Finagling for the upper hand is a mindset that is particularly pervasive on our tiny island, especially when it comes to interpersonal relations. It is pretty much a universal assumption among daters in New York City (and, to a lesser extent, the world over) that the person who holds the power in a relationship is the one who cares less. Over the last few months I have seen my girlfriends (and myself) carefully plot and deliberate over every move in fledgling relationships, artfully side-stepping any action that might indicate a level of interest above "lukewarm" in an effort to maintain an appearance of aloofness and elusivity.
The truth is that each of us, no matter how jaded our affectation, is afraid of being hurt by the object of our desire. The prospect of disappointment and rejection is so painful that we jockey to maintain our hold on the upper hand. Of course, this practice is ubiquitous (and it takes two to tango), so we end up in a contest of wills to see who can underplay their emotions the most. After all, the only thing more seductive than someone who likes us is someone who might like us. The saddest part is that, eventually, we convince ourselves (and our partner) that we really don't care (or come off as arrogant or disingenuous) and end up rejected anyway. What kind of "power" did we really have if we weren't able to keep from happening the one thing we sought the power to avoid?
In reality, the sort of "power" that we achieve by misrepresenting our emotions creates only the illusion of the upper hand. On the battlefield of love, this sort of strategic positioning may allow us to win the battle, but we will still lose the war. In order to win in the game of love, we need to harness the sort of true power that transcends mere manipulation. That is: the power of knowing ourselves and of knowing what we want, and the courage to demand it from others. My very wise friend RK once told me that we can only expect men to treat us as well as we treat ourselves. If we give short shrift to our feelings, how can we ever expect another to respect them (and vice versa)? How can we expect a someone else to be honest with us if we are not honest with ourselves?
The end result of approaching a relationship honestly and openly as regards our feelings may look a lot like it would had we approached it from a power perspective. We may still distance ourselves from people without sufficient feelings for us, but not in order to get the upper hand. Rather, it will be because we know that we are deserving of a devotion that is not honestly returned. Admitting to our own sensibilities encourages and allows others to admit to theirs, because in surrendering the upper hand, the struggle becomes moot. And, what insight into another's character might we achieve in seeing what they do with the power we give to them.
Ultimately, the joy in relating is rooted in the preciousness of our connections with one another. In making ourselves vulnerable to each other, we are better able to bond than we would be through thicker skin. Emotion is what binds us to others, not strategy or manipulation. And, the more we attempt to manage or contain our feelings, the more we diminish them. In the end, endeavoring to care less may buy us more power, but at what cost?
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Regardless of how I handle relationships from here on out, I'll gladly share my true feelings on these NYC hotspots, where the cost is always justified...
Stuyvesant St. at 9th St.
From the outside looking in (at the giant second floor windows), it seems warm and cozy. If you can manage to find the super secret entrance up the stairs and tucked to the side of the Yoko Cho Japanese restaurant behind an unmarked door, then you'll find that it is indeed. (Apparently an Angel's share is not a very big one.) This place has the mystery element down pat, not least of all because of the location. But it also has the snooty we-only-serve-cocktails-that-use-ingredients-you-can't-identify element down pat as well. The staff wasn't all that friendly. And the giant mural of multicultural cherubs is a little creepy if you really look at it. But, Angel's Share oozes pretense, and sometimes that's all you're really looking for.
Motorino
Motorino may be tied with Luzzo's (which I'll review another time) for the best authentic Italian wood-fired pizza in town. Or at least in the East Village. It's small and packed pretty much any time of year. Although, I hear that, in the summer, the line's down the block. They stick to a handful of the pizzas that they do best, from the basic fresh mozz and basil to the tangy Brussels sprout and pancetta. Whatever you get, I have a feeling you can't go wrong. The crowd ranged from groups of young people to intimate dates to older foodies. Although, I would limit your party to no more than four -- space is limited.
9th St. between 1st Ave. and Ave. A
It's a wine bar for people who don't drink wine. I don't mean that in a bad way. 10 Degrees has a nice wine selection and a fair knowledge of their stock. But, they also have a complete cocktail list that they execute very well. (I had one of the best Moscow Mules ever at this place a few weeks ago.) There are even a few beers on tap and some gastropub-type tapas. Like I said -- something for everyone. The bar is almost as big as the room, so it can get crowded rather quickly on a weekend, but is perfect at happy hour on a weekday.
* I have been informed that it was actually "I love you" but she'd been drinking Great Lakes Christmas Ale, which naturally makes everything bigger.
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