates, blind-siding break ups, left on “delivered” purgatory, flirting within the suffocating confusing parameters of “just friends.” All part of the capital “G” Girl Experience, we write it off as canon. It’s okay because all hot girls must suffer at the hands of men in order to be truly hot. And if a hot girl rewatches Sex And The City for the 5th time in the privacy of her apartment and there’s no story-post to prove— is she really hot at all?
Sex And The City is the canon-support group. Demystifying the dating trenches, infusing humor, infusing narrative (it’s the hero’s journey after all!) and drawing conclusions. Because the path of suffering is supposed to lead us to a valiant end. A Big conclusion.
Speaking of Big.
You may be interacting with your Big right now. After all, everyone has/had one. You may be feverishly waiting for a text back from your Big. Suddenly deep cleaning your kitchen in “do not disturb.” You’re very Cool About It. A level of detached nonchalance that says to your Big and the universe, I want this! But not too much. I want it the exactly perfect amount. An amount so correct that the divine powers at be have no choice but to give it to me with a grand, sweeping flourish. A modern romantic miracle.
I’ll back up. I know not all hotties who read Midwesthetic have watched Sex And The City. I’ll brief you.
Four friends, lots of dating, lots of sex, and you guessed it- set against the back drop of New York City. There’s Samantha, who’s inarguably one of the strongest characters on the show. Full of self-love, compassion, and a profound sense of freedom in both life and sex. Miranda, level-headed to the point of cynicism but an aspirational figure in terms of boundary setting. Charlotte, who’s aspirational in …everything else. Whose hopeless romanticism should never ever be mistaken for naivety. And Carrie— the curly-haired writer, who may have been deemed insufferable (relatable!) retroactively. But my ¢0.02, Carrie’s an early-aughts anti-hero with the best of them. Tony Soprano, Walter White, Don Draper. She’s relatable because she’s self-absorbed. She’s tragic because she’s flawed. But bigger than Carrie and bigger than her friends, is Big.
Big is a man who plagues or punctuates Carrie’s life depending on the lens in which you see them through. Big is a nickname, a by-product of all good group chats. Big refers to his status: “major tycoon, major dreamboat, and majorly out of Carrie’s league.”
Those “majors” may change, but everyone has their Big. A friend of mine said something to me recently that’s been knocking around my brain for weeks since we met. We were walking, her unburdening herself of some of the weight of her recent, difficult breakup. Me, eye-twitching and rehashing the current-status of a nostalgic-crush. I told her I couldn’t shake it out of my brain, it’s wasn’t just lusty, annoying obsession… it was actually starting to piss me off. Around the second or third time I earnestly suggested lobotomy, she stopped, saying:
“you can’t stop thinking about him because you think he’s better than you.”
Oh. 😀 It hurt because it wasn’t something I had ever considered. Not because I disagreed, but because on a subconscious level …I did?
Maybe the reasons we fall into the grips of a Big, a situationship, hell- even your current boyfriend, has something to do with accepting scraps and fragments from people we may (incorrectly) define as better than us. Scraps of attention (i.e. approx: one text a day, maximum.) fragmented affection (i.e. only nice to you in private) scraps of time, consideration, whateverrrrrrr. You may not realize it until a friend politely tells you to take a closer look.
What I love about beautiful, pure-hearted, gorgeous girls is that we believe scraps can be redeemed. Ten scraps earned can then be cashed in as one legitimate act of love or one, singular grand gesture negates any act of wrongdoing.
What is a grand gesture anymore? Did they ever exist in earnest?
A few weeks ago, I ignited an Instagram discourse around what makes a grand gesture today. Rom-coms, sitcoms, and HBO have long held the keys to how grand gestures are defined. Big and Carrie are no exception. Lavish gifts, showing up to her apartment in a limousine, declarations of, “you’re the one!” historic love-letters re-gleaned and sent as his own. These gestures were always band-aids until the next apology. The gaps were filled with at best, neutral and at worst, devastating moments in between. Sure, Instagram-goers agreed that a lush vacation, a new car, a dramatic airport chase down, etc would be nice.
But the context around what makes something grand has changed.
A friend of mine said this: “honestly, it’s an impossible question, because we all know what we would say would be so stupid because our bar is so low.”
When I first heard it I thought, the new grand gesture is… being nice? But as other responses filtered in, I couldn’t help but wonder (sorry) if she was beginning to articulate something bigger and more meaningful. Cleaning the house unprompted, maybe executing a date around something the other person had mentioned on a whim, listening, paying attention, hearing you, seeing you. Sure, these aren’t stand-outside-with-a-boombox-over-your-head, movie moments. But the sum of the small makes a more meaningful whole. In Sex And The City, one of the few times Big does something impromptu and kind for Carrie is when he buys her a purse. It’s horrific and she hates it. It’s not her style and clashes with everything she owns, but he got her something. And that’s what really matters.
🚨 LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER 🚨
What we learn is that while the motions of consideration have been gone through, he doesn’t really know her at all. He hasn’t paid attention and doesn’t seem to care. So no, the bar isn’t actually low at all. A former classmate articulated it well,
“…have we just evolved? Bridgerton style grand gestures or even 90’s rom com grand gestures are outside the cultural context on women/femme people having autonomy. Listening and ACTION is the grand gesture of an equitable culture.
Listening to your partner or friend creates that unique context that makes a gesture “grand” to you. And honestly, people can be shit at listening. So it’s a unique experience to grow with someone who decides to learn to listen to you.”
To me, I’d say what makes a grand gesture is making that choice. The choice to listen, the choice to action, the choice to grow. Not a band-aid, but an everyday conscious effort.
And guess what? Big’s name is literally John.
There’s something so poetic and delicious about this to me. It speaks to our (speaking for all of us, sorry) tendency to romanticize and elevate men that treat us ‘just-ok’ when they are literally just some average dude named John.
(Or Joe, or Seth, or Blake, or Chris, or Patrick, or or or or ororororor)
He’s not big, he’s not major, he’s just a guy. 🗣️ And he’s not better than you!!!
