What A Girl Wants

Ray Blackston's version of what men MUST do for women, as told in a dialogue in his novel, Flabbergasted:

After a young man mentions the idea of there being one person for everyone that has been well hidden thus far, two young women have the following to say:

"Don't believe that. If I stay in South Carolina, I could meet somebody. Or if I were to move to Idaho, I could meet somebody else. But if I married either one, that one would be the right now."

"But the right one has to prove he's the right one."

"He has to treat you like a precious gem, but he needs to be in a real relationship with God first."

"All of that opening of doors and bringing of flowers is a given. A guy's momma shoulda taught 'im that."

"At least that."

"Birthdays and annivesaries seared into his brain."

"That, too."

"Without even asking, he should know if I'm happy or sad or somewhere in between."

"And none of those yes-men who agree with everything, like if a girl says she loves moldy cheese and the guy says he loves moldy cheese, too. We don't need that."

"Definitely don't need that."

"And no calling us at 11:00pm on Thursday, requesting a date for Friday."

"That wouldn't be courteous."

"And if you want to skimp on something, skimp on the price of your lawnmower or your golf clubs, or sit in the cheap seats at the ball games. But don't skimp on us."

"That's a fact."

"And after a nice evening, call us the next day and tell us we're special."

"That'd be nice."

"And if we go to the same church and then break up, don't sit next to us during the Sunday morning service and ask to share a hymnal."

"Yuck."

"But if we get back together, make it clear that we girls can order whatever meal we want, since the price of steak versus meatloaf pales in comparison to a lifetime of love and devotion."

"Another thing...he should never, on a date or any other social occasion, let us get into situations that might be even slightly perceived as compromising."

"Now, just take good notes and inform the entire male populace."

I'm such a dork. Happy Camper calls to set up the interview with the board, and I feel all comfortable with the director because we've had this ongoing thing now during this hiring porcess...so she asks what time I want to meet and I say noon. Thinking about how far it is from BN, I decide I should probably move it, but instead of being professional, stupid little me goes (in an excited voice), "Oh, can we move it to 12:15? In case there's traffic, I don't want to make a bad impression on him." She says, "oooookay" with an incredulous tone. A little too comfy there, eh? I'm a dork. And if I don't get the job now I feel the gods of interviewing are going to remove my tongue. Seriously. Bah.

Totally watching 13 Going on 30 for the fourth time. I LOVE this movie. Too bad it leaves me friggin depressed when it's over because I don't have a pink house. (see earlier post)

I wanna be Jennifer Garner. And DO Mark Ruffalo. On a couch in front of a pink house.

You know you're in trouble when deciding who will be the designated driver comes down to figuring out a drinking schedule for the night. It's all in the timing.

The Stinkin' Drunk Twelve Step Program

Step One: The Call of the Drink
It beckons to you, you simply answer it. It sounds like a good idea, it feels right, but you decide you will not go too far.

Step Two: Economics
If funds are low, and you don't have an entire paycheck to blow, you must decide whether to do the Poor Man's Drunk (i.e., drinking on a completely empty stomach) or if there is some possibility that you can con others into providing for you.

Step Three: The Suitable Drinking Partner
Finding appropriate person may sometimes prove a little difficult, but a sensible choice has no substitute. You must be careful not to choose a beginner, because you will inevitably end up taking care of them and wiping up body fluids, but you also must be careful not to choose someone who will be functioning well enough when you pass out to stick hot dogs down your pants or cement your eyes shut with toothpaste.

Step Four: The Clink of the Ice, the Crack of the Tab
The first sip that holds beautiful promises, the inital lick of the lips that christens the inebriation that lies patiently ahead. The drinker begins to feel at ease, shedding the sober skin in thicker flakes after each and every drink.

(The next eight steps can follow in rapid succession or may occur simultaneously.)

Step Five: Sad Reminiscing
"I don't care if I saw him naked on the couch with that girl who works at Dairy Queen, I know he really loved me. Why did he leave me? Why? Can anyone tell me why?" The most worthless step of the entire twelve. It usually concerns relationships and can lead to potentially hazardous DWIs--Dialing While Intoxicated--which entails calling everyone you ever dated, since you are convinced that it is a completely excellent idea.

Step Six: Wanting to Get Naked and Asking Strangers to Do the Same
Usually done after the DWI has already taken place, and the drinker has been rejected again.

Step Seven: Math
You start figuring out how many hours it will be until you have to be fully functioning again. "I can sleep fifteen more minutes if I skip a shower," "I'll wear what I'm wearing now and won't have to waste time looking for something clean."

Step Eight: "It's Ten 'til One" Inventory
A quick assessment that no matter how much liquor you have, it will not be enough and you must get more, and NOW, because it is the most important mission you will ever embark on in your life.

Step Nine: Let's Get a Snack, Too
A journey to a drive-thru, because you are much too drunk to sit in a restaurant, though you are okay to drive. Purchase twenty dollars' worth of fast food that will most likely reappear in an altogether different form before sunrise. You will eat things at this point that you would not normally feed your dog, like convenience-store franks or three-for-a-dollar tacos.

Step Ten: I Love Being Me
Your are witty. You begin feeling beautiful, sexy, and thin. You really want to be naked now, and just about everybody is looking good. You will not think twice about sticking your tongue down a stranger's throat in a room full of a hundred people. You may also feel the need to tell assorted people that you love them, and this is a good indication that you should probably go home.

Step Eleven: Invisibility
You believe that you are invisible and can do things that will bear no witnesses, like peeing in a bush or puking on the sidewalk. It is at this point that you will not remember the last thing you said or that you decided that the street looks like a very good place to lie down.

Step Twelve: The Complete Loop
You lose the ability to communicate, with the exception of nodding your head. Also evaporated is the decision-making process, all of your money, the use of your limbs, and, quite thankfully, consciousness.

from The Idiot Girls' Action-Adventure Club by Laurie Notaro

I'm 23 and I JUST bought my very first C cup bra! Rock on! Guess my Judy Blume exercises (or was it Beverly Cleary?) worked.

We must, we must, we must increase our bust.

We finally have some art up on the walls! Starting to look like home :)

We finally have some art up on our walls. Makes it start to look a bit like home. Especially with our beautiful new dining room table. Woo hoo!

I didn't get the job with Happy Camper Foundation*. The exec director is trying to create a position for me, but the board won't do it. What they did do was add a fundraising aspect to the office manager position and make it full time. Now the exec director wants to offer me that position but she has to let the treasurer interview for the office manager part of it. That means he wants someone with accounting experience, which I don't have. I'm interviewing next week for it. We'll see what happens.

*Some names are made up to protect the innocent :)

Why is it that people pop back into your life just when you feel comfortable with your life and over your past? How do you make a friendship work with someone who IS that past that took so long to get over (if you ARE indeed over it)? Is it doable?

I called Happy Camper* again to see about the job I interviewed for 2 weeks ago. Had to leave another message. Blah. This is the worst anticipation ever. Blah. I want this job sooooo much.

*Names have been changed

The parent of one of my clients has masterfully found a way to keep me just late enough for me to get really hungry, but have me leave early enough that he doesn't feel compelled to feed me. It's not like I'm asking for a steakhouse buffet. Seriously.

Mike left on Sunday after spending a week in town. It's nice. For once in my life it's not this highly dramatic emotional rollercoaster of a relationship. He leaves, it sucks, but it's all okay, not a huge deal. I feel very normal for the first time in a long time. It's sad, though...we made it work so well this week that I totaly feel like it could actually work and I'm just a bit melancholy that it was only for a week. I miss him.

Just finished watching 13 Going on 30 AGAIN. I LOVE this movie!!!! Love it sooo much, but it makes me cry like a friggin jr high girl who just got ditched at a party. Who finds that kind of love? Who meets someone that is just their best friend and then ends up totally in love and happy and married and sitting on a luxurious white couch in the front yard of their brand new pink house in a manhattan suburb? Who? The movie is a fairytale, but it's so depressing because I'm never gonna have that pink house. How sad.

I WANT THE PINK HOUSE DAMMIT!

I finally got my new car! Rock on! Tres excited about it.

Also got the new apt. Living in Crosswinds for you Spfld people. Come see us!
Can't wait for the housewarming party!

Exeriences of the last 24 hours...

3 trips to the DMV
12 yr old bodybuilder's enema
bite from a 12 yr old with jaws of steel
2 shots of tequila
5 michelob lights
2 white russians
new car (almost)
cat fight (literally)
job application
reprimand from a librarian
application for a death certificate
discovery of Quick Trip's refusal to carry Mounds bars
a good friend and a car ride
realizing I have pictures of KTTS' newest DJ in undies

New apartment, new car, and maybe a new job? we'll see. :)

Bad car crash today.  Not my fault for once.  I've always been the moron before.  Karma got me this afternoon.  Hurts to breathe.  I'm ok.  Gonna try to sleep.  No car :(  Prayers appreciated, especially for car issues.  Hoping their insurance doesn't try to screw me. 

At a young age little girls plan grand weddings for Barbie and Ken, play house with the neighborhood boys (assuming one of them will voluntarily play daddy), and watch Disney princesses fight their way towards that handsome prince.

Well, little girls grow up. We find someone who fits the bill and assign him Charming status. Eventually that blows up in our face because no man could ever live up to the expectations we set for that first time around. A couple of these pass through our lives and we lower our expectations a bit. We no longer care about things we were told Prince Charming had because we learn about the things we need as individuals. At some point we'd simply be happy for a human of the xy variety who can hold down a job and kiss well.

Then we meet him. That man who surpasses our low expectations and shows us that reality can hold so much more. We rush into it full force thinking this is the greatest thing ever and this is what movies like Casablanca are all about. We know this is the one. We give willingly of ourselves, knowing that we will die holding hands with this amazing man. Then one day, we realize what we thought we had was a mirage created by all those supressed fantasies we thought we'd long forgotten. We learn that he isn't really what we thought. Our hearts shatter into tiny pieces and we try desparately to round them all up before they wash away in the river of our tears. We are crushed. We are cynical. But we still want that fairy tale. We are determined to wait, cautious with our hopes and our happiness.

Some time later, we meet him. That one who might not blow us away at the beginning, but makes us want to believe. That one who, when we give him the chance, shows us that love really can be all that we ever dreamed...it just might not be exactly to our specifications. That one who loves us even when we're shitty or overemotional or dorky or drunk or cranky or just plain ourselves. We don't give into it right away...we've been hurt, we want to guard our hearts. The pieces may be back in place, but there are still a few missing. How do you give your heart away when it's no longer whole? So we bide our time. We enjoy quick kisses and uncertain smiles of happiness. The words "I love you" make us cringe and smile all at the same time. We never really let him be certain that we're in this for the long haul, because we aren't yet certain. We force him to keep pursuing, persuading, in hopes that one day he will convince us that he is our prince. We take it slowly, and let ourselves move along the road towards the possible.

One day, we can no longer wait. He has pursued long enough. We know this man is everything we want, everything we've ever wanted, and we open up that heart. It's fragile, but we offer it out to him anyway. Cracks and dents and all. We let him in. We let him see through the cracks and take a walk through that heart. We let him see how much we care about him. We stop forcing him to pursue us, and we show him that we long for him just the same. We are in love.

Then we get scared. Shit, we think, he's in there. The last one was in there and took so much of that heart with him. What if this one doesn't love me now that he knows I love him? Maybe he likes the chase...now that he has me he'll stop wanting me. Or maybe he likes a girl of mystery...now that he's seen it all he'll lose interest. This poor little heart can't take that. Our frantic thoughts take over recent thoughts of love and happiness, until we can no longer enjoy the good without tainting it with fear.

We tell him. He reassures us. He doesn't understand.

Yeah, so. The last one reassured us, too, the Fucker.

So now we're scared, insecure, and not ourselves. Now he starts to see the side of us we never wanted to show anyone. He gets frustrated with our fear. Now, we wonder, will he run?

Our first reaction is to gain control again. We're scared on this supposedly level (but to us, oh so unlevel) playing ground and we need to take a step back so that we can compose ourselves. So we have to take it all back. We can't go back in time, but we can pull away. So we pull from his arms. We wait for him to call us again. We watch the clock and make ourselves wait exactly 47 minutes to call him after we have the first impulse. We only tell him we love him when he says it first. We start a new hobby. We suddenly aren't available on Friday nights. We pull back so that he won't see what a mess we are inside. We pull back to regain that aura of mystery so he won't lose interest. We pull back so that he will, again, be forced to pursue us.

Sometimes, he doesn't pursue us. We say, fuck it, he wasn't good enough, he wasn't the one...and move on. Knowing all along that we killed it with our insecurity, but unable to let go of the fear. We hope that one day we'll find the one who keeps pursuing. The one who won't let us run. The one who will grab us and yell us to stop being so fucking crazy and realize how madly in love with us he is and that he will always be there no matter how neurotic we are and how much we try to pull away. He'll yell it at us until we're not sure if we should cry or laugh, and then he'll kiss us hard and tell us again and again that he wants us and that we have absolutely nothing to fear. And then he'll kiss us long and soft and slow. A seal for the promise of the depth of his love.

We hope we'll find that one. We want to believe in that one. We want to believe that THIS one IS THAT one. But while we hope, we expect the worst. He will fail us. He will run. Could anyone ever REALLY love this mess? Probably not. So we kill every chance at love with our insecurity, hoping that someday someone will be strong enough to show us that we have nothing to fear...that he will fight us for us. And that he will hold our hands while, together, we fight through to the other side, where we are not scared and all is bliss. We want to be with him in that land where fear succumbs to absolute unconditional true love.

We want the same thing we wanted when we were still those little girls and our biggest questions involved the clothing of Barbie's bridesmaids.

We want the fairy tale.

See original broadway cast recording of South Pacific, track 10

:)