I
have quarter-of-a-century confusion. The dreaded day when I truly
become in my mid-twenties is just a week away. My sense of life failure
is starting to settle in. Where I thought I would be at 25, and where I
am are worlds apart. I was supposed to be getting married to an
incredible Southern gentleman, have an incredible job, and live in an
incredible house. Sadly, there are times when I feel that there is
nothing incredible about my life, besides my incredible friends.
To
be a single 25 year-old Southern woman is like being 40 living with 10
cats elsewhere in the country. People start to wonder why no one seems
to wants you. You start to wonder yourself. I am a little lonely. At
25 I was supposed to be waking up next to the person I love everyday,
not my teddy bear. (I have no shame in the fact that I still sleep with
a Teddy bear.)
Sure,
I am not married, or dating anyone. Sure, my job is not what I thought
it would be, and I am looking for a new one. Sure, my rent is too
high, but my apartment is pretty nice. How could I know at 18 what I
would want now? It’s not that I don’t want all of the things I thought I
would have, and just because I don’t have them at 25 doesn’t mean that I
won’t find them eventually. I know that.
There
is one aspect that I wish I could change, one of which I am truly
ashamed. I am hung up on someone else's boyfriend. When it comes to D,
I hate that I cannot walk away. The fact that seeing him makes my
heart pound disgusts me. Knowing that everyday I wish for his
relationship to end pains me. I am 25, and I still want this toy I
can’t have. Even though I know it’s not that black and white, I can’t
help but fear that this is why I am alone. This is why I am lonely. I
am not saying that I think he is the end-all-be-all, but I don’t know if
I could ever find that person, if I still have the feelings for D that I
have right now.
At 25, my heart was not supposed to break everyday.
I
know turning 25 is not the end of the world, and I should welcome my
mid-twenties with grace. I am sure my party is going to be a blast. I
love my birthday dress. I have so many things to look forward to. This
year will be different for me, it has to be.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
The Season of the DC Skin-tern
We
are smack-dab in the middle of the worst time for dating in DC: Summer
(or let me be more clear, Summer Intern season). The Summer Intern (I
should be more specific, the skin-tern) in DC is the young career man’s
weakness. Every young single career woman in this city is well aware for
the trouble that the dreaded skin-tern will bring to their love life.
You see them walking down the halls and see how the men (if you can
call them that) look at these scantily clad co-eds bounce around. If
life is truly awful for you, you may even have one in your office. If
you are their supervisor, then you have the task of telling them that
they need to dress more appropriately or that flirting with male
staffers is unacceptable.
I guess I see why the men of DC fall for the elusive skin-tern. I do not agree with it, but I can see the appeal. In a conservatively dressed city, these girls bring some sex into the office. It doesn’t matter if the sex shouldn’t be there, or if these girls are barely old enough to have a cocktail (and some are not). Skin-terns play dumb, even if they aren’t. There are no intellectual conversations or philosophical debates going on. Conversations are filled with talks of parties, the craziest things they have ever done, and anything else that make horny guys foam at the mouth. Then there is the real kicker: they are only here for two months. It's not enough time to get serious and you have a guaranteed out at the end of the summer. They will return to school and the rest of DC will return to our regular dating patterns.
Skin-terns just get on my last nerve. I want a light-hearted summer romance too. I want to have faith that the men I surround myself with aren’t fooled by a short skirt, low neckline, and fake giggle. Unfortunately, every summer without fail, one of the good ones falls prey to the skin-tern. It’s either one of my guy friends or my current crush, which stings worse than a jellyfish at the beach on the 4th of July. They are Lindsay Lohans and I am Marylin meets Jackie. I am put together, poised, and sexy in a subtle “why wouldn’t you want me” kind of way. These girls think you have to show it all to get attention, and yes it works, but then they are just a story without a name.
These so called gentleman tell their friends they are calling their skin-tern, not whatever that girl’s name might be. It’s then, when I overhear such stories and comments, that I feel a tiny bit of pity for the skin-tern. No one falls in love with a skin-tern. It’s not like anyone is falling in love with me either, but I, unlike the skin-tern, do not mistake lust for love. I do not mistake a summer fling for the perfect romance with a staffer. The pity fades quickly when I realize that it is the way these Jersey Shore want-to-bes carry themselves that puts them in that position in the first place.
I do want to be clear about one thing. Not every female intern is a skin-tern. There are plenty of well dressed, ambitious, well-behaved interns that come to DC every summer as well. But every time I see some seemingly great guy flirt with a skin-tern over a classy, intelligent, age-appropriate staffer, I pray for summer to be over. I pray for the day that I and all single career women of DC raise our cocktails and cheers to the the end of the summer skin-tern, at least until next year.
I guess I see why the men of DC fall for the elusive skin-tern. I do not agree with it, but I can see the appeal. In a conservatively dressed city, these girls bring some sex into the office. It doesn’t matter if the sex shouldn’t be there, or if these girls are barely old enough to have a cocktail (and some are not). Skin-terns play dumb, even if they aren’t. There are no intellectual conversations or philosophical debates going on. Conversations are filled with talks of parties, the craziest things they have ever done, and anything else that make horny guys foam at the mouth. Then there is the real kicker: they are only here for two months. It's not enough time to get serious and you have a guaranteed out at the end of the summer. They will return to school and the rest of DC will return to our regular dating patterns.
Skin-terns just get on my last nerve. I want a light-hearted summer romance too. I want to have faith that the men I surround myself with aren’t fooled by a short skirt, low neckline, and fake giggle. Unfortunately, every summer without fail, one of the good ones falls prey to the skin-tern. It’s either one of my guy friends or my current crush, which stings worse than a jellyfish at the beach on the 4th of July. They are Lindsay Lohans and I am Marylin meets Jackie. I am put together, poised, and sexy in a subtle “why wouldn’t you want me” kind of way. These girls think you have to show it all to get attention, and yes it works, but then they are just a story without a name.
These so called gentleman tell their friends they are calling their skin-tern, not whatever that girl’s name might be. It’s then, when I overhear such stories and comments, that I feel a tiny bit of pity for the skin-tern. No one falls in love with a skin-tern. It’s not like anyone is falling in love with me either, but I, unlike the skin-tern, do not mistake lust for love. I do not mistake a summer fling for the perfect romance with a staffer. The pity fades quickly when I realize that it is the way these Jersey Shore want-to-bes carry themselves that puts them in that position in the first place.
I do want to be clear about one thing. Not every female intern is a skin-tern. There are plenty of well dressed, ambitious, well-behaved interns that come to DC every summer as well. But every time I see some seemingly great guy flirt with a skin-tern over a classy, intelligent, age-appropriate staffer, I pray for summer to be over. I pray for the day that I and all single career women of DC raise our cocktails and cheers to the the end of the summer skin-tern, at least until next year.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Maybe ...
How do I find myself confused and caught up with Him, that boy I can’t shake. Let’s call him D.
He hugged me last night. He initiated it. I can’t remember the last time he touched me. I think it was the night we danced, the night I pushed him away, the night I sent him home to call his girlfriend. I didn’t lean into the hug. I didn’t press my body against his the way I would with a boy I am flirting with. It wasn’t tender. It was if we were both scared to touch one another, like the world would end if we got too close.
He really does care about me. That was obvious last night, and it was as though he wanted me to know that. I had already noticed that he always wants to make sure I get home safe. One time he even gave money to a friend to put me in a cab. I didn’t know it was him behind it, and his friend took the credit. I’m unsure why, but it seems to change things. I no longer second guess that he cares; I just am baffled by what it means.
When he offered to drive me home this time, I didn’t see the harm. Conversation was flowing and I didn’t want it to end. I never know how long we will be on good terms, and am always frightened that he will shut me out. He remembered where I lived even though he had only been there twice, and hadn’t since before Christmas. Maybe I am seeing something where there is nothing. Maybe none of it means a thing. He let me know he made it home safe like I asked, but now I have his number again. I don’t know if I am ready for that responsibility, that temptation. Too late. If I delete it again, I know he will be hurt. He was hurt the first time. Here's hoping that the “Do Not Drunk Text” before his name in my phone will help this time.
I wish I could say our conversation ended with him letting me know he was home, but it didn’t. We were very sarcastic and it made me laugh. I accidentally sent him a message meant for Skylar, a pep talk about not settling and holding out for the spark. I was telling her she is an amazing woman. I immediately realized my mistake and apologized, but that started the convo back up again. He said that pep talks are always welcome. I told him that I would have given him a different one. He said a different quote might be better, but he isn’t picky. So I gave it a shot: You are a kind person, you are smart, you are hard working, and you deserve all the good life will bring you.
This is where it gets interesting …
D: That is better for you than me!
Me: I don’t know. I think it fits you pretty well. You don’t have to be as kind as you are to me. I don’t always make it easy on you and I know that. I am sorry for that.
D: Yes I do … I was an ass a while back … You don’t need to apologize.
Me: People make mistakes. It is what it is.
D: You are kind to say that.
Me: You aren’t a jerk, you are a good guy. She is a very lucky girl to have someone like you. I really mean that.
That was it.
Maybe I was his mistake, but I don’t think that the mistake was getting to know me, it was kissing me. Maybe he is just trying to make up for his indiscretions. Maybe the way he cares about me is wrong. But is it? Can’t you care about the well being of someone of the opposite sex without wanted to get in their pants? Maybe it is different because we have been physical before. Maybe it is different because I still look at him and long for his touch. Maybe you can never recover from circumstances like the ones that we got to know each other under. Maybe, just maybe, we are not supposed to be a part of each others lives.
He hugged me last night. He initiated it. I can’t remember the last time he touched me. I think it was the night we danced, the night I pushed him away, the night I sent him home to call his girlfriend. I didn’t lean into the hug. I didn’t press my body against his the way I would with a boy I am flirting with. It wasn’t tender. It was if we were both scared to touch one another, like the world would end if we got too close.
He really does care about me. That was obvious last night, and it was as though he wanted me to know that. I had already noticed that he always wants to make sure I get home safe. One time he even gave money to a friend to put me in a cab. I didn’t know it was him behind it, and his friend took the credit. I’m unsure why, but it seems to change things. I no longer second guess that he cares; I just am baffled by what it means.
When he offered to drive me home this time, I didn’t see the harm. Conversation was flowing and I didn’t want it to end. I never know how long we will be on good terms, and am always frightened that he will shut me out. He remembered where I lived even though he had only been there twice, and hadn’t since before Christmas. Maybe I am seeing something where there is nothing. Maybe none of it means a thing. He let me know he made it home safe like I asked, but now I have his number again. I don’t know if I am ready for that responsibility, that temptation. Too late. If I delete it again, I know he will be hurt. He was hurt the first time. Here's hoping that the “Do Not Drunk Text” before his name in my phone will help this time.
I wish I could say our conversation ended with him letting me know he was home, but it didn’t. We were very sarcastic and it made me laugh. I accidentally sent him a message meant for Skylar, a pep talk about not settling and holding out for the spark. I was telling her she is an amazing woman. I immediately realized my mistake and apologized, but that started the convo back up again. He said that pep talks are always welcome. I told him that I would have given him a different one. He said a different quote might be better, but he isn’t picky. So I gave it a shot: You are a kind person, you are smart, you are hard working, and you deserve all the good life will bring you.
This is where it gets interesting …
D: That is better for you than me!
Me: I don’t know. I think it fits you pretty well. You don’t have to be as kind as you are to me. I don’t always make it easy on you and I know that. I am sorry for that.
D: Yes I do … I was an ass a while back … You don’t need to apologize.
Me: People make mistakes. It is what it is.
D: You are kind to say that.
Me: You aren’t a jerk, you are a good guy. She is a very lucky girl to have someone like you. I really mean that.
That was it.
Maybe I was his mistake, but I don’t think that the mistake was getting to know me, it was kissing me. Maybe he is just trying to make up for his indiscretions. Maybe the way he cares about me is wrong. But is it? Can’t you care about the well being of someone of the opposite sex without wanted to get in their pants? Maybe it is different because we have been physical before. Maybe it is different because I still look at him and long for his touch. Maybe you can never recover from circumstances like the ones that we got to know each other under. Maybe, just maybe, we are not supposed to be a part of each others lives.
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