For Maximum Efficiency

My friend and I were reminiscing on acquaintances from high school yesterday, and naturally, our conversation morphed into a bash-fest of people we loathed. My friend brought up a girl that we’d been mutual friends with, but my friend’s relationship with this girl turned sour due to the girl’s blunt honesty and disregard for others’ reception of her verbalized opinions. I am still on good terms with this girl, despite my friend’s animosity toward her. 

My friend began listing out the qualities about this girl that caused the termination of their friendship. Her list started out with the girl’s character traits, but, as any gossiping female would, her list ended with insults on the girl’s physique. (Her “weird-shaped” head, of all things, which is completely unalterable, and quite frankly one of the most comedically pathetic insults I could possibly think of.) 

I told my friend that regardless of her opinion, I still liked the girl, and told her to be nice. (BLEH, she says.) Before I continue any further, I just want to acknowledge that I know that I am more than guilty of saying bitchy things behind girls’ backs, and I, too, have made fun of girls for their physical appearances, even though, hypocritically, I believe that the way a person looks has absolutely nothing to do with their value and like-ability. 

I’m a hypocrite, yes. 

Again, i’m only human, and I am only using this story to make a point. 

As with most things, I gave this conversation way more thought than normal humans do, and I noticed that this similar situation happens frequently among the ladyverse. 

When we’re blabbing away to our girlfriends about other girls that we can’t stand, why is it that we feel a need to not only insult their “hamartia”, but, while we’re at it, attack their physique, weight, hair, boobs, etc.? 

“Ugh she is such a fat, ugly b*tch.” 

“That slut’s nose is as big as jupiter.” 

Why does calling a girl a brat or a jerk or stupid not satisfy our tongues? Why do we feel the need to include the fact that she’s an UGLY brat or a FAT jerk? 

I’d be willing to bet that the majority of us females, myself included, would rather be called a brat than be called ugly or fat. Because hey, I may be a sucky person with a drag of a personality, but at least I’m pretty and that’s all that matters. 

I’m right, aren’t I? 

Most of us would never admit this out loud, but the sting of being called “ugly” lasts way longer and affects us way worse than being called “stupid” or bratty. 

Beauty takes the cake in the way we want others to think of us.

I know that people will continue to bad-mouth other people to their friends, but it’s possible to hate someone without ridiculing their physical appearances. 

That’s your food for thought on this fine Thursday. 

M. 

The Young and the Faltering

At 18 years old, I feel like life is passing me by. I can’t scroll through my newsfeed on Facebook without viewing an annoyingly-ecstatic ex-classmate’s engagement announcement. THESE CHICKS ARE MY AGE. I’m all for everyone making their own choices and doing whatever the hell makes them happy, but I’m not going to lie, I’m jealous of these girls. Their lives actually seem to be going somewhere. 

Granted, I am nowhere near being ready to make such a commitment. I can’t even commit to a breakfast cereal long enough to buy the Costco-sized value pack. Which is totally fine, especially for someone as young as myself. But let’s be honest, at this rate, all the relationship-worthy men will be snatched up by my fellow pubescent peers. 

Lately, I feel as though nothing is necessarily wrong, but nothing is definitely right, either. I just want some golden opportunity to jump out at me and steer me in some progressive direction. Currently, I am floating through life. Indecisive, uncommitted, and scared to death. 

The decisions I’m supposed to be making right now will determine the quality of the rest of my life. The thought of making a wrong (or lesser) choice terrifies me. I’d like to wave my rights to make any more life decisions, because past experience serves evidence enough that I am not capable of making aforementioned decisions. 

I think the most frustrating part about it all is that at this time last year, when I was still drifting through the breeze that was high school, I thought i’d have it all figured out by now. I was convinced that somehow, upon my graduation, everything would fall into place, and I would discover who I truly am and what my real passions in life are and all that jazz. I could not have been more wrong. 

To be frank, I don’t have the slightest clue of what I am doing. 

All I want is to be happy, and to find people to surround myself with that will help me be happy. I can no longer endure this wishy-washy, floating-around, take-it-day-by-day lifestyle. I want to pursue something gosh dang it. 

And all this talk about preparing for my “future” is ridiculous. We never stop preparing for the future. I seem to have forgotten how to live in the present. Why do all of my actions have to somehow prepare me for this thing we call “future?” Why can’t I just do something that brings immediate satisfaction every once in a while? 

In summary, I think i’ll pass on the whole “growing up” thing. That way, I won’t have to deal with watching disgusting couples be happy together, choosing a career path, the patriarchy, or anything else for that matter.

I think instead I’ll go back to the days when the hardest decision I had to make was whether or not I wanted sprinkles on my ice cream cones and I could spend hours outside playing in the sprinklers with the neighborhood kids, and nothing was a waste of time. 

M. 

Happy Medium

I don’t know if it’s just my lack of judgment or sheer bad luck when it comes to dating, but I seem to only attract young suitors on the extreme ends of the criteria spectrum. In other words, they’re either “bat-sh*t crazy” or markedly dull. Exceedingly talkative, or completely standoffish. But most importantly, they’re either initially and concernedly head-over-heels in love with me, or show no particular interest in me at all. 

It’s a tricky thing, dating me. I am the type of girl who feels suffocated the instant I get too much attention from a guy. If he texts me twice in a row without my own response in between, I will normally delete his number entirely from my phone, and we will likely not converse again. To me, any guy who wants to talk more often than a couple SMS messages a day is too clingy. What can I say? I like my space. 

But when I am interested in a guy, and want his attention more frequently, he never seems to share that mutual desire for communication. And I know it’s not fair of me, but I absolutely despise initiating a conversation for fear of becoming clingy to someone else. 

And isn’t that the way? The suitor you have no interest in developing any sort of relationship is the one who constantly showers you with attention, compliments, and adoration, while the man you WANT to give you this attention is preoccupied and uninterested. 

It’s not fair, you guys. 

As usual, I have a real-life example to illustrate this thought. 

So, I met this sweet, sweet boy the other day. Let’s call him Joey. Okay, so I met Joey at school, and we began getting to know each other via text message. After a complete day of talking, Joey had mentioned that he had written me a song. Keep in mind, Joey and I had been in each others’ acquaintance for approximately a 24 hour period. 

My initial reaction to his songwriting was to delete his number and forget him, as I had with so many others. But, as aforementioned, Joey is a very sweet, kindhearted young chap, so I decided I’d allow him to play me this song. He did, and it was really flattering, and hinted at his desire to be “more than just friends.” 

We hung out the night he played me that song and talked an awful lot. When I returned home that evening, I received another message from Joey in which he notified me that he had begun authoring his second song about me. While I am flattered by his adoration and his romantic, musical demonstration of said adoration, I feel that it is rather excessive, given the circumstance that he has only known me for a matter of hours. In short, he’s about scared me off. 

On the other end of the spectrum is this boy whom we’ll call Brian. Brian is a very attractive gentleman, about four years my senior, which makes him roughly as mature as I am. Roughly two weeks ago, Brian took me on a date for sushi (my favorite sophisticated Asian cuisine) and then to a movie. We had an absolute blast, or so I had thought.

In the past couple of weeks since our date, we’ve carried on meaningless text conversations, but have not seen each other face-to-face. Naturally, his lack of interest or desire to see me again has only made me like him more. We all want what we can’t have. It’s a complicated world, isn’t it? 

I guess what I’m trying to get at here is that I need a guy who will give me just the right amount of attention when and where I want it. That sounds ridiculous and snobbish, I know. But a girl can dream.

The struggle is real, people. 

And the search continues…