It's not that I hate men. I'm far from ready to don some Birkenstocks and join the Indigo Girl caravan. I still dig doin' the deed with dudes.
I spent the day lamenting over what my Valentine's Day post would be about.I considered rehashing what could possibly be wrong with me or the men I date or , this or that. I wasn't going to throw a pity party. Nope. Valentine's Day is a most certainly a reminder of my singlehood. But it's not what I wanted this to be about. I see the guys scrambling around the mall finding gifts to appease the lovely lady in their lives. I can see the beads of sweat building on their furrowed brows as they sign the finance papers at the jewelry store across the hall. Yikes! Perhaps we should begin at the beginning.
Believe me when I say I seem to make friends more readily with the male of the species than I do with females. Maybe it's because, while still a very young girl (age 4ish), my closest friends were boys (and one girl who would give Peppermint Patty a run for her money.) I had no issues climbing trees and racing against them on my Big Wheel. Shut.Up! Those things rocked at 7:30 a.m. on a summer's day. I had female friends, too. However, in my formative years, boys were always prevalent buddies.
I know I look totally girly and frilly on the outside. I am vain. I do my hair and put on make-up. I love the color pink and wear it often. However, underneath the smell good stuff, body lotion and pearlized lip gloss beats the heart of a tomboy; a girl who likes to hang with the boys and cut-up like a boy. I'm perverse and vulgar. I'm crass and swear like a trucker.
By the same token, I shoot from the hip. I prefer not to mince words because being diplomatic all the time is exhausting. It's preferred, by yours truly, to be up front with who I am. I can't play the cat and mouse games. Upon numerous occasions I have read and been told that men love the thrill of the chase. Ok, groovy, but once you're caught doesn't that mean the thrill is gone? Like I said, let's cut through that mess and just get to the being caught. Trust me, the thrill ride begins there. Since I've not been given a rule book, I refuse to play the game. Sorry! I am one of the lunatics who reads instructions.
Is it presumed that all people in the beginning of courtship -- for lack of a better term -- is when they are guarded and on their best behavior? And if it is assumed that the real me (from the beginning) is actually the good behavior Riss that the men I date wonder when the other shoe might drop and some alien psycho beast will emerge from the pod?
I just gave you a lot to chew on. You might want to take a bathroom break or get a drink. A stiff drink.
Several years ago a friend, married and male, told me that it'd take a mighty special dude to match me in personality. He said his wife was very much like me in that she cut through the bullshit and presented him with a full course of herself. He found it refreshing. He also admitted that it took him off guard, but it didn't chase him away. I often turn to that assessment for reassurance.
Gah! I wrote all of the above a few hours ago and stopped. My phone rang and I saved this to resume later. During the course of the conversation my caller said to me words that I've needed to hear. I've heard the words before, but he said them to me in a manner that sounded familiar. His words were very near to what I would have told my dearest girl friend.
To paraphrase: Go out. Meet people. Set no expectations. Stop limiting yourself. Duh! Happy Valentine's Day everybody! I think I'm in love! WITH ME!!!