It’s a little known fact that I have a deep admiration for the actor Tom Hardy. But my love affair with the writer is even more profound and I’d like to share with you some of the Hardy-isms I’ve picked up from his works.

I have a book I record quotations in. Whenever I’m reading, if anything strikes me I can write it down to remember later. It’s what I imagine old people use instead of pinterest.

Here’s four of my favorite Thomas Hardy remarks.

On Committing

“But certainly, I was flurried in the inside o’ me. Well, thinks I, ’tis to be, and here goes! And do you say the same: say ‘Tis to be, and here goes!'” — Under the Greenwood Tree

Hardy’s voice of reason here is speaking in the context of wedded bliss, but I know many who feel similarly about any kind of commitment in any venture, romantic or otherwise.And what excellent advice this is indeed. It’s something I keep reminding myself of daily.

On the Qualities of Women

“The only superiority in women that is tolerable to the rival sex is, as a rule, that of the unconscious kind; but a superiority which recognizes itself may sometimes please by suggesting possibilities of capture to the subordinate man.” — Far from the Madding Crowd

I love a man who speaks well and jestingly of the male/female dynamic.

On Falling in True Love

“Theirs was that substantial affection which arises (if any arises at all) when the two who are thrown together begin first by knowing the rougher side of each other’s character, and not the best till further on, the romance growing up in the interstices of a mass of hard prosaic reality.” — Far from the Madding Crowd

Is it so wrong if I love a good rational romance?

On Recovering from Unrequited Love

“You may be thankful to hear that the one-sidedness I used to remind you of is disappearing from the situation. But you will always remain among the most valued of my friends, as I hope always to remain one at least of the rank and file of yours.” — One Rare Fair Woman

This last quote is from a collection of letters he wrote to his dear and valued friend. It does her credit that she saved so many.

To all my lovely friends in whatever stage of romantic bliss or ennui you currently reside, I hope Thomas Hardy offers you the lift that he so often does for me.

This topic has been on my mind since the hashtag first appeared, ever so long ago. I wrote this piece for my church newspaper and it was received well, so I thought I’d try it out here. A bit different fare, but I do hope you enjoy.

“Blessed” is one of those great Christian words that has caught on with society. You’ll see it all over social media, and it pops up often in conversation.

“It’s a sunny day and I’m outside to enjoy it! #Blessed”

“No traffic today. #Blessed”

“Test results came back negative. #Blessed”

But it does cause you to wonder, in those moments of pain and suffering, when the day is not full of sunshine, when you’ve gotten bad news, when you’ve surpassed your last straw, are you still blessed?

A friend of mine has been in the midst of a horrific ordeal over the past month. It’s the kind of experience that can make you angry, bitter, disillusioned — mostly when it comes to your relationship with God and how you feel your life ought to go.

But my friend is one of those thoughtful types, and from the beginning he had what I would consider a motto. “There’s nothing good about this, but I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything.”

He knew that he didn’t have to enjoy this trial. He didn’t have to be happy that it was happening, but he also knew that this experience had woken him up to a wealth of God’s love that he’d never before been able to witness. He understood he was blessed.

He knew it despite all the bad news, all the pain, all the suffering, all the confusion, and even through those dark moments when the fear and anger can be overwhelming. In those moments there doesn’t seem to be any blessings in sight.

That’s the real trick to blessings, I think. Blessings can be found in the moment, but more often than not we find blessings at the end of long, hard, scary roads.

Sometimes those roads seem never ending and we lose a bit of faith and hope. But it’s been my experience that often the harder I have to look for a blessing the more I treasure it.

We are children of a loving father. He is a God that loves to richly bless. It’s important that we never lose sight of his love for us and that we’re able to remember, despite the worst, “there may be nothing good about this, but I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything.”

Let us look for God’s blessings, for they are found in all parts of life.

The one thing I’ve learned in a few years of both giving and receiving advice, is that if it’s not requested, try to avoid it.

I’m a bit of a know-it-all so you can take my word on this.

Despite the above good advice, and despite the tendency of most humans I’ve encountered to agree with this (very American — don’t bother me and I won’t bother you) the one area of inescapable advice giving is the area of love.

Everyone has an opinion on love because everyone has experienced love to one degree or another. And because our own experience is so loud in our own ears, it is the thing we most often hear as truth universally. There is nothing more enjoyable than sharing your own experiences that correct the views of another person.

It is the unfortunate reality of the single that free advice on love is so readily given away. Just about anything a single person says about relationships, loneliness, commitment, or marriage is seen as an opportunity for advice.

I’ve often thought myself to be starting a perfectly reasonable conversation on what it means to be truly lonely only to find I’d stumbled into a top ten list of websites to find Mr. Right.

It makes single people wary of sharing their experiences because it apparently sounds very much like the dying warble of a lone love bird. It forces the singles to pretend there is nothing to share in their single journey — ever. That they don’t require companionship of any kind! That they’re not interested in men or women, humans, cats, macrame.

It requires avoiding hilarious anecdotal stories about things like choking to death at home, hanging out alone on a Friday night, going stag to a wedding, moldy leftovers, etc, etc, etc.

Romance for the romantically settled is always a favorite topic because it allows them to indulge, even if briefly, in a superiority of situation. And from their vantage point they can naturally see how you are “failing”. So even if you are interested in discussing — from an academic standpoint the optimal time suggested for a relationship before it turns from dating to marriage — you risk a sermon on your deficient qualities you had no intention of being reminded about.

I’m afraid that my current reality (which I will do no one the injustice of supposing is a universal truth) is one in which I have a collection of neutral topics at the ready for most acquaintances. Politics, religion, fashion, and films — to name a few. And I reserve the topics of love and romance for those who are only ready to have a good laugh.

For that is all I am ready to accept from romance myself.

I don’t fly a lot, but when I do fly my prayer is simple: “Please God, don’t let any men sit next to me.” This wasn’t always my prayer. It used to be “Please God, let an attractive man sit next to me.” Now I send up a little cheer when the 50 year old woman sits beside me with her crossword puzzle.

Back in the day, I sat next to an attractive man. I don’t want to name any real names, so let’s just call him “Dan da Man” because that’s what he called himself online. Not my usual type, but I’ve been told to “give men a chance” so I did.

A quick word about giving a guy a chance. It’s going to backfire. Maybe not right away, like it did with me, but it will, at some point, be a most regrettable decision.

Dan da Man did not introduce himself this way. He merely offered me his coat to sleep on. A gentlemanly gesture which endeared him to me somewhat. If he’d had a pillow stuffed in his jacket that would have been more endearing. I worked at not drooling on his jacket. We talked as the plane descended and though he laughed at absolutely nothing I said, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and gave him my email address.

A word on giving someone the benefit of the doubt. Altruism, while admirable, is perhaps the wrong tact to take with someone you’ve known less than two hours.

I wasn’t convinced I wanted to hear from him later, but I figured I’d risk it, what the hell, right?

A word on a “whatever” mentality. It’s never as innocuous a situation as you’ve mentally prepared for.

Dan “da Man”, as his facebook account named him, sent me a message describing the …visceral and tactile pleasures he’d gotten from sitting next to me. But the cherry on the sundae was that he described my “thy” brushing against his. “Thy” is apparently “da Man” speak for “thigh”.

A word on misspellings. Sometimes it’s totally adorable…when you’re five. When you’re an adult sending another adult the opening passage to a harlequin romance novel she apparently stars in, it kills the mood and your chances.

So now I recount Dan da Man for humor and as a reminder that sometimes when you ask God for something he’s going to have some fun with it. And so should you.

In honor of the Oscars this past weekend, here is my own enduring list of actresses who were the epitome of cool in some of the least impressive (or more impressive) and most awesome movies.

Or as I think of it, my list of…

Moxie Movie Mavens

In no particular order:

• Holly Gennaro McClane (Die Hard, Bonnie Bedelia) – John McClane’s wife only appears in 2/5 of the Die Hard franchise, but she’s in the best one for a reason. She’s part of what makes it the best. Cool, collected, sharp, confident, and opinionated, it’s easy to see why she and John fell in love, and why it’s hard for them to stay together.
  • Favorite trait(s): Unshakable confidence and a cool head in the midst of chaos.
  • Favorite line: “Only John can drive somebody that crazy.”
• Rebecca (3 Men and a Baby, Margaret Colin) – Tom Selleck’s on-again-off-again love interest, and the epitome of what the 80s could show us in female empowerment. When Peter calls her in for emergency baby services, she reminds him that despite possessing a uterus, she doesn’t have a competent working knowledge of infants, and then she leaves on a date with a cellist.
  • Favorite trait: Humorous observation of three grown men with childish tendencies
  • Favorite Line: “Peter, you’re a very big boy, you’re very capable, and you’re going to get through this just fine.”
• Liz (Sneakers, Mary McDonnell) – Robert Redford’s former flame, Liz and Martin retain a distant but banter-filled friendship. Intellectually perhaps his superior, there’s a clear mutual respect for each other’s abilities. She’s refined, graceful, and almost snobbish, but her presence keeps the boys’ club on their best behavior.
  • Favorite trait: Quick wit
  • Favorite Line: “I have a new group of gifted children now and I like the fact that they’re under 30.”
• Liz (The Philadelphia Story, Ruth Hussey) – The jaded, wry photographer who despite past experience remains hopeful and romantic. She’s patient, thoughtful, and smart.
  • Favorite trait: She may be a step ahead of everyone else, but she’ll wait for them to catch up and not race ahead alone.
  • Favorite Line: “Where’s my wandering parakeet?”
• Billie (The Sting, Eileen Brennan) – Madame of a brothel, she’s got a head for the shady sides of business, doesn’t mind running cons on the off days and can out bluff and out maneuver even the most determined cops.
  • Favorite Trait(s): Cagey and streetwise
  • Favorite Line: “Well why didn’t you say so? I thought you were a cop or somethin’.”
• Frau Blücher (Young Frankenstein, Cloris Leachman) – Cloris Leachman is that perfect amount of insanity too few roles call for. She simmered with crazy and played the Frankenstein castle-keeper with restrained lunacy.
  • Favorite Trait: Her aggressive hospitality
  • Favorite Line: “Say it! He was my…BOYFRIEND!”

None of these women leave me with a tragic feeling at the end of the movie. Most of them are the only woman in the movie and admirable because they don’t play second fiddle to the boys, but hold their ground. You get the feeling that though the movie may have been able to carry on without them it would undoubtedly have been a loss.

In Part II we’ll get to those female titans of the screen that blew the roof off some of my favorite movies. Hint: you’ll see one of these films mentioned again.

The English language is amazing. Words and phrases take on multiple meanings all the time. These variations and transformations make life more colorful, language more refreshing, poetry more meaningful. But for the most part, we’re interested in transforming language for one purpose only:

Sexy fun times.

Listing all the euphemisms you know for penis, for example, could take hours. Pro-tip: always a great road trip game.

The activity of sex as well is a sea of euphemistic talent. Just ending a sentence with “if you know what I mean” can make anything dirty. Side note: My mom actually tags this phrase on the end of sentences all the time, but with no hidden meaning. She literally means “did you understand what I just said”, nonetheless, for a split second I am always scandalized.

Normally, I don’t find euphemisms something to take a stand on. Who cares? But recently I discovered that “Netflix and chill” does not mean “watch Netflix and hang out”. Too far, Sex. Too far.

I take my movie watching and leisure time seriously, even when I’m watching horrible films, I am a serious movie-watcher lazy person. And I use language that reflects this. “Netflix and chill” genuinely reflects my approach to watching Netflix in my sweatpants on the couch.

You can imagine after I was informed of its secret hidden meaning the number of conversations I began to mentally retrace. (Dear God, did I post that on Facebook???)

Listen, for years I’ve handled the fact that my favorite activities have been absconded for innuendo and sex.

I have resigned myself to the fact that “Come up for a nightcap” doesn’t mean “let’s have a drink before we part for the night”.

I’ve mourned that “sleeping together” doesn’t mean sharing a mutual delightful slumberous time.

I’ve long since gotten over the fact that “intercourse” can no longer mean talking.

And my adoration of baseball has long since been sullied by “getting to third base”.

But listen to me internet, you cannot have my Netflix and chill.

You’ve already ruined milkshakes, putting them in the yard and such.

What’s next? Are you going to steal my ability to get a burger and fries?

Can I no longer go “to the salon”?

At least Flight of the Conchords only took “Business Time”.

I want to be able to have a night cap, some intercourse, and then Netflix and chill.

But fine, sex. Fine. I guess I’ll just settle for having a drink, some conversation, and then watching a movie that streams online while I spend time with a friend.

Don’t you dare ruin that sentence for me, internet. I’m watching you.

A couple weeks ago I was scrolling through facebook because my life is made up of free time and what else am I going to do, when I saw a meme about motherhood.

I love memes. Every time I see a meme I will stop and read it. I can’t help it. It’s in big print. It reminds me of my favorite form of literature: children’s books. This one featured a person laughing and the tagline was something like “When someone without kids tells me they’re exhausted”.

Ah. My favorite form of bonding. Competitive suffering. The gist is pretty simple: my life sucks more than yours. The good news is that you don’t have to have kids to do this! Anyone can compete! But parents always win. (they also compete amongst themselves: working moms vs. stay at homes, moms with absentee husbands vs. moms with asshole husbands, etc.)

Memes (in my two minutes of research) included the “You think a 40 hour work week is a job? HAH” and the “I don’t have enough time to be exhausted” uber champion who will win by… dying first, I imagine.

What all these memes really manage to accomplish is the backhanded self-compliment. It’s a humblebrag at the end of the day. “I’m married and fertile and my kids are healthy and vital and I have time to also post that I’m so busy with my awesome life I’m tired.”

Being single tends to involve a lot of feeling inferior.  After all, we’re not “winners.” “Winners” get married and have kids.

Given that singles are then obviously the losers, you’d think we’d get to win at losing. In fact this is not so. Because as we all know, with more blessings come more complaints about the blessings. If your children aren’t the problem than your spouse is. Single people simultaneously have it worse and better. and Marrieds and with kids have it worse and better too. It all depends on what each party is trying to “win”.

If a single person is tired, they’re immediately trumped by someone who says “you think taking care of yourself is hard? Imagine taking care of little people.”

How right you are. Clearly my exhaustion doesn’t exist.

How wrong it is to let someone else’s comments belittle my own experience. When you’re single it’s easy to feel inferior, the internet is waiting for you and expecting you to feel inferior, and the reality is most people don’t realize that’s what they’re doing. No one ever means anything personally, and yet it’s very hard not to take everything we read and make it personal.

We’re now at a point in society that saying “I’m tired” is the impetus for someone else to explain to you how much more tired they are and how you’re lucky for your amount of tired and not theirs. It’s not even a real competition. It’s like two people who are broke trying to decide who has less money. Everyone’s a loser.

Someone else suffering does not negate yours, and yours does not trump someone else.

We do a disservice to our fellow humans when we compete instead of commiserate. Think of the missed opportunity! The fact that you could have something in common with someone whose lifestyle is completely different from yours, why not take advantage of that?

Getting to know how other people function is remarkably refreshing. And often reminds you to be thankful for the reasons for your own exhaustion, privately.

Life’s hard. It’s hard for everyone. Isn’t that common ground enough?

Valentine’s Day is next week Sunday. In honor of this holiday I went and watched Nicholas Spark’s The Choice with the intent to write a scathing review. I even briefly considered doing a compare and contrast to The Revenant because who doesn’t love a challenge?

But. I’ve been told by multiple sources that attacking a Spark’s movie is my beating a dead horse. And besides, why start pre-Valentine’s Day with cynicism?

So here’s a look at my favorite love story: Disney’s Robin Hood.

What I love about Robin Hood is the several love stories at play. It isn’t just the sage of lovers (though Robin the fox is arguably the greatest romantic Robin Hood in the plethora of big screen, green clad, arrow wielding swashbucklers — I’ve discussed this and made lists with friends, you can trust me.), it’s also the love story of two enduring friendships, and the mentorship of a young rabbit.

Don’t roll your eyes! I’m serious here! Let’s take a look at these one by one:

Robin and Little John: I love movie bromances. Un-apologetically. What’s great about Robin and Little John in this movie is the conversation, the camaraderie. They always move in sync, they play, they have philosophical discussions, and they’re on the same page. If anyone is rooting more for a Robin and Marian romance than Little John, it’s Lady Kluck.

Important quote: So she’s got class, so what?

Maid Marian and Lady Kluck: Lady Kluck is Marian’s lady in waiting. She’s her confidant, counselor, and conspirator. Lady Kluck’s pluck (I’m sorry, I did that on purpose) is only rivaled by Marian’s adventurous and mischievous spirit. Though under Prince John’s thumb, they make the best of it together.

Important quote: As your lady in waiting, I’m waiting!

Robin Hood and Skippy: Skippy clearly idolizes Robin, and for good reason. Robin Hood gave him the best birthday present ever. Skippy becomes a devoted follower, and Robin cares for him like he would a young apprentice. He gives him the tools of the trade, and it’s Skippy who’s on the shore waiting with Little John praying for Robin’s successful escape. And in the end, it’s Skippy who volunteers to babysit the Fox litter, in an adorable dose of animal irony.

Important quote:  Well, Robin Hood’s gonna have kids, so somebody’s gotta keep their eye on things.

Maid Marian and Robin Hood: Hands down one of my favorite romantic pairings. First of all, there’s no real angst or uncertainty. None of this “maybe for your sake we’d better…” tripe that you see so often in movies today. They knew a good thing and they never forgot it. Though they’re both pretty romantic individuals, they’re also practical. Who could forget them planning their honeymoon as they fight the sheriff’s men? And then in the forest during their romantic walk home, Robin fashions a ring out of a flower and a willing firefly. I mean. COME ON.

Important quotes: Marian darling, I love you more than life itself.

He carved our initials on this tree. I remember it so well.

Ahh sigh. Love in all its guises.

Special shout out to the church mice and their love for each other and the poor. And an extra special shout out to the only non intoxicated Friar Tuck on record. His passionate love of the put-upon is always wonderful to watch.

I’m not what anyone would call “athletic” or “outdoorsy” or “mobile” but I have been known on occasion to put one leg in front of the other in a not-indoor capacity. And like any  other activity that involves encountering humans, I have a walking related pet peeve.

I know that not everyone is blessed with spatial awareness, but it boggles the mind when people treat the sidewalk as their own personal footpath.

You know the people I’m talking about — you’re walking on the right hand side of the sidewalk and they’re coming toward you. No matter how much you try to walk in a thin straight line, one foot directly in front of the other, you’re still taking up too much of their sidewalk.

Whether this be the couple that refuses to unlink their hands for a brief moment to walk single file, or the friends too absorbed in their own world to notice another human now walking in the ditch next to them, I definitely get the message — I am the lone sock without a match. I am the bottom half a hot dog bun. I am a single chopstick. Into the ditch I go.

I know it’s selfish, this irrational desire I have to walk on the sidewalk when I go outside, but I can’t help it. I grew up using them and counting the cracks in the pavement and singing songs about not breaking my mother’s back. The grass didn’t come with any songs. Or the ditch. I’ve got an attachment to it now.

For me it’s the epitome of that “us vs them” bitterness that can crop up between coupled folks and single folks.

If you’re in a couple perhaps you’re wondering why that single person so dogmatically insists on breaking up the closeness the two of you are sharing. After all, you’ve passed a lot of singles on the sidewalk. Are you supposed to unlink your arms for all of them? Can’t they just be good enough to ever so quickly walk on the side of the road? I mean, it’d be nice to not go to all that extra trouble of switching up your pace to walk behind someone and then catch up again!

Really what it always boils down to is a lack of understanding, and a lack of consideration on both sides.

Have you ever walked past someone walking their dog? Now they get it. Every time I pass a dog walker they are the first to move off the sidewalk. Some even stop walking and hold their dog on a tight leash. In part it’s because they’re not just thinking of themselves, but also of the reaction of their dog and the potential unknown reaction of the pedestrian passing. They’re absorbed in otherness so that they avoid any kind of incident.

How hard can that possibly be? I ask this mainly of myself, also consciously aware that the next time I go outside and I’m confronted with a couple I’ll have to work through that unnecessary, irrational resentment that they think they’re entitled to more of the world than I am.

After all, while we’re both fighting over the concrete, all three of us miss out on that gorgeous soft green grass.

Maybe not NOW, in February, but give it a few months.