The Girl Nerd takes a Stand!

I remember the shining bright light as I stepped out of the nerdy closet to join the rest of my bretheren, it was a moment of ecstatic glee. No more hiding, no more ducking behind sports and a tough tomboy persona. I stepped into the light and realized I wanted to shout to the world....

I AM A NERD!

I didn't realize when I made this discovery of self understanding that there would be backlash for it. You would think the A-typical jocks/ punks/ bully/ jughead would make a crude comment in my general direction but I have to say that none of those "types" of people noticed I was a nerd. I don't look like a nerd, and after so many years in hiding I don't dress like one either. For the most part I believe I look like a natural girly girl, not overly done up but definitely applied in my appearance. That is not to say most nerd girls I know don't resemble me, in fact, I feel that almost all my fellow girl nerd slightly resemble me. It amazes me still that I didn't get the rejection from those outside of my little bubble of nerdiness but those on the inside.

The first time I noticed this obvious disreguard for my personal lifestyle I cast it off as no big deal, but the more it happened the more I had began to see an annoying trend. The most offensive comment I ever received was, "You can't be a nerd, especially a computer nerd, you are a girl." Yes, my inner She Hulk almost burst out of my body to beat the culprit down into a bloody unrecognizable pile of pulp. The reasons as to why I CAN'T be a nerd astounds me:

-I'm a girl
-I wear dresses
-I don't read comic books
-I don't play video games every day
-I don't own a true GAMER computer
-I like sports
-I'm not a guy
-I dress too girly
-I wear make-up
-I tend to flare up about misogynistic story lines/ tropes/ movies/characters
-I think having to show a woman's body to sell a product is asinine
-I read too many "smart" books and not enough "good" books
-I am obsessed with music and love being in large crowds at a live show

I could go on and on, but I think you get the point. All of these reasons are ridiculous. I never ask a fellow nerd what makes them nerdy, I don't see the point. I don't need to offer up my nerd resume and have you approve or disapprove of what I like and am in to.

I think here is where it becomes obvious why I choose the handle name that I did. I am a Girl Nerd living in a Boys World. No I don't care if I am ever accepted because I will continue to love and adore the things that I do.

Truly I can't point the mean finger at every single male nerd out there, that in itself would be asinine. I want to say the score is about 70/30 of rude ass monkeys to kind adoring and accepting nerds. I have found many jerks in this corner of the world, but I have also found many many awesome and wonderful nerds that understand my plight.

I am a woman, and I am a nerd. I love movies to ridiculous obsession and I wait anxiously for the new trailers to come out so I can geek out all over again. My typical chill night consists of watching Harry Potter marathons, Firefly reminiscing (I'm a leaf on the wind!), or geeking out on the awesomeness of Battlestar. I played Donkey Kong every day after school until I beat the blasted game and won all the bananas. I became obessed with King's Quest and hogged the family computer because I had to collects the Mask pieces!! I love to paint not just on canvas but also digitally. I love 3D designing, I love building characters from a cube and applying color, light, and depth to create movement in 3D space. I am obsessed with fantasy/sci fi/ adventure books so much so that I am writing my own Trilogy. I wear dresses, I love high heels, I love curling my hair, I wear make up, and I use that damn torture contraption to make my eyelashes curl just right. I don't care what anyone thinks, I love what I love and no one can change that. I am a Girl Nerd in a Boys World and I will always be....me.

 Sometimes ME dresses up as Jessica Rabbit :)

Nothing to Prove- Geek Girls and the Doubleclicks 
Check out an awesome music video here!!! NERDS UNITE!!!

"We've both been ridiculed for our hobbies. Be supportive, we are on the SAME SIDE!"

 "Geek girls are awesome and we are not going away."

 "I was told I sound smart for a girl in a pink skirt."

"You think I do this for your approval??? Mwa hahahaha!! Get over yourself."

 And....Girl Nerd out. I think I have made my point :)

SS: Kismet PT III

7AM ON A SATURDAY MORNING:

I want to rewind time. My heart thrums painfully in my chest and I can feel my vision starting to slip traction on the matte object in front of me. I want to go back, I want to rewind, but I am stuck in the motion of this path my body is hurtling down. The ache in my chest now feels like a full on heart attack, I think I might be dying or maybe I just want this moment to end. I want to close my eyes and erase it all. I want this day to disappear, I want this moment to disintegrate, I wish I could go back and keep myself from leaving that damn party.


EARLIER THAT MORNING:
Logan was a charmer. He was tall enough for me to have to crane my neck slightly as I looked up toward his smiling face while we chatted outside of the party house. My friend had ditched me, my ride to the party had also ditched me, I was on my last leg of patience when I tripped out of the smokey house and found Logan standing in the shadows. So mysterious and intriguing, there was no question in my mind that I wanted to talk to him. I didn't really think twice when he asked if I was ready to leave and offered to give me a ride home. Rationalizing that I had pepper spray on me just in case eased my mind as he walked me toward his car.

"You live far?" he asked as he hopped off the curb toward a deserted alley way across the street. My alarm sensors went off in a spark of awareness. Alley way....dark...alone....crap.

"Not too far, just over the hill really." My voice only shook slightly, but I kept my cool together and moved slowly behind him beneath the dull glow of the street light. At the moment we were at the base of the famous Beverly Hills though by the looks of it you would never guess. There was a broken glass bottle hanging in the dry grassy gutter and as I crossed the street a random bum yelled, 'nice tush!' but I couldn't really tell if he was yelling it at me or the hunky leather jacket wearing man in front of me.

Logan flicked the butt of his cigarette in a pinwheel toward the dry gutter letting it land in a spray of ash and sparks before dying beside the abandoned broken glass. Beverly Hills is truly so very classy.

"You ok wearing a helmet?"

My first immediate response was, "huh?" thinking why I would need a helmet in a car but the thought died in my throat when I looked at his ride. No wonder he was wearing a leather jacket, he rode a matte black Harley Davidson. It looked like the stealth bike of an underground mafia member. Logan was anything but a mafia member. His long blonde hair and steely blue eyes projected surfer boy more than Italian mob wise guy.

"Yeah, I would like to if that's what I'm going to be riding home in...on," I said quickly trying really hard not to show that I had never before been on two wheel contraption of death and destruction.

Logan smiled heartily and moved toward me to hand me the helmet to which I just stared at. He took his cue and plopped it on my head before buckling the strange leather pieces beneath my chin. It felt like the ground was starting to rumble beneath my legs but I quickly realized it was just the thrumming power of the engine placed so dangerously close Logan's seat. I was terrified to say the least.

The look on Logan's face was absolutely priceless. "I promise you Grace, I will drive slow and make sure you are safe. Just make sure to hold on tight ok?"

My vision bobbed up and down but I wasn't quite sure I made my head move or if the helmet's weight had snapped the muscles in my neck making me jiggled my head in a nonsensical jello like fashion. He took it as a yes and practically pulled me on the bike behind him. He rattled off a few words of warning to which I understood not a single syllable of it. The one thing I did hear was, "HOLD ON TIGHT!" He grabbed hold of each of my hands and secured them around his waist.

Tight was an understatement, I had a death grip on his body that even a bucking rhino couldn't get out of. I felt every single breath he took, though I wasn't sure if it was  more exaggerated because of my death lock around his abdomen. He didn't mention any concerns, and by the face that ten minutes into the ride he was still sitting upright instead of fainting off the side of the bike was a good sign.

"HEY!" He yelled over his shoulder as we winded down the Sepulveda back road toward the Valley. "ARE YOU HUNGRY?"

Surprisingly I was. It was also almost 5 in the morning and I could feel the effects of hunger starting to dig into the pit of my stomach. "Yeah! I could eat." I was pretty confident he heard my chirp. The death bike pulled off the residential road and onto the main strip of Ventura Blvd. It looked like a ghost town.

The engine purred subtly at a stop light and Logan angled his neck to look over his shoulder at me. "You look pretty cute in that helmet." He smirked and I knew full well he was full of shit. I looked like  tiny bug with a head five sizes too large. If cute was what he wanted to call it though, I would take it.

"Thanks," I replied softly. "Where are you taking me?"

"To where every man wants to be when he is awake at 5 in the morning."

My stomach dropped toward my knees. "Excuse me?"

"To a Diner Grace, I'm taking you to a breakfast Diner. Relax, it's way to early in the day to take you home with me," he said with a smirk and a saucy wink. Men like him shouldn't be allowed to saucily wink, it was aggravating and also slightly encouraging. The big leather encased man was growing on me.

We stopped at one of my absolute favorite cafe's in Sherman Oaks The Crave Cafe. It was where I stopped for most of my secluded down time and much needed pile of strawberry crepes. Plus their coffee was spot on delicious and perfectly crammed with delicious sugary sweetness. He didn't even need to ask and he knew the best place in my stomping grounds. As he pulled in to a small section of parking just in front of the place I wondered allowed where he lived.

"Actually not to far from her. I'm just a little ways back up Sepulveda."

I didn't ask any further questions and he didn't offer any but that was a very telling sentence. Only those in houses lived on the far South side of Ventura, and usually only those with a good grip of cash could afford it. As annoying as it is to admit the idea of him having a good sense of financial responsibility intrigued me more, but it wasn't the money that I liked, it was the sense that he knew how to take care of himself. He knew how to live comfortably and responsibly. It's one of the main qualities I looked for in a man, the other one's are more based on detailed personality traits.

"You ever been here before?" Logan asked conversationally as we walked toward the deserted looking building.

"Yeah, I actually come here a lot to work on my writing and what not," I said trying my best to sound nonchalant. He didn't really respond he merely raised his eyebrows in intrigue as the overly peppy server behind the counter asked what he could get for us. It was 515, no normal person should be allowed to be that peppy at 515 on a Saturday morning.

Logan ordered several random plates saying we could just eat whatever felt good and I ordered a large caramel latte. The foam and caramel mix tasted like heaven as the velvety drink slipped over my tongue and into my empty stomach. I hummed my deep appreciation for the beverage as I settled more comfortable into the wide sofa Logan chose to sit on.

We talked for almost an hour and  half about everything and nothing. He seemed so well verse and intriguing. I truly didn't want the evening/ morning to end, but I had plans with a girlfriend of mine later that day and he had other obligations too.

"Thank you so much for breakfast," I said softly almost slightly embarrassed because he had just asked me for my number.

I should state ahead of time that when I become embarrassed and or a little shocked/giddy about a moment I tend to lose all simple functions of my motor skills. My lips can no longer form coherent words and my smile tends to twitch in it's angst ridden desire to stay wide and pleasing. It makes me come across as a total dweebie nerd that for the most part has cause a lot of trauma in the past, but I learn from my mistakes.

After Logan's smooth digit asking question I excused myself to the restroom to shake out the nerves and twitchy muscles that were jolting through my body a mile a minute. I needed air, I needed to breath, I need to calm the frack down! Logan said no worries as I rushed away in a panic of jitters calling out that he would meet me outside.

Once I was able to violently shake away my ridiculous tremors I shoved my consciousness into my best sex kitten projection and strutted my way toward the front of the cafe. Logan was no where to be seen so I assumed as anyone would that he had also taken a trip to the lavatory (as I like to call in in my head as it sounds so much better than the toilet) while he was waiting for me. In anticipation of riding on the beast of black metal I plucked the heavy helmet from the back of his bike and began the laborious process of shoving the giant plastic piece onto my significantly smaller head. I almost had it in place when I lost my footing on the curb plummeting the six inches to the hard paved street and lunging forward as my shoe connected jarring my ankle harshly to the side. With the helmet still only half on I couldn't quite see what I was doing but my arms jolted out in front of me to keep me from falling flat on my face.

What happened next I couldn't have changed even if I had wanted to, even if I had thoroughly had several minutes to think through the scene before my eyes there was no way around my completely disastrous actions. As I reached forward trying to catch my own fall without the slightest clue of my surroundings my forearms connected jarringly with harsh sun heated metal. Luckily what I connected with stopped my forward motion keeping me from falling forward, but unfortunately as I righted myself and ripped the helmet off of my head I realized what caught my fall.

Logan's beautiful black Harley lay tipped on its side half in the parking area and half on the side of the street. Traffic wasn't so heavy just yet, but there were cars on the road and in a moment of pure panic my body lost control and I started to hyperventilate. "Shit shit shit!!!" I rushed forward and tried to upright the bike but it was far too heavy for me to lift alone. I saw traffic rumbling down the street just a mile or so in the distance and the panic doubled into overdrive. My stomach seized in fear of what Logan's reaction would be. I had never in all my life done something so horribly wrong to someone I barely knew. He could very well be an angry person and one tiny scratch on his baby might send him over the edge. I didn't really had time to dwell though as I tried for the third time to lift his bike he strut out of the Cafe. I watched as his brilliant smile flipped down into a troubling frown.

"Um...what the hell?"

My mouth opened and out spilled or torrent of rambling apologies and words that even I had a hard time understanding. Logan remained silent. He walked over toward me and lifted the bike out of my hands in one jerk of motion. Rushing over to the other side Logan inspected the outer surface looking for possible defects, scratches, or permanent damage. His pristine matte paint job looked like a scratched pock marked chalk board.

"I am so so sorry Logan. I really didn't mean to. I was trying to put the helmet on and I just tripped and fell over! I....I am really sorry."

He didn't say much, and I didn't really expect him to. He was being nice driving me home, and he was being overly nice buying me breakfast. I have to say I felt really bad right up until he yanked the helmet out of my hands and jammed it down on his own head. His leg lunged over the side of the bike and with a stomp of his foot the beast roared to life. I didn't actually expect him to be nice toward me after I just dumped his bike over into a pile of sharp and unforgiving rocks but I really didn't think he would be such a prick either.

He shook his head in my direction and I could swear I heard him say something, but he peeled away from the curb before I could really comprehend.

I stood there for several minutes before the shock wore off and the anger set in and I realized that he had just ditched me on the side of the road without a ride home. Thankfully I was only a few miles from my apartment complex. A walk would be perfect to work off not only my breakfast but also my anger.

I vowed then and there to never EVER go to another show with my friend Diamond again and matte Black motorcycles were strictly OFF LIMITS!

UPDATE: Three weeks later I remembered what Logan said, and I admit it is not appropriate to repeat. But I happened to see him about two weeks after the horrible incident and thankfully I was looking mighty fine if I must say so myself. Amazingly he approached me and apologized profusely. He said there was no damage to his precious bike and that he was hoping I could forgive him for being such a prick and ditching me. He asked me out to dinner.

Outwardly I thanked him for his apology and sweetly told him no, I was not interested. Inwardly I was jumping up and down in a fit of joy at my sweet delicious retribution. My 'no' gave him the distinct expression that I had just peed in his Cheery-O's. Not so cheery now are you mister ass hat! No thank you, I will not be going on a date with you, and you can thank Kismet for that one.

Day of Random Randomness

Today is Friday and I have dubbed it Day of Random Randomness

I was told way back when, which I'm pretty sure was a Wednesday (shout out to DC there),  that I was going to be named Dorthy Shirley. I'm pretty positive I would have been ridiculed in the sand box while the children around me threw rocks at my head and screamed, "You are SHIRLEY DORKY!!!" Thank you Mom, for not letter that disaster happen :)

Not sure if that is actually a rock...or a piece of blackish looking poo. Hmmm....pondering now.








YOU ARE AWESOME...
I have decided in my own personal time of thought that when it comes to most movie/book series I most often love the first and the last one the most. I wonder if that is a common thing, or if anyone out there actually thoroughly loves book number 2. It's almost like the middle book is the red headed step child of writing, the evil set of pages that everyone wants to forget exists.
In order of LOVE, I will say the last two books of Harry Potter are preferred over the middle four and five. The first three somewhat make one long awesome beginning...the last two are the climax END!! Lord of the Rings, totally different though. I love the first one the most, the last one second most, and I seem to always forget about the middle one until I am watching the movies and I think...."I can't wait until the Ents FIGHT!!!!!

That most definitely is a HUGE ROCK!!!






MOOOOOOOOOOVIES...I can't stop thinking about all the new movies I want to see in the next couple of months. There are soo many! Some of my friends who aren't as movie obsessed as I am probably think I'm crazy when I text them mid day screaming something like..."HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEW TRAILER FOR...BLAH blah BLAh!? IT'S AMAZING!!!!" (Yes, I text shouty cap people when I am really overly excited)
I'm not sure if it's because I love being involved with the process of making movies, or avidly watching the day to day updates, but I love seeing things before they happen. I like being the first to know. I will admit, when it comes to spoilers, I am the worst to myself. Basically I read too many movie blogs and updates.

I CHANGED MY BACKGROUND AGAIN, DO YOU LIKE IT????
Here were some other options, but I think aesthetically and Jessica "nerd" Girl needed a Harry Potter fix for some time :)

OPTION ONE.....because PUG!!!!!!

OPTION TWO....because I have a secret lego storm trooper hiding inside my keyboard!!!

OPTION THREE....because dark and mysterious nerdiness coolness







Random Fun Fact: Did you know that Frack has been officially added to the Websters Dictionary? If you don't know what that means, you need to get on some Battlestar Gallactica watching!

Happy Super Random Friday People....have a super awesome weekend <3

Aggro Thursday

Yesterday I felt like there wasn't enough time in the day, today I feel like time is ticking at a cruel snails pace. I was filled with excitement and wonder yesterday morning, I was energized to work on my 3D, excited that I just finished updating my website, and invigorated to read through the third pass of The Manny. Today however, I'm frustrated and annoyed. I can't work on my 3D because I am at work and have no availability to access the right programs. My website is updated to the most recent information, nothing to do there until I have something to update. The Manny, I can work on that now yes, but it's almost impossible to focus on the organic flow of ideas, words, and foreshadowing when I'm surrounded by the loudest of loud noises!!!

 I think the crux of my issues on this momentously mediocre day is that I feel stuck. I feel like no matter how many strides I take forward I fall backward at least several more. Up the hill, almost there, I can see the horizon and then a magically evil whoosh of wind and I am back to the bottom again. Here is why: I need a more challenging job/career and I can't seem to land one. The first thing people usually say to me after this topic comes up is; "Have you looked at Craigslist?" Or even better, "Have you applied anywhere? You really should updated your linkedin."

It boggles my mind when people, whether they are strangers or close friends and family tell me obvious information that if they actually thought I didn't do would mean they thought I was incapable of...thinking. The truth, I have done this myself in other instances. It comes down to the problem, and the victim. I am the one with the problem, so I must be the one to fix it. Others can give advice and their opinions, but truly I am the only one that can fix this problem. (However if one more person tell me to look at Craigslist I might donkey punch them....or pee in their cereal. Either one.)

So to fix my problem I need a plan.....

I need to find someone who works somewhere that I want to work and then hassle, bug, annoy, and drive insane until they finally give up and hire me. 

Good Plan? Well, the people that know me probably think no...especially since I have already implemented this plan.

My point is, that you can't reach any high point of stature without knowing someone. I look at people who are famous, popular, rich, established, accomplished....they got to where they are because they had an in. Some legitimately work their ass off for their "product" but in truth, even if you are truly amazing, unless you have a contact to get you that dream job how else would you have gotten it? Jobs aren't made or instituted for complete strangers, your dream career is yours because what's her/his name promoted you. Sometimes this is awesome!! Sometimes this is a huge pain in the arse.

My new plan....


EAT 
A LOT 
OF

 CAKE!!!!!!!!!!!

And only cakes based off of Harry Potter because that is ridiculously cool!




No really....new plan (after ingesting a pound or 12 of cake) is to work when I can on what I want to accomplish. I really want to learn more about my industry, so I am going to take the time to do that when I have to availability. I am going to finish the third edit of The Manny and work toward getting it published by the end of the year. I am going to learn two new programs this year, I am hoping to make that Nuke and Smoke (If you don't know what that is, I want to be more efficient in VFX programs).

So new new plan is in effect NOW!.......but but why is the cake gone? (ANY OTHER JUNK FOOD CRAZY IDEAS??? I NEED OPTIONS PEOPLE!!!!!)

The Girl Nerd Book Review!!

For the last couple of months I have been on a reading frenzy! Maybe it’s because my book is almost finished and I like to see what a polished (or totally unpolished) product looks like. Apparently the last 20 something years did nothing to help me know “what a finished book” or “what a really really good book” looks like. Best way to understand your craft is to immerse yourself in it right? I did…I have been a readin’!!!!

First up is probably my favorite book. No joke this one hits the numero uno spot on my list:

The Martian, by Andy Weir
I love good suspense, I always find myself wanting to dive into the latest thriller action book. This one takes the cake of nail bitter story. It’s a science fiction, suspense, nail bitingly tense, oh my god I CAN’T STOP TURNING THE PAGE..... kind book. You start out with the main character Mark Watney (Who in my mind resembles someone like Domhnall Gleeson….no idea why. Mark isn’t a red head, and he is an American. But anyways that’s the face I imagined). So this Mark Watney guy, who is a total nerd in the coolest way, starts the story with an OH SHIT moment. He is completely stranded on Mars. He spends the next so many days (no need to spoil here!) trying to stay alive. The best part about most of his “I have to save my own arse” moments is they seem completely one hundred percent scientifically legit. There wasn’t a single time I thought, “No way, that just isn’t possible.” But then again, who am I to question a Mechanical Engineer/Botonist? Weir really twists a great story in with the on the edge moments, and he adds enough crazy wild “AHHHHH run for your life,” in with the “oh my god that is the funniest thing I have ever read,” that you never get bored. Even when he was talking his science mumbo jumbo I was hooked. This is a serious page turner, seriously funny, and on my top list as MUST READ!!!! Does Mark Watney ever make it home??? You will have to read this one to find out.

 Second book on my must read list:

If I Stay, by Gayle Forman
Now, a totally different style than The Martian, If I Stay is a heartfelt slightly crushing story of a girl, Mia Hall, who gets in a horrible car accident with her family and through a miraculous state of in-between has the option to choose if she wants to leave all her loved ones behind, or if she wants to stay. (That isn’t a spoiler there, it’s on the back of the book pretty much). This is one of those books that doesn’t follow an A-Z timeline, it jumps back and forth through Mia’s life highlighting people she loves and why mean so much to her. Forman does a great job with the back and forth, I never lost myself in the timeline she supplied, it flowed so perfectly with the main characters arch that it was perfectly executed. This book kinda reminds me of The Perks of Being a Wallflower in that it focuses a lot of attention on music and how it changes our lives. Perhaps that’s why I love it so much! I originally picked up this book because I saw the trailer starring Chloe Grace Moretz. I got really excited and thought, “I need to read this before I see the movie!” I was right, this is a must read. There will be so many entities of this book that they won’t be able to get across through film. It’s definitely a tug on the heart strings kinda book, but it’s so beautiful written and focused that I have to put it on a top list of must read. One thing I will say, I actually enjoyed the sequel to this book. The author really knows how to pull you in deep with music, lyrics, and emotion and she fills the page with numerous quotable lines. I have a feeling this be a re-read in my near future.

 Third Book on my must read list:

The Fault in Our Stars, by John Green
“Why John, why must you yank on my heart strings so harshly!!!!” My first reply (because yes I spoke out loud to the author when I read this one) when I finished the book. This one isn’t a surprise knock you sideways book, you know it’s going to be a ‘rough on the emotions’ read. Hazel Lancaster is a young girl who from the beginning you know has a difficult path in front of her, she has cancer and it isn’t going away. She struggles through her day to day lugging around a breathing machine just so that she can stay alive, but she ends up meeting a fellow cancer patient at a support group, and from there things get interesting. I will say this book from the beginning seemed like just another sad story, but I will tell you that I have NEVER read a more truly inspirational and quotable book in my life! (outside of books that are quoted all the time, those don’t count) This story is corky and sweet, the plot is simple but severely intense, and the characters are beyond lovable. Every page kept me wondering how it would end, every page made me ache and feel for the characters’ lives. If the story itself doesn’t grab you, then watch the MOVIE. Shailene Woodley is starring in it!! I dare you to try and watch the trailer for this amazing story and not shed a glistening tear…I failed miserably.

 

Ok, that wraps my MUST READS for the moment. I promise I will have more soon, I can’t seem to keep my nose out of books lately. Perhaps that’s because I am waiting for own to be edited….not pointing fingers, just saying. ;) (I love you editor!)

SS: Kismet PT 2

Sometimes I feel like the path is leading nowhere. I lift my head up to the sky and scream at Kismet, "this is not a road, it's not a path, I am standing in the middle of nowhere you dummy!" But Kismet doesn't listen, because truthfully who am I really in the grand scheme of things?

WTF is exactly what I am thinking as I stand in the middle of a crowded music venue that my friend talked me into going to after she listened to the horrible date story with mister greasy hair tight pants from the week before.

"You need to get out hun, and not just out with guys you need to just get out in the world. See things, meet different new people."

"I do meet new people," replied sarcastically. It's hard to take criticism on my crappy dates. Is it really my fault that the wide world of dating has brought me nothing but slimy turd mongers that don't understand the meaning of "gentleman."

"You meet ass monkeys, you need to go on a date with a real man. I know a few, I should totally set you up!"

Here is another thing Kismet likes to dangle in front of me. The option of meeting someone through someone, it always leaves the hope alive. You see opportunity strung on a precarious string before you and all you have to do is snag it! Ahhh too slow, try again!

I turn my head toward my friend and emphatically tell her no. She shakes her head in mock frustration but quickly focuses her attention back to the band rocking overly loud electric guitars on stage. I'm not completely sure why I feel so against blind date set ups over online dating, surely my friends can give me a way more honest run down of the person. They know them, they see them on a decently often basis. So what’s the big deal? Maybe it's that I don't want to run into them again if I don't actually hit it off, what if the random stranger is actually a total creep in a dating scenario? What if...what if....what if?

As much as I love how Kismet intervened in my life, I also totally completely hate it! With a massive passion. Once again I am forced to wait, wait for life to open that road that for the entirety of my life has been closed. I am forced to do this intricate dance step through the day to day, hopping, skipping, leaping. lunging, diving, walking, plummeting through this wild path life has apparently laid out for me. I don't think life intended to leave me stranded in the middle of an abandoned war field, but that's how I feel at the end of the show. My friend left me to go talk to the band but never returned. Just my luck. Being Irish does nothing to help my state of good fortune, I always seem to find the short stick.

“Are you lost?” A voice murmurs from behind me.

I turn around to see hazel eyes, bushy black hair, and a perfectly crooked smile. It was the guitarist from the band I just spent the last 90 minutes heavily ignoring, but up close he appeared different. Maybe it was because it was out of context. I wasn’t staring at him like a prop on stage belting out a heavy metal tune to impress the ladies. Standing in front of me he was just a curious guy, slightly short in stature but still taller than me in flats. I smiled back because it was almost impossible not to.

“I’m not lost, just waiting for a friend of mine who I’m pretty sure abandoned me.”

He snorts in laughter though not in a way to embarrass me about being ditched, it was more in a camaraderie way like he understood my sudden issue of annoyance. “Is your friend the black haired girl with blue bangs?” I nodded at his obvious smirk of bewilderment. “Well I’m pretty sure your friend…uh…,”

“Diamond.”

“Yeah, your friend Diamond was getting cuddly with Dean,” who was the lead singer. Diamond always had a way of sinking her talons into the lead singers. It amazed me that she was so efficient at getting in with the band, and more often than not she got in with more than one member, but still they loved having her around. She wasn’t needy and annoying like most of the typical band groupies, she was impossibly cool and fun to be around. The girl always had perfect bangs and make-up, it drove me absolutely bonkers in a total ‘I love how hot my friend is,’ sort of way. “I’m pretty sure if you join us at the party she will be there,” the guitarist finished up.

“Thanks, it’s just… I don’t really have a ride to get there. She drove us here.” It would make sense that by him inviting me to the party that he was also offering me a ride, but it just seemed rude to imply it for him. I didn’t even know his name. “I’m Grace by the way.” Lame. I wanted to jump back into the pile of brush and thorn bushes Kismet had led me to earlier in the evening, cute guitarist guy was starting to make me nervous in a giddy irritating way.

“Grace, I’m Mav. I uh…figured that your friend drove, so I wouldn’t mind if you came with me. I promise I’m not trying to pick up on you or anything, I just wouldn’t want to leave a pretty girl behind without a way home.” Great line. I couldn’t help but commend him on it, but I did so silently with a sly smile and a subtle but hopefully not too noticeable bashful glance from beneath my eyelashes. I most definitely wanted to go, but I also didn’t want to leap at him with a TAKE ME NOW attitude. A really attractive man actually just called me pretty, AND he invited me to the cool kids party. I needed to be cool, I need to act like it was no big deal, I really needed to stop staring at his amazing gorgeous smile. It’s funny how context changes absolutely everything, I definitely didn’t find him attractive standing up on stage, but now standing before me and calling me pretty I can’t help but half swoon. Stupid girl issues, no swooning, that is not allowed!

“Mav? That’s an interesting name. Is it a nic-name?” Small talk, it’s the best route to take when having no clue who you’re actually talking to. I know nothing about this guy but the fact that he is attractive, plays a guitar in a band called “Lucky Strike”, and that his name is Mav. Really, Mav? What kind of name is that? It’s the kind of name only a punk rock musician would have that’s what kind of name it is.

“It’s actually short for Maverick. My parents had a bit of a crush on Top Gun, and by parents I mean my mother. I think she is absolutely positive that I am Tom Cruise reincarnate, which now that I think about it that’s creepy.” He mock shuddered at his own comment before turning his twinkling eyes back on me. He had the dark sweep of hair, though it was far too unruly and curly to be considered Maverick-ish. His eyes were a sharp shade of honey yellow and green mixing them into a melting pot of sexy, but his height might be confused for Tom Cruise though I wasn’t one to know I had never actually met the guy. “I really hate saying Maverick because people get all macho man around me about it, so it was either Mav, rick or Donald.”

“Donald?!” I asked incredulously completely blowing my cool girl attitude. He steered me out of the dingy bar walked out toward the back of an almost empty parking lot.

“That’s my middle name. Needless to say, Mav was the best option.” Another pearly white smile. He teeth were going to blind me if I saw them one more time.

“So Grace Parker,” Mav said as he climbed into the driver side of his beat up 1972 Chevelle. The floor was covered in crumpled papers, empty cigarette packs and loose bottle caps. “What’s your story. I know nothing about you yet I am letting you into my precious vehicle and taking you to an epic party. I need details woman.”

Details; what exactly could I tell him that would make him smile in appreciation and interest? I wasn’t one of his typical girls I could guarantee that. We ran in very different crowds. If his tight black jeans  (though not overly tight to make a recent comparison. Trust me, my mind went there too.  Perfect tightness to non-tightness ratio on his pants.  Crap, Grace, stop staring at his pants!!) and low v-neck grungy band shirt weren’t enough of a clue, the huge plugs, eyebrow ring, sleeve of tattoos and perfectly distorted boots were. This perfectly smiling man named Mav was massively out of my league.

“Smoke?” He offered casually as he rolled down his driver side window snaking out of the parking lot at a rapid pace. Burnt rubber melted into the car’s interior atmosphere and I’m pretty sure the smile he wore was more because he loved the smell of his bad-assness. Burnt rubber equals I’m awesome in Mav’s world.

“Sure,” I replied easily. I would never consider myself a smoker, not socially considered one anyways. I never carried a pack with me, but I also never turned one down at a party. Maybe that made me a follower, I don’t know. I liked to consider myself a bit of a chameleon. I can fit into almost any situation, blending was a talent I grew very accustom to. The more I said yes, and went along with them on the outside the more I could keep the truth of me on the inside. I was a straight out geeky nerd, and no one would guess it from my outward appearance. I definitely didn’t belong in this hot guys car, or at least I didn’t feel like I did, but I acted as though smoking with him in a dingy black Chevelle was the most natural of occurrences in my life.

I wish I could tell you about a crazy wild party, and an even crazier adventure that I embarked on the minute I met Mister Mav, but to be honest it wasn’t what I was expecting. Not that it was bad, it just quickly became extremely uncomfortable. Once again, Kismet stepped in shifting around the occurrences of my life to line me up in the right direction. I walked into a packed house filled with cheap bear, heavy essence of weed, and more than enough cleavage and sights of G-strings to last me a lifetime. This wasn’t my scene, but I was stuck with Diamond until she was ready to leave.

Mav found her for me in the back of the house in a room with two other band members and some steady groupies that everyone seemed to know by name except for me. I was introduced, but there was no such thing as a hand shake. I received the cool head nod in offer of a silent hello to which I silently nodded back. I tried to keep my eyes from bugging out of my head, but the names and looks to these people boggled my mind. I should have known better, I was hanging with a girl named Diamond. I still am not totally sure if that’s her real name no matter how many times she swears it is.

Within 30 minutes of being inside the house I needed air and without meaning to I lost my only two hang outs buddies amongst the crowd. I stumbled out into the front yard gasping at the fresh LA smogginess with massive appreciation. Something about cheap bear and heavy weed made my head spin unpleasantly and I just desperately needed to get out.

“Gets kinda stuffy in there, you reckon?” A voice drawled from the depth of shadows beyond the porch light. I saw a sharp nose, deep set eyes, and a chiseled jaw light up for a moment in the reddish haze of a cigarette before the face disappeared back into the shadows.

“Yeah,” I replied in sigh of relief at being able to breathe again.

“Names Logan,” the voice offered stepping away from the darkness.

“Grace,” I replied back, reminding myself to close my slack jaw as my eyes connected with his sharp grey ones.

And it was that easy finding the next stepping stone in my pathway. You sure are funny Kismet, mysterious ways you do work. I like to think of my little life puzzle piece match maker as Yoda, because in my mind it just makes so much sense. “Lead you along by strings I will.” The little devil.

SS: Kismet PT I

I believe in life there are specific moments that change the whirlwind course of your future. They knock you straight off your path and onto a new road. Once the dust clears you see the spot light of a new route, a new location, a new destination, but none of this could have been possible without your previous steps. This one moment can shift your whole universe, but only if you are willing to accept it. My entire life changed the minute I met him, and once I saw his face I knew there was no going back to the way things were.

I know what you are thinking, I can hear the high pitch drone of your question even as these words spill out of my brain, “But Grace, this sounds like the typical beginning to the most typical love story in everyone’s mind-numbing typical life.” To this I say no and not because my life is unusual and extravagant in any way but because there is only one moment like this. Even if I knew the correct steps to replicate the moment I met him, the exact second our eyes connected, I would never get it right. This isn’t a typical love story, because I promise you there is nothing like this.

Sitting in a crowded bar and listening to overly loud hipster folk music I stare across the small circular table at my date. His greasy blonde hair is slicked over to one side, his suit coat is commendable even if it’s a little short on the sleeves, his pants are abhorrent and should never be allowed to be worn outside of the house. From the neck up he is what most people would perceive as a stuck in the closest, never want to come out, hard core gamer nerd. He isn’t wearing the glasses to match this description, but the indentation lines on the bridge of his nose and his never ending squinting when it comes to ordering is a harsh give away. From the neck down to his waist I would say he has class and style. The coat may be a bit small, but it’s a classic vintage tweed coat. The heavy elbow patches fit in nicely with the light burnished brown tint, even the small blue flower sticking smartly in the front coat pocket completed the image of debonair. That’s where it stopped unfortunately. From the waist down he wore overly tight rusty colored jeans that clung to a man in a way that no pair of pants ever should. His skinny chicken legs made me fear for his sturdiness, one steady sweep of the legs and those bones would snap like a dried pine branch in the woods.

This man I shrewdly stare at is not the man that changes my life and I would hope you didn’t think mister rusty skinny jeans was. I did tell you that he changed my life, but I never said my life began with him. My eventful days started way before destiny decided to get up off her lazy ass and help me, though really the beginning would never be something I would ever complain about. Growing up I had a phenomenal family, many wonderful adventures, I was lucky as a kid, but you don’t need to hear about that. You probably want to hear more about him, but instead I need to first fill you in on the details leading up to that moment. I promise you the wait is worth it, at least that’s what I have been telling myself. The wait is worth it, though I disagree at the moment. The man across from me turns his attention away from the slinky blonde behind the bar to look back in my direction.

“Do you want another drink?” he yells over the squealing notes of the violin several feet behind me.

“Sure,” I reply casually. If I was going to enjoy myself I figured I should at least drink up as much as he was willing to buy.

The blonde man, or Zared as he called himself, slipped over to the bar engaging the cleavage enhanced bartender. I turned my thoughts toward other avenues. Unfortunately this happens a lot. I feel like most of my life is wild moments of rushing only to sit and wait for something to happen. I can’t tell you how much I hate this, how much I hate just waiting. So many outsiders have told me, “Just you wait Grace, the man of your dreams will come in and sweep you off your feet.” Those people are so full of bovine fecal material.

Zared comes back with an overly orange Old Fashion, too much simple syrup and not enough whiskey. It was free so I didn’t complain even though I knew for certain the bartender made his with a little more care and precision. Small annoyance to the overall picture.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked softly, almost too softly. I could have ignored him pretending I didn’t hear his simple sweet question, but I knew what he was really saying. ‘Do you want to get out of here, or am I wasting my time.’ He was most definitely wasting his time.

The date ended uneventfully. He tried to kiss me, but I turned my head and allowed him to graze my cheek in a slobbery mess of a kiss. “Um…thanks.” I said as sweetly as possible and then grabbed my keys and made a dash for it. Horrible right? Totally uneventful and boring. Nothing to look forward to, and nothing to get excited about, it was just another day. But then, like I told you everything changed. 

After a long string of uneventful nights, even worse mornings, a typical routine of work, play, sleep, and drunk, my life suddenly catapulted into over drive. The moment was so casual and normal that I almost missed it, but when I saw him I knew this wasn’t an average day. It was like a slow movie unraveling right before my eyes. 

The day was sunny and achingly beautiful, the weather couldn’t have been more pleasantly perfect, the wind whipped up around my ankles flipping the long dress I wore languidly back and forth across my legs, pure bliss. I was standing against the chain linked fence watching the little league game with mild interest when I saw him walking toward me. The sun glittered over his features making the soft chestnut of his hair shine like freshly polished cherry wood. Grassy green eyes smiled back at me and a solo dimple caught my attention as he walked straight up to me. I didn’t know him, didn’t know his name or who he was but his eyes told me differently, he knew me.

“I know that face, Grace Parker, isn’t it?”

They were simple words, easy words, a normal everyday sentence but from that moment on, my life changed in a way that I could never repeat even if I tried. You may try to prove me different, but I tell you this out of pure confidence. The sequence of events lining up to this one purely wonderful moment is completely wacky in the most ridiculous and unforeseen ways. I may not believe in the all-powerful almighty poking his nose into my life to guide me on a special journey, but I do believe there is a special path just begging us to stroll over. I believe it in the way I desperately want to believe in the idea of Santa Clause and the Easter bunny. It’s unforeseen magic is the beauty of it all. Maybe I didn’t cross paths with fate, maybe my version of kismet truly isn’t real, but as I stare into the grassy green eyes of my future partner in crime there is nothing else closer to the truth.

The Double Standard

I’m sitting at a bar with a couple of my friends, and an attractive guy walks up to me and offers to buy me a drink. One of my guy friends leans over and whispers, “That is so not fair. What a double standard. I’m sitting here by myself and hot girls aren’t buying me any drinks.” I smiled at my friend, offered to buy him a drink to shut him up in a friendly way, and we go on with our evening. 

I chuckle a little bit when men mention the double standard to me because in a lot of respects I feel that women get the short end of the stick when it comes to the dating scene. Of course men are welcome to argue with me, I would even love to hear their side, but first you should hear my side.

As a single woman I am on the constant search for “the one” and no I’m not talking about Neo. The one is the guy that fills the slot of “man of our dreams” the fantasy fairy tale man that we were all force fed actually existed when we were little girls. Some man is supposed to come sweep us off our feet and all we have to do is flaunt our bodies, primp our goods, and pretend we are everything he wants us to be…right? HELL NO!! I am a single INDEPENDENT woman and if I am READY to find a man to share a life with me I have no problem looking for him myself. “But Jess, you should just live your life and be happy. The right man will find you.”

No, I’m sorry that is BS and you know it. Why do I have to wait for him to come find me, why can’t I go find him myself? Here is one that never made sense to me….If I sit and wait and act like I am a perfect woman, the woman of this man’s dreams, he will then want me. BUT…if I seek the same man out, he will see me as needy, I give him the power, therefore he won’t see me as his perfect woman. Ugh, how depressing and exhausting. I’ve read in books that men need to see us women as a challenge, but in order for it to be a challenge us women must sit around and wait for mister perfect to get off his lazy man ass and come find me….ME…his damn perfect woman sitting alongside a BAJILLION other women doing the exact SAME THING!!!! Doesn’t this infuriate anyone else??!!??!?!?! Well, not like I can change the biology of how men think, I just don’t agree with it…at all. (Maybe that’s why you are still single ::the tiny voice in the distance whispers rudely at me:: Shut up voice, no one asked you!)

Now, on my search for THE ONE, I have found there are SO SO SO many toads, and pigs, and alligators, and walruses, and snakes, and over aggressive lions, and weasels, and little fresh birdies….you have any idea how many damn dates I have to go on to find a DECENT man? A man, I mean it, not a boy, not a little kid dressed like a man, and not a man that says he’s a man and somewhat sorta acts like a man but does drugs like he is a teenage rebel without a cause. The answer to that question is WAY TO MANY! So…again I am sitting at that bar with my close group of friends and someone asks my guy friend, “So man how did that date go last week?” And his response, “Which one?” They laugh and joke, call him THE MAN and congratulate him on his macho show of manliness. He had three dates in one week, bravo sir, absolutely bravo.

The double standard…I had two dates that same week and the response I get, “Honey, you really should take more time for yourself. Stop caring so much about finding the right guy, you should just do things that make you happy and not worry about dating so much.” And this was all said in the same night! Why does my guy friend get the congrats when I get a pat on the back in a fashion of, “oh honey, you are trying too hard, you look so desperate.” How is that even fair? My friend is doing the same thing that I am, looking for someone to share adventures with, looking for a person that is like me, that I can discover new things with. Why is it that men go on a handful of dates and look like Joe Cool, whereas I go on two dates and I look like a desperate aging woman? I don’t date because I am desperate for a man, and I don’t date because I hate being single. I actually love being single, it’s complete freedom and totally exhilarating, but I dare you to find more than a handful of engaged couples you are even a little bit wanting to dive back into the dating scene. We all agree, it sucks, but we do it because we want to find our person. In a friend group of mostly couples, it would be nice to have my own cuddle buddy, and my own dinner and movie partner. The only people who don’t understand this are people who are in a long term relationships and forget (or don’t even know) what it’s like to be single for longer than a year.

This is where the people reading this will either think, “Preach it SISTER!!!” or the other side will think, “Man, all you do is complain complain complain. Such a feminist.” There is a line, and most people cross it, with me I see it in massive ranges of color not black and white. Just because I am a girl doesn’t mean there are specified rules of how to do this. I do things my own way, and yes maybe that is why I am still single, or maybe it’s because I live in LOS ANGELES surrounded by men who are only looking for the next best thing. Some great advice I got from a close friend of mine was, “it’s a numbers game. There are thousands out there that would give you more than the time of day. Go out there and find them yourself, guaranteed the right one will show you he is worth your time.” I think she is right. Now…off to hunt in the wild jungle of Los AnHELLes.

SS: Online Dating and Pepper Spray

 

My mother told me when I moved to LA that I needed to be careful in every situation. I took that to heart in a lot of ways, but it’s really difficult to be one hundred percent safe when jumping into the abyss of online dating. I try mainly to keep my perimeter safe; crowded meeting location, not too dark, keep the first date relatively short, always always keep pepper spray on hand, and wear pants.

 

I would never profess myself an expert, if I was, I probably wouldn’t still be dating. I would however qualify myself as an experienced “first dater” because I have been on so many random, horrible, awesome, ridiculous first dates that most people wouldn’t believe me if I told them. I am just a typical girl though struggling to live in the big bad city of Los Angeles. Never would I say I’m the typical LA girl though, I’m far from it. My name is Grace Parker, I have reddish brown hair that falls down just below my shoulders, bright green eyes that change colors depending on the weather, fair skin and a good amount of freckles, longish legs though a slightly short torso and a decently sizable upper torso. Yes, all of this I somewhat highlight in my profile, paints a great picture doesn’t it? What I don’t say…I am not the skinniest girl ever though I wouldn’t call myself fat. I would put myself somewhere in the middle, curvy though confident with what I have. I don’t have a “decent backside” but I never stop doing squats because I am told again and again that that is how you “work that booty”…whatever that means. You see my point is; online profiles don’t tell you everything.

 

Like right now, I am sitting at the bar top because it’s way too cold to stand outside. I don’t care what people from the Mid-West say to me, I know I am in Los Angeles, but I am from Southern California. Sixty degrees with a slight wind chill wearing skinny jeans and a flimsy top is considered cold to me.

 

Shaking my head in annoyance that I left my overly heavy peacoat in my car I try to shake off the chills of the slightly full bar. There aren’t a whole lot of people, but the bar itself is dark and crowded in the small space allotted. Not my usual digs either, though I would never turn down a dive bar I typically go for places that have more than three beers on the tap list, especially if those beers end in “Lite”.  A sharp throat clearing from behind me grates into my ear and I turn my head to find my date.

 

First impression, oh dear god what did I get into. Second impression, I swear he didn’t look that short on the profile.

 

“Hi,” I squeaked out. Yes, I squeak, and surprisingly it pulled a smile from mister short stuff.

 

“Hey there, you look beautiful tonight.” His eyes did the whole dart down my body and slowly slide back up thing forgetting to look me in the eyes again for several long seconds. He wasn’t bad looking at all, in fact he had a really cute way about his style. I would put it somewhere between punk, surfer, and college frat boy. “Can I get you a drink?” He asked after his eyes found their way back to my face.

 

“Sure, I’ll have an Old Fashioned.” Though I might need two to get through this one. His eyes were already doing that wide open saucer gaze meaning that in about five minutes I would have to figure out a way to distance myself from his groping hands. Actually it took less than three minutes.

 

After one old fashioned and a complimentary shot of Jameson by my over eager date and I was ready to leave. Not leave with him leave, just leave, run away and never see this guy again. In the span of 20 minutes (I still can’t believe I lasted that long!) he asked me to join him back at his place for a threesome, because coming back to be with him, a virtual stranger, wasn’t already extremely strange. He wondered where I was from because I was so exotically beautiful, which makes him (as my grandmother would put it) fecally impacted with bovine manure. I am from Southern California, I am Scottish/Irish/English/with a dash of Native American. I am not exotic, I am a white girl with freckles which I feel like is highly common in the wild outback of…Los Angeles. Exotic my arse! He told me that he would love love love to have a girlfriend as beautiful as me which he followed up with flickered of eye contact toward my shirt and a biting/licking of his lower lips. Gross.

 

“You are the most beautiful thing,” he said with a slight slur. The alcohol was definitely getting to him.

 

“I am not a thing, I am a person you know.” I replied snippily. I couldn’t help it. It was the hundredth time I pushed his hand off my upper thigh only to have him slip his hand down my lower back. I no longer cared about being nice, or being a sweet first date, I was getting angry. I was all for a little mild flirting, but I have boundaries, and mister hands on tactic had crossed over the line. “I really actually need to be going.”

 

“No, you can’t, you haven’t been here nearly long enough!”

 

“Funny, I feel like I have massively overstayed my welcome.”

 

He didn’t find that funny at all, the pursed lips and scrunched eyebrows that made him resemble a frustrated child showed proof of that. “You haven’t finished your drink, and if you leave before you do, you can pay for yours yourself.”

 

I sneered at him, and honestly if I was a dragon he would have been burnt toast after that comment. “You ordered these drinks, and your card is up at the register. Remove your hands from me, I am leaving.” I stood without caring what he said, or even what he did. I was in a bar full of people, there wasn’t much he could do to harm me, but just in case I pulled my pepper spray from my purse and held it tightly in my hand.

 

I started toward the door but didn’t get all that far before a hand yanked on my elbow from behind and I quickly found a sharp corner of the wall at my back, and a short yet surprisingly muscular body at my front. “Leaving without finishing your drink is rude sweetheart, leaving me without a kiss goodnight is just down right mean.” At this point, the panic started to taste like bile in my throat. This man child was beyond ridiculous, he was actually leaning in toward me for a kiss.

 

“You must be joking,” I replied, though failed to keep the blatant shock from my voice. He totally wasn’t kidding.

 

“Well if you aren’t going to kiss me,” he said as his hands pulled away from my body giving me a momentary moment of relief. That is until I saw where his hands were traveling. In the loud atmosphere of the bar I couldn’t actually hear it, but I knew that the zipper to his pants was being pulled down. I saw him reach into his overly tight man skinny jeans. “If you aren’t going to kiss me,” he reiterated as he pulled out his proportionately sized member to his smaller stature, “then you can at least touch him for me?”

 

I think I laughed, though maybe choked on air would be a better explanation of my reaction. Regardless, I smiled, looked him straight in the eyes and lifted up my cute little pink bottled pepper spray. “If you don’t move away from me, and put that little tuna can you have there away, I will happily spray your junk with my pepper spray.”

 

Shock, horror, and bewilderment crossed his overly tanned face before his hands flew up into the air leaving his pants splayed wide open and his little member flopping back and forth in equal amounts of surprised terror. “Whatever you say bitch, just don’t shoot me!”

 

Of course me standing up for myself makes me a bitch. Of course everything I did until that very moment was seen as an invitation. I didn’t care, because I hadn’t done anything to deserve what he was putting me through, and I wouldn’t take what he had to offer sitting down. I kept my finger on the trigger and backed away toward the door before I pushed I open and slipped out into the night. I felt exuberant and disgusted with the evening, horrified and amazed.

 

I walked back to my car (I would say a nice clipped power walk to be safe) with my keys in my hand, my pepper spray still gripped between my fingers and a smug smile on my face. No one would ever force me into anything I didn’t want to do, and if they did, I wouldn’t hesitate to spray their junk. Best line of the night…

 

 

 

 

Short Story: The Best Friend Rules

1)      Don’t get too close to a guy you see everyday

2)      Don’t become really good friends with him if you are already attracted

3)      Don’t let him give you hugs for random moments outside of saying hello and goodbye

4)      Don’t let him see you without makeup

5)      Don’t let him see you cry

6)      Don’t become best friends

7)      Don’t fall in love with your best friend

8)      I said don’t…..

 

 

I know these rules as well as I know the back of my hand, but just like the back of my hand there are moments of, “where the hell did that freckle come from!” No matter how well you know something, it doesn’t mean it won’t change.

 

It’s easy, I will get right to the point, I met him on a Thursday morning on the first day of class. It was my final semester in college and I was more than ready to be done with it. I have heard the age old saying, “college isn’t about learning, it’s about putting up with all the bullshit to see if you have enough guts to wade through the massive stinking piles surrounding you.” I was done wading, and ready to start living.

 

It was the first day of Applied Arts, a mess around class that basically allowed you to fool around for most of the semester. You had six weeks to build three separate master pieces, with any form of structure, any use of materials, you just made random shit for six weeks and then presented it at the end of the class at a gallery art show. It was my last class, and the only class I had all semester long, my days would be easy sailing from here on out.

 

I sat down in a chair toward the middle of the wide classroom, and watched as the expansive room filled up with well over 50 students. Most of them I knew, but like most private schools with off campus living, I wasn’t all that close to many people in my classes save a few. Perhaps I would be making more friends before the end of the class.

 

I shouldn’t have thought that, I should have just kept to myself and choose a seat right up front, but as fate would have it I didn’t. As fate would have it, he sat next to me. Taylor Garland. I’d seen his face several times before, but we had never shared a class. It didn’t stop him from sitting next to me and saying, “Hey Grace,” like he had known me for years. It didn’t stop him from making silly jokes throughout the first day of lecture like we were already best buds, and it didn’t stop him from asking for my number as a work buddy when the Professor said we would need a partner for our first project.

 

I won’t lie, the first three weeks went by uneventful enough. After the first day of being shocked by the up close view of his stunning copper brown hair, and seriously brilliant green eyes, I was able to keep my girly-ness in check. I didn’t swoon when he walked through the door, and my breath didn’t catch in my throat. For three whole weeks he was just a friend, a sweet natured, easy going buddy; then one day all of that changed.

 

It was a random day in the middle of the week and I was running late for class. I lived less than mile away from school but it was still a hefty jog if I was going to walk. I hated being late, and to be honest it had nothing to do with my teacher giving me the evil eye, it actually had everything to do with Taylor. Even though I hated to admit it, I loved every second I had with him, and it was slowly becoming a problem. I would rush to class and get there before he would casually saunter in, and at the end of class I would slow my pace and put everything away one little piece at a time. I wanted more minutes next to him, and as much as I was trying to deny my affection growing, I just blamed it on the fact that he was a good friend and I enjoyed his company. What dirty evil lies I feed myself, nasty dark bitter lies.

 

Not only was I running late, but I was also unable to get my car to start, and me being the idiot that I am decided it was a great idea to call Taylor. “Hey, I don’t think I am going to be able to make it to class today. You think you can handle taking notes for me?”

 

“No!” Was his first response. “I’m not even there yet, if you aren’t going I’m not going. Where are you, I’ll come get you.” I should have said no, I should have lied, I shouldn’t have told him exactly where I was because then he would know where I lived. I shouldn’t have told him that my car wouldn’t start forcing him to offer me a ride every day for the remainder of the class. Most importantly I shouldn’t have gone with him to the bar he took me to instead of being in class like we were supposed to be.

 

The first drink was ok, but the second one was uncalled for. The third one should never have happened and the fourth one I totally blamed on Taylor. We were giggling, and groping onto one another in our stumbling drunken state. We left his car at the bar and somehow managed to make it back to his apartment. We laughed and giggled the whole way down the hall to his room, and we stayed up all night playing stupid you tube videos and laughing at dumb music videos. We both agreed it was time to sleep at 5 in the morning, and we both equally crashed when our heads hit the pillow on his queen sized bed.

 

I woke with a slight headache, a rolling stomach, and a preconceived notion that I had mascara running down my face. “Hey, you have mascara running down your face raccoon,” he said without a pause when his eyes first split open.

 

“Thanks,” I replied sarcastically. “Your hair looks like Alphalpha and Einstein put together.”

 

“Wicked.” He said on a yawn. “Breakfast?” And that’s how our routine of sleepovers started. We never undressed around each other, we cuddled slightly but not obscenely, we just loved being around one another. There was slight sexual tension, but I only ever saw it on my side, I never really knew if he felt the same way. Maybe one morning I woke up to us spooning and I felt a little more of him than I should have, can’t say I regretted it, but I can say it made my cheeks flame bright red and I quickly scooted away so he didn’t know I noticed.

 

Two weeks before our class was over we were listening to a lecture on the practical use of wire in plaster molds. Maybe 15 minutes into the teachers introduction to new metal materials I felt Taylor’s hand moving up my calf the tops of my black zipper boots. He reached for the zipper and pulled it all the way down leaving my boot to flop open like a peeled banana. He didn’t fix the zipper he just left it wide open flashing me with a daring smile with the words, ‘wanna play?’ sparking from his grassy eyes. For the next 45 minutes I endured, ok maybe I thoroughly enjoyed, Taylors hand slowly sliding up my calf and then slowly zipping down my boot as his fingers trailed over my skin to the tops of my ankles before I reached down and zipped the boot back into place. Zip. Caress. Zip. Repeat. When class was over he reached over and gave me a hug. “Hey be right back, I have to head to the counselors office, but I’ll meet you out front in about 15 minutes ok?” I nodded, and that was when casual un –needed yet totally wanted hugs popped into our lifestyle.

 

Three nights after the boots charade I found myself doubled over in fit of pain begging any god that would listen to fix me. Which is ridiculous when you think about it really, there is no point begging for anyone to fix the problems of being a human, but it would be nice if someone listened. I didn’t get a god to help ease my pain though, I got Taylor. As the kidney stone worked its vicious tricks inside my body threatening to cleave me in two, Taylor walked into my room screaming at me to get off the pot. It was funny, but I couldn’t laugh, instead a stream of tears slipped through my lashes and I cried out like a woman giving birth to an elephant. I wish I was exaggerating, but I’m seriously not. Those little spiky calcium bastards hurt like a bitch!

 

“Grace, babe, what’s wrong?” Taylor asked as he fell to the floor in my bathroom. He had pounded through the bathroom door like a battle ram almost like he thought someone was murdering me, but when he saw me cowering on the floor in a pile of messy sweat ridden clothes and massive tears streaming down my face his eyes flipped over to concern in an instant. He called me babe, was all I could focus on. Which seriously was ridiculous looking back at the situation. I was on the floor in a fit of pain, a kidney stone was stabbing my internal tubing like a blood crazed axe murder and the only thing on my mind was, he called me babe. Crazy, I was going crazy. “Tell me babe, what’s wrong?”

 

“Kidney stones,” I whisper on a wave of pain desperately trying to hold back the tears. Before I could stop myself though, I thought of Dane Cook, don’t ask me why because I will never understand why it popped in my head. We had only watched the stand up video one time that very first night we were together but before I could hold the reins on my idiotic rambling I looked him dead in the eyes with tears streaming and said, “I did my best.”

 

That was when I no longer saw him as just a school friend, he was a rock of strength for me. He was my go to friend to call in all situations. When I locked myself out of my apartment he climbed through the window. When I stubbed my toe walking to his car he lifted me up and carried me the rest of the way before running (and I mean quickly running) back to the school to grab me a band-aid. To answer any questions popping up in your head no we hadn’t kissed, we hadn’t cuddled naked, or do anything that involves the naked tango. We were just friends, really good, really close best friends.

 

When he stood in front of the class on the last day, I knew I was in trouble. I knew I was done for. I couldn’t stop staring at his lips. They were so beautiful as he spoke, I wondered right then and there what they tasted like. I was desperate to know, but I knew I wasn’t allowed to have that knowledge. Best Friends don’t kiss each other, they don’t, and that’s because Best Friends don’t fall in love with each other.

 

All my rules, every single one of them snapped in two, I let all of them fall through my fingers because of this one beautiful man. I was stuck then, because I couldn’t look at him any other way. My eyes lingered longer. My hands itched to slide through his hair. I just wanted to be close to him, I wanted to hold onto him and have it be more than just friends.

 

On the evening of the Art Show I dressed my best to impress. Little black dress and strappy black heels, hair curled and make-up on, I was a much hotter version of my typical dressed down state. By the looks in his eyes when he picked me up, he thought the same. “Hey sexy lady, you need a ride?” He cooed at me from the street as he pulled up to the curb.

 

I giggled and tried not to let my imagination run wild with hunger over what he just said. I didn’t want to let my thoughts slip into more dangerous territory, but staring back at his crisp grey button down and black slacks, I knew I wasn’t going to win that fight. I was losing, quickly. The night was amazing, and like always we had our own secret fun between just the two of us while we were surrounded by people that we didn’t much care for.

 

I told myself no, I swear I screamed it when I looked up into his face as the lights dimmed and a short video popped up on the far wall running through a montage of school work unable to make it to the Art Show. His eyes locked on mine too, a small dare of, ‘let’s see who blinks first.’ But the perversion of our games usually headed down a more dramatic ending, and as the music grew louder, the space between us grew smaller. I felt his breath across my lips, and my eyes slipped close before I could stop them.

 

What happened next I didn’t plan because there is no way for me to plan things like this. You don’t just decide, a best friend is just that…a friend. But not Taylor, he was more than that to me, more than I could have expressed to him in single words or looks. I didn’t know how else to explain it to him, and instead of thinking through my actions I did what any completely insane love sick puppy girl would do. I slammed my lips against his causing him to jerk into sudden stillness with shock. It was only for a second, but the butterflies that swarmed in my stomach made it feel like hours.

 

“Um…,” he said immediately after I pulled back.

 

“Yeah,” I replied, my eyes still closed tight. But I didn’t stop there, why would I? There was no reason to be realistic and think that after a sharp biting kiss that me speaking was a good idea. I wasn’t in my right mind, I was losing my shit, but I did it anyways. Such an idiot. “I’m falling in love with you.”

 

Those words, they are death when unwarranted. They are cruel evil punishment when not expected, they are sharp grating knives when used without consent. He didn’t reply, he just stared at me, his glossy green eyes blinked several times but he didn’t speak. His hands reached out for my waist and he pulled me in for a soft hug. My heart felt like it was about to leap out of my chest. “I think we should go home Grace.”

 

He gave me a hug, so that was sweet. He drove me to my apartment, but he didn’t stay over. He said he had work in the morning. I didn’t see him the following day because I had work that evening. One day led into two, which trickled into four. It was the longest amount of time we had been apart since we met. I felt like my body was literally dying from the inside. My heart felt like a withering stone flaking into useless ash inside the barren cave of my chest. I not only pushed him away, I kicked him out of my life with six simple words.

 

My heart only fluttered fifty thousand times when I saw his car parked outside my apartment the next afternoon. My steps only felt like 100 pounds of lead as I saw his shoulder leaning against my door like he was trying to force the wood open by his weight alone. I might have stopped breathing when he turned toward me his eyes wide and sad like he hadn’t meant to kill the joyful bouncy puppy like friendship we originally had before he suddenly disappeared. I tried to speak, but the words just wouldn’t come out.

 

He took three steps toward me and stopped before his hands reached out and pulled me into the tightest hug I had ever experienced. I breathed him in because it felt like he was saying goodbye as much as he was saying sorry. I tried to remember the feeling of his warmth because it felt like I would never get to feel it again. I felt his face nudge closer to my ear as the heat of his breath slipped down my neck before he whispered the words that would change my life forever. “I love you too.”

 

 

 

 

Prologue: Potholes

Everyone has a story that needs to be told. Everyone carries the puzzle around that makes up the entity of their life, a growing mash of pieces shoved together to make you who you are. Some stories are typical, some are appalling and scary, but my story can only be explained as ironically normal and strange. I don’t life a weird life, and I would never consider it out of the ordinary, but the short stories I want to share with you will add up to where I am today. One at a time isn’t so bad, but as I look back and review each tale in sordid detail I am starting to realize, my life is not ordinary, quite honestly my life is extremely comical in the most depressing and lonely way.

 

Don’t worry though, I’m not sad, though I repeatedly reminded that perhaps I should be, I am in fact not. I don’t really have much to complain about; I have a decent job though it doesn’t pay fantastically, I have phenomenal friends that I hang out with regularly, I have a beautiful apartment and share it with an amazing roommate, I own the most adorably annoying and perfectly doggish Pug named The Dude, I have a wonderful family, awesome siblings, super supportive parents….in a nut shell I am truly amazing blessed. So where does the comedic tradgedy come in? Well two things actually.

 

1)      I have a completely abysmal dating history, like seriously completely atrocious.

2)      I have come to realize that I am the living female version of Good Luck Chuck (from that movie with Dane Cook and Jessica Alba, basically everyone who dates me finds the PERSON OF THEIR DREAMS right after we split)

 

I mean this honestly, I have stories upon stories of HORRIBLE dating experiences that I can no longer keep to myself. I have been told over and over again that I need to share them with people, not just for the comedic value, but also maybe to shed some light on the insanely ridiculous crap I have had to put up with. Maybe, if enough men read this, they will see the pain they cause, they will understand the wrongs of their actions and make a change. Maybe I can let them in on the “how to not mess up a first date,” “how to not comes across as a tool,” “how to not seem shy even if you totally are,” “how to KEEP YOU HANDS OFF OF ME UNTIL WE ARE ATLEAST 10 MINUTES INTO THE DAMN DATE!!!!!” Or, maybe they will gloss over these words and continue down the path of lonely rude man that treats women like a piece of meat.

 

I don’t use this blog as a yelling source, I am sorry if I SHOUTY CAP every now and then, but sometimes I feel like I really need to make a point. This is a very big point, I am a 27 year old single female living in Los Angeles, and I have yet (in the whole three years that I have been here) to find a genuine man that is what I like to call, “A good match.”

 

Here is where a lot of outsiders say things like:

-You don’t need a man to be happy

-Screw them stay single

-Wouldn’t you rather be single than be with the wrong person

-Why would you want a relationship, being single is so much fun!

-Marriage isn’t real, love isn’t real, get used to it

 

I think now is the time to share my stories, share my experiences and puzzle pieces with you. Maybe you will hear something in them that helps you see the truth….we are all looking, some of us just found the route of extremely bumpy messed up roads. I think I found the worst road possible, right now I’m stuck on a particularly nasty pothole.