Indian Summer
In youth, it was a way I had
To do my best to please,
And change, with every passing lad,
To suit his theories.
But now I know the things I know,
And do the things I do;
And if you do not like me so,
To hell, my love, with you!-Dorothy Parker
This post is for two guys in my life who stand as beacons of hope in a shit storm of guys. Jim and Brett are two of my best friends and they are two of the greatest guys I know. They were concerned that I was writing only self-deprecating posts. They were worried I was too hard on myself and that the posts on this blog are depressing. So, for them, I am going to write a post that is all about they way I am. Why I am a catch. Why I think I am a viable commodity in the dating market.
I suppose we can start with my physical appearance. As a complete package, I think I am pretty. I love my dimples. And my brown eyes. I get compliments on these two things frequently. I also like my smile because it is like my Mom's and sister's and grandma's. I have a turtle scar on the right side of my face by my eye that I got when I was about two. It use to bug me...but I think it adds some personality to my face. It is crude, but I do like my rack and I have a sufficient amount of junk in the trunk. I like my legs, they are pretty long. I am not skinny as a rail or a size two. But, I am pretty content with my weight. Yes, I would like to lose some of it...but I don't think I look overweight or fat. Just healthy. Oh, and I have hips. Oh, yes I do. I guess overall that's what I like about my body the most. My curves. They make me feel sexy and feminine.
As for my personality....I am a bit shy, but once you get to know me, I am pretty open. I have a somewhat caustic, sarcastic sense of humor. I like to fancy myself witty. I tend to be more introverted than anything. I think of myself as smart and intelligent. I try to smile as much as possible. I am more liberal minded than anything. I tend to think reality is more subjective than objective. I am pretty patient, but there are certain issues that I am really impatient with. I like to be punctual and hate running late to anything. I have a hard time trusting people, and if you lie to me, I get pretty upset. I am truly incapable of holding grudges and usually tend to forgive people too quickly.
Next, I like my values because I try to live by them daily. I value my family above everything. They come first. I believe in honesty. I believe in working hard and giving your all. I value my friends and would do anything for them. If I can help someone, make their life a little better, I will. I truly believe in treating others they way you want to be treated. I try to respect people because I wanted to be respected. I believe in karma and try to put out positive and good energy. I think the best thing I can do in this life is stay true to what I know and what I believe and surround myself with people whom I love.
Lastly, there are quirks I like about myself. Not that I think I am completely unique, but these are just things about me that I like. I think we all have that. I like my laugh. I like coming from a small town and growing up in a rural area. I like how I can be OCD with everything except my car. I like how I would sometimes rather get lost in a book than go out. I love listening to music and getting lost in it, thinking it's just for me. Same with a book. I LOVE reading and literature and poetry. Words are my life. I enjoy being a feminist. I enjoy looking at things, whether it be commercials, movies, tv shows, or books, critically. I like how I would rather wear t-shirts and jeans and put my hair in a ponytail than dress up. I am competitive in sports, especially basketball. I like playing HALO even though I suck at it.
So...to tie it all together....
In the past, especially high school, I tried to be what I was suppose to be. What I was expected to be. I know I could act a certain way, be a certain girl to please guys. To be that girl every guy wants. I have been that girl. She is lame. She is sad.
But now....I am woman who is confident in what I am, what I think, and what I enjoy. I like being this way. Quirks and mood swings and not coolness and all.
The posts on here are just experiences that ultimately shape who I am now, in the present. These guys are not what I measure myself or my life by. They are not the people I want to impress anymore. Just because they call me moody or fat or ugly doesn't mean I take that to heart and truly believe it.
I guess in the end, I just write about these type of fuck-my-life experiences because they have helped me realize who I want to be.
And who I want to be is a woman who lives by her own standards, not the standards of men.
(Is that better guys?)
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Back, Back, Back It Up
And if my heart be scarred and burned,
The safer I, for all I learned;
The calmer, I, to see it true
That ways of love are never new---Incurable, Dorothy Parker
In my previous post I said I was going to talk about men commenting on my weight, but, in light of a conversation I had with my mother today, I decided to go back even further into my history to share a story that I think has had a huge impact on my life. This is the story of Hank.
Hank was what one might call my puppy love. The first memory I have of Hank is from 1st grade. We were both mini-attendants for football Homecoming. We had to dress up for it and ride in a convertible at the parade. He held the crown and I handed out the corsages. After that I just remember chasing him around the playground and other elementary aged interaction with the opposite sex. We started "dating" in 3rd grade when he gave me a decorated hat box for Christmas. His mom made them, and he told her that he really wanted to give one to me. So, after he showed his emotions with material goods we were an item.
Hank and I continued our "relationship" for another two years. During these years we did not really do much. He was always my guy for the couple's skate at skating parties. We always exchanged Valentines. I went out to his farm to play with him and his cousin Colt, which included checking the coon traps and running through the hay bales. We would call each other during the summer and talk about harvest and softball. We held hands at recess sometimes and once he kissed me on that lips. That was about it.
But then the day came when Hank decided to end our relationship. It was on Valentine's Day in 5th grade at a high school basketball game. I had no idea he was going to break up with me. There was no inclination, no warning signs.
He did not have the guts to do it himself. He sent one of our mutual friends, Matt Frost, to break up with me. Matt just walked straight up to me in the cafeteria and said, "Hank is breaking up with you." I just stood there, stunned. I said, "Okay." I was not quite sure how to react. I did not cry, I did not go accost Hank. I just let it be.
Then, the next week, Hank started to date my arch nemesis of the time, Katy. Katy informed me that he broke up with me to date her because he thought she was better than me. He thought I was ugly and fat and just was not cool anymore. And, not being cool in 5th grade is pretty much the worst insult a kid could get. I did not really believe her, but he confirmed everything she said.
This marks the first time I was screwed over by a guy. I felt sad because he did not want me anymore. He thought I was worthless. He knew I did not like Katy, but he dated her not even a week after he broke up with me on VALENTINE'S DAY. It broke my little 5th grade heart that a boy had so easily discarded me.
Yet, when I think about this experience, I realize how this pattern repeats itself no matter what age a girl is. It was not the first time it happened. It was definitely not the last time it would happen. I continue to have my heart broken by a guy who was cowardly. A guy who would immediately rebound with a girl he had waiting in the wings, a girl I did not especially like. A guy who would say harsh things about me to my face. It is neither the first or last time a guy will make me feel worthless. The pattern repeats over and over and over, leaving me scarred and burned.
But, like Dorothy puts it, the safer, I, for all I learned; The safer, I, to see it true that ways of love are never new. It does help to know what to expect from a relationship and be realistic about it. Yes, that is pessimistic or cynical to think that the only way a relationship will end is in a tragic way. But if we are honest with ourselves, isn't there only a million to one shot that one relationship is the ONE?
Dorothy ends the poem with the line But you, my sweet, are different. It is that endearing hope that this new relationship, this new guy, this new love, this new connection is the one that breaks the pattern. The one that makes all those scars and burns a little less visible, a little less painful, until they are all but forgotten and healed.
Hank is getting married this month. He found his sweet to make things different.
I am not bitter or jealous. Hank taught me valuable things about men and about myself. I thank him for that and wish him nothing but happiness.
Me, I am incurable. I know the odds. I know the consequences. I know the gamble. But, I continue to search because I know there has to be at least one guy who will not think I am ugly, fat or uncool. He will think I am pretty, just right and totally cool.
Next time...I promise to write about the weight comments. Unless I am otherwise inspired.
The safer I, for all I learned;
The calmer, I, to see it true
That ways of love are never new---Incurable, Dorothy Parker
In my previous post I said I was going to talk about men commenting on my weight, but, in light of a conversation I had with my mother today, I decided to go back even further into my history to share a story that I think has had a huge impact on my life. This is the story of Hank.
Hank was what one might call my puppy love. The first memory I have of Hank is from 1st grade. We were both mini-attendants for football Homecoming. We had to dress up for it and ride in a convertible at the parade. He held the crown and I handed out the corsages. After that I just remember chasing him around the playground and other elementary aged interaction with the opposite sex. We started "dating" in 3rd grade when he gave me a decorated hat box for Christmas. His mom made them, and he told her that he really wanted to give one to me. So, after he showed his emotions with material goods we were an item.
Hank and I continued our "relationship" for another two years. During these years we did not really do much. He was always my guy for the couple's skate at skating parties. We always exchanged Valentines. I went out to his farm to play with him and his cousin Colt, which included checking the coon traps and running through the hay bales. We would call each other during the summer and talk about harvest and softball. We held hands at recess sometimes and once he kissed me on that lips. That was about it.
But then the day came when Hank decided to end our relationship. It was on Valentine's Day in 5th grade at a high school basketball game. I had no idea he was going to break up with me. There was no inclination, no warning signs.
He did not have the guts to do it himself. He sent one of our mutual friends, Matt Frost, to break up with me. Matt just walked straight up to me in the cafeteria and said, "Hank is breaking up with you." I just stood there, stunned. I said, "Okay." I was not quite sure how to react. I did not cry, I did not go accost Hank. I just let it be.
Then, the next week, Hank started to date my arch nemesis of the time, Katy. Katy informed me that he broke up with me to date her because he thought she was better than me. He thought I was ugly and fat and just was not cool anymore. And, not being cool in 5th grade is pretty much the worst insult a kid could get. I did not really believe her, but he confirmed everything she said.
This marks the first time I was screwed over by a guy. I felt sad because he did not want me anymore. He thought I was worthless. He knew I did not like Katy, but he dated her not even a week after he broke up with me on VALENTINE'S DAY. It broke my little 5th grade heart that a boy had so easily discarded me.
Yet, when I think about this experience, I realize how this pattern repeats itself no matter what age a girl is. It was not the first time it happened. It was definitely not the last time it would happen. I continue to have my heart broken by a guy who was cowardly. A guy who would immediately rebound with a girl he had waiting in the wings, a girl I did not especially like. A guy who would say harsh things about me to my face. It is neither the first or last time a guy will make me feel worthless. The pattern repeats over and over and over, leaving me scarred and burned.
But, like Dorothy puts it, the safer, I, for all I learned; The safer, I, to see it true that ways of love are never new. It does help to know what to expect from a relationship and be realistic about it. Yes, that is pessimistic or cynical to think that the only way a relationship will end is in a tragic way. But if we are honest with ourselves, isn't there only a million to one shot that one relationship is the ONE?
Dorothy ends the poem with the line But you, my sweet, are different. It is that endearing hope that this new relationship, this new guy, this new love, this new connection is the one that breaks the pattern. The one that makes all those scars and burns a little less visible, a little less painful, until they are all but forgotten and healed.
Hank is getting married this month. He found his sweet to make things different.
I am not bitter or jealous. Hank taught me valuable things about men and about myself. I thank him for that and wish him nothing but happiness.
Me, I am incurable. I know the odds. I know the consequences. I know the gamble. But, I continue to search because I know there has to be at least one guy who will not think I am ugly, fat or uncool. He will think I am pretty, just right and totally cool.
Next time...I promise to write about the weight comments. Unless I am otherwise inspired.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
In The Beginning There was Adam...
I hope God does not mind me taking a line from His good book. If he does, I am sure he will let me know about it. So, with the possibility of being struck down, I say unto thee, in the beginning there was Adam.
Adam was my first official boyfriend. I was a junior in high school, which puts me at about seventeen years old, when we started to date. We dated for a total of two months with a prior wooing period of about three months. We met through a youth group and quickly exchanged email addresses. He wooed me over AIM with eloquent, romantic language such as "lol", "brb", "g2g" and "cya." Not to mention the coy and emotion-filled emoticon like ":)" or ":D." I almost felt like I was lost in a Jane Austen novel.
He was from a different town which made him mysterious and exciting. He was taller than me, he had light green eyes, he was cute, he was interested in the same music as me and he liked me. That was the all the criteria I needed. Actually, all I think I really needed at this time in my life was that he liked me and that he was taller than me. The rest are just perks. I mean, all the other seven girls in my class had managed to secure a boy, yet I had not. I have no problem admitting I was desperate.
So, when he asked me out, I said yes. Let's be serious: cute person from opposite sex + likes me + pressure to fit in = high school relationship.
And that decision, my readers, is where my journey with weird and highly unsuccessful interactions with the male populace begins.
Within the first week of dating, Adam told me there was a song that reminded him of me. I, like any other girl, thought of how sweet such a comment was. I thought of all the songs it could be. Something romantic or sweet or cute. It could be, dare I think it, our song. I asked him which song. He replied Mood Swings by Relient K. (Oh, yes. He was also very Christian) Not familiar with the song or band, I returned home to download the song and look up the lyrics.
This is what I found:
she's so pretty but she but doesn't always act that way
her mood's out swinging on the swing set almost every day
she said to me that she's so happy it's depressing
and all i said was "someone get that girl a mood ring"
if it's drama you want then look no further
they're like the real world meets boy meets world meets days of our lives
and it just kills me how they get away with murder
they'll anger you then bat their eyes; those pretty eyes that watch you sympathize
Not a love song. Not a cute song. Not a sweet song. But instead, a this-girl-is-fucking-crazy song.
Needless to say, I was put off. I never did ask him what he meant by saying this song reminded him of me, in fear of appearing moody. I conjectured enough and came to my own conclusions. I just did not understand why he felt the need to tell me that he thought that I was an emotional wreck. Why he thought someone he was dating should know he believed they were over-the-top dramatic and moody. And, more importantly, what he thought my reaction was going to be to being called emotional. Surely he counted on it being...well, emotional.
I knew from that exact moment that this relationship was over. Yet, I continued to date him for another two months because it was high school and I was willing to over look it. Plus, the song did say I was "so pretty."
Although Adam and I have long since parted ways, I admit to having Mood Swings in my iTunes library and listening to it from time to time . I keep it was a reminder of what once was and what I never hope to repeat: Dating someone because it is convenient. Or dating someone who thinks you are a psycho.
Looking back though, I really do think this sets the pace for the following years. Men have continued to not just say typical male responses or comments, but have truly gone above and beyond the call of duty in making me stop and ask, what the fuck?
Next time......"No, Really, Feel Free to Comment on my Weight..."
Adam was my first official boyfriend. I was a junior in high school, which puts me at about seventeen years old, when we started to date. We dated for a total of two months with a prior wooing period of about three months. We met through a youth group and quickly exchanged email addresses. He wooed me over AIM with eloquent, romantic language such as "lol", "brb", "g2g" and "cya." Not to mention the coy and emotion-filled emoticon like ":)" or ":D." I almost felt like I was lost in a Jane Austen novel.
He was from a different town which made him mysterious and exciting. He was taller than me, he had light green eyes, he was cute, he was interested in the same music as me and he liked me. That was the all the criteria I needed. Actually, all I think I really needed at this time in my life was that he liked me and that he was taller than me. The rest are just perks. I mean, all the other seven girls in my class had managed to secure a boy, yet I had not. I have no problem admitting I was desperate.
So, when he asked me out, I said yes. Let's be serious: cute person from opposite sex + likes me + pressure to fit in = high school relationship.
And that decision, my readers, is where my journey with weird and highly unsuccessful interactions with the male populace begins.
Within the first week of dating, Adam told me there was a song that reminded him of me. I, like any other girl, thought of how sweet such a comment was. I thought of all the songs it could be. Something romantic or sweet or cute. It could be, dare I think it, our song. I asked him which song. He replied Mood Swings by Relient K. (Oh, yes. He was also very Christian) Not familiar with the song or band, I returned home to download the song and look up the lyrics.
This is what I found:
she's so pretty but she but doesn't always act that way
her mood's out swinging on the swing set almost every day
she said to me that she's so happy it's depressing
and all i said was "someone get that girl a mood ring"
if it's drama you want then look no further
they're like the real world meets boy meets world meets days of our lives
and it just kills me how they get away with murder
they'll anger you then bat their eyes; those pretty eyes that watch you sympathize
Not a love song. Not a cute song. Not a sweet song. But instead, a this-girl-is-fucking-crazy song.
Needless to say, I was put off. I never did ask him what he meant by saying this song reminded him of me, in fear of appearing moody. I conjectured enough and came to my own conclusions. I just did not understand why he felt the need to tell me that he thought that I was an emotional wreck. Why he thought someone he was dating should know he believed they were over-the-top dramatic and moody. And, more importantly, what he thought my reaction was going to be to being called emotional. Surely he counted on it being...well, emotional.
I knew from that exact moment that this relationship was over. Yet, I continued to date him for another two months because it was high school and I was willing to over look it. Plus, the song did say I was "so pretty."
Although Adam and I have long since parted ways, I admit to having Mood Swings in my iTunes library and listening to it from time to time . I keep it was a reminder of what once was and what I never hope to repeat: Dating someone because it is convenient. Or dating someone who thinks you are a psycho.
Looking back though, I really do think this sets the pace for the following years. Men have continued to not just say typical male responses or comments, but have truly gone above and beyond the call of duty in making me stop and ask, what the fuck?
Next time......"No, Really, Feel Free to Comment on my Weight..."
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Experience
"Men seldom make passes / At girls who wear glasses"-Dorothy Parker
Yup. Dorothy had it right. I think I could add to her list, too. Or perhaps just make it more specific; Men seldom make passes at girls named Chelsea Magruder.
But, bless her, she kindly avoided using my name. Plus, Magruder does not really rhyme with glasses. Maybe I could just modify it a bit to fit...Men seldom try to get in the cooter of girls named Chelsea Magruder. Not as eloquent. More crass than anything.
I digress. What I am trying to convey is that I feel that Dorothy Parker is a kindred spirit. Her poetry, short stories and witty quips share an emotionally honest look at what it means to be a woman. Whether that woman be in love, out of love, looking for love or looking for an end. Even though she wrote a bulk of her verses almost ninety years ago, those verses give a certain solace; I know that I am not the first, or last, woman to fail to "inspire / In men the rush and roar of fire." She humourusly sums up how I feel about most men I have met; they "Were---shall we say?---born out of wedlock."
Most important to anyone reading this, Dorothy Parker has inspired me to share my own experiences. Not to meet some sort of self-aggrandizing agenda, but in hopes that through (what I hope to convey as) wit, I can help other women find solace and humor in those experiences that make us who we are. And selfishly, to make myself find solace and humor in those experiences.
So, expect to find posts about past, present and future experiences in my life. I think the prevailing theme will be of that bitch LOVE and my experience in the pursuit of it. As you can tell by my beginning, my experiences tend to be more pessimistic than anything. There will also be some observations and rhetorical questions thrown in to mix things up. Oh, and constant references to and quotes from Dorothy Parker, my own personal god.
Next time...."In the Beginning there was Adam...."
Yup. Dorothy had it right. I think I could add to her list, too. Or perhaps just make it more specific; Men seldom make passes at girls named Chelsea Magruder.
But, bless her, she kindly avoided using my name. Plus, Magruder does not really rhyme with glasses. Maybe I could just modify it a bit to fit...Men seldom try to get in the cooter of girls named Chelsea Magruder. Not as eloquent. More crass than anything.
I digress. What I am trying to convey is that I feel that Dorothy Parker is a kindred spirit. Her poetry, short stories and witty quips share an emotionally honest look at what it means to be a woman. Whether that woman be in love, out of love, looking for love or looking for an end. Even though she wrote a bulk of her verses almost ninety years ago, those verses give a certain solace; I know that I am not the first, or last, woman to fail to "inspire / In men the rush and roar of fire." She humourusly sums up how I feel about most men I have met; they "Were---shall we say?---born out of wedlock."
Most important to anyone reading this, Dorothy Parker has inspired me to share my own experiences. Not to meet some sort of self-aggrandizing agenda, but in hopes that through (what I hope to convey as) wit, I can help other women find solace and humor in those experiences that make us who we are. And selfishly, to make myself find solace and humor in those experiences.
So, expect to find posts about past, present and future experiences in my life. I think the prevailing theme will be of that bitch LOVE and my experience in the pursuit of it. As you can tell by my beginning, my experiences tend to be more pessimistic than anything. There will also be some observations and rhetorical questions thrown in to mix things up. Oh, and constant references to and quotes from Dorothy Parker, my own personal god.
Next time...."In the Beginning there was Adam...."
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