2 posts tagged “boys”

    It could just be the product of the over-sexualized college environment, or maybe it's just pathetic wisps of teenager hormones trying to get themselves heard before those years are over, but I am just finding that whereas before I was basically asexual, all I can ever think about now is men. I guess it's normal, but I think it's just pathetic, the fact that I would even waste my time being preoccupied with the matter of sex and sexual encounters. I'm trying to stick to the belief that it's simply my biological clock that wants me to settle down in the peak of my reproductive maturity, but that is just a prime example of ways in which I use science to lie to myself. (Hahah now I just sound like an Evangelist-- I ain't didn't come from no god damn monkey!)
    If my suitemates continue to play rockband twenty four hours a day, every day of the week, I may simply shoot myself. As if it's not bad enough already that I spend every minute of every day here doing homework (total lie-- I actually have given up today and skipped my first class to watch Weeds on my computer), I have to listen to the horribly overrated Ramones barking over and over accompanied by the clicks of plastic guitars. Terrible.
    I'm just being dramatic, though. College has its ups and downs, but generally it's been an enjoyable experience. The work is hard, no doubt, but I'm not planning to go to graduate school straight out of undergrad, so I'm not worried about my GPA and all of that other bullshit. How's that for a change from high school? It's freeing, sort of, but in a way I'm also afraid that I'm just stepping off of a cliff without a rope attached. Here's to hoping there are lots and lots of pillows at the bottom of that cliff.
    I guess that when you're majoring in creative writing, though, GPA shouldn't really be the foremost thing on your mind. Life experience, perhaps, and general accumulation of knowledge are in the front seat right now. (How to go from Evangelist to Self-Help Guru in two paragraphs!)
    Okay, time to get back to the concert report that I have to write for my music class. A number of my instrument-playing ex-hookups would be proud. How's that for a circular blog entry?

     You would think that by the age of seventeen I'd have had experienced every hormone-hyped teenage emotion possible. I mean don't get me wrong, I've been through a bunch of them-- grade anguish, future-related existential crises, illegal-substance-induced stupors, lapses of judgment-- but one flight of fancy has yet eluded me. That is, unfortunately, until a few weeks ago.
    I wish I didn't feel such a strong impulse to write this entry, not because I'm concerned about what other people will think, but because I know that it will allow me to continue to judge myself for feeling this way. But fuck that, I guess. What kind of a life is one in which I fear myself?
    I have never allowed myself to fall head-over-heels for a boy. Not only do I think that it's unbecoming to a young lady to be so blatantly frivolous in ones affections,* but these little bouts of "puppy love" have never ended well for me. When I was younger (okay, like thirteen), I had this uncanny ability to seduce-- well, manipulate, really-- guys into falling for me. I don't know if it was lack of inhibition or just good flirting skills, but whatever it was, it worked. Now, the situation is different. I feel like I've changed my approach. I've often been told that I "intimidate" guys-- by the guys themselves, mind you. (Most of them warm up to my bluntness, though, and some even grow to like it.) I still get asked out by guys, but I can't initiate situations as well as I used to, and I find myself unable to accept anyone's offers. It's not like I'm afraid of being a slut-- it's more that I'm afraid of settling. I don't even know if fear is the right emotion. I'm picky, I guess you could say. Really, though, it's just getting to the point of ridiculousness-- even my mother has been asking me when I'm going to finally find a guy who is "good enough" for me.
    In any case, life story made short, I don't let myself like guys. A few weeks ago, though, my friend and I went to a few local music stores in the hope of getting a good price on a new guitar. At one point, our salesperson went on lunch break and a new salesperson approached us. I don't think I've ever been so immediately smitten. It was the strangest thing-- he is nothing at all like "my type." I'm generally into tall, skinny, dark-haired, Jewish boys, not blonde, slavic, pseudo-badasses. But seriously, I have not been able to get my mind off of him. I don't know how old he is, I don't know where he's from, I don't even know his name. And I don't know what to do-- I'm way too shy to go over and actually talk to him. He probably has a girlfriend. Knowing my luck, it's more likely that he's about to leave for celibate-Andes-mountain-monk training.

    Whatever. I'm pretty sure watching Amelie a billion times didn't help the situation much (that movie turns my cynical heart into a warm, mooshy, romantic mess):

*Sorry, I felt like that was such a Jane Austen moment