Tag: issues

Lessons Learned At A Coffee Shop

MissM2 Comments

I am notorious for my ability to hold in my grievances when I am physically interacting with someone, and then letting my frustration consume me until I am around my kin, whom I feel comfortable ranting my pants off to. Somebody will offend or frustrate me, and in the heat of the moment, I brush it off or even agree with the perpetrator, meanwhile, a flurry of anger swirls within my little self.

Today, my mom and I went for coffee because we are addicts. Also because the best of conversations are had over coffee, and it was raining. My mom left her phone in the car, so we were free of distractions. I saw this as an opportune moment to release some of the anger i’d been stewing over for the past few days regarding someone who shalt not be named because this is the World Wide Web, and I feel like I should probably grow up and address these specific issues with this person in a face-to-face manner like grown-ups are supposed to do.

Anyway, there we were, drinking our overpriced lattes, and me complaining about aforementioned grievances between sips. After about seven minutes of this, I was just getting started, and my mom had that “problem solver” look on her face as I spoke.

Once I finally shut my mouth for a moment, my mother’s parental advising began.

I don’t know how you guys feel about your mamas, but I can say with absolute certainty that my mom is badass and super wise and I need her bad.

First of all, my mom made it blatantly clear that my complaints were in vain. She told me that I am in control of this situation, and that if I can’t express how I feel to this individual, that I have nobody to blame but myself. Then, because I am an anxiety freak who thinks she needs to have everything figured out right now, or kill herself working towards what she thinks she wants, my mom told me to just enjoy.

Now, these little nuggets of advice might seem simple and completely obvious, and perhaps they are, but to me, they are profound words of wisdom. She is absolutely right-I am in complete control of how I allow this situation to affect me. I have a couple of options here: 1) Remove myself from the source of the frustrations or 2) Express my grievances to this individual and see how things go from there. If they don’t go the way I need them to, I resort to option 1 by default.

Mama Tingey solves another one.

I want to dwell a little longer on my mom’s second piece of advice. “Just Enjoy.” My mom may or may not be going through a bit of a crisis right now, but she revealed to me today her plan to get a tattoo on her ankle. (We come from an LDS background, this is a BIG deal.)

She said getting a tattoo is something she’s always wanted to do. That’s the thing, if you don’t actually DO the things you want to do, you will never do them. Duh?

This all may seem a little jumbled, but I couldn’t help but think about my own life. In my previous post, I complained (haha surprise!) about how everyone else was out doing things and living their lives while I remained stagnant. But in reality, the only difference between them and me is the fact that they are out doing the things they want to do, and I am making excuses as to why I cannot do the things I want to do.

My mom is right, as per usual. I am young, things are flexible, and I should just enjoy. I can’t keep on going through life doing only things I tell myself I HAVE to do. I just need to swallow the world’s biggest chill pill and just enjoy.

M.

Englut

MissM7 Comments

I’m in an abnormal psychology class this semester, and let me tell you, Psych majors are a lot like Med students in that we tend to diagnose ourselves with whatever disorder we are currently discussing in class. I am guilty as charged.

Except for when i’m not, and I really do qualify for the diagnosis of discussion.

I make no secret of my eating disorder. Don’t believe me? Check out my About page. I am a recovered Anorexic, according to my BMI. However, in regards to my mental health, my eating disorder is thriving as well as it was when I was in junior high some five or so years ago. Those self-destructive thoughts you have when you’re eating 300 calories a day and running every last one of them off still linger, even after you’ve managed to eat yourself into the “Healthy Weight” category.

I always love the unit on disordered eating in psychology courses. Out of everything I learn in school, ED is one topic that I know like the back of my hand. I can give you symptoms, treatment plans, multi-dimensional risk factors, you name it! But more than that, I can give you a monologue for an ED victim, because, of course, that would simply require me to write down my day-to-day thought processes.

The most fascinating thing i’ve learned about my own disorder is that recovered anorexics can often morph into binge eaters. As an anorexic, I didn’t even consider this as a possibility. My 78-pound self couldn’t fathom ever eating more than 7 carrots in one day!

And yet, here I am. Five years later, still obsessed with food. Still obsessed with my weight. Body image. Calories. Carbohydrates. Refined sugars. GMO’s. I’d be willing to say that a good 65% of my inner monologue includes words from this type of vocabulary set.

I binge. Maybe once a week. I did today, and now i’m sitting here, writing about how I screwed up my no-carb, high protein diet, just like yesterday. Okay, so maybe Aunt Flo can take credit for this binge episode, but regardless, I probably would have done it tonight, period or not.

For someone who suffers from anorexic tendencies, a binge piles on more anxiety to an already overwhelmingly high amount of anxiety over weight gain, and it just keeps snowballing into more and more anxiety.

Y’know how long it’s been since I went to a restaurant without researching its nutritional facts, premeditating my order so that I was assured to get the lowest calorie meal? I do this for dates, birthdays, vacations, and any other reason you can possibly think of to go out to eat. Other nineteen-year-olds roll up to the drive-thru like it ain’t no thang and they order whatever they want AND a frosty! And don’t even think twice about it. I can’t even imagine what that would be like, to eat something I wanted and suffer no remorse whatsoever!

I can’t seem to shake this obsession with food and weight. I’ve tried the counselor thing. I’ve asked the advice of my mom, to which she said, “You’ve just got to have more willpower.” I can’t seem to find a plausible solution here, folks. So I guess i’m asking you guys, what methods have you tried to cope with disordered eating, specifically binging, and how have they been successful?

If you can’t think of anything, that’s cool too. I still find writing therapeutic.

M.

Desideratum

MissM10 Comments

Recently, I was contacted by a reader who completely chewed me out, claiming that I am practicing feminism wrong, and that while I claim to advocate for equality, he claims that I am “leaving others behind,” and that “subconsciously [I] do not believe in equality unless in this moment [I] realize that my actions are not all in line with [my] beliefs and [I] start to change.”

He also told me that my “feminism isn’t about equality, but rather about self-preservation” and that my blog proves it. He wrapped up his ignorant rant-fest by expressing his sorrow in my not fulfilling my own potential and that I could do great things if I just opened my eyes to my own prejudices.

I have been stewing over this young man’s declaration of criticism for a couple of days now, and I even resolved to remain passive, but my frustrations have gotten the better of me, so here I am.

Clearly, the intent of this blog has not been as vividly outlined as I would wish it to be. I welcome opposition to any opinions expressed here, and I even held my tongue long enough to hear this man out. I even refrained from verbally abusing his condescending ass. (New Year, New Me.) But rather than have any more incidents of misunderstanding, I’d like to make a few things clear to you, my dear readers.

I have never, nor will I ever, claim my writings on this website to be a whole representation of my belief system. If it were, it would be a hell of a lot more detailed, researched, and academic. Nay, rather, this website serves the purpose of being a platform for me to document my impressions, thoughts, and feelings as I navigate through life.

We are all guilty of being selfishly concerned by things that affect us directly. The things that affect me directly are what dominate my thoughts, ergo my writing. If my objective with this website were to express my belief system in its entirety, you better believe I would be discussing my frustrations with racism, classism, homophobia, etc. as well as sexism.

Because of who I am (a white, middle-class female) I am predominately concerned with issues in which my gender is treated differently than any other. That’s what has the most effect on my life. Think of DownWithTheNorm.com as an edited, polished-up, online diary. Because that’s what it is. I’m not here to bore you with my standpoint on every issue incorporated into my belief system.

This young man spoke to me as if by reading a post or two, he knew exactly who I was as a person, and once he decided the kind of person I am, he felt entitled enough to advise me to align the way I live my life with my false-claimed belief in equality. You, sir, have no right to point fingers or criticize anyone but yourself until you are clean of all prejudices. Good luck with that, pal.

I’m about to get all biblical up in here. One of my new years’ resolutions is to study the New Testament, and focus especially on Christ-like characteristics that I need to improve in my own life. I came across my favorite scripture, Matthew 7:1- “Judge not, that ye be not judged.”

So homeboy who conceitedly dared to point a finger at my prejudices, Jesus says not to judge others. That’s God’s job. Yours is to try to figure out how to love everyone as He does.

Matthew 7:1.

M

Dogged

MissM2 Comments

2014 is finally coming to a close. This year, in my life, anyway, can be described best as the Bella Swan year. And by that, I mean, I spent most of it whining about how badly my life sucked and did virtually nothing to make it suck less. Actually, if anything, I probably made it worse for myself.

I think that the whole “New Year, New Me” theme that we have going on with the conclusion of a calendar year is sappy and a bit lame, but my own little rebirth just so happens to be going on at the same time everybody else is vowing to go on the photosynthesis diet, or spend less than they earn and put it in a savings account to be binge-spent later.

I have a resolution or two for myself that I will be implementing in the immediate future. No “one last donut, and then i’ll start my diet” mindset for me. I’m gonna get a little sappy up in here, and drop a bunch of cliche’s that cause me to face-palm myself hard in public, but without further ado, here are my resolutions.

1. Get Back On the Straight and Narrow

I’ve mentioned before that I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. However, ever since I graduated high school and was relieved of any sort of familial pressure to attend my church meetings, I have become rather inactive. My conflicting personal beliefs (i.e. feminism) mix with my church’s beliefs like oil and water, so needless to say, attending church leaves me with the bad taste in my mouth that is internal conflict. I’m not excusing my lack of church attendance, rather, I amd simply explaining my thought processes.

I resolve this day to begin regularly attending my church meetings, as my job permits, and even though it begins at 9:00 AM. If I ever find myself in a discussion in which I find offensive, oppressive, or simply disagree with, I will do one of three things:

  • 1. I will raise my hand and vocalize my opposing opinions, regardless of what others might think.
  • 2. I will reverently excuse myself from the meeting and scroll through Pinterest on my phone in the hallway until the next meeting begins, and maintain an open mind for the next meeting.

I am going to focus my thoughts and energies on the aspects of my religion that I do agree with, and strive to follow Christ, which means learning to accept and love those who are and think differently than I do.

2. Self-Tolerence

I have this cute little habit called Perfectionism, and it drains my happiness. It’s no secret that i’ve been seeing a therapist for the past few months to help remedy my slightly self-destructive behaviors, and let me just say, it has done wonders for my mental well-being. My expectations for myself are completely unattainable, and when I inevitably fail to reach said expectations, I am simply merciless. I resolve to accept my shortcomings, and even try embracing them. I am not superhuman, unfortunately. So I will settle for my humanly, flawed, best efforts.

3. No Comparision

One of my favorite quotes in the history of forever is “Comparison is the thief of joy.” I have no idea who said that, but he or she was one deep individual. I am guilty of comparing myself to others, and all that it does for me is make me unhappy with the life I have. I’m not resolving to stop comparing myself to others, as that would be breaking my previous resolution of demanding perfection from myself, but I’m sure as hell going to try my hardest to not let it ruin me.

4. Be Present

Lately, I’ve gotten a lot better at living in the “now” and enjoying life as it is. I’ve stopped wishing away my time, eager to tackle the next task on my pathetic, little agenda. I’m learning to fully immerse my attention into what I am currently doing, and that makes everything seem more enjoyable, even work! Yes, work. In order to continue this upward spiral, I am resolving to immerse myself in my relationships with other people. I’m a people-hater, the type that loves to be alone, selfishly locked away in my room, keeping people, and emotions for people, at bay. This will not be the case any longer! I’m gonna start being a person who people want to be around. So there.

5. Lose the Jiggle. 

Yeah, right! That’s like asking me to bow down to the patriarchy, to which I say, “Over my untoned, dead body!” I do want to get healthier, though, and will begin attending the gym as it fits in with my schedule and mood. I’m already a permanently psycho health-freak anyway, thanks to my good friend Anorexia.

6. Stay True To My Beliefs, and Stay Out of the Defensive Zone

I am very “stuck in my ways” when it comes to things i’m passionate about. Yes, especially feminism. I struggle to give suitors the benefit of the doubt in their courting efforts, and tend to assume the worst out of each one. Hmmm, makes me wonder why i’m single again. Anyway, I’m not changing my beliefs in human equality for anyone, no matter how many abs he has or what kind of car he drives. But I am going to stop looking for reasons to be pissed off by those trying to date me and give people a chance.

So there you have it, my six resolutions for self-improvement.

Have a safe and fun new years eve, people! Do something crazy, and kiss someone attractive.

Cheers!

M.

Assign

MissM6 Comments

You know how in cartoons, a giant lightbulb appears over one of the characters’ heads when he/she has an epiphany or suddenly solves the issue at hand? I swear to goodness that’s what happened to me on my last day of my Intro to Literature class. My giant lightbulb was caused by an epiphany. An epiphany as to the real reason why I declare myself a feminist.

On our last day of class, we were assigned to present a chapbook of poems that all relate under a central theme. Naturally, my theme was “Self-Representations of Women.” I actually thoroughly enjoyed this project, as I found multiple poems that I could completely relate to. Anyway, my epiphany hit in the middle of my presentation when I began slipping into the unscripted abyss that is a college kid’s Intro to Literature Chapbook Presentation.

At some point, I had said “The real problem at hand is that we assign virtually EVERYTHING a gender. It is either masculine, or feminine.” That didn’t really resonate with me until after i’d finished my presentation with the words “Smash the patriarchy!” with blushed cheeks and returned to my desk to find a hand-written note from a classmate that was seated nearby.

His note applauded me for presenting feminism in a way that had never occurred to him before, and he concurred that it is extremely problematic to assign everything from character traits to colors of the rainbow to a category of either masculine or feminine. I suggested hie look further into feminism, and we parted ways.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how this binary mindset our culture has ingrained in us limits us to who we think we are allowed to become. Unfortunately, femininity is considered the lesser of masculinity, giving most feminine things a negative connotation when compared to more masculine things.

For example, math and engineering, toy trucks, and football have all been deemed “masculine” and “boy activities,” and those who are not masculine are discouraged from engaging in “masculine” interests.

On the other hand, cooking, sewing, dancing, and hair-styling have all had the word “feminine” slapped to their foreheads to ward off masculine intruders.

This is problematic for dozens of reasons, and it affects all genders. Rather than allowing each individual to choose his/her interests, we steer them toward what we believe will be most fitting for them, based on their sex. This holds true not only for interests, but for emotions and personality traits, as well.

Women are supposed to be weak, submissive, gentle, soft, and nurturing. If we’re not, we’re considered masculine women, and what could be worse than that?

Men are supposed to be strong, athletic, assertive, and smart. If they’re not, they’re considered ‘femmy,’ which is even worse than being a masculine woman, because, after all, masculinity reigns supreme in the realms of the patriarchy.

I am a feminist because I don’t believe that everything a person can be needs to be assigned to a gender. Society is shaping who we are going to become, and we are playing right along with it. I am sick and tired of the “pink is for girls” and “blue is for boys.” Because I like blue, dammit. And superheroes. And math. And tacos.

Stop gendering everything, people.

M.

Voiceless

MissM4 Comments

Have you ever had a million things to say, but nobody to say them to?

That’s me, as of present.

As you can infer from previous posts, (and, quite frankly, this entire motherflippin’ website) my life is the kind of mess that Mr. Clean would shake his bald head at in surrender. As you can imagine, I have a thing or two on my mind.

My social circle is small. Like, point-of-a-freshly-sharpened-#2 Pencil-small. Recipients of my potentially verbalized thoughts are very limited.

And those within my minuscule social circle seem to not want to hear what I have to say. Granted, some of my feelings and grievances are completely irrational, (Not. Rational. I admit it, geez.) but it seems as though lately, I rarely even get the chance to finish.

Now, I’m not playing the vicim here. I found some sort of inspirational quote prompting me to become the heroine in my story, rather than the victim, so that’s what my new mindset, and phone wallpaper, as of recent.

I don’t even want sympathy. Sympathy pisses me off.

I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want.

I want a trusted individual to listen to a complete, raw, uncensored, irrational rant of mine, and not say a single thing until I’ve indicated that i’ve finished. Then, I want them to respond with a Denzel-Washington-From-Remember-The-Titans pep-talk, and a hug.

But for now, I will settle for writing my desires here for you lovely people, and leave it at that.

SHUT UP AND LISTEN.

M.

Absentee

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On today’s episode of M’s Beautiful Life, M skips school because, well, she can.

The first snow has fallen in Utah today. I had to wake at the crack of dawn in order to take care of some personal affairs before class, and aforementioned personal affairs caused me to be late for my 9 AM lecture. For today, I’ve adopted a “screw it” attitude, and have decided to completely bypass my university lectures.

I’ve never felt so alive.

The first item on my spontaneous agenda of Hooky Day was to take an impetuous drive up the canyon. As I mentioned earlier, it is snowing, rather intensely, I might add, so this drive up the canyon ended up being a drive up a fourth of the canyon due to personal fears of swerving off the road because my Camry is good in the snow, but not completely trustworthy. Neither am I, as a motorist.

Then, I returned home from this adventure to document my activities for you fine folks. I’m on my third cup of coffee and am sipping from a chevron-patterned mug, and am sporting my very favorite sweater. I will be carrying on in this manner for the next hour or so.

Next on my unbidden schedule is Target. I am going to go roam Target and “pop some tags,” in the words of the legendary Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. Once my funding runs dry, but not before the guilt of spending my entire paycheck sets in, I will go to my favorite cafe (which I luckily have a gift card for) and enjoy a cozy, culinary experience.

After my tummy has been sufficiently filled, I will attend my therapy session, because I couldn’t possibly sluff off all of my appointments for the day, and also these sessions are rather expensive. Then, I will go to work like the diligent, dependent worker my resume says I am.

I’m the kind of badass that skips school to blog and go to Target. YOLO.

M.

Veracity

MissM8 Comments

Fact: everybody has something wrong with them. That’s what makes us human.

And sometimes, once we discover what’s wrong with people, we are not willing to tolerate it. This typically ends in the termination of a relationship. I’ve been thinking lately of ways to avoid this phenomenon, and i’ve come up with a viable solution. Why don’t we all just start asking each other from the get-go, “hey, what’s the matter with you?” Just so there are no surprises.

If we all decided not to be offended by this question and just offer up our behavior-affecting issues to people as we meet them, they’ll be able to decide then and there whether or not they are willing to stick around, despite whatever issue you have shared with them. Because if they decide initially that they won’t tolerate your individualized type of crazy, it won’t hurt you as bad when they decide they’re done with you before you can develop the feels.

Like on dating websites, in addition to asking you what your hobbies and interests are, there should be a field where you can describe what makes you a little psycho. But don’t feel bad, because we’re all a little psycho. I just think that if we were all more up-front about it, we’d all get along better. It’d force us to own up to our own downfalls, too, so we can all find ourselves even if we can’t afford a plane ticket to India.

I don’t propose this idea just in the case of romantic relationships. It’s directly applicable to coworkers, friends, roommates, all of the voluntary relationships we form throughout life. Let’s all just own up to our personalized forms of crazy and wear them on our T-Shirts.

Who’s with me?

M.

Garrulous

MissM14 Comments

The beautiful thing about stereotypes is that they are never 100% true. A good example of this is the stereotype of the girl who never shuts up.

Lately, i’ve been socializing with various boys (boys? men? What is the proper terminology for males between the ages of 19 and 22?) and I have found the opposite of the “Chatty Kathy” stereotype to be true.

I don’t believe that gender has an influence on how talkative or reserved an individual is.

I’ve had a ton of fun hanging out with dudes and doing date activities and things, but sometimes I feel like I rarely get the opportunity to contribute relevant comments to a topic of conversation. People like to talk about themselves. It’s what they know best.

I like listening to others talk about things-things that happen to them, things they’re passionate about, things they hate, and I am an exceptional listener. Other peoples’ lives fascinate me, especially when they’re lives are more exciting than my own. (Which is typically the case.)

But sometimes, a fellow will be narrating a personal anecdote that sparks some kind of comment that I just HAVE to make, but it seems as though when these instances happen, the person i’m talking to suddenly learns how to speak without commas and without breathing, thus robbing me of any chance of interjecting my comment.

At this point in the conversation, I have already started verbalizing my thought, softly, though, as to not rudely interrupt, but my voice goes unheard by the speaker, and he continues on with his story.

As the conversation carries on, the speaker eventually leaves the topic of which I would really like to comment on, and begins talking about something else. At this point, I’ve almost stopped listening, because I’m trying to come up with a way to bring us both back to the topic of which I wanted to comment on, but to no avail.

Eventually, I give up, and the only comments I make are the occasional “right,” and “yeah,” and “I know what you mean,” to ensure the speaker that I have not ceased listening.

As I mentioned earlier, I love hearing people talk. And some people, once you get them going, they never stop. They plow through a plethora of topics, challenging my brain to keep up.

I guess what i’m saying is lately I feel like a lot of the conversations I engage in are practically one-sided. Which is fine, because typically I don’t have a whole lot to say, myself, but when I do, I wanna say it gosh darn it.

I wish there were a polite way to say “SHUT THE EFF UP I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY.” Perhaps I will try throwing hard candies at peoples’ mouths when I feel that it’s my turn for the talking stick. I will report back with results on this method of interrupting someone.

M.

A Fractional Indemnity

MissM10 Comments

Today, I experienced a situation that caused me to feel like a hypocritical, shallow imbecile. Partially.

I shall now set the scene for you. *Clears throat.* AHEM.

There I was, draped on a barstool, my legs resting on the adjacent chair (let’s be honest, I’m not lunching with anybody. No, really, I am eating alone.) in the university’s cafeteria. I snatched the Ziploc bag from my backpack and began self-consciously scarfing down my Mayo-less turkey sandwich on Sara Lee’s 45-Calories-And-Delightful Bread. (Cuz screw you, patriarchal fat-shamers, for making “getting fat” one of my biggest fears in life.) Mid-bite, I was approached by a fellow student-perhaps my age, maybe even a few months younger, but the opposite gender.

This fellow had on an untucked flannel shirt and jeans that were a size or two too big. He had on glasses-the kind that morph into sunglasses when you walk outside, and hadn’t quite yet changed back to glasses-glasses, giving the lenses a bluish tint. His skin was as clear as sand, and he had a “baby face.”

“Excuse me,” he said as he approached my lonely lunch table of one, and I jerked my head away from my sandwich, half a chunk of lettuce hanging out of my mouth. I sheepishly covered it and forced the giant leaf of lettuce down my throat.

“Ooops, sorry, bad timing on my part.” the lad said, apologetically, as if it were his fault that I have yet to figure out how to consume edible substances in a socially acceptable manner.

After I’d finally swallowed a mouthful of dry sandwich (more a chore to eat than anything else), I shot him one of my winning smiles, baring my slightly-yellowed-by-excessive-green tea-drinking teeth.

“This is going to sound weird,” the boy continued, “and you can say no, but, um, uh, can I have your number? You can say no.”

My social skills are a bit impaired, and I could feel all the blood in my petite body rush straight to my cheekbone-lacking face.

I let out one of those nervous half laughs and hesitated just a beat.

“I actually have a boyfriend…” my mouth said before my brain could give it the O.K. A flash of disappointment came over his spectacle-covered eyes, his thin lips curving into a gentle frown.

“Oh, okay, I understand,” he managed, “I hope you have a great day. Enjoy your sandwich!” and with that, he took a step back from my table, down the hallway of rejection.

Again, my tongue reacted seconds faster than my brain ever could, and I turned and blurted, “thank you, though! I am so flattered!”

My brain’s only thought was, “I hate myself.”

I remained there, a solitary slump of a girl in a Victoria’s Secret hoodie with a half-eaten sandwich in hand, letting guilt take over my mood, and in awe of my own hypocrisy. I couldn’t believe that I had done just exactly what I’ve been demanding our society stop doing-qualifying a person’s value based on his/her external appearance. I had become, in that instant at least, the epitome of what I have been working so hard, (via this website and my own personal behavior) to advocate against. I had lied to this boy about my relationship status simply because the way he presented himself did not appeal to me.

But then, good old feisty, feminist M crashed this guilt party.

Wait a second, boys and men are allowed to have preferences on the type of person they find attractive. On Tinder, it is not uncommon for men to post in their “description” section indications of physical preference. (i.e. “Blondes only. “Cup sizes C and Up.” “Real Men Like Brunettes.” “No Whales Allowed.*”) I highly doubt that these online heart-throbs ever have episodes of guilt for their own displays of shallow behavior. So why should I? I like what I like, and I know what I don’t like.

Granted, I should not have lied to this boy with the cliche “I have a boyfriend” line. Why do I owe him any excuse at all? I don’t demand a reason why “real men prefer brunettes” on Tinder. I don’t owe this boy an explanation for not reciprocating his feelings of attraction for me. But honestly, what were my options for gently rejecting this boy?

I have found a couple of societal pressures that I theorize could be the cause of the “I Have a Boyfriend” Phenomenon.

1. Assumption: 

     “Assuming makes an ass out of “u” and “me,” the saying goes. I assumed, (probably rightfully) that this boy inquired for my cell phone number in order to initiate some kind of romantic relationship with me. Because rare is a boy and girl who share a strictly “No, Really, We Are JUST FRIENDS” relationship. Which is rather discouraging, seeing as I’ve always wanted and older brother figure in my life. But then we get into the whole “friend zone debate” which is an entirely separate argument on its own. Point being, had I given this kid my number, we could have possibly become dear friends, although the odds are slim as rice paper.

2. Justification 

As I mentioned earlier, for some reason, (girls especially) feel like we have to apologize for everything. It’s a scientific fact-they made a Youtube video about it. And we all know Youtube is the all-knowing, 100 percent reliable, online video database on this world wide web. In this particular situation, I was apologetic for not being physically attracted to this boy as I assume he was to me. What is there to be sorry for, though? Why is it so hard to simply say, “no, thank you, I’m not interested.” I can think of a couple of reasons. First of all, some people seem to think that no means yes, so they persist until they finally get what they want. (In his case, a seven-digit number granting access to instant communication with me) which would make each time I had to reject his inquiry harder than the last. Second of all, I was trying to be considerate of his feelings. Rejection is hard. Nobody wants to be told “no,” which is why I linked an excuse on to my rejection to soften the edges a little.

In conclusion, I stand by my decision to withhold my phone number from this boy. I did not want to give it to him, it’s as simple as that. However, I do regret the method in which I avoided giving it to him, and am working on alternative strategies for the “boyfriend excuse.” If y’all think of anything, please don’t hesitate to let me know.

M.

*I got this horribly offensive quote off of a T-Shirt from my dearest ex-suitor, “Derek,” which is one reason amongst a dozen others as to why I am okay with his terminating our relationship. What an ass, amirite? (See  Prevaricator  for that whole story.)