So, you’ve been eyeing that smart, attractive journalist you’re lucky
enough to know personally. You’re intrigued. Your journalist is smart, funny,
confident.
I cant can blame you. Journalism is a sexy occupation.
A word of caution- journalists aren’t like bimbos men usually pick up at the bar.
Nor are they the assholes the ladies continually fall for. No, journalists are
different beings,
and you should realize — before jumping in — that this isn’t going to be the same old boring, mushy, hopelessly romantic, lame relationship you’re used to.
Here’s what you should know:
1) We can figure things out. Understand,it is our job to dig deep, find
the secrets and see through bullshit. We can pick up on subtleties, so what
you think you are hiding from us won’t be hidden for long. So if you are lying you are insulting us and wasting our time. Sure, we’ll act
surprised when you eventually tell us — but we already knew.
We don’t take shit from anyone. We spend all day separating fact from fiction, listening to PR
cronies, angry cops, interviewing fake celebrities and dealing with slimy politicians. If you make us do the same with
you, you’re just going to piss us off. And don’t think we’ll be quiet about it.
We’ll respond with the vengeance of an Op-Ed page railing against society’s
injustices — and we’ll enjoy doing it.
Just tell us the truth. We can handle it.
2) At some point, you will be a topic. Either through a feature story or
an opinion column, something you do or say will be a subject. Consider it a compliment, even if we’re arguing against you in print.
Think about it: we live our lives writing about life. If you’re a part
of our life, we’re going to write about you, your thoughts or a subject
springing from one of the two.
Don’t be upset when an argument against your adoration of Rahul Gandhi turns up on page A4. We’re not directing the writing at you, personally
— your ignorance was just our inspiration (there, doesn’t that make you feel
better?).
3) Yes, we know we’re smarter than you. Does that sound arrogant? Absolutely — but that confidence is what attracted you to us.
We have a strong, working knowledge of how the world works. That makes
us great in conversation. We can talk about anything and everything under the sun, delve into the intricacies of laws,
local and national politics, where to find the good restaurants, what’s
happening with pop culture, where the good bands are playing and more.
But there are pitfalls.
Guaranteed, when you say “towards,” we will automatically say “toward” —
“towards” is not a word. We’re not trying to call you dumb, it’s habit. The same will happen when
you say “anxious” when you mean “eager” and when you answer “good” when someone
asks how you are doing.
We carry ourselves with a certain arrogant air. Embrace it (that’s what
attracted you to us in the first place, after all). Don’t be surprised if we’re
not impressed when you say, “I’m a writer, too.” No, you are not. The fact that
you sit in a coffee shop wearing black while scribbling in your journal does
not make you a writer. Nor does the fact that you “wrote some poems in high
school” or that one day you want to pen “the great American novel.” We’re paid to write. What’s more, our writing matters.
It changes opinions, affects decisions and connects people with the world
around them. We’re trying to fabricate an aura of
creativity. We write about the real world — with real consequences.
Our words go through three or four cranky and stubborn editors who make us rewrite before
it’s printed and distributed all over town. You
don’t do that unless you’re confident, even egotistical.
You may have some great journal entries, poems and rudimentary short
stories — good for you. Just don’t assume we’ll accept that as on par with what
we do (unless you’re really hot, then hell, you’re a better writer than I).
4) You’re not less important than the job — the job is just more
important than anything else. One doesn’t become a journalist to sit in an office
from 9 to 5 Monday through Friday.
We do take our work home. If news is happening, we’ll drop whatever
we’re doing — even if it’s with you — to cover it. We’re always looking for
stories, so yes, we’ll stop on the street to write something down, interview a
passer-by or gather information for a lead.
On that same note, don’t get upset if you call us on deadline suggesting
some romantic date and we say, “I’ve got to put the paper to bed first.”
That could mean hours from now, but we’ll have plenty of time to put you in bed
later.
5) You won’t be disappointed. Journalists are intense, driven,
passionate folk. We carry those same attributes into our relationships, making
it an extremely fun. Our lives are never
boring and each day is different.
If the pitfalls are scaring you away, consider this:
The fact that we’re inquisitive means we’ll listen to you. Even if it
does seem like an interview, we’re paying attention to what you have to say
(see rule No. 1).
We’ll write about you or your thoughts because you’re an important part
of our life and we care about you (see rule No. 2).
Our brains are a great resource. Ever go on a date with an attractive
person and wind up wishing you hadn’t because everything they say is just,
well, stupid? That’s not going to happen here (see rule No. 3).
Yes, it may seem that we put the job ahead of you, but we’re passionate and hard working. You’re not with that loser whose life is going nowhere and who’s completely
content being mediocre (see rule No. 4).
There you go, five
things you should know before dating a journalist. Feel free to add to the
list, point out where I’ve missed something or leave a comment. And yes, gentlemen, I’m single (see rule No. 5).
