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By Dennis Hong, January 9, 2012 6:00 am

Do you remember learning about self-esteem in grade school? When they teach you to stand up for yourself in an assertive way? To speak up when someone doesn’t give you the respect that you deserve?

As it turns out, that’s only half the lesson. Because they certainly don’t teach you how to respond when someone gives you respect that you don’t deserve….

I went to happy hour with a friend one time. It was still early, so there was only one other customer sitting at the bar as we walked up. The bartender was deeply immersed in conversation with this guy, and as we waited for her to serve us, I couldn’t help but overhear their entire conversation.

Apparently, the bartender had gotten sick a few weeks ago and was worried that she had an ear infection. But, she didn’t have any medical insurance, so she didn’t know what to do. As the other guy nodded along sympathetically, I thought this was sort of a strange thing for a bartender to be telling a customer.

Maybe she knows him? Maybe they’re friends, and he’s just here to chill with her?

Finally, the bartender noticed me and sidled over. I ordered a round of drinks and handed her my credit card, telling her to keep the tab open. She glanced at it and then, somewhat unexpectedly, said this:

“Oh hey! Can I ask you a question?”

I furrowed my brows at her sudden eagerness.

“Umm… sure?”

“Okay, so I got sick a few weeks ago….”

And she carved a screeching u-turn right back into the story that she had just told the other customer. As I sat there, listening to her kvetch about her ear, I began to wonder if this bartender just had a case of oversharitis.

Continue reading 'It’s Okay, I’m A Doctor — It Says So Right Here On My…'»

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By Dennis Hong, November 29, 2011 6:00 am

For the past few months now, I’ve been contributing guest columns on Dear Wendy. By no means do I consider myself a relationship expert, but I do believe I’ve been through enough personal drama that I can offer some pretty good insights. Plus, helping people gives me a warm, gooey feeling that’s way more slimming than hot fudge.

Of course, my dry sense of humor tends to seep through in my responses, and I often end up somewhat mocking these letter writers. But really, I do try to be helpful. One thing I respect about Wendy is her ability to tease out the important details in a letter and respond accordingly. Sometimes, she’ll rail on a letter writer, but only because she realizes that they need a kick in the ass. It’s clear that she’s here to help, though. And help she does, even when she’s doling out the tough love.

And this is where the problem arises. You see, tough love is tougher to dole out than most people think….

In the most recent letter that I answered, the letter writer described a nasty fight that she and her boyfriend got into at a bar, in front of all his friends—a fight that resulted in her “throwing a couple knees towards his manhood.”

Yikes! Definitely inappropriate behavior, right?

She went on to clarify that she and her boyfriend had made up, but all his friends now thought she was crazy. She asked how she could possibly fix things with his friends.

I explained how childish both she and her boyfriend had acted, and that they might want to consider taking anger management classes together. I also expressed my shock at her kneeing her boyfriend in the balls. I knew she had a tough road ahead of her, but I offered what tips I could hock up to help her come to an eventual understanding with his friends. As a joke, I even suggested that she let his buddy punch her in the ovary as restitution.

I thought I was pretty harsh, but I also believed that I answered her questions fairly.

Boy, was I mistaken.

Continue reading 'When Ordinary People Turn Into Trolls'»

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By Dennis Hong, November 7, 2011 6:00 am

"It's over, man. Let her go."

I don’t do running.

That is to say, I don’t do running when running is the only thing being done. Running in flag football, floor hockey, or settling of drunken bets? That, I can do.

But… just running? Like, the ancient Greek death sentence known as a marathon? Crap, no. I’m decent at sports that require quick bursts of speed, but pretty much fail at anything that requires endurance. Marathons and I go together like marriages and Kim Kardashian.

Every so often, though, I do decide to improve my endurance. So, I start hitting the treadmill at the gym. And every single time, my utter lack of endurance starts taunting me at around the ten-minute mark. Fortunately, I’ve learned to take that seething frustration and wad it up into a tiny burst of determination to keep me going.

But then, I traveled to Taiwan last month, and I found out that I have a Dutch great-great-grandmother, from whom I inherited a genetic disease called thalassemia minor. Even though it’s not deadly, the condition causes my red blood cells to produce abnormally low levels of hemoglobin, the protein that transports oxygen. What this means is that my blood cells can’t provide my body with adequate oxygen, especially during heavy exercise.

Now, I could be melodramatic and say that my world came crashing down when I found this out. But that’s not what happened. My world didn’t collapse. It was more like my world cloudied up and started drizzling (but in a permanent state of gloominess, like Seattle). There wasn’t even any one moment when I felt the big epiphany.

I actually found out that I had thalassemia almost two years ago. However, my doctor was so nonchalant when he diagnosed me that I promptly forgot all about it. I didn’t even make the connection when my dad gave me the news. And it wasn’t until I was at the doctor’s office a few weeks ago that I caught the word “thalassemia” on my medical record and remembered my previous diagnosis.

Continue reading 'Losing My Motivation'»

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By Dennis Hong, September 19, 2011 6:00 am

Image by Stuart McClymont

I am a stoic. In a new relationship, I tend to stay reserved and guarded. I hold back my feelings, and I definitely don’t let myself fall for someone very easily. At least not until I know for sure that the relationship means something.

Some people, on the other hand, are effusive. In a new relationship, they plunge head-first off the figurative deep end. They bask in the intensity of their feelings, and they are able to fall in love quickly and deeply.

And that’s wonderful. To me, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with embracing new relationships with all your passion.

At the same time, I’ve realized that someone who is capable of falling quickly and deeply in love can be just as capable of falling quickly and deeply out of love. Since we’re invoking clichés, I might as well bring up another:

The flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long.

And this is where passion becomes a problem for the stoic….

We met on a Sunday night. And we were together the next five nights. We just seemed to connect in every way possible, and we couldn’t get enough of each other. On Wednesday, as we stood in the darkness at the beach, watching a group of smelly, slumbering seals, she told me that she was falling for me.

At that moment, I had two epiphanies: 1) Instead of getting freaked out by what she had just said, I realized that these same feelings were welling up within me, too. And 2) even the stench of seal poop can be incredibly romantic in the right setting (and if you’ve ever experienced it, you know that “stench” is an understatement).

Something about the way she looked into my eyes told me that this could be for real. And so, my instincts told me to let my stoicism go.

I did, and I felt myself starting to fall—something that I hadn’t allowed myself to do in years. I even confided in a few close friends the next day that I believed I might have met the woman I was going to marry.

Continue reading 'I Fell In Love Too Hard, Too Soon'»

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By Dennis Hong, September 4, 2011 3:02 pm

Image by Diane Cook and Len Jenshel

In my dream, she’s my best friend, and I am hers. Whenever I get a piece of great news in my life, she’s the first person I want to tell. Whenever something stressful happens, she’s the first person I think of who can comfort me. I hope to be the same for her.

In my dream, she’s the first person I want to spend time with. And I never feel inclined to blow her off to hang out with someone else—not even a dying friend or family member. (But that’s because I’d probably want her there with me.)

In my dream, I love her, and I know without a doubt that she’s the one I want to be with. In return, she loves me back, and she knows without a doubt that I’m the one she wants to be with. Yet, we accept that life is unpredictable. So, while we may never be able to say with absolute certainty that we will always get along, or even that we will love each other perfectly and unconditionally forever, what matters is that we love each other today, we’ll love each other tomorrow, and we’re going to try our hardest to love each other for the rest of our lives.

Because true love is an ideal that we can only strive towards, not an achievable endpoint that grants us complacency once we’ve reached it.

In my dream, I can tell her anything I want, knowing that she’ll accept me for who I am and won’t judge me if I reveal myself to be less than perfect. In return, I will be open to anything she tells me, and my love for her won’t diminish if she reveals her own imperfections. We never need to hide anything from each other, and we’re comfortable sharing everything about ourselves, even the worst baggage that we carry.

Because, hey, I admit that I haven’t quite reached that pinnacle of human perfection. Then again, neither has she.

Continue reading 'My Not-Quite-So-World-Changing Dream'»

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By Dennis Hong, July 11, 2011 6:00 am

Photo by Yuri Dojc

Being a guy sucks sometimes.

I mean, aside from having to constantly monitor all these fragile dangly parts that we absolutely positively must keep out of the way of zippers, rogue knees, and hand rails (although that last one really only applies if we’re doing rail slides on a skateboard), we’re also trained from an early age that we’re not supposed to show any emotions whatsoever.

“Be strong!”

“Real men don’t cry!”

What. The. Hell?!? What if I need to let out a good sobbing fit every once in a while? What if I want to bawl when a bleeding, limping Bruce Willis throws the German terrorist who speaks with a thick German accent (even though he can clearly fake an American accent) out a 20th-story window and reunites with his estranged wife?

What am I supposed to do about that?

I have to admit, I was a teenage drama queen. In my angst-ridden senior year of high school, I once punched out our kitchen window. My parents were surprisingly supportive of my emotional outburst, not to mention everything else (I thought) I was going through at the time. Even worse, I actually wore my bandages proudly to school the next day. It was as though I needed to advertise how messed up my personal life was (it wasn’t), and how badass I was (I wasn’t) through my ownage of a set of glass panes.

Seriously, I was Emo 15 years before the term Emo had been coined. I was a miserable wreck, suffering from a miserable life. And I wore my plight proudly, as Atlas must have done when he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders for all those billions of years.

Continue reading 'To Be Strong Is To Show Our Weakness'»

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By Dennis Hong, June 27, 2011 6:00 am

The most politically correct fraternity photo ever: Todd, Scott, and Dennis, 1994

Ladies, meet Scott. That’s him in the middle in the photo. Yes, the one with the mane of hair and the pager clipped to his jeans.

Scott and I were fraternity brothers at UCLA, and for as long as I’ve known him, he has epitomized the term “chick magnet.”

Within the fraternity, there was a standing air of mystification over Scott’s ability to attract women. He didn’t have to say anything, he didn’t even have to make eye contact. The ladies would just magically flock to him.

Seriously, Scott could get shit on by a bird and somehow use that as a way to attract women.

And in case you think I’m speaking in hyperbole here, that is exactly what happened one time….

Years after we graduated, a group of us met up in San Diego, at a hotel bar on the beach. We were sitting in a row along the bar, with our backs to everyone else at the place.

At one point in our conversation, a seagull flying overhead decided to take a great big dump, and it landed right on the back of Scott’s white shirt. Of course, he was a little annoyed. But, being the laid back surfer dude that he is, he simply turned around and wiped it off.

Noticing what had happened, a group of strangers at a table behind us lobbed a few words of sympathy towards Scott. It barely registered in my mind when one of the women in the group got up and walked out of the bar.

Ten minutes later, we were once again deeply immersed in alcohol and had forgotten all about the seagull poop. That’s when the woman who had left returned with a bleach pen. She walked up to Scott and said, “Here, this will take care of the stain.” And before Scott had a chance to respond, she started cleaning off his shirt for him.

Now, in case you were wondering if Scott had been flirting with this woman, he hadn’t. In fact, none of us had spoken a word to this other group. Remember, we had our backs to them the entire time.

And yet, here she was, eagerly de-staining Scott’s shirt for him.

Continue reading 'When Did “Trying Too Hard” Become A Bad Thing?'»

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By Dennis Hong, May 30, 2011 6:00 am

Photo by Christopher Sessums via Flickr

Two rhetorical questions:

When you pay a loan broker based on the total number of loans he doles out, without considering whether or not the borrowers will actually be able to repay these loans, what happens?

When you pay a CEO based on the short-term profits he generates, rather than the long-term stability of the company, what happens?

Unless you hibernated your way through the last four years, you probably noticed that these aren’t rhetorical questions at all. We know exactly what happens. They lead to the worst financial crisis the world has seen in decades.

In economic terms, we can blame the disastrous results on misaligned incentives. If the incentives we offer don’t actually support the outcome we desire, we end up encouraging behavior that may sabotage our own goals. Instead of expanding homeownership to millions of people, we let them take on mortgages they will never be able to pay back. Instead of creating wealth for investors nationwide, we encourage unnecessarily risky ventures.

Now, the problem of misaligned incentives has infected our educational system. To some, the solution to our education woes is perfectly clear: teachers must be compensated based on their teaching abilities. Effective teachers merit higher pay, and ineffective teachers… well, should be fired. It’s simple, smart business.

It’s also a gross oversimplification of the issue.

I fully believe in merit pay, actually. In fact, I would love to be rated on my teaching.

For all you skimmers out there, let me say this again (it’s okay, I’m a high school teacher. I’m used to repeating myself):

I would love to be rated on my teaching.

Continue reading 'Standardized Testing, Merit Pay, And Misaligned Incentives In The American Education System'»

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By Dennis Hong, March 14, 2011 6:00 am

For months after Julie and I broke up, we chose to remain friends.

Yes, it was a mutual decision.

No, really.

Stop rolling your eyes.

This is not another rant about being stuck in the Friend Zone.

We still cared about each other, and we still enjoyed each other’s company. We just realized that, romantically, we weren’t all that compatible. We were like peanut butter and bacon: You love ‘em both. Just not together.

We continued to hang out fairly regularly, though. In fact, we joked that we were kind of/sort of still going on dates. Except that they didn’t end in anything physical….

Wait.

Okay, yes. They were exactly like many dates I’ve been on.

I was fine with that. We both knew that muddling the boundaries we’d established wouldn’t be a good idea. So, we continued our platonic dates, going out to dinner, chatting about what was going on at home and at work, slipping into deeper conversations about our lives… our hopes… our fears….

That’s when I had an epiphany.

I was totally getting screwed in this arrangement.

In recent years, scientists have discovered that the hormone oxytocin is responsible for feelings of attachment in women. Most notably, oxytocin is released when a woman orgasms. This explains why women have a more difficult time having casual sex. When they orgasm, their brains release oxytocin, which reinforces their emotional attachment to the man they’re with.

So, it’s not that women don’t want to have casual sex, or that they don’t like casual sex. It’s just that women often have a difficult time keeping it casual.

Continue reading 'We Weren’t Having Sex, But I Was Still Getting Screwed'»

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By Dennis Hong, January 3, 2011 6:00 am

There’s a perception floating around that men are more promiscuous than women and, hence, have more sexual partners during their lifetimes.

Well, I call bullshit. And I’m bringing my army of math to back me up.

In a survey taken by ABC News, men reported a lifetime average of 20 partners, while women reported a measly 6 partners. That is, the average male in the United States has more than three times as many partners as the average female.

The article goes on to explain that it’s probably a small percentage of highly promiscuous men who skew the male average upward, in much the same way that a singular percentage of partial-term state governors skews the average intelligence of Alaska noticeably downward.

The problem is, not only is the survey result a mathematical impossibility, so is the promiscuous male explanation. Here’s why:

For simplicity, let’s represent the population of the United States as a group of five men and five women. Taking ABC News’s explanation, we’ll start off with one über-promiscuous male in our population. He’s slept with all five women, while each of the five women has only slept with him:

Continue reading 'Mathematical Proof That Women Are Just As Promiscuous As Men'»