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By: Sasha Dhesi
“Arranged marriage.” The phrase probably causes a shudder down the spine of anyone from a culture who practices it but grew up in the West. I’ve seen countless Indian-American comedians joke that they wouldn’t even let their mothers pick their clothes, let alone their spouse, and it’s a sentiment I share. The cultural difference between my mother and I means we’re always at odds about things as trivial as how I should do my eyebrows to the more serious career decisions. But you’re speaking to a girl who has seen a dozen romantic comedies a year and can’t bring herself to make a Tinder account because it just feels too much like I’m giving up on romance. An arranged marriage just doesn’t make sense for me, but after watching my parents grow and change through their relationship, I’ve learned that an arranged marriage may have an undeserved reputation.
My parents don’t have a romantic story. There was no meet-cute, no elaborate story to satisfy my inquisitive ears growing up. No, my parents had a boring arranged marriage. My parents met a few weeks’ prior to their wedding and have been married now for about 22 years. With all that said and done, I couldn’t tell the difference between my parents’ marriage and those of my friends whose parents had “love marriages.” It became increasingly clear that what made their marriage work wasn’t some grand romantic love that carried them through every fight but rather a willingness to adapt.
Now it should be noted that many people stay in arranged marriages for the wrong reasons. In most South Asian cultures divorce is heavily stigmatized, so people often stay in unhealthy or abusive relationships out of cultural pressure. I personally know of many toxic couples that are only together to avoid the community backlash. These issues aren’t due to the arranged marriage though. I doubt anyone decides to abuse someone because they didn’t specifically choose their spouse. Arranged marriages don’t magically solve the issues that may arise, but it’s not necessarily the part of the equation that’s causing issues.
The main reason why my parents seem to do so well together isn’t because they’re made for each other or that they’re soulmates. Rather, they’re happy because they’re willing to listen to each other and adapt to each other. Because they had an arranged marriage, they had very little expectations about what the other would be like, and didn’t have these idealized images in their heads of what the other should be like. Instead, they went into their marriage willing to compromise.
We often go into relationships with this concept of the ‘perfect’ person, who accepts you for everything you are. But you’re never going to find that because you yourself are not perfect. It’s ultimately unfair to assume that someone should bear the weight of your flaws. This also ignores that you’re never going to find a person who doesn’t have some sort of tick that bothers you. Any sort of long-term relationship is a commitment to that person, warts and all, but we get so wrapped up in this ideal “the One” who’s going to take care of all of your faults without having any of their own. What you want isn’t a lifelong partner, rather someone who’ll let you stagnate completely. But those in arranged marriages usually don’t have this mindset. Dating usually requires a level of idealization to work, but an arranged marriage takes it out of the equation completely. Instead, you’re left with a person who you have to listen to in order to learn how to be with them.
While I don’t have some wonderful story to share about how my parents met, I do get to come home to them sharing a loveseat together while they watch the news, and listen to one lament about how they miss the other when traveling. While I am not going to have an arranged marriage, I don’t think we should bash them altogether. Whether it’s arranged or not, the only way to sustain a relationship is to willingly adapt to your partner and grow with them. For those who are comfortable with it, arranged marriages are definitely an option that can lead to an incredibly fulfilling life.
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The bar you’ve never heard of date
So you’re going out with a cool cat, eh? But you’re feeling a little scared that they’re going to find out that you have a tendency to talk to your cats for too long and you have an active relationship with the cast of New Girl? Well, first, tell them all of that because you sound like a dream. Second, dare to show them that cat lovers and New Girl diehards are cool too.
What screams “I deserve to be at this underground music show?” Culottes (Alice & UO Enalle Tie-Waist Culotte Pant, $82)! Topped with a bow. Like the present you are.
Amp up the sexy calf action going on with some sleek leather heels (Kelsi Dagger Brooklyn Lexington Heel, $145), and make sure they have a thick heel because you’re gonna be dancing like you know all the lyrics. Complete your otherwise black outfit with a blush tank featuring daring crochet work (Project Social T Andi Side-Tie Tank Top, $42).
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The Netflix and chill date
Hopefully this date was posed ironically, with the unintended consequence that the most notorious date of them all was born. Societal expectations for Valentine’s Day plans be gone!
But just because you’re breaking the Valentine’s norm, doesn’t mean you have to break every norm. Gettin’ sexy, for example, is a great norm. So what to wear?
Well, because you two are being so cheeky, go with the obvious route here: match your undies to your mood with cheekier undies (Everly Lace Cheeky Boyshort, $10), and then slip into a Parisian-looking bra (Kimchi Blue Serena Applique Bra, $49) that won’t sacrifice the comfort promised with Netflix and Chill evenings. Top the look off with some over-the-knee socks (Lightweight Button Thigh-High Thermal Sock, $16) and the fuzziest pair of slippers (UO Fluffy Slipper, $14.99) you have.
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The “I’m going broke” dinner date
You’re pulling out all the stops this Valentine’s Day, opting for an over-the-top traditional candlelit dinner at a restaurant where you will be the only ones who aren’t thirty or forty something. It’s fun pretending to not care about money, isn’t it? Yes, it really is.
Tonight, start with something that makes it look like you boldly accept all traditions that go along with Valentine’s Day – an elegant red number (Keepsake Interlude Lace Bodycon Dress, $219 or a shorter option, Silence + Noise Mekka Strappy-Red Dress, $109). But then bring out that twenty something rebellious nature and throw on a denim jacket that boldly displays your nineties roots (Kimchi Blue Woodstock Embroidered Denim Jacket, $129), a pair of ankle boots (Isabella Buckle Ankle Boot, $104) and some whimsical anklets (Polka Dot Anklet Sock, $16)!
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The you-suck-a-lot date
So your date is taking you to Hawaii? Fuck you. Wear this though: (Out From Under Printed Longline Underwire Bikini Top, $54 and Out From Under Printed Flat High-Waisted Bikini Bottom, $54).
Accessorize!
No outtift is complete without a few pieces of jewelery. Your date might have a piece waiting for you at your date, but it’s better to be safe than sorry, so don’t leave with an incomplete outfit. These small details can really tie your outfit together and take it to fashion-blogger level. Depending on your personality, it can be small and subdued, like a ring, but can also be a statement piece that’s big and sparkly.
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By: Mitali Chaudhary
Why does love feel like literally being stabbed by cupid’s arrow? Be it a bout of infatuation or a full-blown deep and passionate promise, at every step of the game, love seems to hurt just as much as it brings joy. To make things even more complicated, there isn’t just one type of pain that it causes. Instead, we get to experience an impressive range of conflicting feelings that are difficult to name, much less describe. But for all the lovers out there, we have made an effort.
Let’s start with the one the makes you feel the most insane: infatuation. This is essentially when you’re crushing hard on someone you often don’t know quite that well. Maybe they are in one of your classes. A popular activity in this phase is the social media, shall we say, “reconnaissance work.” During your research, you come across a picture of your object of affection with a (attractive) friend that suddenly makes you feel hurt. This is an interesting mix of about 78 percent cold, hard, green jealousy, ten percent indignation, ten percent hurt and two percent guilt (you stalker). “How dare they?” you might ask yourself, until you realize that they are human beings allowed to have friends and that they are not in a relationship with you.
Now let’s fast forward to when you and your darling are dating, and you think you might actually be in love. When you’re together, you’re over the moon, you have stars in your eyes and all that mushy stuff. You’re so happy that it hurts. There it is again, but this time it’s a faint pain at the back of your ribcage. Yes you’re both here, yes you’re having the greatest time, but that just makes you think more and more that you can’t live without them. Which is equally amazing and terrifying: are they the one? This pain is a strange one, as it’s 80 percent a feeling of being overwhelmed (in the best way possible), ten percent fearful and ten percent trusting. It’s pretty messed up.
Of course, it’s all roses and pink stuff when your love is right there, but when they have to go home to get some work done on their assignment (which you have to work on too, by the way, but you’ve been ignoring it because OMG IN LOVE), you feel pained once more. This pain is actually the most famous of all the love-pains: even Shakespeare thought to comment on it, as he penned, “Parting is such a sweet sorrow.” This ache is more of a piercing sadness, with about 64 percent abandonment, 20 percent grief, 12 percent powerlessness and four percent embarrassment (because you know that you’ll be seeing them the next day). This is amplified approximately 300 times when you’re in a long distance relationship.
Unfortunately, this analysis does nothing to demystify the complexities of and connections between pain and love. But it’s amazing to think that the strange and deep feelings this relationship creates has inspired thousands of years of human art and literature. These, undoubtedly, are reassurances to those suffering from love that they are not alone, and are, in fact, not insane.
Photo Credit: Stephen Phillips
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By: Julia Busatto
I used to be under the impression that the love of my life would be standing beside a keg waiting to fill my red solo cup with swamp water beer. He’d notice me although I was merely one in a sea of a thousand girls jammed into a tiny backyard. He’d stop getting “turnt” so he could actually remember my name the next morning, and text me although I refused to give up the goods on the first night. But if you’re looking for true love beside the keg, you’re probably looking in the wrong place. Red Solo Cups are called “solo” for a reason.
Finding true love at keggers is nearly impossible. Number one, it’s a kegger. The lighting is dark, the place is too crowded, the floor is sticky, and some girl just spilt her birthday cake vodka all over your DIY crop top. Romantic, right?
The first disadvantage is noise. I’ve tried holding substantial conversations with members of the opposite sex at keggers, and it proves to be a strenuous task. The EDM blaring in the background makes it impossible to block out the “unst” no matter how hard you try. Every so often the guy you’re talking to yells, “yo bro what’s up?” to guys passing by and they stop to engage in ritualistic manly greetings. Your vocals are in constant strain as you yell into his face, praying to god that you don’t spit.
The second disadvantage is environment. Keggers can be dark, dingy, and downright unflattering. Everyone is sweaty, and you constantly feel like throwing your elbows up to defend yourself from the shuffling crowds. It is hard to select a mate when you feel like everyone there has groped you. Not to mention, you feel like you have been cast into a pit of hungry vipers all waiting for the right girl to fall into their lap so they can take a bite. And the smell—yikes.
The third disadvantage is motives while drunk. I don’t want to make grotesque generalizations, but a lot of the men I’ve encountered at keggers aren’t thinking about taking me home to meet their mom, and vice versa. We’re just simply not interested in considering the person we meet at a kegger as a potential serious partner; they only seem like a temporary distraction that will keep us amused for the night. The environment is too causal and crazy, the people are too drunk, the beer too gross, and the smell too bad to take anything, let alone a potential partner, seriously. We’d rather return to the line to fill up our cup than continue talking to the person whose face we’ve spent the last ten minutes trying to decipher. We’re drunk, our perception is skewed, and the last thing on our mind is a dinner date and movie.
Save yourself the trouble and try the grocery store.
Gregory Wygoni
The Silhouette
Should you fall in love during your undergrad?
Such a question could extend to the generalization of whether one should fall in love at all. The argument goes as follows that when you fall (or rise) in love, you will do incredible things. You will become happiest you have ever been. You will share yourself with your partner. And you become a better person because they are better themselves. Contrarily, s you realize they don’t love you, they break your heart, you become phlegmatic and desensitized, and love – that feeling of happiness and satisfaction that you could be better because of someone else – is thrown out the window.
Love, then, becomes a question of uncertainty and fear. ‘What if it doesn’t work’ brings with it vulnerabilities and insecurities. You see the end. You see sadness. But oh, what if it did? What if it worked and we were in love indeed!
Such arguments do not necessarily apply to the undergraduate young adult though. Albeit it difficult to define a reason to attend undergrad at all (paying thousands of dollars for something contained in a Wikipedia article is hard to economically support), it is an important time for someone to develop individually and to realize what they want to do. During undergrad, a person often becomes whole in their messy transition to adulthood. It allows time for reflection to better understand themselves.
Yet when one inhales the airs of love, they suddenly become enwrapped in another person. Their concerns and priorities are at times put aside to serve someone else. And though this teaches the person admirable qualities of selflessness, most relationships do not last. The person becomes happy for a while, and then the relationship fizzles out or becomes a heart-ache. And here in this gnawing absence lies the question: is it better to end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to?
And I reply no. When you are young, you are malleable, and the growth you can receive with someone, if they are truly right, is immeasurable. If they break your heart, or you theirs, there is much time left to rebuild and restructure.
Even better, during undergrad there is little to rebuild, besides perhaps your beerpong table or your GPA. Perhaps the strongest argument for support of love in your undergrad is that it may work, and look how happy you can be.
Dear eighteen-year-old Kacper,
I hear you are in love, and know that this is just about the best feeling a person can be in. It’s your first, and it’s beautiful because she is.
Before her, you used to wonder what love was exactly. You didn’t have much of a definition when you first found yourself in her arms and she in yours, but you promised to at least to give her romantic poems and corny jokes until the morning came.
You waited six months to say you loved her and when you tried that first time, it came out choppy, roundabout, and borderline skeptical as though you were questioning yourself even then. You first started talking about the weather. Then the movie. Then you kissed her to stop blathering altogether, hoping that your lips smacking against one another was enough sound and fury for the time being.
At the time, she laid on top of you and you wondered if maybe Adam and Eve was a true story because you fit together so nicely, then you exhaled and she did too and you couldn’t tell if was your breath or hers that you were inhaling.
Then you said it. The words came and went suddenly and it was your three-worded masterpiece. It was all you needed to say, all you never could until right then, right there, no sooner, no later.
It was love.
Though the first utterance was guttural and nearly incoherent, I am writing to years after that very moment you sat on that couch with her, and I want you to know that love hasn’t changed much since that moment when you first gave it existence by finding the words for it. As far as I can tell, the best definition isn’t any different than a stuttering young eighteen year old can figure out.
For love is farting around a girl and then farting around with her after the smell abates. Sometimes she farts too, and that’s when you know it’s real. Because no matter what you produce or sounds you excrete, love is just hot gas that can eventually grow cold without the right fuel.
Everything you have done after that first invocation, Kacper, from these words to this letter to your entire existence, has been about creating this fuel for yourself and others. You want all to feel the luxury of love. But know that this feeling, overwhelming as it is now, will end. One day before you can notice it or find your voice or stop your hands from shaking, things will pass, they will change, and when it’s all over, all that is left in the aftermath is what you made of it.
So don’t rush to find the finish line, Kacper. Instead, cherish her. Laugh with her, talk with her, love her anyways.
I want you to grab her hand right at this moment, and I want you to feel it with all the sensation you can muster. Course your fingers along her palm learning the contours of her skin, then maze your way to her knuckles and feel if they have any callous and then move slowly towards her cuticles, soaking in all the tiny hairs grazing across her fingers, and stop there, at the beginning of her nail where there are small, red scars from her incessant picking and try to press your fingerprints into the wax of her skin so as to make sure she won’t forget you and you won’t forget her either. Then when you’re satisfied, when there’s a print of your uniqueness on her, do it all again. Do it until you have her memorized or until she says, “Kacper, we’ve spent all day in bed, don’t you think we should do something other than play with my hands?”
And if she doesn’t say that, then I want you to do whatever you want – fully, entirely, with the sum of everything you can give – because it is only you who knows what that is. For now, it’s her. It won’t always be, but it is now and don’t you damn well forget it. Don’t think about anything else except this moment, this second – the very limited centimetre of her life that she has given you and you have given her. Together, you have almost made an inch and that means something.
What? Only you will know, and maybe you already have figured it out. I mean look at how much you’re smiling. Look at how much she is.
Yet that smile will fade and the two of you will fade with it. During those times, I want you to persevere if not for yourself, then for her, and if that’s not enough, then for the both of you. That way, when you see her again, and when you see how different the two of you have become and yet how similar she has remained with those hands and those fingers and those cuticles – those scratchy-scratched cuticles – you’ll have stories to tell that are shown in your laughter and the tapping of your feet.
You’ll talk about life, and love, and how silly the two of you were back then, and there won’t be an awkward silence between the two of you. Talk. Talk. Talk. It’ll be a time-machine of words, and each one, hesitantly weighed and anxiously delivered, will be a ghost of love, a ghost of the two of you.
When it ends and the conversation wilts away, she’ll leave and the words will be all that remain. You’ll be left with your own and she with hers and the two of you will see if they still meant what they used to.
So, make sure that they will when that ending comes. Stay trusting with her because it’s better than anxiety, stay happy with her because it’s more fulfilling than sadness, and stay so hopefully in love with her because one day you won’t be. You deserve it, and she all the more.
Until we meet, warm regards - Kacper
Ana Qarri / Silhouette Staff
Dear Friend,
Between the workload and the complaining about the workload, I often forget to appreciate your existence. So I’d like to do that now.
I’m thankful that at this very moment you exist. I’m thankful that your existence overlaps with mine, in such a way that your existence makes mine much less depressing.
You, friend, somehow find me to be a pleasant human being. You’ve listened to me talk about trivial and important things alike, and have at some point thought “Hey, this girl is cool.”
That thought right there might not seem like a big deal, but it is. It is the biggest of all deals.
In addition to tolerating my character on a daily basis, you also do nice things for me. You’ve brought me food during all-nighters. You’ve let me sleep in your room when the fear of being alone suddenly hit me on a Tuesday night. You’ve let me cry next to you after arguments and breakups and whatever else it is I do to make my life more complicated.
Not to get delusional here or anything, but it seems to me like you think I’m worth something, which is pretty cool of you.
But, the actual point of this letter is that I think I might be platonically in love with you. It’s the kind of love that is sustained with rare hang-out sessions and the occasional conversation on the way to class. I might not see you often these days, but know that the thought of you makes me smile, or laugh hysterically, or stop and acknowledge your beautiful existence.
Come here and give me a hug.
Love,
Your friend
Brandon Meawasige / Senior Sports Editor
For all that is worthy of time wasted, engrossed in discourse and studied from every angle, there is one subject that no equation or research can solidify. There is no way to measure either the quality or quantity of love.
The closest classification widely considered to be accurate is that love is an emotion. Taken at face value, we are told that it is something we can feel. However, love itself is malleable and takes many forms.
To simplify it as an emotion has left love susceptible to frequently cloudy, general descriptions that are in turn often sought as a necessity. In search of it, people manufacture expectations - unrealistic and naïve in nature - only to have reality come to fruition. Media, those who surround us and most other edges of our frames of reference dictate what love should be.
Pardon the allusion to the famous 1990’s nightclub song, “What is Love?”, but it may indeed be the most profound question known to humanity.
Some say that it is trust, some say that it is respect and some say that it is an unspoken connection. It has been described as a can’t-eat, can’t-sleep, over the moon feeling in the pit of your stomach. Some say it requires that one is miserable and some say that it is does not exist in its truest form.
If you are constantly searching for love, certainly you will not find it.
Anyone who claims to ever have been in love will tell you that happenstance, serendipity and chance played at least some role in their experience. Some call it destiny and others consider it to be the result of circumstance.
Even further contested is the idea of “the one.” Some believe that you can only truly fall in love once while others believe it is possible to be in love may times within one’s life.
The pessimist will tell you that love is not guaranteed and the optimist may believe it exists to a flaw.
At the end of the day, some things go beyond explanation; love is one of them. Love itself may escape definition, as many who find themselves bound by its capture seek to escape ever falling for someone in the first place. What constitutes being in love? The answer is different for every person.
Values supersede all else for certain people, others require physical attraction and to a select few just being able to spend time with someone is enough to conjure the ultimate happiness.
Love is not one thing in particular and it is certainly more than an emotion. You feel it in your body, mind and soul. You hear it in the music you listen to and see it wherever you look when you can’t sleep. It’s in the words that you say and the words that you don’t. There is nothing better and at the same time there can be nothing worse. It can fix you and it can break you, but when you fall in love with someone you will know. Doesn’t matter what you call it or how you express it.
In fact, nothing matters when you fall in love.
Put all your cards on the table, go all in and hold nothing back.
Sarah O'Connor / The Silhouette
When I was little I was often at the misfortune of having burrs thrown in my hair.
There I would be, playing on the playground when some boys would run over laughing, pelting the girls with burrs as they stuck in their clothes and most importantly our hair.
We would cry whilst trying to pull the burrs out of our hair. We’d stop because of the pain. We’d run to a teacher, pointing at the boys secretly waiting for their punishment.
But the teachers would smile at us and simply say, “That just means he likes you.”
My parents thankfully thought different and would help pull the burrs from my hair, telling me to keep telling a teacher if it should happen again and if worse came to worse to tell the principal.
But like the teachers, the principal would say, “That just means he likes you.”
I never really considered how poor the teachers’ advice was until a few years ago.
Throwing burrs and small pinches are seen simply as child’s play.
It isn’t violence and the child shouldn’t be punished. It’s only a crush, that’s how little boys and girls show they like one another.
But when did violence become an acceptable excuse to show affection?
I’m sure some of you reading this think I’m over-exaggerating. They were only burrs thrown in my hair, you might say. That’s not violent; it’s child’s play.
But by accepting violence as an excuse for love, we allow ourselves to be led into abusive relationships.
By accepting violence as an excuse for love we end up believing that our spouse is just hurting us out of affection.
No one should be taught that violence against another person proves love. No one should have to feel stuck in an abusive relationship or guilted into an abusive relationship with false promises of love.
Abuse is abuse. Love is love. They are opposites and are meant to be opposites.
So to any future teachers reading this, to any future parents: if a child is upset because they have burrs in there head or because someone won’t stop pinching them don’t tell them that it just means the other person likes them. Don’t decorate the problem, fix it.
By: Matthew Greenacre
Maybe you met that person in one of your classes, or at a house party, or you might even have met them at TwelvEighty. Regardless, now they are at the back of your mind jumping up and down as you try to read your French literature or solve Maxwell’s equations. But why? What happened in your brain that caused your usually fervent focus on your GPA, the OUA finals, or your band’s next gig, to be replaced with rosy coloured thoughts of someone who is still a relative stranger (albeit a ridiculously good looking one)?
When they first walked up to you and asked to buy you a drink, you said yes partially because a free drink is a free drink, but mostly because within about 200 milliseconds your brain decided that it liked what it saw, heard and/or smelt (though still controversial, research from Heinrich Heine University of Dusseldorf and Duquesne University has suggested that humans may use a cocktail of pheromones to communicate on a subconscious level). Norepinephrine, the trigger to the fight or flight response is released, and you feel your palms become sweaty, your heart begins to race, your pupils dilate. At the same time your reward system is activated, dopamine is released, and you begin to feel a rush of euphoria. Parts of the cerebral cortex that you use to be logical are deactivated. You are suddenly likely to do something very stupid…
Of course, we are more than our animal instincts, and it might have been the tone of their voice that you found sexy or the wit and charm of their conversation compelling. Regardless, your brain has begun to make a connection between this person and the reward system of the brain. Whenever you are intimate with someone, your brain is flooded with either oxytocin if you are female, or vasopressin if you are male. This hormone rewires your brain’s reward system so that, according to the research of Helen Fisher at Rutgers University, the ventral tegmental area of your brain now makes and releases dopamine whenever you are around your crush or merely even think about them. Now you are really up a creek because this is essentially the same flood of dopamine, producing the same type of feelings, as if you were taking cocaine. You’re hooked.
But being in love is great. Hand-in-hand you can happily skip through fields of posies in giddy dopamine soaked bliss because the hormone cortisol that makes you stressed is lowered and suppressed by oxytocin/vasopressin so even the thought of that midterm the next day barely bothers you at all. You can stub your toe and barely feel a thing because reward centres being in overdrive affects the parts of the brain that control pain. At the same time the amount of a neurotransmitter called serotonin drops. Low serotonin is common in people with obsessive-compulsive disorder, and this is why you can’t stop thinking about him or her. Your brain chemistry has primed you to obsess over things in general, and you get instant rewards for thinking about your special someone.
Just like your relationship, your brain chemistry can have different outcomes. If not enough oxytocin/vasopressin is released, your partner will not be wired to your reward system, being with him or her will release less and less dopamine and the passion you once felt will fizzle out. If enough oxytocin/vasopressin was released in your brain then I sincerely hope enough was released in his or hers.
Heart-break is the very real perception of pain that a person gets once they are cut off from their loved one. Stress inducing hormones called cortisol releasing factors (CRF’s) build up in the brain during the relationship. Once the break-up happens and oxytocin/vasopressin is no longer being released, CRF is free to produce a wave of cortisol. You become hugely stressed. High levels of cortisol are linked to depression. Your obsession does disappear, but amplifies as you try and figure out how to win your beloved back. The high cortisol and low serotonin levels give you insomnia, leaving you to lie awake, churning over your loss. You are suffering from withdrawal, trying to figure out how you can get your fix again.
With time your brain chemistry will return to its normal levels, and sooner or later he or she will just be somebody you used to know. But in the mean time we know that it is a hell of a lot of cortisol to cope with and SHEC would love to help you out if you want to drop by.
