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Getting One’s News from Alexa
May. 23rd, 2019 08:15 amA. often rushes over to the Show (Alexa device with a video screen) in the kitchen to touch the screen or ask Alexa to read her the story that just displayed a headline. Usually this is then followed by a request for an explanation of the entire story, because generally speaking she (she is in 4th grade so this is unsurprising) is unfamiliar with a lot of the people who have died, R-rates movies that are being referred to, etc.
Today, however, a headline got my attention: Natalie Portman Denies Having Dated Moby
Now, I lived through pretty much the entire time that Natalie Portman might conceivably have dated anyone, and she was mind-bogglingly famous through that entire time, and not a single whiff of any possible rumor of such a relationship or proto-relationship ever crossed my path, plus, super weird to have a headline about a non-existent relationship that must surely, at this point, have been the better part of 2 decades in the past.
So, what?
Turns out Moby has a post-music career of writing memoirs of dubious (<— my assessment) factual accuracy, the primary appeal (<— my conclusion based on reading older reviews) of which is hilarious and implausible descriptions of him doing gross things while altered. (Dating Natalie Portman would, of course, not be gross.) This time around, he apparently said he briefly dated Natalie Portman. The details of this from his perspective involve descriptions of her visiting him backstage. She (headline above) says, nope, sorry, did visit him backstage, he got creepy, I realized he had the wrong idea and backed away.
Look, this is why people in their 30s and older should not attempt complicated social interactions (read: any, other than publicly supervised group conversations ideally involving nothing stronger than tea; that should cover all the, hey, I am a teacher objections) with teenagers. Honestly, even parents should exercise caution in having complicated social interactions with their own teenagers. It rarely goes well. There are limited exemptions for people in a mentoring role having a confidential conversation (hey, stop doing that shit or you might wind up in jail or worse). Moby did a bad in this context; he has a lot of company. That is actually not my point here, but I figured I would make it while I was here, you know, as a favor to other people who perhaps did not get the memo.
What my point actually is, circles back to the headline. It is, alas, necessary to have headlines in which some woman says she never dated some man, because there are a lot of men out there — not all men, and, sure, probably predominantly cismen — who think that dating can be defined unilaterally. As in, we had a drink together, ergo, we were on a date. When the other person in this having a drink says, um, no, we were just having a drink, the correct response is not, hey, that was too a date! It is, my bad, we were not on a date, we were having a drink. It takes two to have a date. If one person says it was not a date, it was not a date. And if you would really like to socially make your point, ha ha, really, you think that was not a date, then the correct covering response is further elaboration of the activities involved: “Oh, gosh, I am sorry. My bad. That was not a date. That was a we spent the night talking until 2, had all kinds of fun that a polite person does not mention in polite company, and swore undying love to each other, and followed it up with leaving toothbrushes and changes of undies at each other’s place. Not dating. For the most memorable 7 months and 3 days of my life, but, you know, who is counting, because it was not a date. That thing.” But in every single case I have ever heard of — including Creepy Moby, and really, it explains why he is now resorting to writing memoirs with titles like _It All Fell Apart_ to remain in the public eye / pay the bills / attract further narcissistic supply / whatever this is actually all about — when you get the details on the “date” that is contested as a date by one (or more) parties, it does not actually sound like much of a “date” at all.
I would say, Poor Natalie Portman, I am sorry that Moby’s memoir happened to her, but instead, I will say Thank You, Natalie Portman. Thank You for giving us all the opportunity to have the, let us call it a learning opportunity, because it is not going to be a conversation, in which women tell men, yeah, no, that was not a date, I do way more intimate things that are tons sexier with people who are not my gender preference. That was so not a date, that I would sooner refer to the interaction, such as it was, as wiping gum off my shoe, than to call it a date.
Today, however, a headline got my attention: Natalie Portman Denies Having Dated Moby
Now, I lived through pretty much the entire time that Natalie Portman might conceivably have dated anyone, and she was mind-bogglingly famous through that entire time, and not a single whiff of any possible rumor of such a relationship or proto-relationship ever crossed my path, plus, super weird to have a headline about a non-existent relationship that must surely, at this point, have been the better part of 2 decades in the past.
So, what?
Turns out Moby has a post-music career of writing memoirs of dubious (<— my assessment) factual accuracy, the primary appeal (<— my conclusion based on reading older reviews) of which is hilarious and implausible descriptions of him doing gross things while altered. (Dating Natalie Portman would, of course, not be gross.) This time around, he apparently said he briefly dated Natalie Portman. The details of this from his perspective involve descriptions of her visiting him backstage. She (headline above) says, nope, sorry, did visit him backstage, he got creepy, I realized he had the wrong idea and backed away.
Look, this is why people in their 30s and older should not attempt complicated social interactions (read: any, other than publicly supervised group conversations ideally involving nothing stronger than tea; that should cover all the, hey, I am a teacher objections) with teenagers. Honestly, even parents should exercise caution in having complicated social interactions with their own teenagers. It rarely goes well. There are limited exemptions for people in a mentoring role having a confidential conversation (hey, stop doing that shit or you might wind up in jail or worse). Moby did a bad in this context; he has a lot of company. That is actually not my point here, but I figured I would make it while I was here, you know, as a favor to other people who perhaps did not get the memo.
What my point actually is, circles back to the headline. It is, alas, necessary to have headlines in which some woman says she never dated some man, because there are a lot of men out there — not all men, and, sure, probably predominantly cismen — who think that dating can be defined unilaterally. As in, we had a drink together, ergo, we were on a date. When the other person in this having a drink says, um, no, we were just having a drink, the correct response is not, hey, that was too a date! It is, my bad, we were not on a date, we were having a drink. It takes two to have a date. If one person says it was not a date, it was not a date. And if you would really like to socially make your point, ha ha, really, you think that was not a date, then the correct covering response is further elaboration of the activities involved: “Oh, gosh, I am sorry. My bad. That was not a date. That was a we spent the night talking until 2, had all kinds of fun that a polite person does not mention in polite company, and swore undying love to each other, and followed it up with leaving toothbrushes and changes of undies at each other’s place. Not dating. For the most memorable 7 months and 3 days of my life, but, you know, who is counting, because it was not a date. That thing.” But in every single case I have ever heard of — including Creepy Moby, and really, it explains why he is now resorting to writing memoirs with titles like _It All Fell Apart_ to remain in the public eye / pay the bills / attract further narcissistic supply / whatever this is actually all about — when you get the details on the “date” that is contested as a date by one (or more) parties, it does not actually sound like much of a “date” at all.
I would say, Poor Natalie Portman, I am sorry that Moby’s memoir happened to her, but instead, I will say Thank You, Natalie Portman. Thank You for giving us all the opportunity to have the, let us call it a learning opportunity, because it is not going to be a conversation, in which women tell men, yeah, no, that was not a date, I do way more intimate things that are tons sexier with people who are not my gender preference. That was so not a date, that I would sooner refer to the interaction, such as it was, as wiping gum off my shoe, than to call it a date.