dear peach: the advice column

on crushing, los angeles malaise, and having the tough conversations

yesterday, i asked you to send your troubles to peachbellini444@gmail.com. this is a new thing i’m trying. some letters have been edited for clarity. i’ve also given you a pseudonym if you did not give one to yourself, because i have one and i didn’t want you to feel lonely. i’ve addressed your correspondences as “dear peach,” because i realized that’s what i wanted to do before i informed you of the format. you can write to peach at any time using the email above.

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dear peach,

i am currently in the beginning stages of what i suspect to be a devastating (not sure yet if it’s in a good or bad way) crush. i keep finding myself oscillating between excitedly idealizing our potential future together, or catastrophizing in an attempt to avoid getting my hopes too high. i’m torn between the idea that thinking about my ideal outcome is a form of manifestation — i.e. positive thinking attracts positive outcomes and all that — versus the idea that i could be setting myself up for major disappointment by creating expectations for this experience. any thoughts on how to balance these feelings into a healthy, positive yet realistic outlook? thank you <3

yours,

Crushed By Reality

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dear crushed,

in my personal history, i cannot think of a single life-affirming crush that could be described as “healthy, [and] positive, yet realistic.” the crush, in its most common conception, is something you have. but really, it has you — it crushes you. you cannot control this.

this may not be the popular opinion, but i believe that a healthy, realistic mindset to crushing is entirely antithetical to the idea itself and is, in fact, ill-advised. there are few places left in this world — the one that keeps tightening, flattening us, telling us that dreaming is futile — that fantasizing is sacred. the crush may be nothing more than a made-up story, but so is everything else.

you may find relief in the truth, which is that you are not an oracle and cannot predict the future. this may release you from a belief that you could save yourself from pain if you intuit the eventual outcome. it’s a nice thought, isn’t it? paying attention to the signs, avoiding the potholes, arriving to your destination safely, all going as planned.

if you care, you will experience pain. is the end of everything, fortunately and unfortunately. in my view, it’s best to indulge the fantasy while you have it. one day you may know this person, really know them. on the day that you decide to love them, you will have to bury the fantasy you’ve become attached to. nobody wants to say that this is also sad.

i say, embrace the whimsy along with the pain. neither lasts forever.

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dear peach,

I’m a suburban New York girl living, interning, and (barely) doing school in an LA world until December. This is the longest I’ve been away from home; my college is an hour and 45 minute drive from my house, so not having home so accessible plus all the above factors has me counting down the days until my boyfriend visits me and I can visit home for Thanksgiving. It makes me feel guilty because I’ve wanted this since for two years and it’s finally happening, but the days drag on while I feel fomo for campus activities and constantly add 3 hours so I know what the East Coast time is.

What can I do to alleviate these grievances and really immerse myself in the LA culture (besides go to Erewhon, this internship is unpaid lol)? What are your recommendations as an LAstress yourself?

All the best in the world,

Gracie

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dear gracie,

what you need to know, first and foremost, is that Los Angeles is a desert. i did not know this before i moved here (because i moved here on accident but that is besides the point). i would never, in my conscious mind, have chosen to live in the desert.

i am a child of the forest, raised in the north carolina woodlands. i cherished the sticky summer nights and afternoons of pulling down my pants to search for ticks, everywhere. i laid in the lush grass and got itchy all over and, to this day, believe that if and when my soul must exist outside of this mortal body, it will find its peace in a wet forest.

i would have never chosen to live in the desert because the truth is that i am afraid of myself. the desert does not allow for secrets, although you can find plenty of mirages if you go looking. for the most part though, living in a place like this requires that you are exorbitantly self-conscious. and that can feel like a biblical punishment.

it is entirely normal to spend this first part of your acclimation to the desert simply waiting for other things to happen to you. it makes you really sad. speaking from experience. but the stagnation of the desert allows you to know that you are sad. that you are waiting. and longing. every feeling brings a gift: the opportunity to witness it.

know that this time is not a waste. in fact, it is utterly necessary. think of Los Angeles like a video game boss — you can’t kill it on the first try. this period of your life is best spent observing and figuring out the quirks. it’s not your time to fight yet. you don’t have to buy a smoothie from erehwon. even though the hailey bieber one is actually kind of good.

the curse of the desert, the self-consciousness and the honesty, is also the gift. languish in the pace of the city. learn its lessons; take it slow. sit in griffith park with no sunglasses on and feel the heat bake your face until you feel your heartbeat in your neck. listen to your longing. say, “hello to you, my longing,” out loud. see what it has to say back to you.

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dear peach,

I have been dating my boyfriend for over 6 months and love him dearly. We have so much fun together and it is so lovely to finally be in a stable relationship. However, I find it really hard sometimes to communicate how I am feeling with him. It is never anything he does but I have had many bad experiences with men (what is new) and feel as though I have been conditioned that whenever I open up to someone or try to have a 'serious conversation' it always makes the situation worse. At the moment I feel as though our relationship is a lot of me being 'sad' and him being 'good.' I am finding it hard to properly open up because I don't want to feel like a burden, I want to look after him in this relationship as well! 

Do you have any advice on how to have a productive 'serious conversation' with a significant other? I also want to let him know that I am absolutely always there for him, and just because I am having a bad time at the moment doesn't mean he can't open up to me. How does one successfully communicate in a relationship? I think I have realised that a serious loving relationship is harder work than I thought it would be, shocking I know!

All my love and thank you for all of the wonderful content you put out into this world,

Best wishes,

SuperSwiftie123 

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dear superswiftie123 (close to my heart, as you are reminiscent of my first youtube username — tswiftluv13),

here’s what really struck me:

At the moment I feel as though our relationship is a lot of me being 'sad' and him being 'good.'

there are moments when we find pieces of ourselves in a lover — when they hum a song in the shower that you showed them last week, when they put the dishes away in the cupboard in the order you prefer, when they wear a particular shirt and you say “you know i love that one on you.” these are the moments in the montage. these are the moments that help you love yourself more, seeing your own nature reflected in the one that you love.

your boyfriend is good to you, and more than that, he is good. period. this is not the framework we have for ourselves. any good girl keeps her fair share of monsters. there’s a certain worry, particular to women, that we may infect people. you want to “look after him.” you don’t want to show him your ugliness.

i spent many years chasing men who were equally afraid of my ugliness. this worked well, for a while. i never got anything i needed because i never asked for it, eventually resented them enough because of it to lose all sexual attraction to them, and orchestrated a breakup that was entirely on my terms. i was convinced that there were certain things you were not allowed to say. impolite things. such impolite things mostly included my deeper feelings and needs.

but i torpedoed enough relationships to the point where, eventually, i became braver. mostly because i got bored.

what you really need to know here is that you are not infectious. certain people, especially younger men, lack personal fortitude and make themselves vulnerable to infection. but that is a quality that lies with them, not with you. is the disease metaphor getting away from me? let me explain.

let’s look at the fear. you are sad, he is good. you will explain what you mean, he will feel burdened, like jesus. you will say, “make space for me,” and he will say “where will i go?” you will smother him, he will die, and you will slink away into the darkness, alone again.

many women have a fear that they are “too much” for men. it’s impolite to say that this is often true, but it is. men are inexperienced in the art of observation — look but don’t touch. have you ever seen a man around a sign that says “wet paint”? men are trained to put their hands all over everything, including women, including the imprint of their emotions.

“look but don’t touch” is precisely the skill needed in these deeper relational conversations. you will need a space you can sprawl, express, scare yourself, and drain empty, and he will need the strength to let you do it without leaving his fingerprints. you will discover, quickly, if this is something he is able to do.

i encourage you to go into connection with your fear close to your chest. tell him what the story is in your mind; reaffirm your intention. try to communicate care without apology. remember that he alone is responsible for what he absorbs — it is not your fault for emitting.

embrace the mess of it as well. you will not say the perfect thing. neither will he. most serious conversations consist of both people circling around what they mean to say for ninety-five percent of it before settling on something that imperfectly represents the complexity of their nebulous, highly emotional logic.

the adage is true: relationships are hard work. but the work shouldn’t feel like holding back an avalanche. it’s more like a big puzzle that you’re both putting together. and if, in the middle of assembly, he looks at you and says “i don’t like those edge pieces you’re using. can we just do it with the pieces i have?” you can say, “that’s literally the dumbest idea i’ve ever heard of.”

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thank you for reading the first ever “dear peach” column. if you are troubled, you can send an email to peachbellini444@gmail.com at any time