Sunday, July 29, 2012

I'm Funny!

Let me let you in on a secret. I’m pretty stinkin’ funny. I mean how many other girls do you know who started a blog like this? My humor and my college degree are two of the things I am proudest of. And since I am suddenly surrounded by Ivy alumni in New York City, my degree is making me less and less proud (Go ILLINI!). So I have my extremely honest humor at the top of my personality resume, followed by delightfully crazy.

Let me let you in on another secret. I don’t like people who don’t think I am funny. (I don’t like dumb people either, but they tend to be the same kind.) On my third day of being signed up for JDate, (yes, I am on it; don’t act surprised) I got an email that read “Hey whats up.” 

Since I moved to New York a short two months ago, I started trying this new thing called not judging, which is very hard for me. He used improper grammar! Apostrophes and question marks should be necessities when you are trying to impress a girl, but I chose to ignore it. 

After receiving this message, I scavenged his profile to try to find something cute and funny to respond with. He said he liked board games, and I happen to fancy them also. I responded:

“Man of few words? I guess when you listed board games as a hobby, scrabble didn’t rank among your favorites :) Hi, I’m Laurie!”

I added the emoticon in so that we would all be aware I was clearly making a joke. I would never intentionally hurt a stranger’s feelings. So you can imagine my surprise when I promptly got this response: 

“Wow so very clever of you, were you very proud of yourself when you wrote that? So witty a board game reference and everything. I generally don't write a more robust introduction because I like to feel out if the person I am writing to is intelligent. I'm real I don't do cheesy pick up lines or rehearsed introductions I let conversation develop naturally.”  (Still having  grammar issues…)

As I said in the beginning, the two things I am proudest of: my humor and intelligence. So as I read his response in my head, I said to myself, “Aw, HELL NO!”  I swiftly responded:

“Actually, I am proud of my clever response since you gave me nothing to respond to because you must lack any type of normal conversational and social skills. I give you a C for effort on trying to put me down simply because your response was average. As for intelligence, check your grammar before you email the next girl.”

And, BOOM! Did he think because I am 22 I wouldn’t be able to come up with a biting response? (He clearly thought my first response was “clever” and “witty.”) I’m not mean and I am trying not to judge, but give me a break. I’m just supposed to let him call me unintelligent without any type of retort?

This encounter was clearly a JDate failure, but who knows for the future on my search for my NJB…

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Wishing and Hoping and Thinking and Hating

I think I have one of the best memories of anyone I know, and I think this is my curse. I remember 9th grade gym class becoming friends with Mary. I remember bonding with my sorority sisters learning the Hannah Montana dance, "Pop it, Lock it, Polk-a-Dot it," I remember laying down on my friend's fraternity floor because I was certain I was allergic to fruit punch (I had an ulcer, and it was the alcohol that made me feel this way...Who has ulcers when they are in college?). 

I've typed this post up at least 10 times recounting what I referred to for three years as a "whatever you call it." I have typed to get back at him (Taylor Swift style), to explain how I think I feel (which changes every other week) and to tell my side of the story (but I'm not sure if there are sides). But every time I typed it out, I stored the post away because some things are a little too private for even the Internet. (The rest of my horrific relations are not.)

I spent 3-4 years wishing and hoping, and just like the song says, that didn't get me into his arms (in this case, arms is heart). And now, when I finally decide that perhaps I am better than all of this, that maybe I deserve better, that my mother spoke the truth when she called me “special,” my stinking memory reminds me that it is in pristine condition and is not forgetting anything about “whatever you call it,” no matter how hard I wish it away. 

I remember meeting him, getting to know him, liking him, being disappointed by him, first kiss, last kiss, holding his hand, crying over mixed messages and telling myself the entire thing was normal (it wasn't normal), but I mostly just remember smiling whenever he deemed it an appropriate time to contact me (because isn't that what all girls want, attention from the one person we can't get off our minds?). I remember all of this and every conversation in between. And even though I can remember what it feels like when I rolled up in my roommate’s bed sobbing about it (or the time at the gym I convinced someone that the wetness on my face was not tears, I just sweat a lot in the face), it doesn't compare to the moments that made me happy, so my memory downplays the times I went to bed asking the famous question, "What's wrong with me?" and it emphasizes every smile and laugh. 

So this is my question. I think this is the question many girls my age ask. If I know thinking about this and replaying three years in my head is no good and I want to leave this behind, why can't I move past it and let go? Because this is surely holding me back in my search for my NJB.

Can I get some "Amens" from my fellow ladies?