Last weekend I went to Target with a couple of friends to pick up some essentials.
I needed Rice Krispies and marshmallows to fulfill a craving, and my friend needed some disposable products because of his incapability to fulfill domestic responsibilities. Paper plates, paper napkins, toilet paper, paper towels, plastic ware and plastic cups: $25 worth of disposable goods to be specific.
 

I’m sure at this point some of you are anticipating an article scorning his wasteful purchases, but I honestly could not care less. Personally, I have a strong negative attitude towards this “green” thing. Environmental preservation? Great, let’s do it. Trendy, consumerist tendencies with infants wearing onesies proclaiming “Protect the Planet”? No, absolutely not.
 

Develop your brain, formulate an opinion; then you have the right to broadcast your political orientation on your over-priced garments.
 

But the actual purpose of this article is to look at the implications associated with this mass consumption of disposable goods. A disposable product is intended to provide short-term convenience at a minimal price. It is designed to be bought, used once, discarded and re-bought forming, a cyclical fashion. Many scholars call this phenomenon a “throwaway ethic.”
 

Unfortunately, this ethic has evolved from Gillette razors and Dixie cups into a throwaway culture. We live in an era where everything is temporary and nothing is durable. We buy a book at Barnes & Noble for 20 bucks and toss it after giving it a once-over. We buy the perfect $200 dress to show off at Victory and are instantly forbidden to wear it again because—gasp—our friends may have seen it before.
 

It’s called obsolescence: a sudden disregard in the utility of an item based on the development of something newer, something better. This is the reason I have four pairs of blue jeans. Bellbottoms went out with the fourth grade and ripped jeans re-circulated when Ke$ha hit the American Top 40. Even though my bellbottoms are in better shape than my ripped jeans, I refuse to wear them.
 

This throwaway culture, however, doesn’t just stop with consumerism. In fact, it actually consumes our relationships. Friendships seem to have a shelf life of a few years because they tend to be based on convenience. We choose to be friends with whoever is most accessible, comes with the least amount of risk and fulfills a personal purpose. Once we have changed our location (i.e. high school to college) we hold on to them in hopes of future consumption. This future consumption is most commonly known as networking. But it’s a forgivable sin, because by Facebook standards, we are all still “friends.”
 

Further, serial monogamy and one-night stands are arguably socially acceptable today. Willing suppliers fulfill a demand for sexual pleasures. Both parties are then consumed and thrown away just as quickly and stoically as Brawny paper towels.
 

Divorce rates continue to see a steady incline at 41% for all first-time marriages; the number is 73% for third-time marriages. Is it embarrassing that our society has gotten to the point where it is necessary to keep statistics on third-time marriages?
 

Perhaps it’s time we reconsider the benefits of these disposable products.

Logan Masters is a junior sociology major. She can be reached for comment at [email protected].