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I’ve mentioned on numerous occasions the run-ins that I have with male library patrons.  I was catching up with International Friend via skype the other day when I finally admitted something that I’ve never said out loud before.

Let’s back up for a moment and recap all the lovely qualities of the men who have recently asked me out: one had no front teeth; another didn’t ask me out until he had already told me that he’s unemployed, divorced with kids and diabetic with no health insurance; another is closer to my parents’ ago than mine–actually, all of them are way too old, which makes it all very creepy.  The problem is, that I feel bad listing out their poor qualities like this.  I make excuses for them, tell myself that I’m sure they’re lovely people, when what they actually are are gross old men who make work uncomfortable for me.

And here’s the thing that I feel like the biggest bitch admitting: I would never date someone who had to come to the library to use the internet.

I am all about breaking down the digital divide, helping people get online who can’t afford their own computer and internet connection, but I don’t want that in my own life.  I confessed this to a friend who agreed “home internet access is a real indicator of socio-economic standing.” Putting it that way sounds so shallow and obnoxious, and I’m certainly not a rich lady, never will be, but opting out of the internet at home and using it exclusively at the public library is a whole nother thing, no?

So I put it to you, gentle reader, am I a snob? Is it snobby to put a moratorium on dating outside of your peer group, or is that something that everyone does anyway?  I’ve never been such a highly pursued female, so I’ve never had to think about my deal-breakers in this way.  If I met one of these guys at a neutral social event would I feel differently?

Someday I’ll write blogs that are less self-indulgent, I promise.

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Fargo, ND was recently awarded the title America’s Worst Weather City by the Weather Channel.  This dubious honor is something I voted for three times, told my friends to vote for and filled me with pride when I found out that the place I spent eight years of my life is now considered the hardest to live in.  I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with being tough, but there it is.

Only problem, one of the custodians at work, independent of this contest, has picked up on the fact that Fargo, and North Dakota in general, has very miserable weather, and won’t stop talking to me about it.

At first it was funny, “Fargo is so cold!” “Yeah it is!”  har har har.  But now it’s getting really old.

I’ll be sitting at my desk working or on break, and he’ll come up to me and say something like:

“My dad was stationed at Minot Airforce Base.  He used to do the trick where he’d throw a glass of water outside and it would be frozen before it hit the ground… he was just miserable, after that he wanted to go to Vietnam.”

“Man, I can see why you left–48 days of below zero temperatures!  Who can live like that?  What’s wrong with people that they stay there?”

“Do your parents still live there?  Do you ever have to go visit them or do they just come here?  If I was them, I’d come here.”

This is officially out of bounds.  As the old saying goes, you can’t judge a man until you’ve walked a mile  in his shoes.  Or my versions: You can’t make fun of my parents because you haven’t had to live with them, and you certainly can’t make fun of North Dakota unless you’ve been there.  You haven’t earned it.  This is a rule that is very important to me.  This is a rule that has lead me to read many, many lousy books so that I can hate on them with authority.  Although I know his good-natured ribbing is intended to be good-natured, it has gone too far.

Let me dispel a couple myths about Fargo:

  1. Yeah, it’s cold, but it doesn’t feel that cold.  I lived in Fargo for eight years, and during that time, I barely wore gloves.  This wasn’t because I was a moron or wanted frostbite, I just didn’t really need them.  In talking to another North Dakotan who now lives in Providence, both of us have increased the amount of weather “gear” we own since moving east.  There is a constant blanket of snow in Fargo from November-April, and that makes it feel warmer, plus, it’s very dry.  I feel colder in New England than  I ever did in Fargo because here the air here is damp and it gets into your bones.  Also, New Englanders don’t seem to know how to heat their houses properly.
  2. It’s kind of an adventure.  My brother put it very succinctly recently when we were talking about the impending flood.  “It’s that ‘we’re all in this together’ bit. You put out sandbags, you work with your neighbors, and you know that everyone is putting up with the same thing as you so no one whines about it.”  Stoicism in action.  Whenever I try to make plans with baby-having best friend, she usually says something like, “well, I won’t be able to go then, we’ll probably be under water.”  But she never says it in a ‘woe is me’ way, it’s just a fact of life.  Every winter, there will be blizzards and every spring there will be a flood.  There might be a couple days of anxiety and a “Floodwatch!” graphic on the local news, but life goes on.  In Rhode Island, you get a few snowflakes every year, and everyone flies into a panic.

I may be romanticizing my time in Fargo, and I certainly don’t want to move back there, but I’m also sick of people who don’t know anything about it calling it Frozen Hell on Earth just based on looking at some numbers.  If you are a person who is terribly interested in slamming Fargo to everyone within earshot, please, go visit it first.  After you’ve been, I will join you in mocking the overabundance of strip malls, and that desolate stretch of road between 32nd ave and 45th street where you seem to run out of city and then meet up with civilization again, or the ridiculous Multiband Tower, which looks more like a blue wart on the Prairie than a tower of any kind.  But making fun of the weather?  It’s just unimaginative.