Good Friends/ Bad Friends

A few years ago, I was in a relationship with a guy who wasn't into me as much as I was into him. I only say this now, of course, in retrospect, because I'm able to recognize how much I feared facing the fact of his indifference. I had no problems being the initiator, planning out dates, thinking of ways to surprise him, making room in my life for him. It had occurred to me many times while we were together that I was putting more into our relationship than he was, but I never could bring myself to let him take the lead. Sometimes I would wait for him to make me dinner, plan a getaway, tickle my fancy. But I would usually cave and be the initiator once again. So long as he played along with my plans, I was able to ignore the glaring fact that I really should have confronted from the very beginning: Had I walked away from the relationship, he probably wouldn't have chased me. I was simply to afraid to put him to the test.

Largely because that relationship ended in exhaustive heartbreak for me, I've been much better about demanding more from men that I date. The relationship that came after was much healthier. I let him chase me, and then would reciprocate when I felt ready to. The relationship was a lot more equal, and I was able to rest assured that his actions would correspond to his feelings. I had expected that should that relationship end, it would be because one or both of us could not give anymore. And that's pretty much what happened. While I was deeply saddened by the end of that relationship, I didn't walk away feeling spent and stupid. I'd like to think that I'm now brave enough to walk away from any man who isn't into me, no matter how much I may be into him.

One would think that the expectation for reciprocity should be even easier to manage when it comes to non-romantic relationships. But these past several months have really made me consider what kinds of friendships I've maintained. It's always the worst and best of times that make me realize who my true friends are. And sure enough, these past several months have been at once the most exhilarating and the most exhausting for me. Some friends have been fantastic-- They've celebrated my graduating, getting a job, buying a home, at the same time that they've provided emotional support and companionship when I've felt just downright freaked out about all these sudden changes and transitions. Some other friends, however, have totally dropped the ball. They've not even sent a message of congrats or even acknowledged that this has been a really big year for me. Strangers have expressed more excitement over my accomplishments than some of these so-called friends have. Some of the very same friends who have been the recipients of my gifts and congrats when they've gotten married, graduated, had babies, bought houses, etc., have completely ignored my announcements. And even worse, some friends are even burdening me with their needs and problems at a time when dealing with my own life is already taking all of my energy.

I suppose everyone realizes at one point or another that some people simply suck. (I'm sure I've sucked, too.) I should be able to live with that realization, except that, as I did with my non-reciprocative ex-boyfriend, I think I'm bringing a lot of this sucky behavior onto myself. After all, it's not as if these sucky friends were ever really good friends in the first place. Through the years, I've been the one to round them up for our reunions during the winter holidays. I've been the one to send them birthday cards. I've been the one to fly across the country to their weddings. But if I never did, I think I would just never hear from some of these people. And, really, those friends who are laying their problems on me have always been better at taking than giving. I don't know why I haven't been better at setting my boundaries. I don't know why I haven't walked away from these friendships.

Actually, I know why. I keep holding onto these friends because it seems to be part of my nature to just shut up and do things that need to be done. Or, rather, I've been trained to do so by my parents. My mother will do it all for people-- She'll chauffeur, run errands, cook and clean up after. She'll do this for anyone who will ask, and only hopes that her efforts are appreciated. My father is more selective with whom he will serve, but when he does choose to do things for someone, he won't expect any reciprocity or even appreciation. He's been taking care of my greataunt, who regularly talks shit about him to other people and accuses him of stealing from her, simply because he knows she needs the help. He doesn't do this out of self-martyrdom or obligation or love. He just chooses to do it because he can.

So when I've complained to my parents about feeling slighted or burdened by some of my friends, my parents don't have a whole lot of sympathy to offer. My mother will say, "You should be a good friend simply because it's the good thing to do; Stop being so petty." And my father will say, "Just do what you are willing to do for your friends. Even if they don't acknowledge or appreciate it, just treat it as a favor to them." To my parents, friendship, love, marriage, family are all premised on simply doing things for people. And yes, oftentimes those people are going to take your kindness for granted, receive your help without offering anything in return. That's just a fact of life.

So maybe I need to figure out if that's how I want to conduct my friendships. That's certainly my first impulse, anyway. If a friend needs cheering up, I'll host a party. If a friend is stressed out about work, I'll turn my home into a workspace and make her dinner. If a friend is a hot mess, I'll do the dirty work. So long as I can do something, I'll try to. But unlike my parents, I get miffed if I don't feel sufficiently appreciated. And I get downright resentful if I feel that my efforts aren't being returned. I start thinking that that friend is simply stingy, lazy, selfish. I start wondering if he/she is a bad friend.

And the thing is, I know I'm being unfair in my resentment. First of all, I shouldn't get upset if I haven't even communicated to my friends that I am upset. And second, I may need to be better at recognizing the gestures of friendship my friends do offer, even if they're unlike mine. But still, conceding these two points doesn't make me any less disappointed.

Maybe there is something about this turning-point in my life that's making me ration out my emotional energy. And maybe I'm ready to only spend energy on my truly great friends, those who treat friendship as something to step up to, not just coast on.

Open Letter

Dear Econ Grad Student With Whom I Went On Two Really Awkward Dates About a Million Years Ago,

I'm very flattered that you still remember me and my name, because, quite frankly, I would not have recognized you had you sat next to me at the bar. And it's very cool of you to come up and talk to me, however briefly. That's way cooler than the friggin' owner of the bar, whom I had also dated about half a million years ago, who likes to pretend that he doesn't know me, even though I've patronized his establishment regularly for the past 8 years. Thank you, too, for offering to buy me a drink. Had I not already been drinking for much of the night, I would have accepted the offer.

But my saying, "Thanks, but I've already had a few beers tonight" doesn't necessarily mean that you need to cut the conversation short and just scamper off. You could have said, "How about I get you a Coke, then?" Or just continued chatting with me while I sipped at my glass of water. You could reciprocate my question of, "So, have you finished your degree?" with that very same question. Instead, you chose to randomly tell me that you spent some time in China (Was I supposed to be impressed by that fact? Because I'm Chinese and you're white?), and then ended the conversation without asking me what I've been up to. The fact that you then ran away with your tail between your legs only reminds me of why each of our two dates was really friggin' awkward, and why I was relieved when you didn't come around asking for a third.

What is up with dudes like you and the complete lack of follow-through? If you want to talk to me, just talk to me. If you want to buy me a drink, go ahead and do so. If you want to ask me out, just ask. Unless you're a major creeper (like the dude who introduced himself to me by saying, "I'm a pharmacist; What type of birth control are you on?"), I generally won't bite your head off or give you the cold shoulder. I will be my usual friendly, conversational self, as I believe I was with you tonight. I may decline your offer should you ask me out, but that's a risk that we all take, right? Grow some huevos and just take it.

I suppose it doesn't really matter that you totally punked out, given that I had already decided a million years ago that I didn't want to date you or even be friends. But you just reminded me of why I find meeting people so frustratingly exhausting. I cannot tell you how many times I've encountered guys who would initiate and then suddenly veer off course. I used to think that there must have been something wrong with me, that I was suddenly off-putting, that I smelled bad and didn't know it, that I was like that woman from that one episode of Seinfeld who suddenly looked ugly in a shift of lighting. But now, I really don't think that's the case. I'm fucking charming. And always polite. I have impeccable hygiene. So I have to assume that when guys who talk to me run away as if I were the plague, there's something wrong with them.

And you know, I'd might as well apply that assumption to men whom I actually do end up dating. Because the follow-through is key there as well. I've been dumped by a guy who decided after one year into our relationship that he "wasn't sure" if he was ever in love with me. I've been dumped by a guy who acted as though he couldn't get enough of me and then never talked to me again, not even to say "Thanks" when I sent him an email wishing him a happy birthday. I don't walk into every relationship believing that it will end in "happily ever after," but I do think that people should own their choices and actions. When I say that I want a follow-through, I mean that I simply don't want a relationship to end with a "WTF?" It is possible to break up with someone without making them feel as though the whole relationship was a lie. And it is possible, and even comforting, to convey to someone that you care about them even after the relationship is over. Certainly, taking off like a bat out of hell may seem to be the less messy of alternatives. But it also makes you a spastic asshole.

But I digress. What I meant to say was simply this: Thank you for validating my M.O., which is to no longer suffer wishy-washy boys kindly. I want and deserve a man who knows what he wants, and who knows that he wants me.

Best,

Me

The Real Estate Pain-in-the-Ass That Nobody's Telling You About

Let me just start with a disclaimer: I just became a homeowner with a whole lot of help from my parents, and I am in no way an expert on the ins and outs of buying a home. I'm just speaking as someone who has witnessed the buying and selling side of real estate this year, and who has come into contact with a little pain in the ass thing we'll just call the "10% rule."

With any home loan you apply for, the federal government (via Fannie Mae or Freddie Mac) has to back up the bank. I guess that's what it means for your loan to be FHA approved. As of about two years ago, the federal government has instituted a rule saying that it will not back up any loan that will be used to finance the purchase of a condo in which one owner owns more than 10% of the complex. As a result, banks generally won't bother issuing loans that will be used to finance the purchase of a condo in which one owner owns more than 10% of the complex.

This rule was put in place in response to the housing crisis. It makes sense in the context of giant establishments (say, hotels) in which one big investor may own a good chunk of the building. Say that investor owns 50% of the building-- If that investor goes bankrupt for whatever reason, the rest of the investors in that building would also get screwed. And so do the banks. So this 10% rule is meant to protect "little" owners, I suppose. It makes it difficult for any one body to own too much of one complex, balances out the distribution of ownership and power, and allows the banks to also protect their assets.

But even the most well-intentioned rules cannot be universally applied. This rule has been quite the pain in the ass for "little" people like my family. For a while now, my dad has been helping my greataunt, who is elderly and senile, with her estate. Seeing that she was running out of money, my dad applied on her behalf for a reverse mortgage. For some reason, this 10% rule came into the picture, and the banks denied her application, precisely because one owner in her complex owned more than 10% of the units. (This is also the fault of her homeowner's association, who didn't step in to prevent this one owner from purchasing that many units.) I don't understand why this 10% rule should apply to reverse mortgages. Seems like an exception should be made, especially for someone in my greataunt's situation. After all, what good is a house you've invested in your entire life if you can't live off of what it's worth once you're too old to support yourself?

My greataunt was not only running out of money, but she was also running out of the mental capabilities of taking care of herself. In order to facilitate her move into an assisted living establishment, my dad had to help her sell her condo. Sure enough, the 10% rule became a huge obstacle. No potential buyer would have been able to get a bank to approve a loan in order to finance the purchase. We were seriously worried that my greataunt would be stuck with this condo as her finances kept draining.

Miraculously, we did get a buyer who was able to pay in cash. So we were able to sell my greataunt's condo, and now she hopefully has enough cash to live on for the rest of her life. But had that buyer never come along, my greataunt would be in dire straits. And even though things worked out in the end, this 10% rule probably cost her tens of thousands of dollars. Given our desperate situation, we had to sell the place at a lower price than we could have had we been open to buyers who could get their loans approved.

This 10% rule continued to be a pain in the ass for my family when we went out to Cambridge to hunt for my condo. The first place we were interested in was one unit of seven, in a building owned by a developer who was selling each unit one buy one. The developer still owned five of the units, so, of course, he owned more than 10% of the units. We were told right away from the New England Moves, the mortgage company affiliated with Coldwell Banker, that they would not be able to finance this purchase. A local lender, East Cambridge Bank, would have been able to, but at a slightly higher interest rate. We did make an offer on that unit, but with some reservations. Even if I could secure the purchase with a loan from East Cambridge Bank, what will happen a few years down the road, when I want to sell the place? If the developer still owned more than 10% of the units, would I have trouble selling the place because no buyer could get a loan? Not willing to risk this, we made a low-ball offer (figuring that we'd get a counter-offer, and thus wouldn't be tied to the contract), and went looking for other units. Luckily, we ended up finding one that we liked even better and in building where this 10% rule wouldn't be a problem. But in the end we couldn't ignore the fact that this rule was affecting our lives at many junctures.

What's truly upsetting is the fact that no one seems to be upset or bothered by this 10% rule. The sellers I've come across during my real estate hunt completely dismiss it. And the morons in my greataunt's homeowner's association totally whitewash the problems the rule causes, in spite of the fact that not one of them will be able to sell their properties. You'd think there would be some amount of public outrage, at least enough for the federal government and the banks to tweak the rule, add an addendum or exception here and there, so that it doesn't end up screwing over average folks who need to meet simple goals like buying a home or selling it, in order to secure their futures. This rule is not helping or protecting people like me or my greataunt. On the contrary, it's only helping super rich people who could buy real estate in cash and bypass the banks entirely. Or, it's helping mafioso banks that are willing to issue unconventional loans at high interest rates. The 10% rule is a good idea gone very, very bad.

Well, maybe my little anecdote here can help spark some conversation at least.

Fuck You, Arizona

Dear Arizona,

You really are on a roll, aren't you? First you push SB 1070, which I don't find all that surprising. After all, the atmosphere in your state is such that angry white folks who call themselves "Minutemen" have felt empowered to dress up as law enforcement officers and murder innocent people (including a 9-year-old girl) in the name of "homeland security" and "border control." Of course you're going to enact an immigration law that gives local law enforcement officers the right to determine the citizenship status of anyone they detain or arrest. Before I find myself driving through your state, I'll make sure to tattoo my social security number on my ass. Just in case I get pulled over for speeding or something. Because lord knows that Asian folks don't look sufficiently "American" enough, either.

So to ride on the momentum of that racist bullshit, you decide to also pass HB 2281, which prohibits schools from offering courses that "are designed primarily for pupils of a particular ethnic group" or "advocate ethnic solidarity instead of the treatment of pupils as individuals." Not that the language of the bill explicitly says this, but HB 2281 effectively bans ethnic studies programs, such as the Tucson public school district's Mexican American Studies program. Reasons for targeting ethnic studies? The state superintendent has called such programs "ethnic chauvinism," and state senator Russell Pearce, the architect of SB 1070, calls ethnic studies "hateful speech" and "sedition."

As an instructor of Asian American Studies, I have to lament the passing of 2281, not because I had hoped to get a job as one of your teachers (hell, I'd sooner live in Texas), but because the racial tensions and rampant anti-immigrant sentiments in your state indicate that now, more than ever, is precisely when ethnic studies curriculum is needed.

First, let's just establish that ethnic studies is not now, nor has it ever been, an advocate of "ethnic chauvinism" or "hateful speech." It is the opposite of those things. As a discipline, ethnic studies was established by students, teachers, activists and community organizers who opposed racism in all its forms, advocated for human rights regardless of privilege, and recognized the experiences of all Americans, regardless of ethnicity, as having a legitimate place in American history. Yes, an ethnic studies curriculum is going to educate people on the fact that the 1790 Naturalization Act explicitly declared that only white male persons could apply for citizenship rights, that the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo ceded a large chunk of Mexico to the United States in 1848, that the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act was the first of many race-based immigration bans to be enacted in the United States, that it wasn't until the 1952 McCarran-Walter Act that race-based and national origins-based immigration legislation even began to be overturned. To teach these historical facts is to acknowledge the existence of white privilege, but to acknowledge the existence of white privilege is not equal to teaching hate. In fact, closer to teaching hate is the refusal to acknowledge this side of American history, for it is precisely ignorance that allows people to shout with anger and entitlement, "We need to keep 'our' country away from 'them'."

While we're on the topic of collective identification, let's touch upon the second gripe I have with HB 2281, which is its implication that "ethnic solidarity" is the antithesis of individuality. Ethnic studies is not just for "ethnic" people. In fact, it serves its purpose of equality and empowerment best when it reaches out to all people. To get rid of ethnic studies altogether does not treat each pupil as an individual. On the contrary, it erases the individual histories and experiences of so many people in America and serves one prominent collective: namely, white Americans. What collective are we identifying when we speak of "our" Founding Fathers? Do we not assume a collective identification when we study our Constitution, which begins with the words, "We the People"? I understand that buzzwords like "individualism" are a handy way to promote "American" values and undermine anything that smells of pinko-commie-socialism, which any critique of our hegemonic social order seems to be associated with. I'm just saying that that supposed opposition is a fallacy. As people who live and work within America's borders, regardless of our citizenship status, we are always called upon to be a part of collective. There's nothing seditious about acknowledging the different ways in which we experience being Americans at the same time that we respond to that call.

Though if I had known that ethnic studies was about overthrowing the government, I probably could have made my courses a lot more interesting...

So this is just my long-winded way of saying, Fuck You, Arizona. Go ahead and practice your racist laws and your historical amnesia. I can only hope that more of your brave citizenry will resist this kind of injustice and stupidity.

Sincerely,

Me