“Hey… so… I was wondering… if you want to… um… do anything for… uh… Valentine’s Day?” I’m so nervous. My hands are clammy. My heart is pounding. I hold my breath and bite my lower lip as I wait for his response.
“Why? I don’t get Valentine’s Day. It’s a bunch of hype and no one really knows what it’s all about anyway, like where it came from and stuff.”
“Right. Okay, yeah, that’s cool.” My eyes are darting from one object to the next. My mind is racing. Did that just happen? Seriously? Why am I with this guy again?
Girls, girls, girls. We sacrifice so much to hold on to so little.
It seems we have always been this way though. In my quest to really understand what Valentine’s Day is all about, I found some disturbingly humorous information.
Apparently it all began in Pagan Rome when February 14 was a holiday honoring Juno, the Queen of the gods and patroness of marriage. On this day, the names of girls would be written on scraps of paper and put into a jar, which guys would then draw from.
The couples would be paired together for the duration of something called the Lupercalia festival, which began the following day, February 15.
The Lupercalia festival supposedly began with an animal sacrifice; the men would slaughter a goat, then take the bloody skin and run through the streets whipping women with it.
The punch line? The women actually LIKED it because it was supposed to increase their fertility in the upcoming year.
Who knows how much of that is really true. Don’t believe everything you read on the internet, kids. But given the behavior of most women, self included, these fables don’t sound too far fetched.
Don’t be discouraged, women. We have come a long way since Lupercalia. We have gone from bloody goat skin to things like cards, candy, and flowers. And we are taken on romantic dates to candle light dinners and chick flicks.
Whoever caused that shift in celebration is a very rich man. I mean seriously, the card industry would fold without Valentine’s Day. One word – Hallmark. We’d all be SOL if we had to write our own love messages on a piece of paper, fold it in half and stick it in an envelope… right?
Then there is the film industry. “Confessions of a Shopaholic” and “Two Lovers” have strategically scheduled their debut for February 13.
The biggest culprit? Definitely the floral industry. A red carnation that would sell for a dollar on a good day is suddenly ten dollars extra.
Somewhere in our celebration of love and romance, the bandit Lust crept onto the scene. He’s a sneaky one.
I found him on the corner of Artesia and Inglewood Boulevard one bereaved Valentine’s Day. Whatever sweet innocence I had left at the age of 18 regarding love and commitment and romance was definitely tarnished for life on that corner at J’s Flowers.
It was my first job out of high school and I had high hopes. After all, my favorite movie was “Bed of Roses”. A flower shop was exactly where I was going to find true love.
We spent weeks gearing up for Valentine’s Day so I was eager to help him when he walked in and looked lost in a sea of pre-made arrangements. His golden wedding band was gorgeous. He must be a real romantic. My heart stirred as I approached.
“Can I help you with anything, sir?”
“Um, yeah… I’m not really sure what to get here.”
I pointed out a few of the really nice arrangements, highlighting the red tones, which were of course very romantic.
“You know what, just pick one out that you think she’d really like.” He seemed a little rushed.
I picked up one of my favorites – red and pink roses with just the right amount of baby’s breath interspersed, “Your wife will love this one!”
Almost with a chuckle he says, “Oh these aren’t for my wife.”
Being the hopeless romantic that I am, I automatically thought they must be for his mother or maybe his sister. Those dreams were halted when I read the note affixed to the arrangement.
“Wow. That’s some love note, sir.” Was all I could stutter out as I watched him fill out the delivery address and toss the receipt into the trash can.
“Thank you.” And he walked out of the shop with my romantic ideals stuck to the gum under his shoe.
What does a girl do with that? I have spent years since then asking myself that very question. Through all the relationships, dating mishaps, car wreck blind dates and the broken hearts, wounded pride and fractured dreams… through it all I have lost hope, found hope and lost it again. It’s a roller coaster ride I can never escape.
So when it comes down to it, what have I learned? What is the trick? What do I do?
I wait. I wait with hopeful expectation of the best. Which is ironic because I’m not known for my optimism on most days. Something within me is deeply affected though when my heart gets involved. That inner sense of drowning I usually dwell in disappears and a part of me becomes miss little ray of sunshine. Even now I think it’s pathetic. But still there’s a part of me that hears the little girl who just wants everyone to be happy. Happy and in love. And that part of me deeply believes there is a little bit of hope inside of everyone.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
How To Keep A Man
I looked up the word “insecure” in the online Merriam-Webster dictionary and positioned right between the word “insecure” and the definition thereof, was a sponsored link that read “Insecurity – Learn how to keep a man with these 11 great steps!”
They really didn’t need to define it any further. I don’t know why they wasted space trying to write out an actual definition after that ad.
What is wrong with this world? That was the Merriam-Webster online dictionary. It wasn’t like some random, no name online freakasoid trying to build his own dictionary.
If you ever wonder what is wrong with all the female pop stars gone bad, just open your eyes and look around. I have heard far too many people ask ‘what happened to her, she started off so sweet and innocent’. Then they get accused of ‘selling out’.
What do you except from someone born out of this society? It happens every day to us normal girls. I can only imagine how much more pressure is added when celebrity becomes a factor.
Women are constantly told that to truly mean something, they need to have a man. A man brings security. A man makes you valuable. A man makes you more of a woman. You are less of a woman without a man. And the world knows it and is watching.
I mean, what are we supposed to do when our daddies weren’t there for us and we live in a society that tells us we need to drop twenty pounds and push up our boobs in order to get a little attention?
You argue ‘No, no that’s not true’ and yet I have a lifetime of experience that tells me otherwise. I can get more attention in a mini skirt and lip stick than holding a Bible and singing ‘Jesus Loves Me’.
You say ‘Oh but that’s not the kind of attention you really want.’
Of course not. No one wants that kind of attention. But when it’s the only attention you can get because there are far too little good guys giving good attention, you take what you can get.
If you think its sad then you should do something about it. Stupid boys.
And don’t get me started on the “Happily Ever After” endings. Its total bullshit but we are fed that crap every day of our lives. It’s a pathetic fallacy really.
That’s why I appreciated the movie “He’s Just Not That Into You”. Everyone’s happily ever after ending was different. Yes, for some it was the typical wedding that leads to a lifelong loving marriage. But for some it was simply moving forward, becoming something brilliant, growing, developing. Happily ever after doesn’t always have to end in a marriage vow.
I am a single, 27 year old female and do you know what the number one question I get all the time is? It’s not about what career I am working towards or what I like to do in my spare time or what I’m doing in school. It is always about getting married.
My favorite line is when they ask me if I want to get married. Like, because I’m 27 and still single I must not want to. It’s a logical assumption given this society’s standards.
So I excuse their good-hearted ignorance, swallow my aching heart, and explain that yes, I would love to get married but at this point in time the opportunity has not presented itself in acceptable circumstances. Which basically means that I would much rather focus on my own goals and ambitions than settle for any man I have met thus far.
I know that sounds all strong and girl-power-ish, but make no mistake it is not what I had envisioned for my life at this point. It has been a long, disappointing journey.
But I am learning somehow to enjoy the small things along the way and to live in each moment as I become who I am. I can appreciate my experiences for what they have brought out in me, for what they have changed in me, and for the lessons they have taught me.
I can appreciate now the stories my life tells, the way they allow me to be more sympathetic to other’s trials and pains, the way I can offer inspiration in other’s times of darkness. It offers them hope. It offers me hope.
And for the fact that I can glance over an ad like “Insecurities – Learn how to keep a man with these 11 great steps” and laugh at how ridiculous it is, I am grateful.
They really didn’t need to define it any further. I don’t know why they wasted space trying to write out an actual definition after that ad.
What is wrong with this world? That was the Merriam-Webster online dictionary. It wasn’t like some random, no name online freakasoid trying to build his own dictionary.
If you ever wonder what is wrong with all the female pop stars gone bad, just open your eyes and look around. I have heard far too many people ask ‘what happened to her, she started off so sweet and innocent’. Then they get accused of ‘selling out’.
What do you except from someone born out of this society? It happens every day to us normal girls. I can only imagine how much more pressure is added when celebrity becomes a factor.
Women are constantly told that to truly mean something, they need to have a man. A man brings security. A man makes you valuable. A man makes you more of a woman. You are less of a woman without a man. And the world knows it and is watching.
I mean, what are we supposed to do when our daddies weren’t there for us and we live in a society that tells us we need to drop twenty pounds and push up our boobs in order to get a little attention?
You argue ‘No, no that’s not true’ and yet I have a lifetime of experience that tells me otherwise. I can get more attention in a mini skirt and lip stick than holding a Bible and singing ‘Jesus Loves Me’.
You say ‘Oh but that’s not the kind of attention you really want.’
Of course not. No one wants that kind of attention. But when it’s the only attention you can get because there are far too little good guys giving good attention, you take what you can get.
If you think its sad then you should do something about it. Stupid boys.
And don’t get me started on the “Happily Ever After” endings. Its total bullshit but we are fed that crap every day of our lives. It’s a pathetic fallacy really.
That’s why I appreciated the movie “He’s Just Not That Into You”. Everyone’s happily ever after ending was different. Yes, for some it was the typical wedding that leads to a lifelong loving marriage. But for some it was simply moving forward, becoming something brilliant, growing, developing. Happily ever after doesn’t always have to end in a marriage vow.
I am a single, 27 year old female and do you know what the number one question I get all the time is? It’s not about what career I am working towards or what I like to do in my spare time or what I’m doing in school. It is always about getting married.
My favorite line is when they ask me if I want to get married. Like, because I’m 27 and still single I must not want to. It’s a logical assumption given this society’s standards.
So I excuse their good-hearted ignorance, swallow my aching heart, and explain that yes, I would love to get married but at this point in time the opportunity has not presented itself in acceptable circumstances. Which basically means that I would much rather focus on my own goals and ambitions than settle for any man I have met thus far.
I know that sounds all strong and girl-power-ish, but make no mistake it is not what I had envisioned for my life at this point. It has been a long, disappointing journey.
But I am learning somehow to enjoy the small things along the way and to live in each moment as I become who I am. I can appreciate my experiences for what they have brought out in me, for what they have changed in me, and for the lessons they have taught me.
I can appreciate now the stories my life tells, the way they allow me to be more sympathetic to other’s trials and pains, the way I can offer inspiration in other’s times of darkness. It offers them hope. It offers me hope.
And for the fact that I can glance over an ad like “Insecurities – Learn how to keep a man with these 11 great steps” and laugh at how ridiculous it is, I am grateful.
Friday, February 06, 2009
It’s Not This Guy
It all started at my friends birthday dinner. She and her husband were talking to another couple friend of theirs, whom I had just met at the dinner. All of the sudden my friend looks at the other couple and says, “You know who would be perfect for her?!”
As if a light bulb went off over all of their heads simultaneously they all looked right at me and the questions began to fire, “How old are you? Do you like sports? What do you do for fun? Do you like….”
I sat there with a deer in the headlights look trying to figure out how this birthday dinner turned into an interview. By the end of the night I had agreed, wildly against my better judgment, to go out with my married friends and their younger brother, my soon to be blind date.
Now, first dates in and of themselves are pretty stressful. Add to that the fact that you will be meeting this person for the very first time on this very first date, and a girl’s prep time becomes seriously intense. What do I wear? I want to look cute but not too nice, like I put effort in but wasn’t trying too hard. Is it better to go a little over the top or stay casual as if to say “this really isn’t a big deal, I do this all the time.” Not that you want him to think you go out ALL the time, if you catch what I’m saying.
At any rate, the point is the amount of pressure that comes with a blind date is the exact reason I have always sworn them off. I am still not sure at what point that changed, but somehow I decided blind dates were the cool thing to do. Chinese food and bowling sounds relatively non-threatening, and it was a group date, so I could easily rationalize that this wasn’t a date, really, per say.
At the Chinese food restaurant he introduces himself first, offering a handshake.
Nice; I like the assertiveness. Good move with the handshake. I don’t like the awkward stranger hug.
We sit down and of course we are strategically seated right next to each other with the other two couples around the table. There is an awkward silence. Uh-oh… I pretend to read the menu while viciously trying to think of something to say and wondering why he’s not saying anything either. I really prefer a man who can carry conversation without my prompting. Hhhmmm…
To kill the silence his older brother jumps in with this line, “Hey Amy, you know Jason was so nervous about tonight that he showered twice and changed three times.”
Right. Because that’s not awkward.
After the light hearted taunting by his big brother, Jason finally gets up the nerve to talk to me. It was more of a forced interview than a conversation though. I swear he must have written out talking points before we got there.
My favorite part was when he asked me what my major is and I said “Communications”. He pauses, looks at me funny and as if he doesn’t believe me and repeats it back as a question, “Communications?”
I’m a little confused at his confusion, “Uh, yeah.”
He needs more clarification, “Communications? Really? With an S at the end?”
His attitude caused a sudden shift in my demeanor and I knew right then I should leave, just run for the door immediately.
“Yes. Communications with an S. Why?”
“Well I also got my degree in Communication, from Long Beach State and…” The next fifteen minutes was him blabbing on and on about his greater than all else college education at a university where communication with an S and communication without an S are worlds apart in difference. He thoroughly explained that difference and questioned how my pithy little school could offer a degree in communications when it sounds like, by my lacking description, that it should be communication without the S.
He rounds off his novel rant with, “So really, it’s Communications, huh?”
I swallowed and bit my tongue, though I could feel the slicing sarcasm about to spew all over the table. If nothing else, I was extremely proud of the amount of self control I was able to exercise that evening.
And with that we moved on to the bowling alley where things continued in similar fashion.
Simple conversation was not really this guy’s forte so we delve into things like spirituality, doctrine, and philosophy, in between bowling turns that is. This guy doesn’t even know my last name yet and he’s asking me questions about Calvinism and the Reformation. Who does that?
And just to prove how incredibly off my game this guy has thrown me, I get up to bowl, swing the ball back and promptly let is slip out of my grasp. It plunks onto the floor and rolls back… right to his feet.
He graciously picks it up for me, “I think you lost something.”
Really? I have been holding back an entire fire range of sarcasm all night and this guy gets the first shot? No thank you.
I have to admit, my embarrassment in that moment halted me from saying anything at all. I just smiled, took the ball and threw a strike.
Let’s call that a night! I hurried out of there as fast as I could, not allowing for any kind of “Let’s do this again, can I have your number?” kind of crap.
So, it turns out he wasn’t Mr. Right, not the man of my dreams or my knight in shining armor. Turns out he was nothing of the sort. Not even close.
I saw him one other time after that night. It was at our friend’s poker night. There is truly nothing more awkward than to try and casually give out the “I’m just not that into you” vibe. I handled it though, with all the class and charm a sarcastic, single young lady in LA can have.
Sometimes I look back on that experience and wonder what in the world it was there for. Would I be the same for having not gone on that date? Did it form or fashion me in some way that I’m not yet aware of? It did give me a funny story to tell and something to write about, which at this point in my life is pretty much the best thing he could have given me.
They say the best thing you can do is to keep putting yourself out there. If it keeps giving me good material to write about, I suppose I will do just that.
As if a light bulb went off over all of their heads simultaneously they all looked right at me and the questions began to fire, “How old are you? Do you like sports? What do you do for fun? Do you like….”
I sat there with a deer in the headlights look trying to figure out how this birthday dinner turned into an interview. By the end of the night I had agreed, wildly against my better judgment, to go out with my married friends and their younger brother, my soon to be blind date.
Now, first dates in and of themselves are pretty stressful. Add to that the fact that you will be meeting this person for the very first time on this very first date, and a girl’s prep time becomes seriously intense. What do I wear? I want to look cute but not too nice, like I put effort in but wasn’t trying too hard. Is it better to go a little over the top or stay casual as if to say “this really isn’t a big deal, I do this all the time.” Not that you want him to think you go out ALL the time, if you catch what I’m saying.
At any rate, the point is the amount of pressure that comes with a blind date is the exact reason I have always sworn them off. I am still not sure at what point that changed, but somehow I decided blind dates were the cool thing to do. Chinese food and bowling sounds relatively non-threatening, and it was a group date, so I could easily rationalize that this wasn’t a date, really, per say.
At the Chinese food restaurant he introduces himself first, offering a handshake.
Nice; I like the assertiveness. Good move with the handshake. I don’t like the awkward stranger hug.
We sit down and of course we are strategically seated right next to each other with the other two couples around the table. There is an awkward silence. Uh-oh… I pretend to read the menu while viciously trying to think of something to say and wondering why he’s not saying anything either. I really prefer a man who can carry conversation without my prompting. Hhhmmm…
To kill the silence his older brother jumps in with this line, “Hey Amy, you know Jason was so nervous about tonight that he showered twice and changed three times.”
Right. Because that’s not awkward.
After the light hearted taunting by his big brother, Jason finally gets up the nerve to talk to me. It was more of a forced interview than a conversation though. I swear he must have written out talking points before we got there.
My favorite part was when he asked me what my major is and I said “Communications”. He pauses, looks at me funny and as if he doesn’t believe me and repeats it back as a question, “Communications?”
I’m a little confused at his confusion, “Uh, yeah.”
He needs more clarification, “Communications? Really? With an S at the end?”
His attitude caused a sudden shift in my demeanor and I knew right then I should leave, just run for the door immediately.
“Yes. Communications with an S. Why?”
“Well I also got my degree in Communication, from Long Beach State and…” The next fifteen minutes was him blabbing on and on about his greater than all else college education at a university where communication with an S and communication without an S are worlds apart in difference. He thoroughly explained that difference and questioned how my pithy little school could offer a degree in communications when it sounds like, by my lacking description, that it should be communication without the S.
He rounds off his novel rant with, “So really, it’s Communications, huh?”
I swallowed and bit my tongue, though I could feel the slicing sarcasm about to spew all over the table. If nothing else, I was extremely proud of the amount of self control I was able to exercise that evening.
And with that we moved on to the bowling alley where things continued in similar fashion.
Simple conversation was not really this guy’s forte so we delve into things like spirituality, doctrine, and philosophy, in between bowling turns that is. This guy doesn’t even know my last name yet and he’s asking me questions about Calvinism and the Reformation. Who does that?
And just to prove how incredibly off my game this guy has thrown me, I get up to bowl, swing the ball back and promptly let is slip out of my grasp. It plunks onto the floor and rolls back… right to his feet.
He graciously picks it up for me, “I think you lost something.”
Really? I have been holding back an entire fire range of sarcasm all night and this guy gets the first shot? No thank you.
I have to admit, my embarrassment in that moment halted me from saying anything at all. I just smiled, took the ball and threw a strike.
Let’s call that a night! I hurried out of there as fast as I could, not allowing for any kind of “Let’s do this again, can I have your number?” kind of crap.
So, it turns out he wasn’t Mr. Right, not the man of my dreams or my knight in shining armor. Turns out he was nothing of the sort. Not even close.
I saw him one other time after that night. It was at our friend’s poker night. There is truly nothing more awkward than to try and casually give out the “I’m just not that into you” vibe. I handled it though, with all the class and charm a sarcastic, single young lady in LA can have.
Sometimes I look back on that experience and wonder what in the world it was there for. Would I be the same for having not gone on that date? Did it form or fashion me in some way that I’m not yet aware of? It did give me a funny story to tell and something to write about, which at this point in my life is pretty much the best thing he could have given me.
They say the best thing you can do is to keep putting yourself out there. If it keeps giving me good material to write about, I suppose I will do just that.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
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