Maybe it’s me being emotional because I’m on my period. Maybe it was the ice cream. Maybe it’s the stress. Maybe it’s the suspiciously long recovery from the 4th of July spent exactly how the founding fathers would have wanted— with shots of Jameson in dimly lit bars…. But Jebus I’m freaking out about being a cat lady.
Have you ever seen Say Anything with John Cusak? It’s absolutely everything you could ever want in a cheesy 80’s chick flick. Before we got all 500 Days of Summer/maybe happy endings are all bullshit, the 80’s fucking nailed the idea of work hard enough and you get the girl/guy. Our generation, once again everybody- say it with me, SUCKS.
So long story short, John Cusack is kind of a weird creepy dude who falls for quintessential overachieving ASB girl that nobody in real life would actually befriend, she falls for him (thereby significantly lowering her standards and probably setting herself up for a lifetime of mediocrity and frustration), then her dad is a money launderer (?) and she breaks up with poor John because… I don’t know… she thinks that having a boyfriend is related to her father being a criminal?
Anyway, guess what John does. GUESS! He stands outside her window at dawn (or dusk… lighting is pretty shitty in the 80’s, not sure), and holds what appears to be a 45 pound boombox over his head playing Phil Collins into her bedroom window. I about cried. Okay, I teared up.
And then I did what every girl does when we watch these movies…. I thought to myself, “Hold on… how come nobody ever did this for ME?” Okay, I admit I’m not even sure that grand gestures really exist or if Hollywood invented them just to make sure that all men will never measure up, but still… The grandest gesture I’ve ever experienced was a picture in High School from my boyfriend where he wrote I<3 U in the sand at the beach in Diet Coke…
Which, looking back is actually pretty sweet, but something a homeless person probably could have managed with a stolen camera.
What I’m trying to say is Say Anything is my dream movie. It was everything you ever wanted in a cheesy romance: weirdly intense face grabbing while kissing outside, rambling speeches about completely unrestrained mushiness, and of course, a grand gesture from a guy to a girl who probably doesn’t really deserve it anyway.
I’m not saying I deserve it. I’m not saying I even kind of deserve someone irritating my neighbors just to press me (sigh), but it’d be pretty spectacular. Should a romantic comedy ever be written about my life it will be some joke of a girl who offends everybody, manages to mess everything up (in a completely NOT adorable, endearing way), gets her period in the guy she likes’ bed (TWICE!– sorry, Libra) and then ends up with the guy she hated but she’s so worn down by scaring everyone away that she just gives up since she doesn’t want to be a cat lady. And that’s not romantic at all. It’s scary, actually.
God… my romantic movie sounds a little bit like that awful 80’s movie Carrie. That’s encouraging.
Almost a year ago I went to go see Camille the fortune teller. Over a year ago, I cursed Camille for being an idiot and taking my money and sort of creeping me out. I may (emphasis on MAY) owe that weird clarvoyant an apology.
She babbled on about a lot of things, most interestingly, about D getting pregnant. But she said I’d have a boyfriend… and I really wanted one at the time, I wanted to fall into something new and see where it would take me. What I didn’t count on happening was the opportunity to actually have that, and when it presented itself, I freaked out and hid in the corner from it.
I’m not saying she was right… I’m saying that maybe she just had a really awful sense of timing. Literally hours after I left her creepy voodoo room, I hung out with a guy I liked. I followed up liking him with acting like a weirdo, and then we went our separate ways. Remember him? The Libra? I think he’s… back? Well, he isn’t really back on his own terms, I sort of drug him kicking and screaming but evidently I’m rather convincing when I’m bitchy. But we aren’t ruling him out.
Homeboy is getting out of a relationship. I think he thinks I’m a complete wackjob. I know he thinks I’m bizarre and mean. And… I think he likes me? I don’t know. I’m confused. But I’m interested in him because I have awful timing and I can’t do anything unless it’s good and difficult.
We spent the weekend together- and it was good to see him have fun and interact with my friends. I forgot how much dating was like a series of increasingly intense interviews. Or maybe I never dated someone who I found intimidating on some level or another. But if we are predicating this on any of my other relationships- I would be smart to disregard everything I know. It’s nice though, and I’m enjoying it while trying to seem relatively normal (which, let’s be frank, easier said than done).
It’s been three weeks since we’ve kind of been talking and doing that, I-think-we-should-hang-out-but-I’m-too-sober-to-be-upfront-about-it thing and it’s going well so I just kind of roll with it. (By roll with it I mean try my damnedest not to be anal-retentive and keep everything under my control). I clearly need help. So what do you do when you have a problem? Google it!
This is what MSN tells you to do if you like someone (I am NOT making this up):
- Be touchy but not too touchy. Touch his arm lightly and briefly, but never go below the belt (although she OKs playing footsie). And yeah, I know some of you are squeamish about contact, but it’s so effective! What does that even mean?! I don’t like to be touched when I’m sober and if I’m drinking I want to be taken everywhere via a piggy back ride. They should be more specific.
- Let him to do the bend and snap. If you make eye contact with a cute guy in Starbucks and you need an excuse to talk, drop a pen on the way to the bathroom. In the olden days, women dropped hankies. I’m confused. Again. Is this a Legally Blonde reference?
- Pump him up. Compliment him, let him talk, make him feel like he’s calling the shots, and laugh at his jokes. But… what if the jokes aren’t that funny?
- Keep a full schedule. You’ll be more interesting if you’re busy with different activities. Also, you won’t be totally available for him. Ladies, we could stand to be a little more elusive and mysterious. Tell him I’m busy when I’m really just watching Friends reruns and drinking wine by myself.
- Get a signature scent. The sense of smell aids in sexual attraction. Whatever perfume you wear, he’ll associate it with you! Bonus: if your perfume rubs off on his pillow or towel, it will further remind him of you. Is this creepy to anyone else? Don’t cats pee on stuff with the same territory-claiming intentions?
This list was ridiculous, and I genuinely hope women out there aren’t following this kind of misguided wisdom in their own lives, although I’m sure there are some stupid enough to try. Oh well. I’ll keep you all posted on any big happenings, like if I start my period in his bed again… (yeah, I blogged about that last year. That was really special).
Sorry if you read this whole thing. I’m very tired, but I needed to post something- anything, and now we have a jumping off point for whatever the future holds. Welcome back, Libra!
I had to write this. It was unfair not to… Although I highly doubt there will be as many “Yayuh!”‘s to this post as there were to my “Things That Are Better Single” one. Bloggers tend to not be in relationships- or they do- and don’t read my blog because
they feel bad for me I make them jealous.
However, you can never tell me I didn’t explain BOTH sides of the story. Because I am about to write a list of the best things about… abooouuuttt…. (sorry, almost threw up in my mouth a little bit)… about… beinginarelationship. There. I said it.
1. Your period. Congratulations! You’re not pregnant! It’s a relief, and a very heavy, baby-sized weight has been lifted from your shoulders (ovaries?). Now, on with your life for another 24 days until you start methodically counting the dates on your phone’s calendar again trying to compute if your late. Mazel Tov!
2. Valentine’s Day. Birthdays. Holidays that involve cards. Now, my mom is good about this, and I am a regular receiver of cards. But there’s something pretty fantastic about a card filled with sloppy boy writing, brimming with marginally thoughtful things that he probably spent 3 hours
avoiding thinking up. Awwwwww. “He thinks I’m really Cool!”
3. Getting Waxed. Unlike me, if you are in a relationship, you spend $50 a month for lovely miss Sameera while chatting about God knows what with the intention of showing off your barbie-look-alike vajayjay. If you are more in my boat, you visit Sameera monthly out of the sheer fact that you have developed a very painful, very unfeministic habit. And she’s nice. (Did I just admit to being friends with my waxer?!)
4. Gaining Weight. Haha! He’s stuck with you anyway. SUCKER!
5. Birth Control. You know what they call birth control for celibate/single folk? Vitamins, because they’re basically the same thing now. A daily nuisance you take because you hear they help with your skin.
6. Regular sex. Well, that is, if you’re still having it or still enjoying it at this point.
7. Movies. That shit is expensive nowadays, and at least if you’ve got a significant other they’ll pay for you to go see You’re A Pedophile For Loving Justin Beiber So Much and stuff your face with Raisinettes. I generally don’t see movies unless I have a boyfriend… Meaning I saw every movie that ever came out in 2007 and 2008… and NOT ONE in 2009. Which sucks because word on the street is that Paranormal Activity was exactly as abominable as I thought it would be.
8. Having A Phone. Because when you have a boyfriend it actually rings and shit.
9. When People Ask Who You’re Dating ‘These Days.’ By ‘people’ I mean members of your extended family, and by ‘who you’re dating’ I mean who will take you off their hands so they don’t need to take care of you into your 40’s. Because that’s all my family members are looking for in my boyfriends… PLEASE DON’T MAKE US PAY FOR HER FOREVER. (My drinking is expensive).
10. Having Trust/Daddy Issues. Finally, someone to punish for your father’s mistakes! And for a second there I was worried I’d have to get over them in a healthy manner instead of projecting them onto some poor, unassuming man. Whew!
Okay, so this quickly turned into Reasons Not To Date ME, but whatever… I was totally kidding. I mean my phone rings all the time… Swear.