The Dating Game

This is not a subject I usually elaborate on. I prefer to keep my dating failures to myself, as does everyone else with any sense of dignity.  On one hand, I have my desire for privacy.  On the other hand, I have the desire to express just how amused I am at people’s reaction to the fact that I’m single.  Oh, the choices, the choices!

I made the mistake recently of telling a coworker that I was going on a date, and then because the lady in question is an adorable almost-80-year old grandmotherly type, I told her how badly it had all ended.  Not a horrific tale, the guy was just annoying and I couldn’t stand his company. The inherent fail came in blurring the line between my personal life and my professional life.  Now it seems that whenever I see her, she asks me about BOYS.  She doesn’t have the decency to do it in private, mainly because she’s cool as hell and doesn’t see boundaries as something that apply to her…  Tonight I had a shift change with her, and she brought up the gentleman caller I’d mentioned the last time I saw her. There were a couple of other people present, but she soldiered on regardless.  I had to explain that nothing had come of this particular encounter.

Then comes the reaction from the other people present.  Shock, horror. I’m STILL single? How old am I (if it’s appropriate to ask)?  Why haven’t I found someone yet?  Cue the traditional expressions of “I have no idea, it’s just that I haven’t found the right man, blah blah blah”.  It’s bad enough hearing these things from my own grandmother, who firmly believes I will end up an old maid, but from people I have to work with?  It’s painful.  I try to explain that I’ve only recently moved to Finland, and have spent part of my time here in a relationship that didn’t work out, and have a small social circle, my friends are either female or married, and so on and so forth.

Why am I single?  Possibly the cruelest question ever asked of anyone.  Basically, asking this means “what is wrong with you?”.  Don’t deny it, you know this is true. It is followed by a series of bland expressions of normality – nobody ever says that they are frighteningly neurotic, or insanely jealous of exes, or spend too much time talking to themselves in the third person, or making friends with the imaginary monkeys living under the furniture.  Everyone has their problems, whether they relate to relationships or not, but most people are rarely asked to elaborate on these in their working environment.  Oh no, only single females of a certain age are subject to this scrutiny.  Obviously, you’re not allowed to tell anyone about these perfectly normal things that keep you from dating.  It may even be that you have no real issues keeping you from dating, but in all honesty, the right guy hasn’t come along.

In my case, a lie detector would prove this – the right guy has not come along.  I’ve had a few near misses, where I’ve thought he was The One, but life has proved me wrong – and hindsight is a gift we are all blessed with.  Now I’m glad I’ve not settled for anyone in my past, because the person I am now would not be happy with those Mr Almost-Rights in my past.  I also know that those men that I have turned down, who at the time thought I was denying them a lifetime of happiness, are happier now without me than they would have been with the me of now.  The me of now has grown.  I have become more myself.  It’s kind of like comparing yourself to a teenage you – there is no way you would even have liked yourself at that time, let alone imagined spending the rest of your life with that person.  Now twist that around to the viewpoint of the person you were dating.  Painful? Yes.

One of the ladies at my work suggested that I hook up with her one remaining single son.  I am slightly disappointed by this. “AND WHY?” you yell.  Surely it would do me good to have a kindly old lady arrange a suitable match for me, as in the golden olden days when women of my age were well past their sell-by-date.  Since I have failed so far in my quest for a match, maybe I should take the lady up on her offer.  “Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match, find me a find, catch me a catch”?  The thing is, though, it seems that now I am being offered the left-overs from this person’s family.  The only son who has himself failed in the quest for love. 33 and unmarried?  I find myself asking this man I’ve never met the same question I am faced with.  Why?  Why is a supposedly eligible bachelor, who is successful, good-looking, athletic, the works – why is he single?

I am asking the same questions I am asked every time I admit to being single.  WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU??  Maybe that is a key factor in all of us twenty-thirty-somethings being single.  We are taught that it is normal to pair up and find love when we are younger, and anyone left outside of that circle has something wrong with them.  Our parents and our peers don’t say this out loud, but the media sure does.  At my age, I also know that my parents were married well before they were aged like me.  My grandmother knows this, and thus ceases to ask me about potential partners – when I bring one up, she immediately assumes more than she is told, out of sheer desperation for the only granddaughter who is still living on her own, with CATS.

Maybe we should all be a little less judgmental.  Maybe I should take up my colleague’s offer and meet this supposedly wonderful son. To be fair, being an adult means having choices to make, choices that are purely your own.  I can meet him if I want, and if he turns out to be just as unmarriageable as myself – we might make the perfect match.

And if not:

Matchmaker, Matchmaker,
Plan me no plans
I’m in no rush
Maybe I’ve learned
Playing with matches
A girl can get burned
So,
Bring me no ring
Groom me no groom
Find me no find
Catch me no catch
Unless he’s a matchless match.

Sorry for the delay

I have been rather bad at updating this blog.  I’m sorry.  It’s just that there was Christmas, then New Year, and then… Well, I was just lazy, ok?? In addition to this, very few things have been happening to me that could relate to the theme of this blog.  This is becoming less of a blog devoted to the weirdness of the Finns than just the everyday humdrum of my life, and for that, I also apologise.

Okay, things that have been happening that are weird… hmmm….

Maybe I can tell you about the bastard little kids in my neighbourhood.  I’m sure bastard little kids occur everywhere in the world, but when I was growing up, those bastard little kids had at least a little respect for their elders.  At least I did.  Along with a generous and healthy helping of FEAR.

So far this winter I have experienced the following things: kids throwing eggs at buses passing by, throwing snow at buses passing by, and kids heaping snow outside my building’s front door.  Kids throwing eggs at passing buses is clearly retarded. This has never happened to me before, although I’m sure it’s not a phenomenon purely focused on Finland.  Snow is in the same category, though not nearly as annoying as eggs.  Eggs freeze to windshields and other parts of buses, and are notoriously difficult to get off at any point, whether they be frozen or dried.  Clearly, the kids in my neighbourhood are just retarded and have not been disciplined enough.

The kids heaping snow outside my building annoyed me the most, though.  They were equipped with their little bastard hands along with a small sled.  They filled the sled with snow, then brought it to my front door and packed it in tightly.  I was doing some laundry in the downstairs laundry room when I spotted them – being a good citizen, I immediately confronted them and told them to stop.  The kid at the door stared at me and said “We can put snow here if we like”.  I objected, and said that I was one of the people living in the block of apartments and did not take kindly to him and his friend piling snow up in front of our door.  The kid continued in his role of small bastard, until I threatened to call the police – piling up snow is an offence, I said, and you will be sure to get a fine or at least your parents will beat you.  At this, their demeanour changed almost instantly.  The fact that I had a phone in my hand and pretended to dial “police” numbers on it might have helped.  The bastard kids immediately began to clear the snow away, and then after a few seconds, could be seen racing down the street with their sled in tow.

I felt like a victor.  The kids and the snow were gone, and I was free to go through my front door without additional trouble.

I was struck by how well-behaved I remembered being as a child.  At least I would never have dared to oppose an elder with such preposterous claims as these kids did.  I may not be a frightening old lady, but I’m certainly a grown-up…  How things have changed.  This makes me feel old.

Poetrying Without A Licence

They promised me treats
But gosh! I’ve been had!
They seem to have lost them
Or say I’ve been bad.

A cat’s never bad,
that’s just not the way
Kittens just break things
by accident, at play.

That vase full of flowers
bought by your beau?
I was testing my skills,
jumped at it, just so.
Those things oh so shiny
hung on that tree?
Why do you tempt me
and then berate me?
Your baubles and tinsel
are pretty, I know.
I’m convinced if I eat them
my eyes will just glow!
I have much more fun
running around
when I’m not yelled at
I do hate that sound.

It’s all your own fault
for buying a cat
You signed up for this chaos,
don’t blame me for that!
So give me my treats.
It’s about bloody time!
Eating your laces
was never a crime.

Winter Words

The temperature has fallen rapidly to a face-numbing -16, and getting up in the mornings and facing the cold is becoming more and more of a challenge.  It is tempting to just stay indoors and drink warm drinks while watching people outside struggling with keeping warm, but there is certain appeal to the extreme cold.  I spent most of today holed up in my office, thankful to be sitting at a computer typing endless streams of addresses into a database.

Just as I was leaving to go home, it started snowing again.  The scaffolding around the office building became covered with a beautifying dusting of snow, like a veil on an unattractive bride.  Suddenly the cold didn’t matter, and my face became covered in what can only be described as a ridiculous grin.  I was on the verge of twirling around with my hands held high, when I remembered I was still firmly in the public eye, and decided I was going to save my snow twirlings for a moment when I am with friends and can share the joy.

There Be Snow

Last night I noticed it was snowing outside, and my little heart leapt with joy.  The temperature was well below zero, which meant that there might be some hope for the snow staying on the ground.  This morning, the temperature had dropped some more, and more snow was drifting out of the sky.  I went to the store, bought some dinner and decided to walk home instead of getting the bus as I usually do.  There was a gentle wind, it was dark, and as I walked, I could feel the snowflakes catching in my hair and melting on my face.  For a moment I paused, considered catching a bus, and opted for the gentle climb home on foot instead.

It was invigorating – my muscles were all achy from rocking out the night before, but I could feel all the tension in my neck beginning to unwind despite the weight of my backpack.  Sure, it was cold, but I was warmly wrapped up in my coat and scarf and hat, and I really didn’t care.  The tabloids over the past few days have been predicting the coldest winter EVAR, but so far it’s not been too bad.  Walking in the snow was fun – I enjoyed the crunch under my feet and made an effort to step into snow that nobody else had stepped into yet.

I really do enjoy Finnish winters.  I’d take freezing temperatures and snowy snow over the wet chilliness of a rainy climate any day.  The temperature has dropped to minus 9 (Celsius), and I find myself wishing it would stay this cold.

Mornings

Small and I have a morning ritual.  By ritual, I mean a series of events that happen to me whether I like them or not.

The ritual begins with me sleeping soundly, as I do most mornings.  I am woken by earthquake-like rumblings (6 on the Richter scale of purring), right beside my head.  In fact, right up against my head, so that my brain begins to vibrate.  Any pet owner knows that it is impossible to conceal a waking state from an animal.  Small knows I am awake, so there is really no point in me trying to pretend I am still sleeping.  She follows the purring with a “meep”.  My response is to say, “Small, go away, I am Sleeping.”  Since it is early, this comes out as “Stfxblrgh.”

I snuggle my head back into my pillow. Small raises her voice and says “Meep.”  I try to explain that I am still sleepy.

“MEEP.”  An escalation in the purring follows, along with Small parking her face or butt right in MY face.  Politely, I respond to these tactics by saying “GO AWAY of there will be Punching In The Face.”  Small raises her “MEEP” to several “MEEPs”, and I receive more cat-in-face action.

“No, Small, get thee gone. Punching In The Face will shortly follow.”

“MEEEP!!”

“GO AWAY, I am still trying to sleep. Do you WANT to be Punched In The Face?”

“MEEEEEP!!”

I know that to get up now would be to pander to her desires, so I try to put it off for as long as possible.  If I feed her, she will only see it as a reward for having woken me up and subjected me to her series of demands.

Unfortunately, I have no choice.  As long as she is unfed, this stupid animal will continue yelling at me.  So I feed her, as I do every morning, and she reaps her reward.  Big is, of course, silent throughout these proceedings. I’m almost certain that she wakes Small up each morning and tells her to go make food happen.  She has too much dignity to actually ask for anything herself.

Immigration

Tonight, I read a brief news story about the rape of a 17-year old girl in Helsinki by two unknown assailants – the only information given about the men was that they did not speak Finnish.  I knew that the comments section would be rife with people spouting hatred towards foreigners and immigrants, but I thought I might have a look anyway just to see if anyone had intelligent things to say.  A few comments were quite sensible, but most of them voiced the opinion that Finland has too many immigrants (specifically black and/or muslim immigrants), which results in crimes such as the rape of this girl.  The simplistic solution offered by these people was that we should close our borders, since that would automatically lead to reductions in crime rates and Finland would be a safer place to live.  A few comments included some clearly bogus statistics such as the “fact” that a quarter of all Somalis in the country are currently in jail, and nearly all of them were of the opinion that the act of these two men was enough to condemn any and all foreigners.

I am faced with a conundrum.  Obviously, I don’t approve of rape and I think that these men should be punished, regardless of their nationality. On the other hand, I can’t and won’t understand the outcry that follows cases such as these, where Average Joe calls for the immediate expulsion of all immigrants and the closure of our borders.  I’m also pretty certain that not all crimes committed in Finland are by foreigners, or even that the majority of them are.  I can’t help but see a multicultural society as a richer society, even if some of our “guests” end up committing crimes.  After all, if you feel like an outsider for your whole life, as I’m sure some immigrants do, you may not be as motivated to lead a productive life as someone who has had the best opportunities for success since birth.  I know from experience that some Finns are quite unwelcoming and downright racist – how can you expect a person not to react to behaviour like that?  Insults and catcalls do not justify crime, but can definitely be seen as a contributing factor in the behaviour of immigrants everywhere.

In my humble opinion, reducing numbers of immigrants would only lead to a more closed society, where every foreigner would be made to feel like a worthless outsider – the kind of environment that breeds racists, because people are afraid of the unfamiliar.  In a society like that, there is no way for immigrants to feel at home and respect the country they live in, along with its laws.

People on the internet frustrate me!

Fat Cat

For a while now I’ve been entertaining the irrational fear that my older kitten is somehow, miraculously, pregnant. She doesn’t eat as much as the little kitten, and she just keeps getting fatter and fatter. Her belly actually looks round. Of course, it would be nigh impossible to be preggers, since the only male cat she has ever had contact with has been neutered. Also, she’s very young and I find it hard to believe that she could actually be pregnant. On the other hand, I do have the experience of one of my many cats in Botswana having kittens at a young age, way before we had even thought of spaying her… Is it possible for the neutering of a boy cat to go wrong? There are plenty of stories among humans of vasectomies not quite working as they should, is this the case with cats as well? I think my best bet is just to wait – she might just be a little podgy, and not pregnant at all. I just KNOW I’m going to spend the next few months searching the internet for ridiculous stories of unlikely cat pregnancies, and will get more and more worried as time passes.
It won’t be the end of the world if she happens to have achieved some kind of immaculate conception thing, since kittens are lovely. The only issue I would have with it is that there are hundreds of kittens born all the time who don’t have a decent home to go to, and I’ve already accepted that I won’t be letting my girls have babies for precisely that reason. So this would just be another unfortunate accident that results in more unnecessary kittens…

Oh, the stress of being a mother!

A New Surge Of Motivation

Over the past year, my motivation at university has been on a rollercoaster.  Sometimes I love it, sometimes I hate it, and mostly it’s just been close to an average.  I love it when I experience weeks like this last one; I have been watching various scientific television programmes and reading a Bill Bryson book about… well, about nearly everything to do with our planet and universe and life and so on.  Anyway, I’ve had these surges of motivation and exhilaration regarding a career in the life sciences that make me grin like a fool, because I want to be like all of these great people who loved what they were doing and were genuinely excited about the things they were studying.  So I’ve been grinning like a fool, watching music videos consisting of clips of Sagan, Feynman, Nye and the like, and I’ve been doing this for days.

I particularly like reading this Bill Bryson book because I know what he’s talking about, it’s my subject, it’s not like he’s telling me anything new (at least not in the biology sections of the book).  I like it because these are things I’ve learned at university; they’re the reason I went off to Edinburgh to study Zoology in the first place.  They’re the things that make me read science-y books in my free time, and reading them now has reminded me of how much I love academia and learning and knowing.

Thank you, Carl Sagan and David Attenborough and every scientist who has ever inspired me. You are who I want to be when I grow up.

Kitten Experiment and Creationism

I have finally compiled the result of my kitten experiment.  After hours (ie. 45min) of rigorous testing, I have come to the conclusion that my hypothesis was correct, apart from one point.  Children in the company of adults didn’t speak directly to me, but instead directed kitten-related comments to their adult companions.  One drunk man did make a comment about the kitten, but only in passing.  The only other adults who spoke to me were those who also had cats, and were therefore cat people.  Comments about my cat were invariably accompanied by anecdotes about their own cats.  I feel that I have found sufficient evidence to conclude that even with a kitten, it is near impossible to elicit a reaction from strangers.

In other news, today I had to speak to an excruciatingly annoying creationist, who tried to sell me his book about dinosaurs.  The basic premise of the book was that dinosaurs and their fossils are not in fact as old as most people would assume, but instead roamed the planet at the same time as our human ancestors.  He stated some shoddy reasoning about how some dinosaur bones have been found with red blood cells still intact – and how if you bury a chicken or cow bone, there will very soon be no blood cells left within the bone, therefore dinosaur bones aren’t really all that old.  I told him I wouldn’t be interested in buying his book, and he said that the reason I’m “afraid” to read it is because I am a biologist, and apparently biologists are always afraid that their “fake atheist theories” will be refuted.  An interesting theory.