Monday, September 9, 2013

Not psychotic or dramatic, I like boys and that is that


Thanks to Lady Gaga for that title inspiration. 

Hey guys,

Sometimes I have an interaction with a man (boy) and it turns out to be so annoying and disappointing that the next thing that flashes through my head is Kathryn Grayson intensely singing “I Hate Men”, while her nineties-era super model eyes so viciously melt the Technicolor camera they’re glaring into.
Here is a reference tool. Photo from here.
But here’s thing…I really don’t hate men. I love men. I’m incredibly attracted to them and have been known to stare blatantly at one that I found particularly attractive.

But here's a cliché for you: I find men (boys) so incredibly confusing. To this day, I still have absolutely no clue what guys find cute, pretty, socially acceptable leg hair length, or if they really, REALLY want us to not wear make-up.

First of all lets just make one thing clear: I really—in the big, beautiful, worldly, abstract painted picture of it all—don’t give two fucks about what they really like. Or at least their opinion doesn’t affect how I dress/ look in my day-to-day life (today I’m wearing gigantic daisy earrings and to much eye make-up). Sometimes it affects the way I act because, lets be real, I have a very hard time being totally awesome around guys. I can’t just turn on instant Jessa Johansson cool and woo any guy I want even though I’m wearing a kimono and somewhat frightening oxblood lipstick.

   Sometimes I wish I could just be at the point with all men (boys) where I continually say weird things/ reference questionable aspects of pop culture, and they just say something cute/mean but never truly judge me for it because I’m just a humble freak who desires to share my oddness with everyone.

I have now deviated from nearly two promising subjects for this blog, and for good reasons of course. But I think we need to focus on paragraph three: what does a weird, but not quite psychotic, girl need to do to find a man who can keep up and also lend a humbling hand.

Here’s my problem: I’m very open about my weirdness. I like that I’m into things that maybe other people don’t like or seek to understand. And when I say that I’m not trying to be a stuck up snob cool person bitch.  I’m just being honest. But the kinds of guys I’m normally trying to impress are “interesting”, lanky, hip guys that need to probably date girls whose legs aren't twice the size of theirs. That’s where my other problem comes in. What cool, hip guy with tree branch legs (I’m into that) wants to get with a bootylicious, pseudo hipster who’s ass belongs in a rap video but soul belongs in the oh-so-interesting days of understated Psychedelic Furs shows, Morrissey haircuts, and girls dressing like Patti Smith. See what I mean?? It’s very confusing for their already-misunderstood souls.

Meanwhile I’ve recently had a plethora of experiences in which I’m harassed by various types of men who are either grossly too old to be hitting on me, or their just straight-up jackasses. They may call it flirting or being playful. However, my version of flirting is not being whistled at in the hallways of my own residence hall. It is also not getting followed out of a Dunkin’ Donuts only to be told by some man that he thinks my body is “incredible” (need I mention that he is being accompanied by his young daughters in this instance). And lastly, it REALLY is not when a car full of nasty guys pull up next to me, while I’m out running, and begin yelling various, incredibly inappropriate things until I have to literally jump into some bushes to run away from them. Because they’re being gross.

I mean really, it’s not that big of a problem, my confusion with guys. Not only do I know tons and tons of girls who also struggle with similar questions and problems, but I know guys also find girls confusing and hard to “figure out”.

So I guess even with all this ranting, I should just accept that maybe one day I’ll meet the person that enjoys my magnitude of weirdness. Until then I have plenty of friends who I pleasantly drive crazy with my crazy.
                                                                                          
I mean lets be real: at this point, nothing in my future sounds better than being like Donna, from Parks &Rec, and having a few guys “on rotation”, but still being able to just go home, chill on my boudoir-style couch, and drink a glass of wine.

But I still like the company of men. Like really.

XX,
EE

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