Alicia Freeman is an English senior and Mustang Daily relationship advice columnist.
As an eccentric personality, I accept I may be the only person who enjoys my jokes. I also accept, in general, I am a bit awkwardly weird. In life, the slogan from others is to just be yourself and good things will happen. In this column, I am being myself: timid, awkward, embarrassing, long winded, lonely and a general future spinster cat-lady.
However, with all of that said and done, I do not call people names. I enjoy the occasional (a.k.a. constant) talking smack, but I do not need to tear someone else down to feel better about myself. In fact, I have always felt name calling immature.
Now, I’m not saying I’m the most mature person out there. I have no idea how to talk to boys, I shrink away from conflict, and sometimes, I deliberately say hurtful things. An example of this came not too long ago with my ex-boyfriend. I left him last November, before Thanksgiving, after two-and-a-half years together. I am that girl who takes a man’s heart and stomps on it, as well as being an uninteresting weirdo.
We moved down to sunny San Luis Obispo from the west shore of Lake Tahoe in fall 2009. After we broke up, we awkwardly and tumultuously lived together for close to a month. Once I finally moved out, every time we saw each other a fight would ensue about my communication issues and his feelings of being used. He, however, did not want to remain friends if I would not sleep with him.
A few weeks ago, I went to pick up an evading-toll ticket from our formerly shared apartment. A migrating and trademark fight ensued, leading me into my car for a quick getaway and him yelling at me in the street. He proceeded to call me a bitch and proclaim he “couldn’t believe” he’d been in a relationship with me for two years. In response, I sped off with the hope that I ran over his foot.
He called me three times to apologize; I did not answer. I erased his number, his messages and his whole family on Facebook, as well as returned all of his clothing that I somehow still had with a nasty note. I called him a spoiled brat, said he never knew me at all and swore I would never talk to or love him again. I also insinuated he ruined a brief love affair just to rub it in his face that there had been one.
This is my only advice for the week: tearing others down, even if it’s because a former love called you a bitch in the middle of the street, just shows immaturity and does not soothe your anger, constant state of sadness or insecurity. Rather, it makes their wounds deeper. Now, I set off to be weird somewhere else, you all can go out there and make mature decisions, and we can meet back here next week to hug it all out with more letters.
I’m sorry but who wants to listen to relationship advice from someone who describes themselves as “a general future spinster cat-lady” and who apparently has “no idea how to talk to boys.” This ground breaking article which advocates to not call people names–never heard that before. I don’t know why anyone would want advice from someone who admits that she has know idea what she’s doing. I’m sick of reading her personal rants; good advice columnists know to avoid going on and on about themselves. Additionally, this column has become increasingly heteronormative. Basically, the Daily had a good thing going with it’s last relationship columnist. The new format and new writer are simply terrible.
Cool story bro
Not interesting or entertaining and now just depressing.
You spend half the “column” bashing yourself and telling us how totally unqualified you are, and then the other half has nothing to do with what the title implies at all! This isn’t a blog entry, and if you’re going to play the part of advice columnist, well then DO IT and stop doing the “OMG, I’m so unqualified blah blah blah” spiel. If you were that unqaulified, why in the world did they even hire you, and why did you take the position of the author of the relationship column?
That’s like being the author of a cooking one and then telling people you just eat fast food everyday instead because cooking terrifies you.
HOW does “talking it out” make it worse? You didn’t really cover that at all except extremely vaguely.
As it is written, your column is about how name calling is bad, not how talking things out makes fights worse.