shy moments: hot and cold [or BOYS BOYS BOYS!]

Ever read the Baby-Sitter’s Club books?  I read as many as I could get my hands on when I was about ten or so.  And even though I always wanted to be the smart, feminist one, I was harboring an inner “Boy-Crazy Stacey”.  I’ve been liking boys since I was in kindergarten, at least.  I don’t know why, when I was so young, other than the persistent romantic narrative that flows through fairy tales and other girl-media that I’d already been exposed to [even with the feminist slant that my parents had].

I came home from kindergarten one day and told my mom I was gonna marry this boy in my class named Kevin.  To this day I have no idea what his last name was.  (I was only at the school that one year.)  Apparently all the girls in my class wanted to marry Kevin.  We weren’t thinking about what marriage meant – other than possibly kissing [which at that time was a chaste peck on the lips].  I moved on to 1st grade and met a girl with the last name Love who introduced me to the concept of kicking boys in the nuts – as a game.  She would chase them and do this.  Or be in conversation with them and do this.  Before I met Miss Love, I had no idea boys had a particular weak spot.  Afterward, I filed it under useful info.  I didn’t join her, but I admit finding her antics amusing on several occasions.  She might’ve further influenced me, but I was only in 1st grade for a month, and in 2nd grade I met my next future husband.  He [like Kevin] was in high demand, and only just knew who I was, I think, but that didn’t matter.

Time marched on, as it does, and crushes changed from one boy to the next.  Sometimes I wonder if they ever even knew.  A few, I’m sure, did – others may not have even known me.  But there was almost always someone I thought about on those occasions that I wanted to think about someone.

As a kid, I had very few close girl friends.  Most of the girls I knew weren’t interested in being friends with me because I was a nerd, or because I didn’t have the right clothes, or something silly like that.  So I had a lot more guy friends than girl friends – starting in about 2nd grade, actually, and lasting through college.  When you’re boy-crazy, having guy friends can be complicated.  And I had my share of crushes on guys who would only ever be friends – that was basically the story of my teenage life.

Generally, I’d be friends with a guy, and realize he was crush-worthy, crush, and then get over it.  Sometimes crush – then be friends.  But the crush thing would usually fade slowly.

Until we moved to the perfect house for entertaining.

I was about 19, finishing college, and throwing parties whenever I got the chance.  I finally had a good group of friends at school and wanted to make the most of my senior year, so I did.  And one night I had some friends over and we were watching movies or something, and one of my girl friends told me a friend of hers she hadn’t seen in a long time was coming over cuz he was back in town, and she’d given him directions.  I’m a the-more-the-merrier kind of person, so I was happy to oblige, and welcomed the new guest.  Especially when I saw him.

***********NOTE:  I have a type:  curly brown hair.  I love it.  Like crazy.  In many, many forms.  But I LOVE curly brown hair.***********

You guessed it.  This boy had curly brown hair.  At this moment, I can’t remember his name, or much about his face [other than it was kinda cute] – but I remember he had curly brown hair.  This was duly noted, and I knew I wanted to get to know this fellow a little better.  But since he was a friend of a friend, I needed to feel her out first and see if she was into this guy or not.  She introduced him around and we all talked, and the more I learned, the more intrigued I was.  We were into the same things, laughed at similar humor, and …curly brown hair.  I think maybe my friend had a boyfriend at the time, or something, so I didn’t feel weird when he asked for my number before he left.

We talked on the phone a couple days later and the magic was all still there.  I was getting swept up in it all and it was fun and effortless.  There was a church event soon after that, and he came to that, and we hung out some more.  It was all good.  Full swing crush mode.

Then he called me a couple days later.

I don’t know what happened.  It wasn’t that he said something specifically off-putting, but there in the midst of  a phone convo, I went from being totally into this guy, to totally not wanting to listen to him anymore.  I started tuning him out.  For some reason, I remember specifically that he was talking about his uncle.  That’s when I knew this infatuation was completely over.  I wasn’t interested at all.  At all.  And he hadn’t done anything.

I still can’t explain it.  But I never called him again.  My friend asked me about it, cuz she wondered what happened.  And I think she ended up going out with him later on, and I didn’t care.   It had never happened to me before then, and hasn’t happened since.  Who knows why.

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wild dreams

This week at work has been full of highs and lows.  A certain analysis that my work buddy used to do with a certain infuriatingly simple tech has now become my responsibility, for better or worse.  Mostly worse.  Thankfully, my week was interrupted a bit, what with taking my dad to the airport and all.  And then there was more snow.  Because SC just can’t get enough snow in March.  That really was bananas.

But I had some pretty interesting dreams this week.  I haven’t been getting enough sleep, but when I sleep, I’m definitely getting to REM – which is good.  And the dreams have been good, too.

Last week I was talking to a friend on FB, an old obnoxious [in a good way] friend, who teases me about a guy I’ve been friends with for the last…oh…man…it’s been a long time.  She asked when we’re getting married, I told her a quarter past never, and we went on catching up.  Then I happened to see him this past weekend, and he told me he was moving away.  He’s said this before, but this time is for real, and I can tell.  He’s been teaching for a couple years and it’s time for him to do something else.  And my brain came up with this:

J and I are spies – like real martial arts knowing, trench coat wearing, clandestine spies.  I was on a mission and ended up having a rendezvous with him to get some information before we infiltrated a huge multi-school swim meet that had undercover enemy agents posing as some of the students.  We prepped for the job and went to the meet which had a pool bigger than Olympic size – enormous, really.  There were hundreds of kids there ready to race and they were going to have to put several in a lane.  We split up, and I went up on the bleachers to scan the crowd and meet up with another operative…who turned out to be Malik Yoba [who I had a crush on when I was like…16].  At this point I have no idea where J is – he’s in the crowd somewhere – and I don’t really care.  Who knew Malik Yoba was in the agency, right?  So then he leans towards me to give me an update, and whispers some stuff in my ear.  And he says we’re supposed to have some type of pretense for this, so to make things look realistic, he starts kissing my neck.  At this point I’m semi-aware that it’s a dream, because I’m like: “screw being a spy, lemme just make out with Malik Yoba!”  So – of course – the dream ends.

Well, actually, it morphs.  Now I’m with some friends who have a 1 1/2 yr old girl who is my god-daughter.  We’ve been kidnapped by some gangster looking dudes [not like a Mafia gangster, more like  a Folk Nation gangster], and we’re in a shady neighborhood in an empty house.  S has been forced to wash dishes while N holds the baby and fills the recycling bin, and I’m outside with these big dudes and they’ve got a moving truck out there and they’re making me bring small furniture in the house.

I didn’t say all my dreams make sense.

A couple days later, I dreamt that my sister and I were in a huge house in the woods, with a bunch of young people – little kids to young adults.  The walls of the entire first floor of the house are glass, so you can see outside and look into the woods.  It’s really beautiful.  Also, each room with an outside wall has a door with a crash bar.  I’m not sure why – but they all do.  There are lots of people milling about the house, inside and out, upstairs and down.  It seems as though we’re not sure why we’re there.  So as my sis and I wander around looking over the place, we get back into what looks like a pretty big master bedroom.  We’re admiring the scenery, when we both spot a little boy, probably about 4, cute as a button, wearing a little bear costume.  It shows his face, but it’s got a lil hood that’s on his head and has the cutest lil ears…he’s adorable.  And he’s outside, pretending to be a bear, and do bear things.  So he’s picked up a branch and is shaking it back and forth, trying to act all strong.  Then I notice something off in the periphery – it’s a tall, kinda-skinny-for-a-bear, bear.  A real bear.  So I start waving my arms and trying to get the little boy to notice and get him out of there,  But he’s gotten stuck under a heavier branch he was trying to move and I’m starting to freak out.  But a bigger kid [also in a bear costume] runs up and gets him and runs off in the opposite direction.  Meanwhile, the actual bear has seen me waving my arms and making a ruckus and is now trying to get in the house, using the door.  I’m a little terrified as I’m watching him shake that door, and he keeps shaking it until it opens!  This is when I grab my sister and we run from the room, slamming the door behind us, yelling that there a bear in the house.

I woke up after that, thinking, “people in glass houses shouldn’t build in the woods.  because bears live there.”

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Apparently the weird dreams are contagious, because today N (from dream #2) called me to tell me she had a bizarre dream about me last night.  When I first moved to Podunk, my pastor sat down across from me one week and said, “May I ask you a personal question?”  I said, “Ok, I guess, ” wondering what was coming, as this guy didn’t even really know me yet.  “Do you want to get married?” he asks.  Huh?  What?  Yeah – that’s what he asked.  Not for himself – he’s old and married.  But anyway, I told him I wasn’t on a marriage quest, but I’m not opposed to the idea.  At that time I had no idea that his son, D,  is a young, unmarried, uncute pastor. [Uncute, but not ugly.  Just…his face his kinda…off.  Not like – he has no face.  There’s just something off about it.  And I have hangups about the face.] And he really wants his son to get married.  A lot.  Another single girl moved here, and he kept talking about how she needed to meet his son.  Unfortunately for him, she ended up finding a dude on her own.  Well, in N’s dream, we were in the Philippines [where she’s from] with her family, and the pastor and his family, and me.  No idea why we were there.  I was holding my god-daughter and talking with N, when D came up to stand next to me as we were talking.  At some point, N realized that we were ‘together’.  And I think she started freaking out a little inside, because this is so far from reality.  So then I hand the baby back to N, and D gets down on one knee and proposes.  Inexplicably, I say yes.

Obvious that this was her dream, not mine.  In mine, Malik Yoba was kissing my neck.  That was a good dream.

Sydney White: What makes a ‘Good’ Woman?

Among other things, I watched Sydney White last night. I happen to love Amanda Bynes and had been pleasantly surprised by She’s the Man last fall, so I was totally ready for this one. A Snow White story with a twist – basically, Sydney White and the 7 dorks. Cute premise. Amanda did her part and it was a cute movie.

I watched the deleted scenes, and there was this annoying guy [the director] talking in between each of the scenes. That was enough to rankle a bit, but then I accidentally listened to some of what he was saying. He was talking about Sydney’s character development and how he wanted to make her accessible/friendly/a heroine/’one of the guys’. As he continued, it was clear that he was saying that tomboys and girls that hang out with guys or do stereotypically ‘guy’ things, are “cool” and “smart”. Girls that wear dresses and pink and want to be in sororities are, by contrast, not.

Then I started paying attention to the rest of what he was saying – basically, that in order for a girl/woman to gain his respect, she must take on the stereotypic attributes of a guy. And these attributes will still be “boyish”, though she exhibits them. Because “girlish” things are inconsequential/stupid. Continue reading