Edition #154: How Do You Know What You Actually Like?
Plus, how to make the most of your 24 hours, our obsession with organized homes, and a cool social intelligence test
A Note From the Editor
It started, as all good tales do, with dinner. I was cooking for myself, something I’ve been doing with much more frequency and zeal as of late. Something about the abundance of fresh ingredients in California and my newly-embraced hobby of constant grocery shopping has made feeding myself more of a delight than a chore. I’ve made fresh swordfish steaks drizzled in scallion brown butter, a wedge salad that deserves an award, and homemade uni hand rolls that left my mouth agape, among other things. On this particular day I didn’t have a specific dish in mind, I just needed a protein to go with my leftover sushi rice. I decided on the only thing left I had left: shrimp.
Every time I’ve cooked shrimp for the past year or so, I’ve actively disliked the outcome. Too rubbery or too chewy or too flavorless. Determined to amend this, I took the step of Googling “how to cook shrimp so it doesn’t suck.” I followed the directions, setting the heat just so and while filled with a smug confidence. I imagined myself biting into the shrimp and saying “Damn, why didn’t I just Google this before?” By the time the little gray devils were pink and plump, I was sure this would be the best shrimp I’d ever made. I took a bite and, what do you know, still bad.
I let the rest of the shrimp cool down, re-seasoned them. Still bad. At a local seafood restaurant, a friend suggested we share the shrimp tacos. A whole, tempting menu and still I acquiesced; surely these chefs would be able to perform the miracle I could not. We ordered the tacos, I took a bite. It was fried shrimp this time and still bad.
“I think I don’t like shrimp,” I said, incredulous, for I’d never known myself to not like a food and certainly not a food from the sea.
Still, my instinct upon making such a claim was to insist that, newfound preference aside, I would of course eat the shrimp and not complain about it.
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I wonder, is it really that easy to know what you like and what you don’t like? When we’re kids, I think so. Kids don’t overthink, they’re blessed with the inability to contextualize. What you see and what you feel are king, so if broccoli is disgusting once it’s not something you’ll try again unless you are forced. If you have a bad experience in the ocean, the ocean isn’t for you. If you beg your parent to let you take ballet class only to discover it’s dull and boring, you don’t weight the expectations you placed on one day being a ballerina, what such a profession might do for your ego and your body long term—instead, you go with your instinct; beg your parent to let you quit ballet and you try something else.
Perhaps this is why crushes are such potent, full-body experiences in our younger years. When we are kids, we aren’t thinking about long term sustainability of a partner, whether they’ll make a good parent, whether they want the sort of life we want, whether we’ll be able to handle integrating with their families. We aren’t talking ourselves in to or out of anything. We’re simply listening to whatever the body is telling us, we’re harboring and protecting this burst of newfound feeling. A childhood crush is a rollercoaster ride; full force thrill, consequences that feel more devastating and dangerous than they actually are.
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I always find the most compelling people are those with the most solid, fully-formed preferences—those who can confidently say they love spending Saturday’s at home alone, decompressing and watching a movie and going to bed by 9pm; those who spend every free weekend at a packed show dancing because they love a certain DJ, those who have a strong affinity for Japanese film. Owning what you like is sexy, having preferences indicates that you’ve taken the time to get to know yourself, that you don’t value what others think of you as much as you value spending your life in whatever way you’ve deemed fit. Bonus points for those whose preferences might be a bit quirky, whose interests unabashedly peculiar. Being yourself is the most interesting thing you can be, in my book.
Despite this, there was a time not so long ago when my own preferences were a foreign land. I remember going on my first ever app date in 2017 in New York, where I had only just moved. We met at a coffee shop at night and he told me he liked sailing, drone photography, and a new thing I hadn’t yet heard of called cryptocurrency (LOL). “What are your hobbies?” he asked.
I found myself at a loss for words. At that point, my hobbies mostly revolved around restaurants—reading about new restaurants, trying as many as I could afford, obsessively scouring menus during my downtime. I felt I had no passions to speak of. Working out might have also been considered a hobby, but it was more of a habit than anything else. I liked reading, but that didn’t feel adequate. In the face of his answers, my hobbies seemed silly, uncultivated or entirely existent. I answered vaguely and changed the subject.
During that phase of life, I ingested everyone else’s interests like a pious student studying scripture. An old coworker mentioned how she only liked to travel in a very specific way, staying at luxury boutique hotels she’d fastidiously researched; I chastised myself for the Airbnb I’d booked for an upcoming trip, silently vowing to find somewhere cooler next time. A dear friend confidently shared that she kept the TV on 24/7, loving the background noise while she worked and watching nearly every new piece of content Netflix dropped with no remorse; I wondered why I was such a freak for never turning on the TV, questioning what I was even doing with my free time if not consuming content. My internal barometer seemed to indicate that everyone’s preferences were valid except for mine. In fairness, I wasn’t even sure what my preferences were.
The fog only cleared when I began noticing the extremes. I hated my hotel job, I realized, and I loved writing. Dealing in absolutes, undeniable adoration or utter repulsion, made things somewhat easier; there was suddenly a bit of light on the road ahead. When you know what you really like and what you really don’t like, the world begins to mercifully narrow. You can’t keep doing something you hate when you know what you love. And when you discover something you love to do, you’ve got the start of a treasure map. A reminder: I can love things! If I love this, what else might I love?
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A list of my preferences, in no particular order: surfing, living near the ocean, being in water, trying new things, being a little scared, dancing, poetry, writing, deep conversations, traveling to places outside of Europe, going to bed by 10pm, simple fashion, elegant accessories, yoga, raffles, being off Instagram, meeting people in the wild, going to the movies, quiet mornings spent with a book and a notebook, taking walks, listening to other people’s conversations, watching birds, prompting a group with a good question, asking people’s names.
A list of things I like less, in no particular order: shrimp, drinking in excess, house music, concerts at big venues, connections that can’t surpass the surface level, sleeping late, overly filled calendars, traveling with a strict agenda, beer, diners, playing pool, trendy clothes, watching or talking about more sports involving a ball (minus basketball, which is fun to watch!), being inside all day, surfing with a buddy, loud chewers, mouth noises in general, places that feel touristy.
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If, like me, you’ve gone through or are currently going through a period where you feel less confident about what you do and don’t like, I’m here to tell you that the other side isn’t as far away as you think, and being there feels like a cool breeze on the skin. The trick to owning your preferences is to stand tall by them. When someone asks, befuddled, if you’re really off social media, if that really makes sense for your career, if you’re worried about becoming irrelevant, you say, “Yes, I am off it! And it feels so good for my mental that at this juncture, the benefits outweigh the risks.” And, viola, the conversation is over. No one can argue with your preference, with what works for you, because no one really knows what except for you. That isn’t to say feedback from others should be shut down, but at the end of the day, you are the principal in your life, and people’s advice can often just be a reflection of something they’re working through projected onto you.
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The one place this decisiveness is still murky for me is in dating. I recently asked my therapist how I can tell if I actually like someone. Sadly, we ran out of time before we could discuss, so I decided to do a little research on my own. If you’re coupled up you might be thinking it a crazy question, for shouldn’t whether or not you like someone be the most obvious thing in the world? It isn’t, though. I like many facets of the courtship process: I like being liked. I like attention. I like feeling like I fit in with cultural norms—though I’m working to move away from that—and all of those truths can easily camouflage themselves as genuine feelings for another person.
Bringing the same vetting I’ve learned to do in regular life and in friendships into the dating arena is a new thing for me, and there is a lot to learn. It isn’t that I’ve been dating a bunch of people I really don’t like—a callback to dealing in absolutes; if I really don’t like someone, it’s easy to stop seeing them. Even if I’m just sort of unsure but leaning on no, it’s easy. Circumstances get convoluted when someone really likes me and maybe they’re cute or maybe they’re just persistent. Or maybe they like me ok, but they seem like a catch and we’ve got a lot in common. Such scenarios are enough for me to let the romance blossom, even if I later realize I can’t name three things I actually liked about the person as an individual. There’s a difference. between liking the way someone makes you feel about yourself and liking them.
I laughed out loud when I read point number one in wikiHow’s 3 Ways to Tell if You Genuinely Like Someone: determine if you leave the date with them feeling happy. It’s so easy, so obvious, yet not as easy to put into practice when you’re in the throes of dating. Just the other day I was letting a friend read a text thread between me and a person I’d been on a handful of dates with. Was I being overly sensitive, I asked her, for their communication was irritating me and I was feeling insecure. Before she could answer, I realized I didn’t need a second opinion. My feelings offered up all the answers I needed. But just to tell you, dear readers, I did communicate those feelings with the person in question even though I had deduced we probably wouldn’t go any further. And communicating, as it turns out, is never a bad idea.
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A list of things I like in a courtship in no particular order: kindness, matching bids for attention, curiosity, balanced conversation, asking after family, recalling details big and small, consistency in pushing things forward, sweetness, initiative.
A list of things I like less in a courtship, in no particular order: negging, forgetting details, careless listening, inability to express feelings, coyness, dates that only involve eating or drinking, insensitivity.
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Cheers, my dears, and as always, thanks for reading. I would sincerely like to hear about your preferences—what do you like that isn’t for everyone, what do you shamelessly love? I’d sincerely love to hear it.
I hope you have a sweet weekend full of everything you like. Eat some frosting right out of the jar, leave a cute PostIt note for someone special, knock on your neighbor’s door. I’ll be resting up before heading to Mexico next week for a press trip. I plan to spend the weekend getting lots of writing work done, being horizontal, and going to see Killers of the Flower Moon by myself. Who knows, maybe I’ll even meet a stranger in the wild!
Three Pieces of Content Worth Consuming
How To Make the Most of Your 24 Hours. A simple, easy read. Each one of these four things is a great reminder to carry with you throughout your days, or to build daily habits around. I especially resonated with number three. Thanks to my writer friend, Anna, for sharing this one!
No, I’m From New York. The New Yorker humor section gets me every time, and this oldie but goodie made me laugh out loud. We love the heated New York vs. LA diatribe around here.
Why Are We So Fascinated By Super Organized Homes? The author of this piece had me at “the decanting era,” which she describes as our current collective desire to put our stuff in other stuff. Or, this case. to remove our groceries from their packaging and put them into other forms of packaging. Containers, jars, whatever. My entire pantry is filled with jars of snacks and such, so I was pleased to learn I’m not the only OCD person doing this.
Perhaps You Should…Take a Creative Writing Course
Every year since taking my first creative fiction class in 2020, I sign up for a different six to eight week writing course. I started with an intro to short fiction workshop that was in person (pre-COVID) and pure magic. It was the first time I had my creative workshopped aloud and the thrill of coming closer to something that had existed in my mind for so long lit up my week each Wednesday evening. Next, I took a more advanced fiction workshop, followed by a pilot writing workshop—invaluable, with one of the best teachers I’ve ever had—and earlier this year I took a play writing workshop. There’s something so special about starting a year with dedicated creative time and structure, I highly recommend. This poetry workshop with the one, the only Mary Oliver looks absolutely delightful.
**Bonus Content** (Emotions Through Eyes Test)
I took this test, in which you try to guess the person’s emotion using only a black and white photo of their eyes, and wow, I did terribly! This test was designed to measure social intelligence. Let me know what you get if you take it.
Also, I’m fully embracing my Taylor Swift renaissance after seeing the Eras tour in IMAX and crying the whole time (???). This song is still one of her best ever.
A Quote From A Book You Should Read:
“I love to eat and drink – it’s my melancholy conviction that I’ve scarcely ever had enough to eat (this is because it’s impossible to eat enough if you’re worried about the next meal) – and I love to argue with people who do not disagree with me too profoundly, and I love to laugh. I do not like bohemia, or bohemians, I do not like people whose principal aim is pleasure, and I do not like people who are earnest about anything.”
-The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin
This newsletter is best served with a side of conversation, so drop your opinions, reflections, and thoughts in the comments below and let’s get to talking.
Or, share the most thought-provoking piece from today’s edition with someone you love, then call them up to discuss, debate, and percolate. As a wise woman once said, “Great minds discuss ideas.