In high school I was the football team manager. I am from a small town from which produced an equally small football team so my managerial duties didn't extend past providing water and setting up dummies for football practice. On game days, I stood on the sidelines chatting with the third-stringers but ready to doctor someone up should their arm or leg get cut. My method was simple: spray with antiseptic, wrap in bandage, smile and done. It may hurt a little but it happens so quickly the pain is barely noticeable. Sure the cut may heal on its own but wouldn't you rather just have it bandaged and be done with it?
I have a friend, I'll call her Jill, who briefly dated a guy last summer and when she decided that she no longer wanted to follow the progression into a serious relationship she ended the dating. End of story? Of course not. Fast forward almost one year later and the guy texts her on a random Wednesday asking her if she wants to grab a drink that Friday. As a side note, texting has become the favorite go-to communication of people who like to remain ambiguous and noncommittal. Out of curiousity Jill agrees to meet him. When Friday arrives, Jill texts to confirm the meeting time for the hanging out to which guy responds that he suddenly has a work function and he can't make it for a drink. Ok, Jill thinks, but good thing she called to confirm as it seemed that he had no intention of alerting her of this last minute 'function'. Guy suggests rescheduling. One week later Jill decides to stop by guy's place of work (a public store, not a private office, the place where they had first met) to say 'hey' and guy flips out and later texts her, ordering her to never come by his place of work again and what did she want. Though baffled, she apologizes. The following day he sends a text that says this a really busy time at work right now and he doesn't have time to date. And, let me stop the story right here. Guy, weren't you the one who after a year contacted Jill out of the blue to get together only to flake out on the plan two days later? And, when did a friendly 'stopped by to say hey' turn into an incident worthy of a stalking insinuation? When she wanted to stop talking to you, she stopped calling. If you didn't wish to talk to Jill than why did you call her?
Sadly, Jill's story isn't an isolated situation. Five out of five women have become involved with or know someone who has become involved with a guy who makes simple situations complicated, i.e. guys who like to fuck with your head. If you are a female reading this, you may be thinking, I know this guy. If you are a male, you may be thinking, what's the problem? There is usually one of two reasons as to why a guy creates emotional havoc. Either a) he has been heartbroken and when I say heartbroken I mean won't get out of bed, drinks himself to the point of blackout for a month straight, sleeps with as many girls as possible to make his ego feel inflated or b) he likes to be in control of a situation at all times. If you happen to come across a guy that encompasses both a) and b) you are DOA. How do you spot such a guy? How do you not become entrapped in his meaningless mind games? I hate to tell you this but these complicated, issue ridden guys seem to have something about them, the bad boy factor, the wounded puppy you want to nurse back to health because then he will adore you forever and ever. You think, I am the one who is going to break him. I am worth changing for. You probably are worthy but it's not you, it's him. It's the hardest thing to understand and an even harder thing to accept.
Stereotypically speaking, guys think girls are the dramatic ones, the ones who always want to discuss feelings, establish boundaries. But more and more I see guys creating the drama, suggesting dating other people but seriously are pissed off when you actually do just that. They think three dates means you are boyfriend and girlfriend and if you didn't think you were boyfriend/girlfriend their egos are bruised and they become hateful or if you did think you were boyfriend/girlfriend they get freaked out and stop calling. They like you. They ignore you. It's exhausting, it's ridiculous, it happens to everyone. Is it that hard to just say what you mean and mean what you say?
Now I know what you're thinking, isn't the girl partially to blame for putting up with this utter bullshit? Maybe, but sometimes this addiction to being needed, then discarded and needed again is due partly to the thought of real relationships take work and isn't this part of the work? Where do we draw the line? It's a decision every person has to make for themselves. Antiseptic and bandage or open wound? If relationships are about hard work and putting up with questionable behavior just for the sake of giving it a try, if it's going to sting, then maybe along with that dating questionnaire I should just include the following disclaimer:
Do not complicate simple situations. If you don't want to call, don't call. If you don't want a commitment, don't act like a boyfriend with jealous rages and expectations of being at your beck and call. Neither is acceptable. Complicating simple situations causes sprained thumbs from explanatory text messages that are unnecessary. It causes ridiculous analyzations, brain sprains, heart pains and everything in between. If a problem can be handled in ten minutes, please use the ten minutes and move on. If it's going to be any longer, please mix me a drink. Preferably something with vodka. Thank you for your time.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
Like Nothing You've Ever Seen
Since my office desk faces the window, I stare out the window roughly seven hours a day. Five days a week. One hundred and forty hours a month. Most of the time I'm staring at parked cars, the mailman making his rounds, kids that are out of school, sometimes people coming out of the bar across the street, but here's my top ten list of people I hold a special affinity towards for the sheer entertainment value they bring to my mundane working life:
10. Man Driving the Hoopty-
He's not wearing a shirt and has a both a mullet and a mohawk. He has a mullhawk. He parks his white boat of a car outside the door. I see several necklaces hanging from his rearview mirror, as well as a bandana and what quite possibly is a handicapped parking pass, although he clearly does not seem to be impaired in any way (except for the hair). All four windows are down and he strolls into the office reeking of smoke of different varieties. I think I detect the scent of pork rinds as well. He pays cash which as I count out the bills leaves a greasy film on my palm which I try to ignore and subtly wipe on the desk. He leaves and hits his automatic locks button to his car. Even though his windows are down, he has locked his car. Even though I believe this car to be from the 80's. How can he have keyless entry?
9. Lady with Camel Toe-
Out of the bar comes a lady with jean shorts so short and tight that it actually pains me to see her walk to her car. She has a multi-colored halter top that is reminiscent of a Rubix cube and she has on platform shoes. Her top is so low that if any sudden movement, I may be flashed. I expect her to fall at any moment. I wonder if she has a mirror at her home and if not a mirror a rash from the sweat that is sure to become trapped in her shorts. Either the mirror or the rash should keep her from wearing shorts that tight. Common decency and comfort should prevent her. Yet they don't.
8. Sherbet Twins-
I don't think these two people are actually twins, though they very well could be. They are crossdressers. Poorly dressed crossdressers. I am happy to report that I haven't seen them walking together as this would be overkill for my poor eyes. Twin one walks by my window in hot pink glory. Add some feathers and he'd be a flamingo. Twin two is a lighter version and has chosen to deck himself from head to toe in yellow. Yellow shirt, yellow shoes, yellow socks, not one thing is another color. I am betting he is wearing yellow underwear. They are walking popsicles.
7. Man on Bike-
He runs into the pole outside my window while on his bike. The pole is in plain sight and does not block the sidewalk. You have to actually purposefully run into it to well, run into it. He, too, is shirtless the trend down here. Actually, he arrives shirtless, but once he stops puts his shirt back on and then as he departs takes the shirt off once more. I think he doesn't run into the pole as much as uses it as a stopper. He may not have brakes on his bicycle I conclude. He may want to see what flyers are posted on the pole. Either way he uses not his feet nor his brakes to stop, he just runs into the pole. My suggestion to him: wear a helmet.
6. Lady with a Veil-
She is creepy. Don't look at her directly. It would be like staring straight at the sun and you will be blinded or cursed or both. She wears an outfit that makes her look like a nun from hell. She has come into the office declaring that she is a nun and carries a covered basket. It looks like the basket that Dorothy carries in the Wizard of Oz. But I believe there is a gun in this basket and therefore I don't smirk when I see her. Her voice is low and even as if she is trying to hypnotize you. She ends every sentence with, "Jesus, Father Almighty, Our Savior." She also greets you in this way. This is not a greeting. It's a proper noun, with adjectives. I am confused and frightened by her. Steer clear.
5. Man in the Panda Mask-
Fortunately, this man is someone that I know which makes it less odd, although if you've ever just been sitting staring out the window and a panda suddenly appears in your window, it makes you feel like you are hallucinating. Also, if you know a man that would wear a panda mask and walk into an office, something is wrong with both him and you. He marches into my office demanding bamboo leaves with this mask on and I point him to the door. Moments later he appears in the front window, not moving, just standing and staring. Had I not known the man behind the mask, I would've shut the blinds and locked the door. I still probably should have done that.
4. Girl Who Hits the Car Behind Her-
She doesn't look in the rearview. Seems unaffected that she has hit the car behind her in order to make room for her to park and then hits the car again as she leaves. She does it slowly to make it look like an accident, but after the first contact continues to roll back until enough space is made. I think she was deprived of the bumper cars as a kid and is now taking it out on any car that happens to be parked behind her. I bet she does not have insurance.
3. Zoot Suit Man-
He has a handle bar mustache and is dressed for perhaps Mardi Gras? Or a pimp that is seeing hard times? He has a three-piece striped suit, matching hat, shiny shoes. He strolls up and down the sidewalk, sometimes carrying a briefcase, other times carrying a cane. I don't know if maybe this is his occupation, similar to the Naked Cowboy that camps out at Times Square in New York City. I don't think this man makes any money dressing like that and there are clearly no tourists, I just think he likes it. I'm interested to see if his wardrobe changes to accomodate this scorching heat, but nothing so far.
2. Bulb-nosed Man-
His nose looks like the horn you may have had on your bike as a kid. It is impossible to ignore. It's impossible not to stare and wonder if he has tried to have it removed. Not the nose, but whatever is extending from it. You would think the obvious answer would be yes, but then you think if so, then wouldn't he have had it removed? Then you think, maybe it is non-removable and you feel badly for staring. But you still stare, out of the corner of your eye. You can't help it.
1. Stumbling Drunk Man-
It's 10 a.m. I'm barely awake and yet this man has just left the bar from a night of drinking or is an early bird and began drinking when the sun came up. Either way, he is tanked. He stumbles out of the bar across the street and picks up the pay phone. He is wearing one shoe. The police arrive and he tries to walk toward them but gets yanked back by the pay phone cord. This causes him to sway and fall. The ambulance arrives. He is laying on the ground, motionless. I see the gurney wheeling him to the back of the ambulance, he's still wearing just one shoe, but then I see one triumphant hand go up in a thumbs up sign and all is right with the world. He is down but not out.
These people have made my perception of the abnormal borderline on normal and back again. Who decides normal anyway? I'm sure a person seeing a girl staring out the window for seven hours straight might think that to be abnormal.
Of course they would be right.
10. Man Driving the Hoopty-
He's not wearing a shirt and has a both a mullet and a mohawk. He has a mullhawk. He parks his white boat of a car outside the door. I see several necklaces hanging from his rearview mirror, as well as a bandana and what quite possibly is a handicapped parking pass, although he clearly does not seem to be impaired in any way (except for the hair). All four windows are down and he strolls into the office reeking of smoke of different varieties. I think I detect the scent of pork rinds as well. He pays cash which as I count out the bills leaves a greasy film on my palm which I try to ignore and subtly wipe on the desk. He leaves and hits his automatic locks button to his car. Even though his windows are down, he has locked his car. Even though I believe this car to be from the 80's. How can he have keyless entry?
9. Lady with Camel Toe-
Out of the bar comes a lady with jean shorts so short and tight that it actually pains me to see her walk to her car. She has a multi-colored halter top that is reminiscent of a Rubix cube and she has on platform shoes. Her top is so low that if any sudden movement, I may be flashed. I expect her to fall at any moment. I wonder if she has a mirror at her home and if not a mirror a rash from the sweat that is sure to become trapped in her shorts. Either the mirror or the rash should keep her from wearing shorts that tight. Common decency and comfort should prevent her. Yet they don't.
8. Sherbet Twins-
I don't think these two people are actually twins, though they very well could be. They are crossdressers. Poorly dressed crossdressers. I am happy to report that I haven't seen them walking together as this would be overkill for my poor eyes. Twin one walks by my window in hot pink glory. Add some feathers and he'd be a flamingo. Twin two is a lighter version and has chosen to deck himself from head to toe in yellow. Yellow shirt, yellow shoes, yellow socks, not one thing is another color. I am betting he is wearing yellow underwear. They are walking popsicles.
7. Man on Bike-
He runs into the pole outside my window while on his bike. The pole is in plain sight and does not block the sidewalk. You have to actually purposefully run into it to well, run into it. He, too, is shirtless the trend down here. Actually, he arrives shirtless, but once he stops puts his shirt back on and then as he departs takes the shirt off once more. I think he doesn't run into the pole as much as uses it as a stopper. He may not have brakes on his bicycle I conclude. He may want to see what flyers are posted on the pole. Either way he uses not his feet nor his brakes to stop, he just runs into the pole. My suggestion to him: wear a helmet.
6. Lady with a Veil-
She is creepy. Don't look at her directly. It would be like staring straight at the sun and you will be blinded or cursed or both. She wears an outfit that makes her look like a nun from hell. She has come into the office declaring that she is a nun and carries a covered basket. It looks like the basket that Dorothy carries in the Wizard of Oz. But I believe there is a gun in this basket and therefore I don't smirk when I see her. Her voice is low and even as if she is trying to hypnotize you. She ends every sentence with, "Jesus, Father Almighty, Our Savior." She also greets you in this way. This is not a greeting. It's a proper noun, with adjectives. I am confused and frightened by her. Steer clear.
5. Man in the Panda Mask-
Fortunately, this man is someone that I know which makes it less odd, although if you've ever just been sitting staring out the window and a panda suddenly appears in your window, it makes you feel like you are hallucinating. Also, if you know a man that would wear a panda mask and walk into an office, something is wrong with both him and you. He marches into my office demanding bamboo leaves with this mask on and I point him to the door. Moments later he appears in the front window, not moving, just standing and staring. Had I not known the man behind the mask, I would've shut the blinds and locked the door. I still probably should have done that.
4. Girl Who Hits the Car Behind Her-
She doesn't look in the rearview. Seems unaffected that she has hit the car behind her in order to make room for her to park and then hits the car again as she leaves. She does it slowly to make it look like an accident, but after the first contact continues to roll back until enough space is made. I think she was deprived of the bumper cars as a kid and is now taking it out on any car that happens to be parked behind her. I bet she does not have insurance.
3. Zoot Suit Man-
He has a handle bar mustache and is dressed for perhaps Mardi Gras? Or a pimp that is seeing hard times? He has a three-piece striped suit, matching hat, shiny shoes. He strolls up and down the sidewalk, sometimes carrying a briefcase, other times carrying a cane. I don't know if maybe this is his occupation, similar to the Naked Cowboy that camps out at Times Square in New York City. I don't think this man makes any money dressing like that and there are clearly no tourists, I just think he likes it. I'm interested to see if his wardrobe changes to accomodate this scorching heat, but nothing so far.
2. Bulb-nosed Man-
His nose looks like the horn you may have had on your bike as a kid. It is impossible to ignore. It's impossible not to stare and wonder if he has tried to have it removed. Not the nose, but whatever is extending from it. You would think the obvious answer would be yes, but then you think if so, then wouldn't he have had it removed? Then you think, maybe it is non-removable and you feel badly for staring. But you still stare, out of the corner of your eye. You can't help it.
1. Stumbling Drunk Man-
It's 10 a.m. I'm barely awake and yet this man has just left the bar from a night of drinking or is an early bird and began drinking when the sun came up. Either way, he is tanked. He stumbles out of the bar across the street and picks up the pay phone. He is wearing one shoe. The police arrive and he tries to walk toward them but gets yanked back by the pay phone cord. This causes him to sway and fall. The ambulance arrives. He is laying on the ground, motionless. I see the gurney wheeling him to the back of the ambulance, he's still wearing just one shoe, but then I see one triumphant hand go up in a thumbs up sign and all is right with the world. He is down but not out.
These people have made my perception of the abnormal borderline on normal and back again. Who decides normal anyway? I'm sure a person seeing a girl staring out the window for seven hours straight might think that to be abnormal.
Of course they would be right.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
It's My Party and I'll Lie If I Want To
I turned 21 again. Let's call it turning 21 part four. Don't get me wrong, the first time around was fantastic, it included all the right elements: drinking, dancing, puking, but fate intervenes and decides to turn an ordinary Friday night into an extraordinary birthday extravaganza. It happens so fast, a stranger asks your table whose birthday it is and someone points to you. The next thing you know it's being announced by the deejay and some stranger is sending over a shot. And another. And another. For a moment you think, maybe you should come clean. It's not your birthday. You've already celebrated being 21 four years ago. But then, who am I to mess with fate?
It is a mathematical certainty that fun people like to hang out with other fun people. Add some vodka and several shots of some sweet concoctions and you have a ready made par-tay. Special occasions such as fake birthdays turn strangers into friends, spazzes into dancers and an Avril Lavigne song worthy of bopping around spewing lyrics that rhyme 'damn precious' with 'motherfucking princess'. I know what you're thinking-why would you tell a stranger something that wasn't true? How about because to say you're from Hollywood, that you're named after a stripper and are a bar virgin is far more entertaining than saying you live twenty blocks down the road and you work a job that actually seems to be the antithesis to intelluctual enlightenment. Haven't you ever pretended you were someone else? I have my whole life. As a kid, I used to pretend I was famous and conduct interviews with myself in the mirror. I pretended I was a gymnast and would jump off the couch trying to perfect my landing. In 4th grade, my friend and I pretended we were running away from home and packed our bookbags with sandwiches, beef jerky and CapriSuns. We only ran away to the golf course to run through the sprinklers and went home when our snacks were gone, but it was fun while it lasted.
Enter the alter ego which encourages fun while it lasts. The alter ego is a Friday night's booty call. You call on your alter ego to liven up your night, to do something extremely foolish and forbidden just because you can. Every day all day you're you. It's fine. But not fun. It's safe but not exciting. That's where your alter ego comes in, so that if you do something, say something, think something so off from who you are, you have an explanation. This is not lying to yourself. This is helping yourself from reaching the point of mindless insanity. The insanity that ensues only after a life of mundane routine has grayed your spirit. It's taking life's lemons and adding vodka for a very delicious cocktail.
But what happens if someone finds you out? What if someone threatens to rain on your parade and tell people that it is in fact not your birthday? Then, you offer that person a drink, give them a wink and smile. One day they'll understand. They'll get what it's about. There are four and a half days a week when there is inevitably going to be downers that forget what it's like to go with the flow, have a good time, enjoy life. There are four and a half days for life to take contol of you instead of the other way around, when things like bills and debt and general stress threaten to age you in such a way that you become morphed into said downer who causes others to decide to have fake birthdays. Then comes Friday afternoon, four and a half days have been survived and that in itself is reason enough to celebrate. Even if you think it's silly to have pretend special occasions, there will come a time when you will feel like being someone else, when you will feel like creating a party for no reason. It will come around the time you realize the only rules that need to be followed are your own. I don't know if this will happen to you anytime soon. But I sure hope it does.
It is a mathematical certainty that fun people like to hang out with other fun people. Add some vodka and several shots of some sweet concoctions and you have a ready made par-tay. Special occasions such as fake birthdays turn strangers into friends, spazzes into dancers and an Avril Lavigne song worthy of bopping around spewing lyrics that rhyme 'damn precious' with 'motherfucking princess'. I know what you're thinking-why would you tell a stranger something that wasn't true? How about because to say you're from Hollywood, that you're named after a stripper and are a bar virgin is far more entertaining than saying you live twenty blocks down the road and you work a job that actually seems to be the antithesis to intelluctual enlightenment. Haven't you ever pretended you were someone else? I have my whole life. As a kid, I used to pretend I was famous and conduct interviews with myself in the mirror. I pretended I was a gymnast and would jump off the couch trying to perfect my landing. In 4th grade, my friend and I pretended we were running away from home and packed our bookbags with sandwiches, beef jerky and CapriSuns. We only ran away to the golf course to run through the sprinklers and went home when our snacks were gone, but it was fun while it lasted.
Enter the alter ego which encourages fun while it lasts. The alter ego is a Friday night's booty call. You call on your alter ego to liven up your night, to do something extremely foolish and forbidden just because you can. Every day all day you're you. It's fine. But not fun. It's safe but not exciting. That's where your alter ego comes in, so that if you do something, say something, think something so off from who you are, you have an explanation. This is not lying to yourself. This is helping yourself from reaching the point of mindless insanity. The insanity that ensues only after a life of mundane routine has grayed your spirit. It's taking life's lemons and adding vodka for a very delicious cocktail.
But what happens if someone finds you out? What if someone threatens to rain on your parade and tell people that it is in fact not your birthday? Then, you offer that person a drink, give them a wink and smile. One day they'll understand. They'll get what it's about. There are four and a half days a week when there is inevitably going to be downers that forget what it's like to go with the flow, have a good time, enjoy life. There are four and a half days for life to take contol of you instead of the other way around, when things like bills and debt and general stress threaten to age you in such a way that you become morphed into said downer who causes others to decide to have fake birthdays. Then comes Friday afternoon, four and a half days have been survived and that in itself is reason enough to celebrate. Even if you think it's silly to have pretend special occasions, there will come a time when you will feel like being someone else, when you will feel like creating a party for no reason. It will come around the time you realize the only rules that need to be followed are your own. I don't know if this will happen to you anytime soon. But I sure hope it does.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Just Not My Style
You know how at least once a year you're supposed to go through your closet and get rid of any clothing you haven't worn in awhile. I have a hard time doing this. I see that shrunken, hot pink, v-neck shirt that has been hanging in my closet for over a year and I think I can wear that somewhere. I don't know where since I don't wear shirts that don't fit over my belly and can't remember the last time I wore anything hot pink but I don't want to throw it away. Eventually though, I do throw it away along with the teal sweater with the fabric softener stains. I realize that I don't miss what I so desperately wanted to hang on to. Now is it fair to do the same with friendships? If you haven't talked to the person in over a year, should you rethink how that friendship fits into your life? Although one may argue that comparing an inanimate object with a human is degrading and unfair, it's still valid. Just like that hot pink shirt that once matched your life and no longer does, the same can be said for friends.
I value my friendships. I don't make a list of friends to purge out of my life every year as I do with my wardrobe, but I have figured out that you don't have to be BFF with someone just because you're friends with their friend's, ex-boyfriend's, brother's roommate. I don't feel like we have to act like friends if I haven't talked to you in four years. I say this because I'm not the person who will say, "Great to see you!", when really I'm thinking, "Fuck, it's you." I'm just not.
About a year ago a friend of mine and I had an argument about why I wasn't friends with someone who once was a mutual friend of ours. I'm just not, I said. He wanted to know if we had a falling out and we hadn't. We just moved in different ways, that's it, no big explanation, no heated dramatic blow up. I just realized the kind of person she was was not the kind of person I wanted to be around. I wanted to believe the friend that I once knew was the same person he still saw, but it wasn't. In college, all your friends seem like the most fun, the most understanding people you've ever met and usually they are. The main reason being you are all going through the same thing, on the same path trying to survive college until graduation. The partying makes you friends, the studying late at night for finals, the quest for graduation makes you all immediately have something in common, but there has to be something more. There has to be respect, trust, something that either you see in someone or don't. I don't ask people to meet for lunch if I know that meeting will never happen. I do the obligatory 'How are you?' when someone I haven't seen in awhile asks how I am, but other than that I understand that if I have absolutely no idea what's going on in a person's life who I once called a friend, it's usually for a reason. We don't have to make promises we won't keep. It's not Girl Scout camp.
The thing is this, for a long time I used to think it was me being too quick to cut someone out, but I am loyal, like a dog, until I sniff you out and find out that you are a liar or two-faced or anything else that I don't find appealing in a friend. I have been that friend that has had someone lie to my face, talk about me behind my back and deny it and it's just not worth it. It's not worth it when I have fantastic friends, friends who I don't have to question or worry about. It's like your favorite sweater that you pull out every winter and it goes with everything you own, you'd wear it every day if you could. You know that if you can't wear it because the weather is too warm, it'll still be there for as long as you need it. And, that's something you don't give away or replace. That's something you hold on to forever. Because things like that never go out of style.
I value my friendships. I don't make a list of friends to purge out of my life every year as I do with my wardrobe, but I have figured out that you don't have to be BFF with someone just because you're friends with their friend's, ex-boyfriend's, brother's roommate. I don't feel like we have to act like friends if I haven't talked to you in four years. I say this because I'm not the person who will say, "Great to see you!", when really I'm thinking, "Fuck, it's you." I'm just not.
About a year ago a friend of mine and I had an argument about why I wasn't friends with someone who once was a mutual friend of ours. I'm just not, I said. He wanted to know if we had a falling out and we hadn't. We just moved in different ways, that's it, no big explanation, no heated dramatic blow up. I just realized the kind of person she was was not the kind of person I wanted to be around. I wanted to believe the friend that I once knew was the same person he still saw, but it wasn't. In college, all your friends seem like the most fun, the most understanding people you've ever met and usually they are. The main reason being you are all going through the same thing, on the same path trying to survive college until graduation. The partying makes you friends, the studying late at night for finals, the quest for graduation makes you all immediately have something in common, but there has to be something more. There has to be respect, trust, something that either you see in someone or don't. I don't ask people to meet for lunch if I know that meeting will never happen. I do the obligatory 'How are you?' when someone I haven't seen in awhile asks how I am, but other than that I understand that if I have absolutely no idea what's going on in a person's life who I once called a friend, it's usually for a reason. We don't have to make promises we won't keep. It's not Girl Scout camp.
The thing is this, for a long time I used to think it was me being too quick to cut someone out, but I am loyal, like a dog, until I sniff you out and find out that you are a liar or two-faced or anything else that I don't find appealing in a friend. I have been that friend that has had someone lie to my face, talk about me behind my back and deny it and it's just not worth it. It's not worth it when I have fantastic friends, friends who I don't have to question or worry about. It's like your favorite sweater that you pull out every winter and it goes with everything you own, you'd wear it every day if you could. You know that if you can't wear it because the weather is too warm, it'll still be there for as long as you need it. And, that's something you don't give away or replace. That's something you hold on to forever. Because things like that never go out of style.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Straight Up Now Tell Me
Don't you think that potential dates should fill out some sort of questionnaire first? I mean not anything extensive just a few getting to know you questions such as: Do you call when you say you will? Would people describe you as slutty? Are you going to drive me to hate you with the mind games you play? It was easier in grade school when the most we had to be worried about was choosing our crushes first when picking teams for dodgeball. The mating ritual was simpler. You could send your friend over to assess the situation and find out if your crush liked you back. You could be 'going out' with someone on Halloween and be over it before Thanksgiving. No questions of what went wrong. Nothing went wrong, you usually just found someone who was better at playing dodgeball.
We can't do that now. We can't give the person a once over and be done. No, now we have to work harder and try. We aren't allowed to be shallow creatures who make decisions based on looks alone; we have to care and actually devote time to showing that we care when usually after about three months it becomes evident we really don't at all. The first month is getting to know you, this is great, we have so much in common. The second month you realize the thing they do that used to be cute is less so and you're wondering if it seems rude to want to sit at home and watch tv alone rather than hang out together. By month three one or both of you realize that it's not working and hopefully one or both of you will have the balls to admit it or in a runner-up scenario stop calling and pretend the other person has moved out of the country.
If I gave my number to a guy who regretted asking for it, I would not want him to feel like he had to give me a chance and try. I would not want him to invite me to dinner so that we could uncomfortably conclude that everyone seems to look better under dim lighting surrounded by the smell of vodka. I would like him to not even make the I-don't-want-to-look-like-an-asshole call because that will only lead to my misguided belief that, well he called once surely he will call again. Because this pathetic does he/doesn't he like me/do I/don't I like him situation would be inevitable; whether it be after the first date or after the obligatory three months.
So what if we resorted back to grade school? What if I sent my friend over to a guy that I could possibly like for a minute to see if he was a) single and b) interested. And if he wasn't single or interested, maybe ask if he might be either of the two in the near future. If he said no, I could move on, cross that name out of my yearbook so to speak and not be overwhelmed by the ambiguous drama that is trying to casually like someone in the world of a 20-something. I should put it to the test. I should embrace the fearlessness and lack of tact I once had as a fifth grader and boldly get right to the point. Are you single? Do you want to be friends? Let me give you my number.
Game on.
We can't do that now. We can't give the person a once over and be done. No, now we have to work harder and try. We aren't allowed to be shallow creatures who make decisions based on looks alone; we have to care and actually devote time to showing that we care when usually after about three months it becomes evident we really don't at all. The first month is getting to know you, this is great, we have so much in common. The second month you realize the thing they do that used to be cute is less so and you're wondering if it seems rude to want to sit at home and watch tv alone rather than hang out together. By month three one or both of you realize that it's not working and hopefully one or both of you will have the balls to admit it or in a runner-up scenario stop calling and pretend the other person has moved out of the country.
If I gave my number to a guy who regretted asking for it, I would not want him to feel like he had to give me a chance and try. I would not want him to invite me to dinner so that we could uncomfortably conclude that everyone seems to look better under dim lighting surrounded by the smell of vodka. I would like him to not even make the I-don't-want-to-look-like-an-asshole call because that will only lead to my misguided belief that, well he called once surely he will call again. Because this pathetic does he/doesn't he like me/do I/don't I like him situation would be inevitable; whether it be after the first date or after the obligatory three months.
So what if we resorted back to grade school? What if I sent my friend over to a guy that I could possibly like for a minute to see if he was a) single and b) interested. And if he wasn't single or interested, maybe ask if he might be either of the two in the near future. If he said no, I could move on, cross that name out of my yearbook so to speak and not be overwhelmed by the ambiguous drama that is trying to casually like someone in the world of a 20-something. I should put it to the test. I should embrace the fearlessness and lack of tact I once had as a fifth grader and boldly get right to the point. Are you single? Do you want to be friends? Let me give you my number.
Game on.
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