Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Get in the Game

Note: This started as a comment to Rassles post, but it was too long so I had to post it.

Ok Rassles, I am going to tell you the truth as I know it. Be forewarned, this is my truth and doesn't apply to everyone, I am certain there are countless examples of the contrary.

In high school, I was every guys friend but nobodies girlfriend. I was the cool girl that got invited to boys only camping and boys only poker but alas, I didn't get poked. I got attention for my big boobs but that was about it. I was like a size 10 when every other girl(it seemed) was a size 4. I was hugely self-conscious in part because I got my boobs way too early. In college, I met a nerd who was a late bloomer like me and he was a good guy but very inexperienced in dating and he wore me out getting him to be a good boyfriend. Then I had a handful of other boys here and there, though at times I felt like I was kind of getting the dregs.

Then I moved to California where being a now size 12 made me virtually undateable. It was way worse then the Midwest dating scene, I felt invisible. Then I got sick of it, maniacally dieted and worked out to get to a size 6 and holy shit, they all came out of the woodwork. I had more dates then I could keep up with. I got attention at bars, my friends who were used to me being the wingwoman were getting pissed that I was getting attention. Still, most of the guys were idiots, there were just more of them. I learned to maintain a more reasonable weight/size(8) and did the internet dating thing actively(being in another city from where I went to college, I didn't have a large social network to meet people). After a handful of goombas, I met my husband.

Now he loves me, the real me, but I will concede as much as he is a good guy who is attracted to real women, it was my looks that got him first. Not that I am a major beauty but my looks appealed to him, I was petite, blonde hair, cute face, big ass, all the things he likes.

Of course years into marriage, kids, I am back to a rounded 12 but he doesn't care, because we like the same things and get each others humor, we judge people together, have a secret language and a secret handshake.

My point isn't that you have to be a size 6 but the truth is that men are attracted visually, and yes, I think you have to put yourself out there and try, it's like wrapping a present and it's retarded but it does seem to make a difference. Maybe it's about capturing their attention long enough for them to get to know you.

I know you don't need a guy to be happy but I also know that my life with an awesome co-pilot is way better than when I was single, way harder too with the kids and all the grownup responsibility but I feel privileged to have met the right guy, thinking that there just wasn't anyone out there who could handle me.

It's ok to want a guy, it's ok to be horny, it's ok to put an effort into looking attractive, you are a girl so it's kind of a biological starting point. You have the self worth and presence to not let someone treat you like crap and you are comfortable enough being uncoupled to not reel in just any guy, that is a really good place to be.

Be yourself, you will be somewhere, railing about something and some guy listening to you is going to light up and be taken in by your feistyness. I know it sounds trite but there is someone for everyone, I think the internet has taught us that.

At one particularly difficult point in my single days I was crying to my mom about how boys sucked and I was never going to find someone I liked or who liked me and that I was lonely but unwilling to couple just for the sake of not being alone. She said to me, and I never forgot it because it ended up being completely true,

"I see it as clearly as I see my hand in front of me, you are going to meet someone and fall in love and it is going to shock the hell out of you because you won't even see it coming, and when you finally find him, you will wonder why you ever worried about it."

I see the same thing for you Rossi, you are just too dynamic and challenging and interesting not to find someone who wants to look at your stupid face every morning and roll his eyes while you make your lists or offer you a footrub to make the stroganoff or extol your trivial genius to one of his friends. But I also remember the stupid adage about the guy who keeps praying every night to win the lottery and after several weeks God booms down from the heavens, son, you need to at least BUY a ticket. You have to put yourself in the game.


  1. So what you're saying is I have to breed to pass on my brilliant genes.

    In my defense, I don't get angry about never winning the lottery. I get angry that everyone keeps on trying to get me to enter the damn thing.

  2. No, Rass, I think she's talking about JEANS. You know, slappin' on a tight pair of JEANS!
    I'm so funny!
    I love your genes, Rass.
    I also love that pair of jeans I'm going to wear to a very casual wedding reception this weekend. They cause me to think, "I would SO fuck myself!"
    And that seems to be the trick - doing, being, saying, working on things that cause me to have good juju about myself. Until I got that going, it was just pathetically molding myself into one such package after the other for some guy, situation, etc...
    I couldn't agree more with Rubes that "packaging" ourselves in the ways that are absolutely true about ourselves being the real winning lottery ticket every time.
    In other words, I think your devotion to being absolutely yourself is the best. I wish I had done it much sooner in my own life.