Go to a Museum on a First Date
They all have a museum style. Maybe you are the type of person who needs time to stand in front of each piece of art, look at it, read the description, take in some more, discuss your thoughts and feelings with the museum visitors around you, backing off a little and muttering, “Mmm, yeah.
Or perhaps you are the type of person who looks at a work of art and says, “This is definitely a work of art,” or “I like it,” or “Eh, I could do that,” nods and moves on.
I’m not saying that there is a better type, but I am the second type, and I cannot go to museums with the first. I’m sure Type # 1 also hates going to museums with people like me. I’m sure they think I’m an impatient and shallow dilettante, and my hair is dull. Meanwhile, when I’m in the museum with Type # 1, I stare at the artwork for so long that I feel my eyes are bleeding, and while I congratulate myself for putting more effort into this piece than it deserves, I look around and see that my old friend Type # 1 is 10 works behind me, lost in thought.
I had a terrible date with an incompatible museum visitor. Unfortunately, there were several dates in our relationship when I was already emotionally invested. I really liked him! He was funny, smart and interesting. Then we went to the exhibition at the Guggenheim. I can’t remember the artist, but all the art installations were rubbish. Literally: piles of thread and clusters of light bulbs. I thought we were leaving in 30 minutes, maybe an hour. But no. No, my companion had to endlessly stare at every pile of water bottles, every pile of cans, every pile of shredded credit card receipts, every pyramid of Pringles lids. He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, nodding. I tried to do the same, but after a while, only screams filled my head. In 45 minutes we covered a quarter of the way.
By the time we got out of there, I knew we were doomed, and I was right. At dinner that evening, I couldn’t help but notice that he was somewhat pretentious and narcissistic. He didn’t seem to impress me anymore. We interrupted him shortly thereafter.
Think of the time we could save, not to mention the heartache, if visiting the museum were our first date! How quickly and painlessly we would abandon each other!
And make no mistake, we were right when we abandoned each other, because our visits to museums showed that we were fundamentally incompatible: one of us was cheerful (if he was fickle and impatient), and the other was terrible (if he was tense and deep ), with a terrible obsession with garbage. But seriously, if we couldn’t synchronize the rhythms of our museum, I believe that this meant that we did not react (or did not enjoy much) to each other’s signals, and I do not think that this predicted big things for our relationship.
Luckily, I now have a partner to join me to enjoy the exhibit, eavesdrop on other museum visitors, photograph myself depicting a work of art, and then get the hell out of there. We’ve been together for many years now, and very little of that time has been spent together looking at works of art, muttering in appreciation.
This is what I want for you. Take your date to the museum right away and find yourself a mate.