It’s official, kids…I thought at first it might have just been in my head, but I realize now that no…it’s pretty much the way of the world (well, of the dating world that is…and, ok, let’s be honest, just of my dating world, but go with me on this one…) I think I can now, O-ficially, be crowned Queen….yes, Queen….of what you ask?
Queen of Impossible Situations.
See, I sorta feel like my phase of picking drug dealers and murderers is behind me (I know, moms is wiping her brow in utter “phew”ness as I’m typing this) and I have now moved on to picking guys that are closer to whom I would want to actually end up with….ok, so maybe that’s a bit of a stretch in some cases (or a lot of a stretch in others), but at least the general trend is in the right direction. Now, this is not to say that none of the guys in the past have ever fit this category as well, it’s just that this realization of the phenomenon I’m about to discuss has only reared its head more recently. So, what the hell does the Queen of Impossible Situations entail? Well, funny you should ask because here I am to tell you just that (I feel like I should be giving some lovely parting gifts as well…only, I’m not…and I won’t….)
Here are (dun-dun-dun-DUN…..) the qualifications and corresponding duties of the (cue Movie Trailer Man’s deep and oh-so-recognized voice…or dude from Emerald City…take your pick)
Queeeeeeeeeeeen of Imposssssssssssssible Situationnnnnnnnns!!!!
Ahem...
Qualification #1: She Who Is To Be Queen (subsequently referred to as She) must be extremely active and mobile (ie: always on the go, moves frequently for school/career, involved in far too many things, has friends all over the place and frequently goes to visit them , etc.) In other words, it must be hard to keep this person in one place for more than, oh I don’t know, like 5 minutes. (see Duty #1 below)
Duty #1: To make it nearly impossible to be in one place long enough for a relationship to take hold and be sufficiently solid to where if She needed to move again or even just leave for an extended period of time, He Who Might Someday Be King (subsequently referred to as He) would be willing/able to accommodate said move or maintain long-distance if need be.
Qualification #2: She must really want to be in a relationship with He and must be tired of the said, “game.”
Duty #2: To consistently get into situations with “he’s” (note the use of the lower case “he” not the upper “He” referred to above) who either outright play “the game” or who try to front like they do not play “the game” when, in fact, they are the, ahem, “game masters.” She must really end up liking these he’s and then realize that they do not really want anything serious. Super.
Qualification #3: She must not only want a relationship as mentioned in #2, but must also want a monogamous relationship with He. Amendment to #3: Oh, and she must be against the whole homewrecker scenario.
Duty #3: Plain and simply must consistently find the he’s that are: 1) married (admittedly so, with ring and all); 2) married (unadmittedly so and outright denying, lying or hiding the existence of a ring and/or wife); 3) with girlfriend (again can take the same two forms as marriage above); 4) just starting to talk to someone else (because they will, inevitably choose the other and live happily ever after with this new girl of their dreams); 5) not looking to be “tied down” (read: still in the player phase); or 6) just looking for a booty call (which is often masked as #5 and also overlaps with Duty #2).
Qualification #4: She must have really “high” expectations and standards (you may also hear this referred to as “setting the bar high”) that She should not need to adjust, yet still seems to find only those he’s that are deficient and cannot seem to reach the bar that, honestly, if they just paid attention to, is low enough to trip over.
Duty #4: To desire a He that is educated, ambitious, honest, trustworthy, dependable, caring, a good person, reliable…seriously, this should not be that hard…you can buy a car that has most of those qualities. Yet, of course, She seems to only find those he’s that: lie, cheat, steal (ok maybe not steal…but it should not be put past this She to select a he that has), don’t follow through, lie, cheat, lie, and, you guessed it, cheat. Of course, this obviously crosses over with Qualification and Duty #3.
Qualification #5: She must have impeccable timing and selection of He’s or he’s who, in 95% of the categories fit the bill perfectly or in other circumstances would very much be He worthy, but, in the luck of She, that other 5% kills it.
Duty #5: To select those He’s or he’s who have something similar to one of the following: 1) a job that, because of distance, danger, or opposition to She’s core values will make the situation too difficult; 2) political, religious, or other core value stances that would make it impossible for She and He to raise children together without wanting to kill the other; 3) a homebase on the other side of the country or in another country all together (again, goes back to Qualification #1); or 4) a great “resume” but there is actually no chemistry (He looks great on paper, but for whatever reason, at the present time will only be classified under the “friend”category.)
So, there you have it. According to my resume, I meet all 5 of these qualifications and have fulfilled their corresponding duties (numerous times over, actually). And, I might add, that is within the last calendar year. Give me a few more months and I’m sure I will boldly go where no Queen has gone before and discover uncharted and never-before-thought-of ways of getting myself into impossible situations. I am more than confident that I can fulfill these duties time and time again, but, truth be told, I kinda don’t wanna. I think I’m done with my stint as the Queen and would love to pass on the torch to the next lucky soul. However, I don’t really want to wish or bestow this crown upon anyone. It really isn’t so much fun, to be honest.
I’m ready for possible, probable, plausible…hell, I’d take likely, conceivable, or even imaginable at this point. Give a girl just a little hope, huh? Someone? Anyone? Hello??
Friday, March 09, 2007
Sunday, December 17, 2006
"My-sum"
Not that there is really ever a dull moment in my life (ok, ok, that’s really not true at all…I’m a PhD student for crying out loud…I reek of dull-dom…but, hey, I’m bringin’ Nerdyback…haha...wait that would imply that it was, at one point, cool. Hmmm, maybe I still can. Damn, I can really get sidetracked, huh? Seriously forgot what I was talking about…oh, right right…my life=not dull=I’m lying….) but I must say that Myspace sure has made for some great stories…situations…encounters…whatever you want to call them.
Now, I know I am not the first to experience (or write about) the crazy things that people say/offer/admit/propose when they stand behind the virtual two-way mirror called the Internet, but it still blows my mind sometimes that people have the balls to write the things they do. I had been saving some of the emails that I had gotten with the sole purpose of writing a blog about them. Besides the straight Booty-mails at 12:30am (“hey, what are you doing tonight?” I mean, honestly…?), the ineffective attempts at flattery (“damn gurl, ur so cute I’d…..” followed by descriptions of sexual positions that were straight from Kama Sutra for the Socially and Sexually Awkward) or the generic attempts to get some attention (the emails that I know the dude sent to like 80 girls…how do I know? Cuz the same dude sent me the same damn thing on 3 different occasions) or just the really, really random one-liners (“hey baby”, “you’re cute”, “wanna chat” or “having fun here tonight?” this last one is the best, by the way…HERE?? This is not a bar. Need I remind you, this place we call Myspace is NOT a real place). I won’t even begin to discuss the grammar, spelling, and proper English issues that also come up...wait, l might just have to say a few things. I mean, I can understand, and have no problem with, using slang (“waddup”, “holla” etc), I can get over alternative spellings (“gurl”, “anywayz”), internet abbreviations and acronyms (“ur”, “omg”, “wtf”) and I’m pretty lenient on capitalization (“i”) and punctuation (“dont”, “cant”), which is why I’m appalled that even despite my high tolerance, people still can’t form coherent, educated sentences. Don't get me wrong, I've been known to write extremely informal, slangy emails and blogs, but at least make it be known that you are able to give me at least one full, complete sentence in there somewhere. Ok, I’m done.
The only reason I’m even telling you about all the idiosyncrasies of Myspace is because I recently received a GREAT email. And by great, I mean entertaining, odd, and a perfect example of why Myspace is so…um...special.
The email goes like this:
“Hi.. Awsome pics!! (typo, but who dosn’t mke those…plus it’s followed by a little flattery) you seem like a kick ass chick.. (Oh do I? Besides the fact that I haven't heard a phrase like that since the 7th grade, I'm not sure you can necessarily deduce that from a profile...but, I guess you can get a general idea. I might let that slide...) Not to be forward (oh lord, that can't be good...) but (you knew there had to be a “but” in there) My girlfriend and I are looking for a 3sum (SAY WHAT? um…ok, timeout. How many degrees of wrong are we talking here?? 1) you’re asking for a three-some from someone you found on Myspace; 2) you seem to think I qualify because, based on a few slide shows, my hobbies, and my favorite movies that I’m a “kick ass chick” that might be down for that...now if I had put swinger in there or something, that might be different, but that's not the case; 3) you called it a 3sum…now, I’m no expert in this whole “inviting random people into my committed sexual life” thing, but I had no idea that this little abbreviation/slang/whatever existed…sh*t, if you are gonna go through the whole thing of emailing me, might as well take the time to spell that out!) .. haha well I said it would be forward (and, damn, were you right!) .. We aren't just looking for someone to jump right in (hmm, I don’t know if I believe you) of course we would love to get to know you first and you get to know us (awww, that’s sweet…you want to get to know me before you try and have your GF and I simultaneously please you…maybe we can grab Starbucks or something next week? Call me!) .. you seem like your pretty openminded (again, how can you tell this from my profile? Open-minded (with the dash, thank you very much) I am, but where does it say on there that I might even remotely be open to a “3sum”?? Hmm? Tell me where…) .. We aren't stalkers or weirdo's (well “stalkers” has yet to be determined, but “weirdo’s” (apostrophe and all) you most definitely are!) we are legit (Legit, what? Legit “3sum”ers? I mean, really…) So if thats something that your intrested in (um, naw…thanks, I think I’m good..,) send us back some love (honestly, even if I was interested, how exactly do you send back some love to that? Leave some comments on their pictures, like “damn, I’d like to hit that…and that too…at the same time…I'm in!”??) .. and def checkout are pics!! (Ok, wow… “and def”…again, you’ve gotten this far, write out the damn word…”checkout” oh you mean like the line at the store? And the best…”are pics”…no comment) oxoxox (that’s funny…I always thought it was xoxoxo, but I could be wrong) Mike and Bridgett
Well, Mike and Bridgett, my first reaction was, this must be a joke or Mike must be some 19 year-old, freak-nasty friend collector, that probably doesn’t even have a GF. So I go to the profile. He’s 29. He only has 60-something friends. His status is “in a relationship.” His GF, Bridgett, is in his #1 spot…not to fall prey to his same assumptions of a profile, but he seems like a good guy--not good enough for me to want to partake in his fantasy, but a good guy, nonetheless. Now he does have a few half-naked pics of Bridgett (maybe to seduce a potential 3rd party?) and he does have edible thongs listed as his favorite candy on a survey, but other than that, not what I was expecting.
How am I supposed to react to this? Should I feel flattered that I appear to be a “kick ass chick” that Mike and Bridgett want to test out? Should I be annoyed that they would make such assumptions? Worried for Bridgett that she might not have a clue about what Mike is doing? Funny thing is I actually felt more perturbed that Mike and Bridgett appear to be rubbing it my face that I am single…almost like they feel sorry for me, so they thought they would just invite me over. You know, like when your coupled friends invite you to come along with them to the movies so you don’t sit home alone. What, they think I need their help or something? The nerve! Ok, I’m kidding, but, honestly, Mike and Bridgett…wow…
I feel like an 85 year-old when I said, I had no idea that kids where doing this kind of thing today! Who would’ve thunk it?? A Myspace “3sum”…a My-sum, if you will…and, actually, no I won’t.
Now, I know I am not the first to experience (or write about) the crazy things that people say/offer/admit/propose when they stand behind the virtual two-way mirror called the Internet, but it still blows my mind sometimes that people have the balls to write the things they do. I had been saving some of the emails that I had gotten with the sole purpose of writing a blog about them. Besides the straight Booty-mails at 12:30am (“hey, what are you doing tonight?” I mean, honestly…?), the ineffective attempts at flattery (“damn gurl, ur so cute I’d…..” followed by descriptions of sexual positions that were straight from Kama Sutra for the Socially and Sexually Awkward) or the generic attempts to get some attention (the emails that I know the dude sent to like 80 girls…how do I know? Cuz the same dude sent me the same damn thing on 3 different occasions) or just the really, really random one-liners (“hey baby”, “you’re cute”, “wanna chat” or “having fun here tonight?” this last one is the best, by the way…HERE?? This is not a bar. Need I remind you, this place we call Myspace is NOT a real place). I won’t even begin to discuss the grammar, spelling, and proper English issues that also come up...wait, l might just have to say a few things. I mean, I can understand, and have no problem with, using slang (“waddup”, “holla” etc), I can get over alternative spellings (“gurl”, “anywayz”), internet abbreviations and acronyms (“ur”, “omg”, “wtf”) and I’m pretty lenient on capitalization (“i”) and punctuation (“dont”, “cant”), which is why I’m appalled that even despite my high tolerance, people still can’t form coherent, educated sentences. Don't get me wrong, I've been known to write extremely informal, slangy emails and blogs, but at least make it be known that you are able to give me at least one full, complete sentence in there somewhere. Ok, I’m done.
The only reason I’m even telling you about all the idiosyncrasies of Myspace is because I recently received a GREAT email. And by great, I mean entertaining, odd, and a perfect example of why Myspace is so…um...special.
The email goes like this:
“Hi.. Awsome pics!! (typo, but who dosn’t mke those…plus it’s followed by a little flattery) you seem like a kick ass chick.. (Oh do I? Besides the fact that I haven't heard a phrase like that since the 7th grade, I'm not sure you can necessarily deduce that from a profile...but, I guess you can get a general idea. I might let that slide...) Not to be forward (oh lord, that can't be good...) but (you knew there had to be a “but” in there) My girlfriend and I are looking for a 3sum (SAY WHAT? um…ok, timeout. How many degrees of wrong are we talking here?? 1) you’re asking for a three-some from someone you found on Myspace; 2) you seem to think I qualify because, based on a few slide shows, my hobbies, and my favorite movies that I’m a “kick ass chick” that might be down for that...now if I had put swinger in there or something, that might be different, but that's not the case; 3) you called it a 3sum…now, I’m no expert in this whole “inviting random people into my committed sexual life” thing, but I had no idea that this little abbreviation/slang/whatever existed…sh*t, if you are gonna go through the whole thing of emailing me, might as well take the time to spell that out!) .. haha well I said it would be forward (and, damn, were you right!) .. We aren't just looking for someone to jump right in (hmm, I don’t know if I believe you) of course we would love to get to know you first and you get to know us (awww, that’s sweet…you want to get to know me before you try and have your GF and I simultaneously please you…maybe we can grab Starbucks or something next week? Call me!) .. you seem like your pretty openminded (again, how can you tell this from my profile? Open-minded (with the dash, thank you very much) I am, but where does it say on there that I might even remotely be open to a “3sum”?? Hmm? Tell me where…) .. We aren't stalkers or weirdo's (well “stalkers” has yet to be determined, but “weirdo’s” (apostrophe and all) you most definitely are!) we are legit (Legit, what? Legit “3sum”ers? I mean, really…) So if thats something that your intrested in (um, naw…thanks, I think I’m good..,) send us back some love (honestly, even if I was interested, how exactly do you send back some love to that? Leave some comments on their pictures, like “damn, I’d like to hit that…and that too…at the same time…I'm in!”??) .. and def checkout are pics!! (Ok, wow… “and def”…again, you’ve gotten this far, write out the damn word…”checkout” oh you mean like the line at the store? And the best…”are pics”…no comment) oxoxox (that’s funny…I always thought it was xoxoxo, but I could be wrong) Mike and Bridgett
Well, Mike and Bridgett, my first reaction was, this must be a joke or Mike must be some 19 year-old, freak-nasty friend collector, that probably doesn’t even have a GF. So I go to the profile. He’s 29. He only has 60-something friends. His status is “in a relationship.” His GF, Bridgett, is in his #1 spot…not to fall prey to his same assumptions of a profile, but he seems like a good guy--not good enough for me to want to partake in his fantasy, but a good guy, nonetheless. Now he does have a few half-naked pics of Bridgett (maybe to seduce a potential 3rd party?) and he does have edible thongs listed as his favorite candy on a survey, but other than that, not what I was expecting.
How am I supposed to react to this? Should I feel flattered that I appear to be a “kick ass chick” that Mike and Bridgett want to test out? Should I be annoyed that they would make such assumptions? Worried for Bridgett that she might not have a clue about what Mike is doing? Funny thing is I actually felt more perturbed that Mike and Bridgett appear to be rubbing it my face that I am single…almost like they feel sorry for me, so they thought they would just invite me over. You know, like when your coupled friends invite you to come along with them to the movies so you don’t sit home alone. What, they think I need their help or something? The nerve! Ok, I’m kidding, but, honestly, Mike and Bridgett…wow…
I feel like an 85 year-old when I said, I had no idea that kids where doing this kind of thing today! Who would’ve thunk it?? A Myspace “3sum”…a My-sum, if you will…and, actually, no I won’t.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
" THE question"
Single: 1) only one, not one of several; 2) unmarried or not involved in a stable sexual relationship; 3) consisting of one part.
As if the actual act of meeting people wasn’t already hard enough, the getting-to-know you process doesn’t really get much easier. You know what I’m talking about...all the questions about what you do for work/school, what your family is like, what you do for fun, etc…and if you’re lucky enough to scrape beyond surface level questions before the encounter is either terminated or just expires on its own, you may get into some more in-depth conversations about political views, what your family is REALLY like, and (gasp!) your past relationships. This is all fine and dandy, we all go through it, we all know what it’s all about...I mean, I would even go as far as to say we all have our own little script in our head for these beginning questions. Many of us have the questions and their potential answers swirling in our heads prior to even getting to this point. There is one question, though, that I still don’t really know how to answer. And, it’s not necessarily that I don’t know what the answer is, but it is a variable answer (depending on anything from where I’m at in my life to who I just last met at the grocery store) to a question that I don’t feel I should HAVE to answer. Ok, let me rephrase that…clearly I know that I don’t HAVE to answer any question that I am asked, but I mean that I don’t even feel like it should be a valid question. I know you’re thinking, what the hell kinda question could that be? Well, inevitably (like 8 or 9 times out of 10), shortly after the first few initial questions are asked, I get asked this question...THE question. It’s like the guy just starts to get to know me and then I can feel it coming. Like a weird psychic anticipation that he is gonna ask THE question. I think in my head….and here it comes in 5, 4,...then, usually, THE question is prefaced by one of the following, “But, wait...” “I don’t get it...” “So, then...” “You just seem so (fill in the blank with some really nice compliment)...” or even, “But, you sound so perfect...” 3, 2...and then it comes...1...
“WHY ARE YOU SINGLE?”
Ugh, that question just really irks me (did I just really say “irk”? I never use that word! I think this is more serious than I thought!) It’s not just like a little pet peeve, “oh I hate when they ask that” it’s a little deeper...it actually borders on nails-on-a-chalkboard, chills-down-my-spine, please-make-it-stop pain. Now, before I go into the two potential deviations of this blessed question, let me first address that, even though I know that it is not always asked out of malice, this question does have a strong implication that there is something wrong with being single. Is there? I mean, who really gets to decide that? So, wait, you’re saying I’m single, that’s bad, and it’s MY fault...oh ok...right...so I couldn’t just decide that I WANT to be single right now? (I mean, that’s not always the case, of course, but it could be, right?! Right??!!) Why’s it gotta be so negative??? “Oh, you’re single” (you can almost picture that “oh, you poor thing” face and hear the voice that your grandma uses, you know the one that’s a fine blend of pity and coddling). The best part is that before you can even open your mouth to start to give your two cents (read: defend yourself) on this issue, you’re hit with one of two (or sometimes both) subsequent questions.
“WHAT”S WRONG WITH YOU?”
Again, not the most pleasant of questions to hear. Hmm...yeah, let’s talk about what’s wrong with me, please. Because, as a girl, I don’t ask myself that question enough (us girls, we’re never harsh on any qualities about ourselves!) I mean, I have said many times that I am well aware that by no means am I perfect, but good lord...nothing is wrong with me, dumb ass! (sorry...I’m just really sick of answering this question...can you tell?) The best is when this second question is given as in multiple-choice form, and it often is. For example, “What’s wrong with you? Is it A) Do you have an extra toe? B) Are you missing a leg? C) Do you turn into a psycho bitch at midnight?” Seriously? What do you want me to say? “D) all of the above?” I mean, come on...and, of course, the multiple-choice answers vary on whether the person has already met me in person or not. If they have seen me, they can clearly tell I’m not missing a leg, but the psycho bitch potential really freaks them out apparently, so they lean more towards those types of potential answers. If they haven’t met me in person, they are usually leaning towards the side of she must be really hideous in person. Now, isn’t that lovely? And they say chivalry is dead...ha!
I also particularly like how this question places ALL the blame on me for not being in a relationship. Because, heavens no, it couldn’t have anything to do with the other party involved. It must just be that I have an extra limb or a big fat mole over my whole face, that’s the ONLY thing it could be, of course. I would never place ALL the blame on the guy for my failed relationships (though in many of my past situations I could probably get away with it) because there are two sides to every story and two people in a relationship. So, how dare they assume that there must be something so wrong with me that I’m solely at fault! Now, I do have to say that sometimes this question is asked out of true disbelief that I am not in a relationship, which is almost flattering, but not quite...because again, there is this subtle (or not so subtle) “you are flawed, imperfect, defective” (ok, so maybe defective is going a bit far, but for a Type A, Perfectionist type, “flaw” is basically synonymous with “defective”, let’s be honest). And, as much as I appreciate the attempt at flattery for those that truly don’t get why I might be single, it’s not something that I really want rubbed in my face...again, us girls do a good enough job of overanalyzing every possible (and even no where near conceivable) reason why we are where we are in our dating life...I’m pretty good at asking myself these questions, you really don’t need to ask them for me.
Which brings me to the second potential deviation from the original question. Like I said, this can be asked in place of, or in conjunction with the previous question.
“ARE YOU TOO PICKY?” (note: sometimes this is not even asked in the form of a question...it is stated...yes, as if it were a fact. “You must be too picky!” that’s even better...how ‘bout you just TELL me what I’m doing wrong...please...enlighten me)
Ugh again. Blame on me, again. Yes, it is my fault. I am too picky, that’s it! I need to lower my standards. I need to lower the bar (which as I have alluded to in other posts isn’t that high to begin with). I need to go out with more guys that treat me like crap, that cheat on me, that don’t have goals, and don’t have ambition. Damn! I knew I was doing something wrong! All this time I thought that not settling for all these Mr. Wrongs was a good thing...that I just hadn’t met Mr Right yet, but that he was out there. Now, I’m starting to get it...really, the strategy of the game is to just grab the first one you see, hold on real tight, and get him to walk down the aisle to you. There aren’t that many guys out there, so, therefore, I should just be happy with whoever crosses my path. And, since the person asking me this question is a guy that is potentially interested in dating me, well then, it’s my lucky day! I can just pick him, forget about any other prospects out there, and just end this horrid nightmare I must be living! Uh...PUH-LEEEEZ!
I mean, WTF? You bet damn right I’m picky! And if we’re talking about someone you want to eventually marry, is there really such a thing as too picky? Every time I hear one of my girl friends tell me in utter frustration that they got asked the “picky thing” again, it infuriates me. I want nothing more than for my girls to be picky. They have every right to be picky, they are all gems! I would be ecstatic to know that they are being choosy and very worried if they weren’t. We’re not quite at the point of having to be concerned about repopulating the planet (do you know how many people live in LA alone, I mean come on!), so I think we can afford to think twice, fully evaluate, and be picky if we want to be. I, like many of my friends, am a busy girl...I don’t have time for BS, so I just can’t tolerate it. I mean, I take like 20 minutes to decide what to order at a restaurant that I frequent on a weekly basis…you really think I’m just gonna make a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants decision on something like this? Not likely! But, there are some things on that menu that I know I won’t ever touch, not my thing, don’t like them, bad for you, whatever...so I just don’t even bother...just wasted resources...same thing applies here. I’m a busy girl, and so are many of my friends. There’s no need to waste anybody’s time here, right?
So, is that being overly picky? Maybe...but, really, I’m not like standing there with a list of absurd qualities and characteristics that must be checked off before I will talk to the guy either. I’m really looking for more general characteristics like intelligence, sense of humor, honesty, ambition, athletic, altruism, etc. Really...is that asking too much? Maybe it is, I don’t know, but I really don’t think it should be. So, yes, I’m picky. TOO picky? I think we’re gonna have to go to the judges on that one...don’t really know if you can put it in those terms. Honestly, I’m proud to be picky, dammit! I think, honestly, I haven’t been picky enough in the past...I’m sure any of you who have read my other posts might tend to agree with me on that.
Now, I have also noticed a more recent trend of a potential third derivation of the original, “why are you single” question. This is not as well-established, but I thought I should at least bring it up. This is the, “are you too busy?” (or as in the derivation above, in statement form, “you must be too busy.”) I’ll admit, and wait, I have admitted even earlier in this post, that I am a busy girl. No doubt. However, I also know that if it is worth my time, I will make the time. This comes back to the spending not wasting time thing. I can juggle a lot of things, that’s what I’m good at. I will make time for someone who is worth it to me. Just like I would hope they would do the same. So, this question, not really applicable. Relationships are never easy, everyone is busy, everyone has schedules, appointments, meetings, whatever, but people make it work. It’s whether BOTH people are willing to put the effort into making it work. That, my friends, is the key. I know myself pretty well...busy is not going to go away...I just work around it.
With all that said, guess what?! I’m still single, I’m still imperfect, I’m still picky and I’m still busy. Now what?! That’s it, sucks for me, guess I’ll just stay single until I either 1) become perfect, 2) lower my standards, or 3) cancel everything in my planner? Um, yeah...I don’t think so. No, it’s just a matter of finding someone who loves my imperfections, who (without trying) surpasses even my own standards, and who knows how to work with me on accommodating both of our hectic lives. Simple. Done. Ha! But seriously. I am single. The end. Why? Hmmm, I don’t know…not by choice (at least right now, it may have been in the past), not by fault, and not permanently, so how ‘bout we skip this question next time, hmm?! I know, I know, wishful thinking...but, shoot...how many times does a girl have to hear this?
As if the actual act of meeting people wasn’t already hard enough, the getting-to-know you process doesn’t really get much easier. You know what I’m talking about...all the questions about what you do for work/school, what your family is like, what you do for fun, etc…and if you’re lucky enough to scrape beyond surface level questions before the encounter is either terminated or just expires on its own, you may get into some more in-depth conversations about political views, what your family is REALLY like, and (gasp!) your past relationships. This is all fine and dandy, we all go through it, we all know what it’s all about...I mean, I would even go as far as to say we all have our own little script in our head for these beginning questions. Many of us have the questions and their potential answers swirling in our heads prior to even getting to this point. There is one question, though, that I still don’t really know how to answer. And, it’s not necessarily that I don’t know what the answer is, but it is a variable answer (depending on anything from where I’m at in my life to who I just last met at the grocery store) to a question that I don’t feel I should HAVE to answer. Ok, let me rephrase that…clearly I know that I don’t HAVE to answer any question that I am asked, but I mean that I don’t even feel like it should be a valid question. I know you’re thinking, what the hell kinda question could that be? Well, inevitably (like 8 or 9 times out of 10), shortly after the first few initial questions are asked, I get asked this question...THE question. It’s like the guy just starts to get to know me and then I can feel it coming. Like a weird psychic anticipation that he is gonna ask THE question. I think in my head….and here it comes in 5, 4,...then, usually, THE question is prefaced by one of the following, “But, wait...” “I don’t get it...” “So, then...” “You just seem so (fill in the blank with some really nice compliment)...” or even, “But, you sound so perfect...” 3, 2...and then it comes...1...
“WHY ARE YOU SINGLE?”
Ugh, that question just really irks me (did I just really say “irk”? I never use that word! I think this is more serious than I thought!) It’s not just like a little pet peeve, “oh I hate when they ask that” it’s a little deeper...it actually borders on nails-on-a-chalkboard, chills-down-my-spine, please-make-it-stop pain. Now, before I go into the two potential deviations of this blessed question, let me first address that, even though I know that it is not always asked out of malice, this question does have a strong implication that there is something wrong with being single. Is there? I mean, who really gets to decide that? So, wait, you’re saying I’m single, that’s bad, and it’s MY fault...oh ok...right...so I couldn’t just decide that I WANT to be single right now? (I mean, that’s not always the case, of course, but it could be, right?! Right??!!) Why’s it gotta be so negative??? “Oh, you’re single” (you can almost picture that “oh, you poor thing” face and hear the voice that your grandma uses, you know the one that’s a fine blend of pity and coddling). The best part is that before you can even open your mouth to start to give your two cents (read: defend yourself) on this issue, you’re hit with one of two (or sometimes both) subsequent questions.
“WHAT”S WRONG WITH YOU?”
Again, not the most pleasant of questions to hear. Hmm...yeah, let’s talk about what’s wrong with me, please. Because, as a girl, I don’t ask myself that question enough (us girls, we’re never harsh on any qualities about ourselves!) I mean, I have said many times that I am well aware that by no means am I perfect, but good lord...nothing is wrong with me, dumb ass! (sorry...I’m just really sick of answering this question...can you tell?) The best is when this second question is given as in multiple-choice form, and it often is. For example, “What’s wrong with you? Is it A) Do you have an extra toe? B) Are you missing a leg? C) Do you turn into a psycho bitch at midnight?” Seriously? What do you want me to say? “D) all of the above?” I mean, come on...and, of course, the multiple-choice answers vary on whether the person has already met me in person or not. If they have seen me, they can clearly tell I’m not missing a leg, but the psycho bitch potential really freaks them out apparently, so they lean more towards those types of potential answers. If they haven’t met me in person, they are usually leaning towards the side of she must be really hideous in person. Now, isn’t that lovely? And they say chivalry is dead...ha!
I also particularly like how this question places ALL the blame on me for not being in a relationship. Because, heavens no, it couldn’t have anything to do with the other party involved. It must just be that I have an extra limb or a big fat mole over my whole face, that’s the ONLY thing it could be, of course. I would never place ALL the blame on the guy for my failed relationships (though in many of my past situations I could probably get away with it) because there are two sides to every story and two people in a relationship. So, how dare they assume that there must be something so wrong with me that I’m solely at fault! Now, I do have to say that sometimes this question is asked out of true disbelief that I am not in a relationship, which is almost flattering, but not quite...because again, there is this subtle (or not so subtle) “you are flawed, imperfect, defective” (ok, so maybe defective is going a bit far, but for a Type A, Perfectionist type, “flaw” is basically synonymous with “defective”, let’s be honest). And, as much as I appreciate the attempt at flattery for those that truly don’t get why I might be single, it’s not something that I really want rubbed in my face...again, us girls do a good enough job of overanalyzing every possible (and even no where near conceivable) reason why we are where we are in our dating life...I’m pretty good at asking myself these questions, you really don’t need to ask them for me.
Which brings me to the second potential deviation from the original question. Like I said, this can be asked in place of, or in conjunction with the previous question.
“ARE YOU TOO PICKY?” (note: sometimes this is not even asked in the form of a question...it is stated...yes, as if it were a fact. “You must be too picky!” that’s even better...how ‘bout you just TELL me what I’m doing wrong...please...enlighten me)
Ugh again. Blame on me, again. Yes, it is my fault. I am too picky, that’s it! I need to lower my standards. I need to lower the bar (which as I have alluded to in other posts isn’t that high to begin with). I need to go out with more guys that treat me like crap, that cheat on me, that don’t have goals, and don’t have ambition. Damn! I knew I was doing something wrong! All this time I thought that not settling for all these Mr. Wrongs was a good thing...that I just hadn’t met Mr Right yet, but that he was out there. Now, I’m starting to get it...really, the strategy of the game is to just grab the first one you see, hold on real tight, and get him to walk down the aisle to you. There aren’t that many guys out there, so, therefore, I should just be happy with whoever crosses my path. And, since the person asking me this question is a guy that is potentially interested in dating me, well then, it’s my lucky day! I can just pick him, forget about any other prospects out there, and just end this horrid nightmare I must be living! Uh...PUH-LEEEEZ!
I mean, WTF? You bet damn right I’m picky! And if we’re talking about someone you want to eventually marry, is there really such a thing as too picky? Every time I hear one of my girl friends tell me in utter frustration that they got asked the “picky thing” again, it infuriates me. I want nothing more than for my girls to be picky. They have every right to be picky, they are all gems! I would be ecstatic to know that they are being choosy and very worried if they weren’t. We’re not quite at the point of having to be concerned about repopulating the planet (do you know how many people live in LA alone, I mean come on!), so I think we can afford to think twice, fully evaluate, and be picky if we want to be. I, like many of my friends, am a busy girl...I don’t have time for BS, so I just can’t tolerate it. I mean, I take like 20 minutes to decide what to order at a restaurant that I frequent on a weekly basis…you really think I’m just gonna make a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants decision on something like this? Not likely! But, there are some things on that menu that I know I won’t ever touch, not my thing, don’t like them, bad for you, whatever...so I just don’t even bother...just wasted resources...same thing applies here. I’m a busy girl, and so are many of my friends. There’s no need to waste anybody’s time here, right?
So, is that being overly picky? Maybe...but, really, I’m not like standing there with a list of absurd qualities and characteristics that must be checked off before I will talk to the guy either. I’m really looking for more general characteristics like intelligence, sense of humor, honesty, ambition, athletic, altruism, etc. Really...is that asking too much? Maybe it is, I don’t know, but I really don’t think it should be. So, yes, I’m picky. TOO picky? I think we’re gonna have to go to the judges on that one...don’t really know if you can put it in those terms. Honestly, I’m proud to be picky, dammit! I think, honestly, I haven’t been picky enough in the past...I’m sure any of you who have read my other posts might tend to agree with me on that.
Now, I have also noticed a more recent trend of a potential third derivation of the original, “why are you single” question. This is not as well-established, but I thought I should at least bring it up. This is the, “are you too busy?” (or as in the derivation above, in statement form, “you must be too busy.”) I’ll admit, and wait, I have admitted even earlier in this post, that I am a busy girl. No doubt. However, I also know that if it is worth my time, I will make the time. This comes back to the spending not wasting time thing. I can juggle a lot of things, that’s what I’m good at. I will make time for someone who is worth it to me. Just like I would hope they would do the same. So, this question, not really applicable. Relationships are never easy, everyone is busy, everyone has schedules, appointments, meetings, whatever, but people make it work. It’s whether BOTH people are willing to put the effort into making it work. That, my friends, is the key. I know myself pretty well...busy is not going to go away...I just work around it.
With all that said, guess what?! I’m still single, I’m still imperfect, I’m still picky and I’m still busy. Now what?! That’s it, sucks for me, guess I’ll just stay single until I either 1) become perfect, 2) lower my standards, or 3) cancel everything in my planner? Um, yeah...I don’t think so. No, it’s just a matter of finding someone who loves my imperfections, who (without trying) surpasses even my own standards, and who knows how to work with me on accommodating both of our hectic lives. Simple. Done. Ha! But seriously. I am single. The end. Why? Hmmm, I don’t know…not by choice (at least right now, it may have been in the past), not by fault, and not permanently, so how ‘bout we skip this question next time, hmm?! I know, I know, wishful thinking...but, shoot...how many times does a girl have to hear this?
Sunday, March 05, 2006
"the one"
One: 1) The lowest cardinal number, half of two; 2) a single person or thing; 3) a noteworthy example of; 4) identical and united, forming a unity.
Many of us often ask ourselves, “will I ever find the one?” or “how do you know you have found the one?” even, “could this be the one?” What the hell is “the one”? Is there really only one “the one?” Clearly, in a mathematical context, yes there is one “one” (and any of you math geeks that want to jump on me about being able to mathematically prove otherwise, just leave it alone and for with me on this one for now) but in a relationship/life context, is there really only one “one”? And if so, what happens if you miss out on that chance to be with “the one”? Does that mean you lost “the one” or does that mean that the one you thought was “the one” really is just another one? Or, what if someone is our “one” but we are not theirs (or vice versa)? Who’s “one” trumps the other’s? They say there is someone out there for everyone…but is there a “the one” out there for everyone? Do we all really find “the one” or do we really just find a great someone masquerading as “the one”?
Although it may sound so, I’m not trying to be cynical or pessimistic about this at all…genuinely curious and slightly unsettled is a better way to describe it. We all, ok wait, I take that back…many of us, are really in pursuit of “the one”. One is such a lonely number, yet “the one” is so sought after and so appealing. Many of us believe and/or want to believe that the fairy tale ending is possible—that you meet your prince charming or your princess and you live happily ever after. We all know, however, that thanks to the divorce rate in this country, the fairy tale doesn’t always end that way. But, we still try. We still want that hope of finding the perfect mate, finding our perfect partner to share our lives with, someone who will love you unconditionally through all of life’s ups and downs. I mean, that’s what I want, at least. But, is there really only one person out there that can fulfill that role? And does that mean that the person who can fulfill that role now will still fulfill that role 15-20 years from now? I really do believe that for some, there is no doubt about it. I think some people really, truly find “the one” after seemingly little or no search at all and get to fulfill that deeply rooted desire of finding, capturing, savoring, and keeping their true soul mate. For others, myself included, I think the search is a bit more extensive. (damn, I just realized, wouldn’t it be tight if you could just Google that? Type in like “John Doe’s the one” and you would get a link? Wow….ok, sorry, there I go off track again…)
Now, I do realize that I have not created the best incubator for a “the one” type relationship to grow. I move around a lot. I leave the country all the time. I’m still a full-time student. I’m highly ambitious and driven and focusing on my goals, blah blah blah. (I know, how dare I, right?) However, I know plenty of other people that have these same sorts of circumstances and have seemed to find “the one” still, or at least, so they say. How do they do it? Are they just lucky? In the right place at the right time? Are they more open to it? Are they less picky? Is their “the one” just more willing and/or able to work around their circumstances? In my head, I feel like if it truly is “the one” none of the other stuff should or would matter, right? Maybe that is just an overly romanticized, perhaps borderline naïve belief of mine, but I really think my lifestyle shouldn’t impede my chances of finding “the one.” Although, I will admit that all these “so NOT the one” guys I have been involved with have not helped out the situation. Most of the time, they are weeded rather quickly because I know they aren’t “the one.” I don’t have the time or energy to deal with someone that wouldn’t even be in the running. Hmm, that’s interesting…it’s really easy to know who ISN’T “the one” but it’s a lot harder to figure out who is. How do you know?
Well, according to many people “you just know.” You just know…ok, so that means if I’m questioning it at all, then it can’t be “the one”? Is there ever any room for doubt in this whole slightly ambiguous, but still generally understood concept? Or does “just knowing” naturally imply that you are past any stages of doubt? How exactly do you know? What are the signs? Is it a little voice in your head that says, “this is the one”? is it something you can sense? Like a sense of love? comfort? security? Is it a deep-rooted feeling that permeates your whole body any time you’re around the person? Is it all of the above? Is it different for everybody? And, more importantly, couldn’t this voice, sense, or feeling just as easily be confused with desire, infatuation, love, a sense of belonging, and maybe a relief from loneliness?
I have to admit, I thought that I had met “the one” (and it was actually one of those “you just know” things). However, since it didn’t work out, I’m assuming that he really wasn’t “the one,” unless he is one of my “ones”? See, this is where it’s a little ambiguous to me. I found “the one” lost “the one” and where does that leave me? Forever without my “one”? Do you think I really want to believe that? Hell no! I could think that he was “the one” and it just didn’t work for me, therefore, game over, too bad I lost. Yeah, F-that! I refuse to believe that is the case, but does that mean that I have more than one “the one” or does that mean I had an “almost the one” and my “the one” will surpass any hopes and expectations previously contrived? I would be perfectly content having another “the one” of equal value as the first, but I must say that I am hoping for the latter because, damn, that’s gonna be one amazing “the one.” The thought of that actually gives me goose bumps. I am not meaning to sound like without my “the one” I am nothing and my life sucks, but, in true Hallmark card style, I think it would just make life that much sweeter.
So, where does that leave me? or any of us for that matter? Do I just sit around and wait for “the one” to walk in my door? Do I need to go out and be proactive about it? Really, who the F-knows? I mean clearly, there is no way to completely control what happens, so I kinda just have to go with it. In fact, this makes me think of something that someone told me recently: “life is a game, the sooner you realize that, the more fun you’ll have.” Now, at first, I was like, I hate games. Games suck. However, after thinking about it, I realized that, even though I am definitely not one for playing THE game, there really is something to this idea. Maybe finding “the one” is like a game. You can employ a bit of thought, a bit of strategy, planning, foreshadowing, skill…you can bluff, you can put your game face on….you can train, you can practice, you can try new moves (sorry, couldn’t resist that!), but really…when it comes down to it, all of the preparation in the world can not prepare you for the luck of the draw, the roll of the die, the opposition’s next move, the clock running out…you can’t control fate. So, there is no reason to try. But, just like with any game you play, just because you can’t control fate doesn't mean you can't be smart about your game. Maybe you will have meet someone that you think is “the one” but really be wrong so you will have to go back to START…maybe you will meet more than one "the one" and have to choose to go left or right… maybe you will think that someone is “the one” until you meet someone better who bumps the first one out of their position...truth is, you really don’t know how your game board will be laid out…you don’t know what else is going to be an obstacle, you don’t know if all of a sudden someone will scratch, default or withdraw…shoot, you don’t even know if you will do the same. Somehow, some way, some day, you will find “the one” and you will “just know” and you will get to the end of the game…only, when you get there, you will realize that the game is never really over, you just move (now well-accompanied by "the one") to the next level, to the next challenge, the next phase...and it may be unfamiliar, it may be scary, but you will be fine...you will recognize that you and "the one" now equal just...one...
Many of us often ask ourselves, “will I ever find the one?” or “how do you know you have found the one?” even, “could this be the one?” What the hell is “the one”? Is there really only one “the one?” Clearly, in a mathematical context, yes there is one “one” (and any of you math geeks that want to jump on me about being able to mathematically prove otherwise, just leave it alone and for with me on this one for now) but in a relationship/life context, is there really only one “one”? And if so, what happens if you miss out on that chance to be with “the one”? Does that mean you lost “the one” or does that mean that the one you thought was “the one” really is just another one? Or, what if someone is our “one” but we are not theirs (or vice versa)? Who’s “one” trumps the other’s? They say there is someone out there for everyone…but is there a “the one” out there for everyone? Do we all really find “the one” or do we really just find a great someone masquerading as “the one”?
Although it may sound so, I’m not trying to be cynical or pessimistic about this at all…genuinely curious and slightly unsettled is a better way to describe it. We all, ok wait, I take that back…many of us, are really in pursuit of “the one”. One is such a lonely number, yet “the one” is so sought after and so appealing. Many of us believe and/or want to believe that the fairy tale ending is possible—that you meet your prince charming or your princess and you live happily ever after. We all know, however, that thanks to the divorce rate in this country, the fairy tale doesn’t always end that way. But, we still try. We still want that hope of finding the perfect mate, finding our perfect partner to share our lives with, someone who will love you unconditionally through all of life’s ups and downs. I mean, that’s what I want, at least. But, is there really only one person out there that can fulfill that role? And does that mean that the person who can fulfill that role now will still fulfill that role 15-20 years from now? I really do believe that for some, there is no doubt about it. I think some people really, truly find “the one” after seemingly little or no search at all and get to fulfill that deeply rooted desire of finding, capturing, savoring, and keeping their true soul mate. For others, myself included, I think the search is a bit more extensive. (damn, I just realized, wouldn’t it be tight if you could just Google that? Type in like “John Doe’s the one” and you would get a link? Wow….ok, sorry, there I go off track again…)
Now, I do realize that I have not created the best incubator for a “the one” type relationship to grow. I move around a lot. I leave the country all the time. I’m still a full-time student. I’m highly ambitious and driven and focusing on my goals, blah blah blah. (I know, how dare I, right?) However, I know plenty of other people that have these same sorts of circumstances and have seemed to find “the one” still, or at least, so they say. How do they do it? Are they just lucky? In the right place at the right time? Are they more open to it? Are they less picky? Is their “the one” just more willing and/or able to work around their circumstances? In my head, I feel like if it truly is “the one” none of the other stuff should or would matter, right? Maybe that is just an overly romanticized, perhaps borderline naïve belief of mine, but I really think my lifestyle shouldn’t impede my chances of finding “the one.” Although, I will admit that all these “so NOT the one” guys I have been involved with have not helped out the situation. Most of the time, they are weeded rather quickly because I know they aren’t “the one.” I don’t have the time or energy to deal with someone that wouldn’t even be in the running. Hmm, that’s interesting…it’s really easy to know who ISN’T “the one” but it’s a lot harder to figure out who is. How do you know?
Well, according to many people “you just know.” You just know…ok, so that means if I’m questioning it at all, then it can’t be “the one”? Is there ever any room for doubt in this whole slightly ambiguous, but still generally understood concept? Or does “just knowing” naturally imply that you are past any stages of doubt? How exactly do you know? What are the signs? Is it a little voice in your head that says, “this is the one”? is it something you can sense? Like a sense of love? comfort? security? Is it a deep-rooted feeling that permeates your whole body any time you’re around the person? Is it all of the above? Is it different for everybody? And, more importantly, couldn’t this voice, sense, or feeling just as easily be confused with desire, infatuation, love, a sense of belonging, and maybe a relief from loneliness?
I have to admit, I thought that I had met “the one” (and it was actually one of those “you just know” things). However, since it didn’t work out, I’m assuming that he really wasn’t “the one,” unless he is one of my “ones”? See, this is where it’s a little ambiguous to me. I found “the one” lost “the one” and where does that leave me? Forever without my “one”? Do you think I really want to believe that? Hell no! I could think that he was “the one” and it just didn’t work for me, therefore, game over, too bad I lost. Yeah, F-that! I refuse to believe that is the case, but does that mean that I have more than one “the one” or does that mean I had an “almost the one” and my “the one” will surpass any hopes and expectations previously contrived? I would be perfectly content having another “the one” of equal value as the first, but I must say that I am hoping for the latter because, damn, that’s gonna be one amazing “the one.” The thought of that actually gives me goose bumps. I am not meaning to sound like without my “the one” I am nothing and my life sucks, but, in true Hallmark card style, I think it would just make life that much sweeter.
So, where does that leave me? or any of us for that matter? Do I just sit around and wait for “the one” to walk in my door? Do I need to go out and be proactive about it? Really, who the F-knows? I mean clearly, there is no way to completely control what happens, so I kinda just have to go with it. In fact, this makes me think of something that someone told me recently: “life is a game, the sooner you realize that, the more fun you’ll have.” Now, at first, I was like, I hate games. Games suck. However, after thinking about it, I realized that, even though I am definitely not one for playing THE game, there really is something to this idea. Maybe finding “the one” is like a game. You can employ a bit of thought, a bit of strategy, planning, foreshadowing, skill…you can bluff, you can put your game face on….you can train, you can practice, you can try new moves (sorry, couldn’t resist that!), but really…when it comes down to it, all of the preparation in the world can not prepare you for the luck of the draw, the roll of the die, the opposition’s next move, the clock running out…you can’t control fate. So, there is no reason to try. But, just like with any game you play, just because you can’t control fate doesn't mean you can't be smart about your game. Maybe you will have meet someone that you think is “the one” but really be wrong so you will have to go back to START…maybe you will meet more than one "the one" and have to choose to go left or right… maybe you will think that someone is “the one” until you meet someone better who bumps the first one out of their position...truth is, you really don’t know how your game board will be laid out…you don’t know what else is going to be an obstacle, you don’t know if all of a sudden someone will scratch, default or withdraw…shoot, you don’t even know if you will do the same. Somehow, some way, some day, you will find “the one” and you will “just know” and you will get to the end of the game…only, when you get there, you will realize that the game is never really over, you just move (now well-accompanied by "the one") to the next level, to the next challenge, the next phase...and it may be unfamiliar, it may be scary, but you will be fine...you will recognize that you and "the one" now equal just...one...
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Tales from the vault: "blood, sweat, and tears"
Note: "Tales from the vault" are those stories that, just as the title implies, have been hidden in the vault for many years...these stories help give you an idea of why the more recent ones are as powerful (or crazy or wack or whatever) as they are...
Naive: 1) showing a lack of experience, wisdom, or judgement; 2) natural and unaffected, innocent.
I know…you’re thinking, where the hell is this girl going with this one? Blood, sweat, and tears? I mean that sounds a little sketchy, no? Did she get in a fight over some dude? Was the relationship like war? I mean it could even sound a little like S&M for those of you sick and twisted-minded folks (shame on you…get your mind out of the gutter…plus, blood? I mean sweat and tears maybe, but blood? C’mon now…) Well you (and my mom) will be happy to know that I’m not talking about that. But I am talking about blood…not like the blood that runs through your veins either, but like a Blood. Yes, with a capital “B” and, yes, as in the gang. No, I myself am not, nor have I ever been a Blood. But…I did date one! No, really, I did. What do you mean you don’t believe me? It was a long time ago (told you this is a “from the vault” story) but I did. And it wasn’t like a phase in my life where I was into doing “bad things” or anything like that (I actually never even had a phase like that). No, I was a 14 or 15 year old, straight A, involved in everything, athlete/cheerleader, Stanford-bound girl. The only difference between me and all the other highly-motivated, overachievers is that I dated a gang member…I mean, what’s the big deal?? (I know, I still have trouble believing it myself sometimes, take a moment…let it sink in…)
As you can imagine, this particular guy (who I will from here on out refer to as RedMan) is a source of many crazy stories and events (including the French fries episode I keep teasing you with) that I decided to just create a list of “The little red flags and big red stop signs that I should not have been dating RedMan.”
Little Red Flags: Things that I probably should have paid attention to, but could feasibly, and believably, re-classify under the category of “I was young”:
Big Red Stop Signs: Definitely makes me the dumb smart girl…but you live and you learn, that’s all I’m gonna say…
And now…The Clincher…ok, so this was the Big Red Stop Sign that I actually paid attention to…don’t ask what made me wise up…after you hear this you will realize that you would’ve thought I was the biggest dumb ass on the face of the planet if I decided to forgive him yet again….so, I got a phone call from a friend of his that I had become friends with saying something about that RedMan had been with some other girl and god knows what else…by this time, I was basically numb to hearing these things…we of course called him on 3-way (which we did a lot…don’t act like you didn’t do that…that was like THE way to catch people or get any info you didn’t want to ask in person) and he said something to her about it…now, I don’t remember if I just broke the “3-way call Rule #1: Don’t say a word if you are person #3” or if I ended up calling him back but the basic gist was that he had not only been out with another girl, but that he had slept with her…and not only that….but that she was pregnant…and was going to keep it…I mean, really…so I confronted him about it and he admitted it was true and that he had failed to mention it to me, but tried to pull the “it happened awhile ago, it was before we were together” (oh, I forgot to mention that the actual time frame for us going out wasn’t that long 5-6 months maybe…yeah, so all the above stuff happened within that time frame…damn, time sure passes a lot slower when you’re 15!) Anyways, I asked when she was due (I might have been young and naïve but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t good at math…) So, yeah, she got pregnant a few months into us being together (or talking or whatever). That’s when I decided that I had had enough…I’m good…I’m done…that is cheating to the like nth degree…I mean, JESUS! Now, why it took all the way up until this point, I don’t know, but at least I figured it out…I definitely let too many things slip by…gang affiliation, cheating, jail time, drug dealing (oh, oops, I think I forgot to mention that one, details) but the bearing children thing was enough proof for me to let that one go. I know, I’m sure I seem like quite the dumb girl right now, but let me finish off the story for you…
So, whatever became of RedMan? Well, I had always tried to encourage him to finish school and graduate and he always played the “I’m not smart enough…I cant do it” role…well, I kept on pushing him and trying to get him to just go to class…once he got expelled from my high school (quit laughing, I’m trying to be serious here…just shut up and listen…) he went to a “New Start” type program. I promised him (because I actually remained friends with him…I know that sounds weird and even more stupid, but that’s just how I am…I mean, I’m one for maintaining friendships, not for being weird and stupid…lol) that I would be at his graduation when (not IF) he finished. Well, he graduated. And, I was there…of course I sat next to our mutual friend who was watching his baby daughter for him (yes, THE baby girl), but I was there. He actually thanked me numerous times for helping him actually accomplish that.
I have seen RedMan a few times since high school and he has totally changed his life around. He is now married and has three kids. He has turned really religious and has not been in jail for a while now. He still thanks me every time I see him for helping him graduate and for helping him turn his life around and he also always apologizes for everything that he ever did to me. Now, I’m not trying to turn this into a Hallmark or Lifetime movie, but that by itself, is worth it to me. I know I endured a lot of crap and was hurt many times by him, but (as a true nerd and goody two shoes) knowing that I helped him change his life makes all the other stuff not that big of a deal. If it had been another girl that didn’t maybe push him as much, maybe that wouldn’t have happened…maybe I’m just giving myself too much credit…who knows…all I know is that at least believing that I helped him makes the pain that I had all through that time in my life, not so harsh. It apparently had enough effect that he feels the need to thank me and apologize.
So, what’s the moral of the story? Don’t date Bloods unless you can get them to graduate? A guy can cheat, but if he has a kid behind your back, put the smack down? Put a limit on the number of collect calls from jail that you’ll accept? Ha! No! I don’t really know if there is a lesson other than, you live and you learn. You have to make mistakes (I know, I’m a genius at this) and you have to learn from all of them. Do you think I ever dated someone who cheated on me again? Ok, bad example…did I ever date another guy who had been or would be in jail? Ok bad example again…my point is, that eventually you learn. And, you have to see the positive in every situation. You might not see it right away, but there is a positive. Even if it’s just that you got out in time (that will come into play in another story).
One last thing…just so that no one tries to hate on my parents by saying, “where the hell were they and why didn’t they regulate?” My parents are amazing. They were able to step back enough to not make me rebel against any “you are forbidden to do x, y, and z” threats and let me make my own mistakes. I know they were concerned, I know they had issues, but they would have stepped in had anything gotten really bad (like if I decided to get a little more into wearing the red hoodie or if I myself made any collect calls home). I’m sure they didn’t actually know all of this (and my mom is learning about a lot of it while she is reading it, which should be fabulous for her, I’m sure!) but still…whatever, they did (or didn’t do) it worked. I learned on my own and I wasn’t ever trying to rebel against their authority. We all laugh about it now…there ain’t nothing like seeing the look on your stepdad’s face when a huge, 6’3” Blood rolls up in a Cutlass and comes a knockin’ at your door lookin’ for your girl in her little cheerleader uniform…Ha! And with that lovely image, I’m done with this bloody story!
Naive: 1) showing a lack of experience, wisdom, or judgement; 2) natural and unaffected, innocent.
I know…you’re thinking, where the hell is this girl going with this one? Blood, sweat, and tears? I mean that sounds a little sketchy, no? Did she get in a fight over some dude? Was the relationship like war? I mean it could even sound a little like S&M for those of you sick and twisted-minded folks (shame on you…get your mind out of the gutter…plus, blood? I mean sweat and tears maybe, but blood? C’mon now…) Well you (and my mom) will be happy to know that I’m not talking about that. But I am talking about blood…not like the blood that runs through your veins either, but like a Blood. Yes, with a capital “B” and, yes, as in the gang. No, I myself am not, nor have I ever been a Blood. But…I did date one! No, really, I did. What do you mean you don’t believe me? It was a long time ago (told you this is a “from the vault” story) but I did. And it wasn’t like a phase in my life where I was into doing “bad things” or anything like that (I actually never even had a phase like that). No, I was a 14 or 15 year old, straight A, involved in everything, athlete/cheerleader, Stanford-bound girl. The only difference between me and all the other highly-motivated, overachievers is that I dated a gang member…I mean, what’s the big deal?? (I know, I still have trouble believing it myself sometimes, take a moment…let it sink in…)
As you can imagine, this particular guy (who I will from here on out refer to as RedMan) is a source of many crazy stories and events (including the French fries episode I keep teasing you with) that I decided to just create a list of “The little red flags and big red stop signs that I should not have been dating RedMan.”
Little Red Flags: Things that I probably should have paid attention to, but could feasibly, and believably, re-classify under the category of “I was young”:
- I was 14 or 15 and he was like 18 or 19. Now, by itself, not really THAT big of a deal. However, the reason he was older and still in high school is basically because he had been kicked out of a lot of high schools in the area already…for discipline problems mostly, but also lack of academic rigor as well…but did that even cross my mind? Nope…
- He was always wearing red…but damn, that’s my favorite color.
- He was very sweet and walked me to class (ok, at first before he wooed me with his incredible charm and amazing resumé, it was more like he followed me to class) but then never actually WENT to class himself…where did he go?? Hmm…
- He would come by my house (which I know my stepdad just LOVED) and would pick me up in “borrowed” cars…always oddly a different car…you put that one together.
- He even took me to East Palo Alto to hang out with some of his friends…Quick and Mookie were my favorites…wait? What do you mean that’s not normal?
- He liked to call himself Mr. Flamboyant and even had it printed on a shirt (or two)…you know, remember those printed shirts back in the day with the Old English lettering? I know you feel me on that one…but it went so well with his black Dickies, red hoodie, and red hat…
- Oh yeah, for Valentines Day one year…I was blessed with my very own…Red Hoodie! It was Valentines Day and as I mentioned red is my favorite color, but good lord!
- He once gave me a ring with an initial on it…but it wasn’t the initial of my first name…it was the initial of my last name…hmmm…was that really on purpose, or was that because he got it back from some girl whose first name started with the same letter as my last name? Who gets someone a ring with the initial of their last name only? Especially for a girl?
- Did I mention that he always wore red?
Big Red Stop Signs: Definitely makes me the dumb smart girl…but you live and you learn, that’s all I’m gonna say…
- There were ALWAYS girls comin’ up to my school looking for him and me…trying to confront the apparent breech to the “you’re the only one for me baby” promise that he had made to many of us. Now this includes a few stories that I don’t remember all the details to (or the chronology for that matter), but that are classic:
- One time this girl came up to me right before cheerleading practice saying, “are you dating RedMan? Well so am I!!” Lovely! Then she wanted me to go with her to confront him about it (I know, Jerry Springer, sign me up). So we found him and she started getting all crazy and pushing him…in true gentleman form, he of course pushed back and basically got in a fight with her…I don’t know how far he would have taken it, but luckily the crowd that he drew caught the attention of the administrators, so they broke it up, and RedMan got suspended or expelled or who knows what. That was the first and only time I had to go to the principal’s office for anything other than to meet with him about student government. It was a good time, let me tell you. Luckily, I was only involved as a witness, but still…for a goody two shoes, going to the office because of a fight was devastating!
- So, the French fries episode…my best friend and I were at a McDonalds near our rival high school during lunch one day when she noticed that this girl was staring me down…again, for a goody two shoes, this was not the most comfortable position for me to be in. Now, I didn’t really recognize who she was, but my friend realized that she was this girl from our rival high school who was related to someone that she had briefly been interested in and who also had been rumored to be another of RedMan’s little “fans”. Next thing you know she has all her little friends staring at us, calling us bitches, and then…yep…throwing French fries…who does that? Even in high school, who throws French fries?? Ok, I admit it’s really not all that eventful of a story, but it still blows my mind that someone would actually call you a bitch and then throw French fries at you from across the frickin’ dining room at McDonald’s…over a guy…and as you can probably tell, not a guy that was like from the top of the food chain…don’t you miss high school?
- In another cheerleading episode, a girl on my squad was talking about this new guy she was into or dating or whatever the hell we called it at that age…talking to, I guess…and then she said something about he gave me this bracelet…I looked at the bracelet and was like, hmmmm…that oddly resembles a bracelet that RedMan has…in fact I think it’s engraved with the same thing that RedMan’s is…interesting…ironic? I think not! So, we talked about it and I was like…umm…I think that’s my boyfriend’s bracelet…she said (truthfully or not, who knows) that she had no idea and gave me the bracelet so I could confront him with it…I took it and asked him to come over. When he came over, I showed him the bracelet and was like, “is this yours?” He goes, “oh…yeah, where did you find that?” Seriously…where did I find it? Umm, how about on someone else’s wrist? I said something along the lines of, “did you give this to someone? How did Cheerleader end up with it?” He quickly scanned his own vault (of lies and quick lines to get out of trouble) and came up with something about how he met her and they were just friends and he had let her borrow it or some stupid ass thing like that…and you know what? Me and my “I want to believe everyone and see the good in all” ass fell for it…I was suspicious still, but I did forgive him for that.
- I used to get collect calls from him all the time…now this you might think isn’t a huge red stop sign and maybe I should have put it under the less abrasive category…but, and I can’t believe this even I as I write it, the calls, folks were from jail. Not just once…or twice…or even three times…many times…and you know its bad when you get the call and the first words out of your mouth (after, “yes I accept”, of course) are, “so what did you do this time?” and you know its REALLY bad when you never get a straight answer to those questions! I loathe collect calls for this reason…in fact there is an E-40 song that starts with this sound byte from a collect call and I swear it sound just like RedMan! And it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch since RedMan also was up in the Valley-Jo for a while…sorry, I digress and probably lost you if you don’t know who E-40 is. Anyways, yes, lots of calls from jail…lots of jail time…and apparently I didn’t think that was that bad…or maybe I was just trying to ignore it…who knows…actually, his final expulsion from my high school was because he got arrested on a tournament trip with the basketball team…
- He showed me his gun--and I’m not trying to metaphorically tell you anything about his anatomy--I mean he literally showed me his gun. He had a gun…I know my mom’s heart just probably skipped…sorry, but I’m just telling it like it is…or was, I should say…he didn’t just own a gun like for hunting or break-in emergencies or anything…no he like owned a gun and was strapped from time to time in everyday situations. Good times, good times…oh, but don’t worry, he never pulled it on me or anything…I know, what a sweetheart, huh?
And now…The Clincher…ok, so this was the Big Red Stop Sign that I actually paid attention to…don’t ask what made me wise up…after you hear this you will realize that you would’ve thought I was the biggest dumb ass on the face of the planet if I decided to forgive him yet again….so, I got a phone call from a friend of his that I had become friends with saying something about that RedMan had been with some other girl and god knows what else…by this time, I was basically numb to hearing these things…we of course called him on 3-way (which we did a lot…don’t act like you didn’t do that…that was like THE way to catch people or get any info you didn’t want to ask in person) and he said something to her about it…now, I don’t remember if I just broke the “3-way call Rule #1: Don’t say a word if you are person #3” or if I ended up calling him back but the basic gist was that he had not only been out with another girl, but that he had slept with her…and not only that….but that she was pregnant…and was going to keep it…I mean, really…so I confronted him about it and he admitted it was true and that he had failed to mention it to me, but tried to pull the “it happened awhile ago, it was before we were together” (oh, I forgot to mention that the actual time frame for us going out wasn’t that long 5-6 months maybe…yeah, so all the above stuff happened within that time frame…damn, time sure passes a lot slower when you’re 15!) Anyways, I asked when she was due (I might have been young and naïve but I’ll be damned if I wasn’t good at math…) So, yeah, she got pregnant a few months into us being together (or talking or whatever). That’s when I decided that I had had enough…I’m good…I’m done…that is cheating to the like nth degree…I mean, JESUS! Now, why it took all the way up until this point, I don’t know, but at least I figured it out…I definitely let too many things slip by…gang affiliation, cheating, jail time, drug dealing (oh, oops, I think I forgot to mention that one, details) but the bearing children thing was enough proof for me to let that one go. I know, I’m sure I seem like quite the dumb girl right now, but let me finish off the story for you…
So, whatever became of RedMan? Well, I had always tried to encourage him to finish school and graduate and he always played the “I’m not smart enough…I cant do it” role…well, I kept on pushing him and trying to get him to just go to class…once he got expelled from my high school (quit laughing, I’m trying to be serious here…just shut up and listen…) he went to a “New Start” type program. I promised him (because I actually remained friends with him…I know that sounds weird and even more stupid, but that’s just how I am…I mean, I’m one for maintaining friendships, not for being weird and stupid…lol) that I would be at his graduation when (not IF) he finished. Well, he graduated. And, I was there…of course I sat next to our mutual friend who was watching his baby daughter for him (yes, THE baby girl), but I was there. He actually thanked me numerous times for helping him actually accomplish that.
I have seen RedMan a few times since high school and he has totally changed his life around. He is now married and has three kids. He has turned really religious and has not been in jail for a while now. He still thanks me every time I see him for helping him graduate and for helping him turn his life around and he also always apologizes for everything that he ever did to me. Now, I’m not trying to turn this into a Hallmark or Lifetime movie, but that by itself, is worth it to me. I know I endured a lot of crap and was hurt many times by him, but (as a true nerd and goody two shoes) knowing that I helped him change his life makes all the other stuff not that big of a deal. If it had been another girl that didn’t maybe push him as much, maybe that wouldn’t have happened…maybe I’m just giving myself too much credit…who knows…all I know is that at least believing that I helped him makes the pain that I had all through that time in my life, not so harsh. It apparently had enough effect that he feels the need to thank me and apologize.
So, what’s the moral of the story? Don’t date Bloods unless you can get them to graduate? A guy can cheat, but if he has a kid behind your back, put the smack down? Put a limit on the number of collect calls from jail that you’ll accept? Ha! No! I don’t really know if there is a lesson other than, you live and you learn. You have to make mistakes (I know, I’m a genius at this) and you have to learn from all of them. Do you think I ever dated someone who cheated on me again? Ok, bad example…did I ever date another guy who had been or would be in jail? Ok bad example again…my point is, that eventually you learn. And, you have to see the positive in every situation. You might not see it right away, but there is a positive. Even if it’s just that you got out in time (that will come into play in another story).
One last thing…just so that no one tries to hate on my parents by saying, “where the hell were they and why didn’t they regulate?” My parents are amazing. They were able to step back enough to not make me rebel against any “you are forbidden to do x, y, and z” threats and let me make my own mistakes. I know they were concerned, I know they had issues, but they would have stepped in had anything gotten really bad (like if I decided to get a little more into wearing the red hoodie or if I myself made any collect calls home). I’m sure they didn’t actually know all of this (and my mom is learning about a lot of it while she is reading it, which should be fabulous for her, I’m sure!) but still…whatever, they did (or didn’t do) it worked. I learned on my own and I wasn’t ever trying to rebel against their authority. We all laugh about it now…there ain’t nothing like seeing the look on your stepdad’s face when a huge, 6’3” Blood rolls up in a Cutlass and comes a knockin’ at your door lookin’ for your girl in her little cheerleader uniform…Ha! And with that lovely image, I’m done with this bloody story!
Saturday, February 04, 2006
"Guy calls again"
(Note: this story will only make sense if you have read “the phone call” so hurry up and read it if you haven’t!)
Gullible: Easily persuaded to believe something; credulous
After yet another bout of insomnia the night before, I was finally able to attempt a nap before heading off to teach a class. Of course, just as I fell asleep, the phone rang. Great. I looked to see who it was and it was Guy. OH SH!T! I panicked. Should I answer? Should I let it go to voicemail to see what he has to say? What if it isn’t even him? What should I do? I sat there shaking holding the phone and then it stopped ringing. Oops. Ok, guess I shouldn’t have thought about that long, but that’s probably better. We all know regardless of what he would’ve said (or she for that matter) it was gonna be drama. And drama I did not need at this moment in time. Of course he didn’t leave a message. So now I would have to wait again. Fabulous, because there is so much LESS drama just waiting and playing games.
Well, he didn’t call back that night and after a horrible nightmare involving him (that could actually be a story all by itself) I realized that I really needed closure on this whole thing. The waiting to find out the truth or at least find out how he was gonna approach the whole thing was killing me. I kept thinking, should I call him back? I know that he should be the one to call me and explain, but was it worth torturing myself by staying in the abyss of the unknown of WTF was really going on? So, a day and a half later I decided to call. I know some of you are already like, “no, no! don’t give in…let him call you” but, I wanted some answers. I wanted to know his reaction. I knew that we weren’t going to get back together (shoot I knew that a long time ago) and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to let it go until I had closure. But, of course, he didn’t answer. I actually did leave a message saying, “Hey, it’s me. I saw that you called and I had wanted to talk to you. Call me back when you get a chance.” Very monotone, very matter-of-fact…very “Bueller” if you will. So, then I was back to waiting. Damn him!
Later that night I was watching a totally girly DVD with one of my friends and my phone rang again. Of course it was gonna be him, right in the middle of the movie. My friend of course knew the whole story, so she didn’t care when I answered the phone. I walked outside, shaking, dizzy, nauseous even, at the thought of the conversation that would ensue.
“Hello?” I said, my voice quivering.
“Hey, it’s Guy. I wanted to return your call.” Gee, thanks, you’re such a sweetheart, “You know, I was surprised that you didn’t call me earlier.” Say what?
“You were surprised I didn’t call you? I was surprised that YOU didn’t call ME!”
“Yeah, you know, I heard from a third party that you were told some information and I am surprised that you would just take that information from someone you don’t know and not even ask me for my side of the story.” Oh, right. That’s the way it works. You F-up, I hear it from someone else, and then I call you back to double check the references. Snap. Sorry, my bad, I forgot the rules on that one. “I actually called you by mistake. I meant to call ____” (whose name is one letter short of mine) and I called you by accident. But since you called back, I figured we should talk about this.” You called by mistake and let it ring all the way to voicemail?? Hmmm…
“Well, I figured that I didn’t ask to be a part of this. I heard some information from a third party and I didn’t think that I needed to call you. I figured that third party person would’ve told you that they talked to me and that you would want to call me to explain your side.” Can we acknowledge here that he has yet to say who the third party person is?
“Ok, well regardless of who thinks who should’ve called,” damn right you know you’re in the wrong, “why don’t we just start from the beginning. What did you hear?” Oh, no you don’t, buddy…don’t you even try to play the, “lemme just see how far I need to dig myself out before I dig myself in more” game.
“No,” way to be firm, girl, way to be firm (sorry little pep talks in my head). “Why don’t you start by telling me what the hell is going on. You can start with who the hell this third party person is.”
“Ok,” he said with a big sigh. That’s right MF, you got a lot of e’splaining to do. “That was Wifey.” (Remember, that was the name I gave her. He didn’t actually say “Wifey” he said her name. Just clarifying.) “She is my ex-girlfriend. We were together for about 2 years and we lived together. Well, we still live together. That’s where I f-ed up. I know I wasn’t completely honest with you about my living situation,” Nah, really?! “but I was trying to get out. We weren’t together anymore, but I know I should have told you about that.” Yeah, that might have been a good idea. Now the next part of the conversation is a little fuzzy in my memory, but I just remember him getting to this.
“…but for some legal reasons, I wasn’t able to move out.” Some legal reasons??
“And, what kind of legal reasons might those be??” Hmm…maybe because she is your wife not your girlfriend??
“I think you know,” Oh you think I know because Wifey told you she mentioned that to me?
“Oh, because she’s actually your wife?”
“On paper.” Seriously. Are you F-ing kidding me? On paper?
“On paper?? What the hell does that mean?”
“Well, she is from another country. We are legally married so she could stay in the country. She knows that its’ just on paper.” Oh, she does?
“I don’t know if she does, to be honest.”
“My whole family knows that we are just married on paper. We aren’t even together.”
“And what about any other girls? Were you seeing any other girls?”
“See, that’s what I’m saying. You only have her side of the story. She knows about this other girl that I was hanging out with but we are just friends.” Friends. Like Phoebe and Joey kind of friends or like Monica and Chandler kind of friends?
“You weren’t seeing anyone else when we were dating?”
“No. I was really into you. I really wanted to see where things could go with us. Everything that we had was real. All those talks, everything that we shared, you know that was real.” Yeah, it sucks that Wifey had to go and mess everything up, huh? “I just can’t believe that you wouldn’t even call me to hear what I had to say.” Oh, right. Back to it being my fault. I’m with you now.
“Do you even know what this did to me? Do you understand how this flipped my whole life upside down in one phone call? You know what I have been through. You know how many times I’ve been lied to how many times that I’ve had girls calling me or showing up to my school or throwing French fries at me,” (mental note, still gotta tell you all that story!), “I didn’t even know what to do, how to react, or anything. I was devastated to think that you had lied to me…to think that this had happened to me yet again.”
“I know, I know. And, I really am sorry that I wasn’t completely honest with you. But, you know, I wasn’t even sure after you came back from Costa Rica what was going on with us. I didn’t know what I thought, I didn’t know what you were thinking. Especially with what you told me about while you were there.” And, here it comes folks. It’s back on me. Right, my little incident in Costa Rica where someone I was attracted to kissed me and I kissed them back and I called you the next morning to tell you the whole story??? Oh, that?? Oh ok. Yes I was in the wrong and yes I feel bad, but guess what? I called YOU the next morning and told you about it. I was HONEST.
So, the conversation continued a little bit more. I don’t remember all of the details because, in my head, I was so confused. Could he be telling the truth? Could they really be married just so she could stay in the country? Yes, it’s possible. I truly always try and look for the best in people and I want to believe him. I want him not to be a horrible, mean liar. Not because I want to get back together with him. Good lord, no, but just to know that maybe I wasn’t deceived like I thought I was. That my intuition about people wasn’t completely off. But, the bottom line is, he lied to me. It doesn’t matter how deep that lie went, but he did lie and he admitted to that. Then all of a sudden we were back on this.
“I was hurt that you didn’t even call to see what was going on. I F-ing went to jail over some stupid ish and you didn’t even call to see if I was ok.” You were hurt? YOU were hurt?? YOU were hurt that I didn’t call YOU? We didn’t even touch the jail part of it yet, but I guess that was true too. How you gonna have the nerve to say that you were hurt? See, now…now you’ve just gone too far.
“You were hurt?”
“I know I don’t really have the right to say that in this situation, but I was.” You’re right, you have no business saying that right now.
We basically came to a point where I didn’t know what else to say and he wanted to “let me process everything” (right…) so he goes, “I would like to talk with you more about this. Can we meet up and talk in person next week?”
“Um…ok.” Really, what else (besides more details and more stories, which could be worth it) could we get out of another conversation? He was clearly trying to tell me that this girl didn’t tell me the truth, but think about this. She told me they were married…check…they technically were married regardless of under what pretenses (which I still don’t know what exactly those were). She told me that he was in jail….check…he had been. She told me that he had another girlfriend…ok, so according to him it was a “friend” whatever the F that means. So, really, she didn’t really lie all that much, if at all.
We figured out a day that he was gonna call so that we could meet and we hung up. At the time, I was still in my “I’m a nice person, I want to listen to what he has to say…hear his side blah blah blah” mode. But see, this is my problem. I’m too nice. I’m not saying that in the “I’m the best person in the world” way, I’m saying that in the, “I’m too selfless sometimes” way. It’s true. I always want to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. I always want to believe that people are inherently good and that there is a more logical explanation. I still wanted to believe that about Guy. What if this really were true? What if she really was an ex-girlfriend/legal wife?? No worries…I stopped that conversation in my head after thinking about it more. I’m nice, but I am not gullible. Bottom line, he lied…and lied big. I don’t care what kinda shady ish you got goin on, but when you hear me preach up and down about how all I ever want is honesty, dammit, be honest! Here’s the other thing I keep coming back to….so, he knows he was lying….he knows that she called me….wouldn’t the first thing you do (as soon as you get out of jail, that is) be to call me and apologize? Or call to explain? Or call to say something? Would you wait for me to call you? Aw, hell no. If you knew you were in the wrong, you would do something about it. And, you certainly wouldn’t “accidentally” call me and then tell me that you were hurt because I didn’t call to check up on you. Good God!
The more I’ve thought about it, the more I realize that he is just trying to manipulate me (which, of course my friend pointed out immediately when I told her last night). He, for some reason, wants me to know that he is not the bad guy. He has admitted to lying about his living situation, but claims that I was the only one he was dating. But, the nerve of him to try and put this on me! It’s my fault for not having called him? I don’t know if I will actually meet with him next week, but I will talk to him. I am basically numb to the whole thing right now. I wanted to see what he had to say for himself and, well, now I know. Whether he is lying or telling the truth about the rest of the stuff, I may never know, but I know that he did in fact lie to me about one thing…and not like he lied that he is 35 when he is really 29…he was living with another girl and somehow failed to mention that…that’s a major lie.
You know that phrase, “nice guys always finish last?” Well I think it’s a crock, personally, but I’m starting to believe that “nice girls always get shat on.” I know that there are good guys out there…where, I don’t know (apparently finishing last somewhere…can I just find that damn race, please?) but I want to believe that I don’t have to stop being nice, that I don’t have to stop believing that someday some guy will actually really want to be with me and only me and not have to lie to me about anything else. Is that really possible…or am I just being gullible?
Gullible: Easily persuaded to believe something; credulous
After yet another bout of insomnia the night before, I was finally able to attempt a nap before heading off to teach a class. Of course, just as I fell asleep, the phone rang. Great. I looked to see who it was and it was Guy. OH SH!T! I panicked. Should I answer? Should I let it go to voicemail to see what he has to say? What if it isn’t even him? What should I do? I sat there shaking holding the phone and then it stopped ringing. Oops. Ok, guess I shouldn’t have thought about that long, but that’s probably better. We all know regardless of what he would’ve said (or she for that matter) it was gonna be drama. And drama I did not need at this moment in time. Of course he didn’t leave a message. So now I would have to wait again. Fabulous, because there is so much LESS drama just waiting and playing games.
Well, he didn’t call back that night and after a horrible nightmare involving him (that could actually be a story all by itself) I realized that I really needed closure on this whole thing. The waiting to find out the truth or at least find out how he was gonna approach the whole thing was killing me. I kept thinking, should I call him back? I know that he should be the one to call me and explain, but was it worth torturing myself by staying in the abyss of the unknown of WTF was really going on? So, a day and a half later I decided to call. I know some of you are already like, “no, no! don’t give in…let him call you” but, I wanted some answers. I wanted to know his reaction. I knew that we weren’t going to get back together (shoot I knew that a long time ago) and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to let it go until I had closure. But, of course, he didn’t answer. I actually did leave a message saying, “Hey, it’s me. I saw that you called and I had wanted to talk to you. Call me back when you get a chance.” Very monotone, very matter-of-fact…very “Bueller” if you will. So, then I was back to waiting. Damn him!
Later that night I was watching a totally girly DVD with one of my friends and my phone rang again. Of course it was gonna be him, right in the middle of the movie. My friend of course knew the whole story, so she didn’t care when I answered the phone. I walked outside, shaking, dizzy, nauseous even, at the thought of the conversation that would ensue.
“Hello?” I said, my voice quivering.
“Hey, it’s Guy. I wanted to return your call.” Gee, thanks, you’re such a sweetheart, “You know, I was surprised that you didn’t call me earlier.” Say what?
“You were surprised I didn’t call you? I was surprised that YOU didn’t call ME!”
“Yeah, you know, I heard from a third party that you were told some information and I am surprised that you would just take that information from someone you don’t know and not even ask me for my side of the story.” Oh, right. That’s the way it works. You F-up, I hear it from someone else, and then I call you back to double check the references. Snap. Sorry, my bad, I forgot the rules on that one. “I actually called you by mistake. I meant to call ____” (whose name is one letter short of mine) and I called you by accident. But since you called back, I figured we should talk about this.” You called by mistake and let it ring all the way to voicemail?? Hmmm…
“Well, I figured that I didn’t ask to be a part of this. I heard some information from a third party and I didn’t think that I needed to call you. I figured that third party person would’ve told you that they talked to me and that you would want to call me to explain your side.” Can we acknowledge here that he has yet to say who the third party person is?
“Ok, well regardless of who thinks who should’ve called,” damn right you know you’re in the wrong, “why don’t we just start from the beginning. What did you hear?” Oh, no you don’t, buddy…don’t you even try to play the, “lemme just see how far I need to dig myself out before I dig myself in more” game.
“No,” way to be firm, girl, way to be firm (sorry little pep talks in my head). “Why don’t you start by telling me what the hell is going on. You can start with who the hell this third party person is.”
“Ok,” he said with a big sigh. That’s right MF, you got a lot of e’splaining to do. “That was Wifey.” (Remember, that was the name I gave her. He didn’t actually say “Wifey” he said her name. Just clarifying.) “She is my ex-girlfriend. We were together for about 2 years and we lived together. Well, we still live together. That’s where I f-ed up. I know I wasn’t completely honest with you about my living situation,” Nah, really?! “but I was trying to get out. We weren’t together anymore, but I know I should have told you about that.” Yeah, that might have been a good idea. Now the next part of the conversation is a little fuzzy in my memory, but I just remember him getting to this.
“…but for some legal reasons, I wasn’t able to move out.” Some legal reasons??
“And, what kind of legal reasons might those be??” Hmm…maybe because she is your wife not your girlfriend??
“I think you know,” Oh you think I know because Wifey told you she mentioned that to me?
“Oh, because she’s actually your wife?”
“On paper.” Seriously. Are you F-ing kidding me? On paper?
“On paper?? What the hell does that mean?”
“Well, she is from another country. We are legally married so she could stay in the country. She knows that its’ just on paper.” Oh, she does?
“I don’t know if she does, to be honest.”
“My whole family knows that we are just married on paper. We aren’t even together.”
“And what about any other girls? Were you seeing any other girls?”
“See, that’s what I’m saying. You only have her side of the story. She knows about this other girl that I was hanging out with but we are just friends.” Friends. Like Phoebe and Joey kind of friends or like Monica and Chandler kind of friends?
“You weren’t seeing anyone else when we were dating?”
“No. I was really into you. I really wanted to see where things could go with us. Everything that we had was real. All those talks, everything that we shared, you know that was real.” Yeah, it sucks that Wifey had to go and mess everything up, huh? “I just can’t believe that you wouldn’t even call me to hear what I had to say.” Oh, right. Back to it being my fault. I’m with you now.
“Do you even know what this did to me? Do you understand how this flipped my whole life upside down in one phone call? You know what I have been through. You know how many times I’ve been lied to how many times that I’ve had girls calling me or showing up to my school or throwing French fries at me,” (mental note, still gotta tell you all that story!), “I didn’t even know what to do, how to react, or anything. I was devastated to think that you had lied to me…to think that this had happened to me yet again.”
“I know, I know. And, I really am sorry that I wasn’t completely honest with you. But, you know, I wasn’t even sure after you came back from Costa Rica what was going on with us. I didn’t know what I thought, I didn’t know what you were thinking. Especially with what you told me about while you were there.” And, here it comes folks. It’s back on me. Right, my little incident in Costa Rica where someone I was attracted to kissed me and I kissed them back and I called you the next morning to tell you the whole story??? Oh, that?? Oh ok. Yes I was in the wrong and yes I feel bad, but guess what? I called YOU the next morning and told you about it. I was HONEST.
So, the conversation continued a little bit more. I don’t remember all of the details because, in my head, I was so confused. Could he be telling the truth? Could they really be married just so she could stay in the country? Yes, it’s possible. I truly always try and look for the best in people and I want to believe him. I want him not to be a horrible, mean liar. Not because I want to get back together with him. Good lord, no, but just to know that maybe I wasn’t deceived like I thought I was. That my intuition about people wasn’t completely off. But, the bottom line is, he lied to me. It doesn’t matter how deep that lie went, but he did lie and he admitted to that. Then all of a sudden we were back on this.
“I was hurt that you didn’t even call to see what was going on. I F-ing went to jail over some stupid ish and you didn’t even call to see if I was ok.” You were hurt? YOU were hurt?? YOU were hurt that I didn’t call YOU? We didn’t even touch the jail part of it yet, but I guess that was true too. How you gonna have the nerve to say that you were hurt? See, now…now you’ve just gone too far.
“You were hurt?”
“I know I don’t really have the right to say that in this situation, but I was.” You’re right, you have no business saying that right now.
We basically came to a point where I didn’t know what else to say and he wanted to “let me process everything” (right…) so he goes, “I would like to talk with you more about this. Can we meet up and talk in person next week?”
“Um…ok.” Really, what else (besides more details and more stories, which could be worth it) could we get out of another conversation? He was clearly trying to tell me that this girl didn’t tell me the truth, but think about this. She told me they were married…check…they technically were married regardless of under what pretenses (which I still don’t know what exactly those were). She told me that he was in jail….check…he had been. She told me that he had another girlfriend…ok, so according to him it was a “friend” whatever the F that means. So, really, she didn’t really lie all that much, if at all.
We figured out a day that he was gonna call so that we could meet and we hung up. At the time, I was still in my “I’m a nice person, I want to listen to what he has to say…hear his side blah blah blah” mode. But see, this is my problem. I’m too nice. I’m not saying that in the “I’m the best person in the world” way, I’m saying that in the, “I’m too selfless sometimes” way. It’s true. I always want to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. I always want to believe that people are inherently good and that there is a more logical explanation. I still wanted to believe that about Guy. What if this really were true? What if she really was an ex-girlfriend/legal wife?? No worries…I stopped that conversation in my head after thinking about it more. I’m nice, but I am not gullible. Bottom line, he lied…and lied big. I don’t care what kinda shady ish you got goin on, but when you hear me preach up and down about how all I ever want is honesty, dammit, be honest! Here’s the other thing I keep coming back to….so, he knows he was lying….he knows that she called me….wouldn’t the first thing you do (as soon as you get out of jail, that is) be to call me and apologize? Or call to explain? Or call to say something? Would you wait for me to call you? Aw, hell no. If you knew you were in the wrong, you would do something about it. And, you certainly wouldn’t “accidentally” call me and then tell me that you were hurt because I didn’t call to check up on you. Good God!
The more I’ve thought about it, the more I realize that he is just trying to manipulate me (which, of course my friend pointed out immediately when I told her last night). He, for some reason, wants me to know that he is not the bad guy. He has admitted to lying about his living situation, but claims that I was the only one he was dating. But, the nerve of him to try and put this on me! It’s my fault for not having called him? I don’t know if I will actually meet with him next week, but I will talk to him. I am basically numb to the whole thing right now. I wanted to see what he had to say for himself and, well, now I know. Whether he is lying or telling the truth about the rest of the stuff, I may never know, but I know that he did in fact lie to me about one thing…and not like he lied that he is 35 when he is really 29…he was living with another girl and somehow failed to mention that…that’s a major lie.
You know that phrase, “nice guys always finish last?” Well I think it’s a crock, personally, but I’m starting to believe that “nice girls always get shat on.” I know that there are good guys out there…where, I don’t know (apparently finishing last somewhere…can I just find that damn race, please?) but I want to believe that I don’t have to stop being nice, that I don’t have to stop believing that someday some guy will actually really want to be with me and only me and not have to lie to me about anything else. Is that really possible…or am I just being gullible?
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
"funny man"
Funny: 1) Causing laughter or amusement; 2) Difficult to explain or understand, strange
Funny people are like God’s gift to human nature. I know that sounds like a random bumper sticker, but it’s true. I love people that make me laugh and we all know that being funny is like being able to sing—there are the people that get paid to do it, then there’s those who are really good at it but just do it for fun, there are those that every once and awhile will surprisingly bust some talent out on you. and then there are those who completely suck at it but they haven’t seemed to realize it yet. There’s not many people that can get away with being “kinda” funny, although there are a few that can get away with being SO bad that it’s funny (think the best of the worst American Idol auditions). I can appreciate almost any style of humor. I love sarcasm (my personal favorite), I love wittiness (my stepdad is frighteningly amazing at this kind of humor and I love him for it), I love nasty, raunchy, and gross humor, and I even love silly, stupid humor (you know those “dumb-funny” movies—Old School, Don’t Be a Menace, etc). I love stand-up comedy, although I’m not the biggest fan of everyday people just telling jokes. I would much rather hear something spontaneous than a 20 minute “where the hell is the punchline” kind of joke. Remember all those “yo’ mama” jokes back in the day? Ok, even some of those were really funny to me…twisted, mean, sick yes, but c’mon…some of them were funny…but they were funny because you knew that no one was really talking about your mom. They were talkin’ ‘bout “yo’ mama” big difference… they were just trying to get you to laugh by telling a joke they heard from someone else…now if they were really trying to poke fun at your mom, it’d be a different story, not quite so funny…well, guess what…yes, someone told me a real “your mom” joke…someone who was (prior to the joke) potentially a candidate in the dating pool….what a way to woo me, huh?
So, in another one of my brilliant online selections (you will soon see why I have since quit the online thing), I started talking to this guy. It was more or less normal (not that normalcy is really possible in an online dating scenario), we sent a few emails (through my “other” email account—the not real one so that my real one is protected) talked back and forth, he seemed pretty intellectual and educated. He was all into trying to get philosophical on me to see if I could keep up. Don’t test me, boy; don’t you know who I am? Haha, just kidding, although he really was trying to test me, but I can hold my own. He actually said that he had gone (or did go, I don’t remember) to my rival college so we talked about that a bit too. Ok, so it was more like I was playing along with his “my school is better than your school” jabs here and there, which I thought were sort of silly, but I kept thinking, maybe he is just trying to be funny, so I’ll let the childish remarks slide. Then we talked on the phone (shut up, I know that it makes no sense that the boy got the “other” email address, but my real phone number, but somehow he had made it past the email test…don’t really remember how right now, but he did). He had some smart-ass (but not the funny kind of smart-ass) remarks about my college again …mostly about the reunion I had just returned from because he had been wandering around the campus that day or something. I dunno, really, I think he was trying to be entertaining and was bordering on the best of the worse auditions I alluded to before. So I hung up with him and remember thinking to myself, “yeah, I’m good on that one. No more emails, I’ll pass.” So I didn’t email him anymore.
A week goes by and he calls me again. Great. That’s right he had my number. Brilliant move, brilliant move. So, this is where he takes the “I think I’m hilarious, but really I’m nowhere close” to a whole new level.
The only thing normal about this conversation was that I said, “hello?” when I picked up the phone… after that it went downhill very fast.
“Hey, what’s up? No more reunions this weekend?” he asked. Um, no…reunions usually don’t happen on a continual basis, that’s why they are REUNIONS. But I didn’t really say that, I was polite.
“No, just last weekend,” I said. It was getting painful already
“Oh I thought you just traveled around all the time.” Uh…again, what? Where the hell did that come from? Random…
“No, I’m in school. I don’t really have time to travel that much.”
“Well, why don’t you have time? I mean, what do you have to do for school? You just go to class and write about it, right?” Ok, seriously…go to class and write about it? If you say that you went to college or go to college you know better than that. Even if you didn’t go to college, you know better than that. You don’t even do that for high school…WTF? Again, are we trying to be entertaining here, cuz I’m not so impressed.
“Um, no…” and I proceeded to tell him about the papers and reading and stuff like that. I will spare you the details because I’m guessing YOU don’t need me to explain to you the goings-on of college.
So he proceeded with a bunch of other random questions like what I do outside of school and things like that. Now, he is asking ALL of this in a very short time span (basically from the time I left my apartment to go downstairs to meet my friend), so he is firing away these questions. Again, my thought was, he just not know what to say, must be nervous in this type of situation, I’ll just let it all slide. Then he comes to this.
“So you’re Latino, huh?” Well, Funny Man, LatinA, but yes. I thought, yet again, that I would just be nice and let that slide (and, yeah, I realize I think I let things slide a bit too much…mental note to self…no more sliding unless I’m on a playground). “Where from…” Ahh, finally a real question about my background…hallelujah! But then, right as I was about to answer, he proceeded with, “…South of the border?!! Hahahahahahahahaha!” I’m sorry, do you hear me laughing? What am I, Taco Bell? That’s like one of those jokes you heard back in like 3rd grade.
“Um…I’m half. My mom is Mexican.”
“Wait so your mom is Mexican and your dad is white…” He’s brilliant, like I said! “How did that happen?” How did that happen?? What the hell kinda question is that?
“What do you mean, how did that happen?” That concerns me on so many levels that he had to ask that question. I mean if he needs me to break down the birds and the bees for him, that’s a little concerning…and if he needs me to break down how a long time ago people starting immigrating to this country and meeting each other, then I’m still a little concerned.
“Well, I mean, how did that happen? Your mom speaks Spanish and your dad speaks English, how did they meet?” Are you serious right now? Did I say that my mom speaks Spanish? Cuz, she doesn’t. Talk about an assumption….we all know what happens when you assume things….only he is making an ass out of himself so much that I think I’m in the clear on that one.
“My mom doesn’t even speak Spanish.”
“That’s what I mean, how did they communicate? How did that happen?” Was he even listening to me? I mean, by this point I was so confused and disturbed on so many levels that I was dying to see where he was going with this. And then he said it. Are you ready for this? He goes, “what, was your mom cleaning your dad’s hotel room or something? Hahahahaha!!” Oh my God. Did I hear what I think I just heard? Did my mom clean my dad’s hotel room or something? Oh wow…yeah, cuz you know all us Mexicans, all we do is clean sh!t!
I just stood there with my mouth wide open. What do you say to that? By this time I had actually made it to the outside of my friends car and I just stood there in disbelief with what must have been the worst look on my face because she mouthed, “what the f- is wrong?” I didn’t even know what to say, so I just said, “Hold on…” I put Funny Man on hold and said to my friend, “this guy is an F-ing freak!” I told her what he had just said and in the process he hung up. THANK GOD! I never have to talk to that boy again. Or so I thought. Yeah, you know there’s more.
So, about a week later, I get another email from him with the exact subject, “Ahah, Stanford got owned Mexico.” Wait…Stanford owns Mexico, what? I was like, um, is someone practicing random headlines? Has this boy completely lost his mind? So, I opened it to find (again verbatim here, I cut and pasted): “Better luck next year kid.. Wait, should I write this is Spanish for to understand? :(” Classic. He’s tryin to clown and he can’t even do it in a grammatically correct fashion. Should I have written this in Spanish for you to understand? No, but maybe you could write it in proper English to start. Gee-zus! After reading it a few times, I realized that, yes folks, typos and all, the boy called me Mexico! He was making a jab at my college for having lost the big game (he’s mature, what can I say) and decided to throw in a little racist humor along with it. Wow. I mean…wow…again, what do you say to that? Is that supposed to be funny? Are you trying to charm me? I mean, I’m not saying I’ve never laughed at an ethnically or racially focused joke before, but this…this was just ridiculous. He just latched on to the “me being Latina” thing and ran with it…and decided he wanted to keep on running. The best part is, this guy is of an ethnic minority himself (I know any of my friends who are reading this are laughing their asses off at that statement). Wow. He must really want me to like him…he’s trying really hard, don’t you think?
After a few weeks of laughing about that one and telling part 2 of this 3 part adventure with this Funny Man, I received a message from a number I didn’t recognize, but it was from the Bay. Now, that’s home, so it wouldn’t be unusual. So I listened. At first, I didn’t know who it was. I had listened to the message and thought it was one of my friends trying to be stupid, but I didn’t recognize the voice and then I realized that none of my friends would leave me a message like this, even joking around. So I saved it and about an hour later it dawned on me who it was. This boy straight went Vato style on my ass, “Ay, this is Paco from the Barrio, ay…how you doin, homes? Long time, no talk, ay, I was just callin to see how you were doin ay? You know, this is Paco from the Barrio, ay…” Wow again. Wow. Who does that? No, really. Who does that? I really do think this guy thinks he’s funny. He was laughing here and there between the message, like he thought he was hilarious. Ha. See, this is kind of “funny” that falls under that second definition, “difficult to explain or understand, strange.” That is the only thing you can say about that. Strange. And, that’s being really nice. I keep wanting to be nice and be like, well, maybe trying too hard. Like he’s really trying to be funny, but is highly unsuccessful. I think it’s that niceness in me that gets me into situations like this.
Let’s recap. First, he clowns on my college. Then, in one fell swoop he knocks my heritage and my mom. Then, he nicknames me Mexico. Finally, he decides to take the Mexico thing to a whole new level by making me out to be some sort of Mexican gangsta bitch. Damn, that’s hot! Oh, Funny Man, you’re a funny, funny guy. Oh, but wait. That’s not his name anymore. See, I had to save his name in my phone so that I would know if he calls me again, he is now listed as “F-ing Freak.” So, now when the comedian calls, I laugh. I’m not normally the type of person to laugh AT someone, but I can tell you right now that I sure as hell ain’t laughing WITH him!
Funny people are like God’s gift to human nature. I know that sounds like a random bumper sticker, but it’s true. I love people that make me laugh and we all know that being funny is like being able to sing—there are the people that get paid to do it, then there’s those who are really good at it but just do it for fun, there are those that every once and awhile will surprisingly bust some talent out on you. and then there are those who completely suck at it but they haven’t seemed to realize it yet. There’s not many people that can get away with being “kinda” funny, although there are a few that can get away with being SO bad that it’s funny (think the best of the worst American Idol auditions). I can appreciate almost any style of humor. I love sarcasm (my personal favorite), I love wittiness (my stepdad is frighteningly amazing at this kind of humor and I love him for it), I love nasty, raunchy, and gross humor, and I even love silly, stupid humor (you know those “dumb-funny” movies—Old School, Don’t Be a Menace, etc). I love stand-up comedy, although I’m not the biggest fan of everyday people just telling jokes. I would much rather hear something spontaneous than a 20 minute “where the hell is the punchline” kind of joke. Remember all those “yo’ mama” jokes back in the day? Ok, even some of those were really funny to me…twisted, mean, sick yes, but c’mon…some of them were funny…but they were funny because you knew that no one was really talking about your mom. They were talkin’ ‘bout “yo’ mama” big difference… they were just trying to get you to laugh by telling a joke they heard from someone else…now if they were really trying to poke fun at your mom, it’d be a different story, not quite so funny…well, guess what…yes, someone told me a real “your mom” joke…someone who was (prior to the joke) potentially a candidate in the dating pool….what a way to woo me, huh?
So, in another one of my brilliant online selections (you will soon see why I have since quit the online thing), I started talking to this guy. It was more or less normal (not that normalcy is really possible in an online dating scenario), we sent a few emails (through my “other” email account—the not real one so that my real one is protected) talked back and forth, he seemed pretty intellectual and educated. He was all into trying to get philosophical on me to see if I could keep up. Don’t test me, boy; don’t you know who I am? Haha, just kidding, although he really was trying to test me, but I can hold my own. He actually said that he had gone (or did go, I don’t remember) to my rival college so we talked about that a bit too. Ok, so it was more like I was playing along with his “my school is better than your school” jabs here and there, which I thought were sort of silly, but I kept thinking, maybe he is just trying to be funny, so I’ll let the childish remarks slide. Then we talked on the phone (shut up, I know that it makes no sense that the boy got the “other” email address, but my real phone number, but somehow he had made it past the email test…don’t really remember how right now, but he did). He had some smart-ass (but not the funny kind of smart-ass) remarks about my college again …mostly about the reunion I had just returned from because he had been wandering around the campus that day or something. I dunno, really, I think he was trying to be entertaining and was bordering on the best of the worse auditions I alluded to before. So I hung up with him and remember thinking to myself, “yeah, I’m good on that one. No more emails, I’ll pass.” So I didn’t email him anymore.
A week goes by and he calls me again. Great. That’s right he had my number. Brilliant move, brilliant move. So, this is where he takes the “I think I’m hilarious, but really I’m nowhere close” to a whole new level.
The only thing normal about this conversation was that I said, “hello?” when I picked up the phone… after that it went downhill very fast.
“Hey, what’s up? No more reunions this weekend?” he asked. Um, no…reunions usually don’t happen on a continual basis, that’s why they are REUNIONS. But I didn’t really say that, I was polite.
“No, just last weekend,” I said. It was getting painful already
“Oh I thought you just traveled around all the time.” Uh…again, what? Where the hell did that come from? Random…
“No, I’m in school. I don’t really have time to travel that much.”
“Well, why don’t you have time? I mean, what do you have to do for school? You just go to class and write about it, right?” Ok, seriously…go to class and write about it? If you say that you went to college or go to college you know better than that. Even if you didn’t go to college, you know better than that. You don’t even do that for high school…WTF? Again, are we trying to be entertaining here, cuz I’m not so impressed.
“Um, no…” and I proceeded to tell him about the papers and reading and stuff like that. I will spare you the details because I’m guessing YOU don’t need me to explain to you the goings-on of college.
So he proceeded with a bunch of other random questions like what I do outside of school and things like that. Now, he is asking ALL of this in a very short time span (basically from the time I left my apartment to go downstairs to meet my friend), so he is firing away these questions. Again, my thought was, he just not know what to say, must be nervous in this type of situation, I’ll just let it all slide. Then he comes to this.
“So you’re Latino, huh?” Well, Funny Man, LatinA, but yes. I thought, yet again, that I would just be nice and let that slide (and, yeah, I realize I think I let things slide a bit too much…mental note to self…no more sliding unless I’m on a playground). “Where from…” Ahh, finally a real question about my background…hallelujah! But then, right as I was about to answer, he proceeded with, “…South of the border?!! Hahahahahahahahaha!” I’m sorry, do you hear me laughing? What am I, Taco Bell? That’s like one of those jokes you heard back in like 3rd grade.
“Um…I’m half. My mom is Mexican.”
“Wait so your mom is Mexican and your dad is white…” He’s brilliant, like I said! “How did that happen?” How did that happen?? What the hell kinda question is that?
“What do you mean, how did that happen?” That concerns me on so many levels that he had to ask that question. I mean if he needs me to break down the birds and the bees for him, that’s a little concerning…and if he needs me to break down how a long time ago people starting immigrating to this country and meeting each other, then I’m still a little concerned.
“Well, I mean, how did that happen? Your mom speaks Spanish and your dad speaks English, how did they meet?” Are you serious right now? Did I say that my mom speaks Spanish? Cuz, she doesn’t. Talk about an assumption….we all know what happens when you assume things….only he is making an ass out of himself so much that I think I’m in the clear on that one.
“My mom doesn’t even speak Spanish.”
“That’s what I mean, how did they communicate? How did that happen?” Was he even listening to me? I mean, by this point I was so confused and disturbed on so many levels that I was dying to see where he was going with this. And then he said it. Are you ready for this? He goes, “what, was your mom cleaning your dad’s hotel room or something? Hahahahaha!!” Oh my God. Did I hear what I think I just heard? Did my mom clean my dad’s hotel room or something? Oh wow…yeah, cuz you know all us Mexicans, all we do is clean sh!t!
I just stood there with my mouth wide open. What do you say to that? By this time I had actually made it to the outside of my friends car and I just stood there in disbelief with what must have been the worst look on my face because she mouthed, “what the f- is wrong?” I didn’t even know what to say, so I just said, “Hold on…” I put Funny Man on hold and said to my friend, “this guy is an F-ing freak!” I told her what he had just said and in the process he hung up. THANK GOD! I never have to talk to that boy again. Or so I thought. Yeah, you know there’s more.
So, about a week later, I get another email from him with the exact subject, “Ahah, Stanford got owned Mexico.” Wait…Stanford owns Mexico, what? I was like, um, is someone practicing random headlines? Has this boy completely lost his mind? So, I opened it to find (again verbatim here, I cut and pasted): “Better luck next year kid.. Wait, should I write this is Spanish for to understand? :(” Classic. He’s tryin to clown and he can’t even do it in a grammatically correct fashion. Should I have written this in Spanish for you to understand? No, but maybe you could write it in proper English to start. Gee-zus! After reading it a few times, I realized that, yes folks, typos and all, the boy called me Mexico! He was making a jab at my college for having lost the big game (he’s mature, what can I say) and decided to throw in a little racist humor along with it. Wow. I mean…wow…again, what do you say to that? Is that supposed to be funny? Are you trying to charm me? I mean, I’m not saying I’ve never laughed at an ethnically or racially focused joke before, but this…this was just ridiculous. He just latched on to the “me being Latina” thing and ran with it…and decided he wanted to keep on running. The best part is, this guy is of an ethnic minority himself (I know any of my friends who are reading this are laughing their asses off at that statement). Wow. He must really want me to like him…he’s trying really hard, don’t you think?
After a few weeks of laughing about that one and telling part 2 of this 3 part adventure with this Funny Man, I received a message from a number I didn’t recognize, but it was from the Bay. Now, that’s home, so it wouldn’t be unusual. So I listened. At first, I didn’t know who it was. I had listened to the message and thought it was one of my friends trying to be stupid, but I didn’t recognize the voice and then I realized that none of my friends would leave me a message like this, even joking around. So I saved it and about an hour later it dawned on me who it was. This boy straight went Vato style on my ass, “Ay, this is Paco from the Barrio, ay…how you doin, homes? Long time, no talk, ay, I was just callin to see how you were doin ay? You know, this is Paco from the Barrio, ay…” Wow again. Wow. Who does that? No, really. Who does that? I really do think this guy thinks he’s funny. He was laughing here and there between the message, like he thought he was hilarious. Ha. See, this is kind of “funny” that falls under that second definition, “difficult to explain or understand, strange.” That is the only thing you can say about that. Strange. And, that’s being really nice. I keep wanting to be nice and be like, well, maybe trying too hard. Like he’s really trying to be funny, but is highly unsuccessful. I think it’s that niceness in me that gets me into situations like this.
Let’s recap. First, he clowns on my college. Then, in one fell swoop he knocks my heritage and my mom. Then, he nicknames me Mexico. Finally, he decides to take the Mexico thing to a whole new level by making me out to be some sort of Mexican gangsta bitch. Damn, that’s hot! Oh, Funny Man, you’re a funny, funny guy. Oh, but wait. That’s not his name anymore. See, I had to save his name in my phone so that I would know if he calls me again, he is now listed as “F-ing Freak.” So, now when the comedian calls, I laugh. I’m not normally the type of person to laugh AT someone, but I can tell you right now that I sure as hell ain’t laughing WITH him!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
