A Change of Pace

I had mentioned earlier this month that I am going to hold back on my own personal experimentation. Let me explain: I have recently realized that by defying the double standard and being on the more sexually explicit side, I have done myself a grave disservice. My closest male friends have distanced themselves from me and I have lost all respect from them. That breaks my heart and so, in order to repair this disastrous mess, I have taken it upon myself to correct my behavior.

I will not be nearly as promiscuous as I have been, nor will every party have an ultimate goal that is on the shameful/sinful side. There are other, more important things to talk about aside from sex, like Chaucer or Wilde or Ovid, even though not everyone is interested in them. My jealous, bitchy side won't come out in public, and if it does, it'll be all Southern belle-style, with hilarious back-handed compliments.

With that being said, I am well aware of how titanic this undertaking will be. Combine that with my desire to be patient and wait for the Next Big Thing and I may yet go mad. And then add the fear that this won't be met with reward and it becomes questionable as to whether or not all of this is worth it. What if I spend the next year correcting these mistakes and I find myself still at Stage One: former male best friends still gone and still trapped in a place where I'm ridiculed by my past? Nevermind the very likely chance that I'll still be single, this is really terrifying.

I suppose all things worth doing are challenging and more often than not met with nothing tangible. Isn't that part of growing up? Being mature and responsible for the sake of it and not expecting something at the end. Dammit, though, it'd be a small comfort to know that this will get me what I want, which is not a boyfriend, but respect. That's it. Just respect.

Anyway, I know that this is short and these posts are probably going to stay short for a while because I'll have nothing to report on in my life at least but I'm off.

XOXO,
~M

Clearing Out Old Skeletons

When one spends a vast majority of their time glued to their computer, and when that is combined with the German trait of never getting rid of stuff, one accumulates a lot of "useless crap." Case in point: what I stumbled upon earlier this afternoon.

I was busy looking for an old email address when I located a different email from the bowels of my hard drive: an ancient, or rather year-old, AIM conversation from a certain male person-type-thing. OK, an ex. The exact reason the conversation had been saved was because it had gone on for six hours into the night and neither of us were sure it had really happened (I know, vomit). Anyway, I read it for old times' sake before deleting it from my computer and there were a few things that stood out to me.

The first thing I noticed was how simple it was to speak to him, or really just to speak. Conversation was simple, smooth, and uncomplicated. Words came naturally to me, and it seemed as though I was not afraid whatsoever in what I had to say. I didn't guard myself, nor did I care what he, and subsequently anyone, thought. At one point, he wrote, "You got spirit. I like it." What follows is a rather poetic, somewhat shameful exchange of flirtations. Back and forth, back and forth, like a duel or an elaborate dance. It's a goldmine for anyone needing inspiration to write a trashy romance novel. Nothing was forced, which was what made the whole thing so spellbinding.

It's interesting how time works: spirit, drive, fire all die down eventually, making the individual that was once fiery now lackluster. I guess to some degree that happened to me and perhaps I should go back and reacquaint myself with that old me. Perhaps that girl was on to something. Actually, no she definitely was.

Second thing: circumstance seemed to have a massive role in us even being together at all. It's a touchy subject but in a nutshell, I left someone else for him. The conflict that existed was something ripped out of any of those cheap Avon Romance novels, yet when one lives it, it's crazy enticing and awesome, even with a tragic ending. But, as Dr. Seuss said, "Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened."

And you know, after all the snide comments, the fighting/bickering/truly awful things I may have said and done in the aftermath of previous relationship, and much as I might hate to admit it, I didn't waste my time with him. It happened. Not sure if it happened for a higher reason other than we were super-dooper-mega-ridiculous attracted to each other, but it happened. I'm OK with it. Really, I am. You can't change the past, just try to make the future a little less entropic.

Third: hopeless romantic me. Yet again, I find myself making the realization that I don't hate it when a girl receives flowers from a guy; I'm simply jealous of the fact that they're not mine. Petty, yes, but it's a trait of mine. I say it's gross as a defense mechanism. I know I should be happy for them, and I am, but of course cognitive dissonance takes over and all I can think is, "Oh God, why not me?" It's just sad, really.

Also, I'd like to point out that when I'm in a relationship and the guy gets sick, a bit of a maternal instinct comes out. I make soup for him, tuck him in, and if he wants to, I'll sit and watch his favorite movie with him. Some girlfriend points, haha. But I digress. Where were we?

Fourth: I said that the effort of seduction is fun. Wow. How poignant of me. It certainly is, when one does it right and one is patient. Again, I have to reacquaint myself with that person I once was because I don't remember how to be patient or content with the way things are now, and God knows I need to be.

Fifth: this is actually something he said that I find to be a little gem that I guess we can all stick in our little jewelry boxes of life. "I like girls who look at a relationship as an incredibly strong friendship with intimacy, not something totally different with different rules." I mean, who the hell doesn't want that? I am pretty sure that would be the clearest definition of love. It's just so goddamn difficult to locate it. And when one does locate it, and screws it up, the damage can be irreversible, as seen on countless occasions.

So now, after reading this and picking it apart, as I am wont to do, I realized that there is something to be said about the past. A year ago, I was quite pleased with myself. While I can't erase the fact that I've become rather jaded, I can certainly learn to trust in hope for the future. I can sure as hell learn to be patient and content with who I am as a singular being. Besides, I realize that I'm insanely picky and am going to have to be happy alone; apparently, my expectations are just way too high.

And again, much as I hate to do this, I have to thank him for the things he taught me.

~M

A Moment of Weakness

OK, so last night I had a brief but very real moment of weakness. I had been driving a friend home and he had mentioned that he was interested in other girls, which is perfectly fine. He absolutely has every right to be interested in other girls, and to be honest I'd much prefer to hear that than to hear him say he was interested in guys now (really, who wants to be the girl that turns a guy gay? That means, among other things, your vag must have been all sorts of bad). And I would be an incredible hypocrite to even entertain the thought of denying him that. Still, I don't know why but it pretty much ate away at me and I did something so incredibly shameful:

I actually cried.

No, not those obnoxious, runny nose tears. Just a single tear, like old Hollywood movies where the starlet still looks gorgeous while really sad. I of course played it off as if I had something in my eye and that I was completely fine. Being who he is, he left it at that and asked no further question. For that, I was extremely grateful. I didn't want to tell him really what's wrong with me at the time, simply because I couldn't exactly put it to words. After careful consideration of how to verbalize it, I've decided to tackle what has been plaguing my mind.

I know now that if I am to ever find myself in a position where getting into a relationship with anyone new is a possibility, I'm going to be the prey. I have gotten so fucking sick and tired of being the one to point and say, "Hey, you're cute. Let's chat." When I tell another friend of mine this, he always says, "Well, I'm sorry but other women have ruined that for guys by completely rejecting them." Thanks a lot, other women. That's nice but I don't care. I certainly can't go around with a sign taped to my chest saying "I won't reject you!" because there is evidence pointing to me doing exactly that. And plus, that's just incredibly tacky and stupid.

So now I'm caught in this crazy dilemma. Up until now, I go after what I want, be it an A on a paper, a scholarship, or even, say, a high school boyfriend (yes, that's an epic story of a ballsy sixteen year old). Now, I'd like to be the hunted and sit patiently and wait, or at least have the skill set to sit patiently and wait. It's taking quite a bit of energy to wait, which is absurd. "Waiting" is the only active verb in the English dictionary where in actuality there is no action. The mind has to do gymnastics when thinking about the action of waiting, and is the subject for one of my favorite plays, "Waiting for Godot." Read it sometime, it's awesome.

So yeah, that's basically what's happening now. Just going to simply wait for him, whoever he is, to come crashing into my life. He'll be a klutz; it's more realistic. In the mean time, I'll continue to write and observe things, and hold back on my own experimentation. More on that later.

~M