"The poet knows himself only on the condition that things resound in him, and that in him, at a single awakening, they and he come forth together out of sleep.”~Jacques Maritain
The next morning I go to the bathroom to reassess the damage. Yep, it’s still short. It didn’t grow back overnight.
I head to work. Maybe everyone will be too busy to notice. Nope. Everyone has time to comment. A couple of glances. A few second glances. Then the guys just start to stare. Now I’m really getting compliments. One of the cute ones (you know, the one that’s always on the top five lists of hot guys you work with) mentions he really likes short hair and my haircut is hot. Oh my God! Did that just happen? If I had known that, the hair would have come off a long time ago. It continues on like that for the rest of the work day. It's awkward, because I really don't like to call attention to myself. But I have to say it was quite flattering. Especially less than a week after your husband decided he wanted a divorce.
Later that night, I hop on the computer as usual. I log onto one of those really popular social networking sites. An old “friend” pops on. We chat a little. Talk about life for the last twenty-two years. Is it really possible that it has been that long? No, can’t be. I’m not old enough to have done anything twenty-two years ago. Well, back to the story. He tells me he used to have a crush on me. A big one. For years. Kept a picture of me for all this time. I never knew. Then he tells me he could still have one. OK, here come the butterflies. What do I do? The normal me would have said thank you and logged off in a hurry. But I’m not the old me. I’m the new me with the hot new haircut.
I ask coyly "really...?" (Of course, it's hard to convey coyly over a chat, but ya know what I mean.) Needless to say, we talked for hours. Like until four in the morning. This is going to make work very interesting....
I'm sure at this point you are saying "Yeah, yeah... extremely vulnerable soon-to-be-divorced soccer mom. Wake up. He's just taking advantage of your weakened state." But this wasn't a just another guy. This one knew me, inside and out and I never knew it. He remembered things about me that I barely remembered - the way I smiled, the color of my eyes (they're not just blue; they are blue with gold around the pupil so they sometimes look green), how my eyes get darker when I'm angry, how I bite my lip sometimes when I am unsure. Who remembers this stuff? I couldn't believe that anyone paid that much attention to me. I'm the plain, quiet one with an occassional burst of outgoingness. I'm not the kind of girl someone never forgets. But he remembered...
So, after a few hours of conversation with an amazingly special person, I started to wake up from the sleep I had been in for so long...
(Continued in part 3)
Friday, March 25, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
One Year... (Part One)
"If you want to test your memory, try to recall what you were worrying about one year ago today."
~E. Joseph Cossman
March 23rd. Just another day. Nothing special about it. A couple days after Spring begins. Just after St. Paddy's Day. Not yet Easter. Taxes aren't even due. Perhaps you have a birthday on it. But otherwise, it's a day that goes by unnoticed.
Not by me. You see - that's the day my life changed. Everything I knew to be true about myself and my life changed on that day. One year ago tomorrow my world did a 180 degree turn. I lost what I thought I wanted. I found what I didn't know I needed. And I ended up halfway across the country... all because of a haircut.
Those of you close to me know what I'm talking about. The rest of you are probably scratching your heads, knowing I've lost my fool mind. You see, I told you I'm the type of person that blends into the crowd. I don't really stand out. At least not unless I'm talking - loudly. Otherwise, you barely notice me. I'm not saying this for attention. Part of it I bring on myself. I don't like to be embarrassed. So I tend to be content in the wings.
Until last year. That fateful day. It was time for a haircut. My regular hairdresser was busy and I needed a change. So I go to Great Clips. I mean hey - $6.99 for a haircut? This ought to be good. I bring in pics. I want a classic bob. What better to blend in with? So Crystal starts to cut. Looks like she knows what she's doing. There's a lot of hair falling to the floor, but it was pretty long. Typical PTA supermom hair. Maybe more like the church lady. Well, I digress. Hair. Lots and lots of hair. It feels a lot lighter and cooler. This should be good.
Crystal tells me that it's just a little shorter near the ears than in the picture. Uh, oh. You are not supposed to see my ears. Classic bob. Shoulder length... that means to my shoulders. Ears are not in the picture. No ears. No "a bit shorter." Then she swings me around. Here it is - the "ta-da" moment.
Holy *&^%$! OMG. Nooooo.... My hair is short. Really short. I haven't had it this short since probably college. Maybe not since second grade when I sported my Dorothy Hamill cut and my grandfather thought I was a little boy. It's short. Not quite Halle Barry. Maybe more like Victoria Beckham short. "Glue it back on!!!" I'm screaming this in my head. Not because I'm being polite. Because I'm in shock. My hair is gone! I can't make a sound. (Trust me - this is an extremely unusual event in my life. I am never at a loss for words!)
She asks me what I think. I just smile and nod. Again, not being polite. I'm about to cry now. I pay. Get into my truck. Drive home. Thinking. Planning. Hat. Scarf. Maybe no one will notice. Riiiight...
My kids just stare at me like I am a seven foot giant that has walked into their world. My husband (at the time) gives me a look from hell. He hates short hair. And it's short. He figures I did it on purpose just to tick him off. I didn't, but hey - I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I go to bed early. Too much stress. I have no idea how I'm going to handle this in the morning. There is absolutely no way that I am going to hide with this haircut. Everyone is going to notice...
(continued tomorrow...)
(That means you have to come back for the "rest of the story..." lol)
~E. Joseph Cossman
March 23rd. Just another day. Nothing special about it. A couple days after Spring begins. Just after St. Paddy's Day. Not yet Easter. Taxes aren't even due. Perhaps you have a birthday on it. But otherwise, it's a day that goes by unnoticed.
Not by me. You see - that's the day my life changed. Everything I knew to be true about myself and my life changed on that day. One year ago tomorrow my world did a 180 degree turn. I lost what I thought I wanted. I found what I didn't know I needed. And I ended up halfway across the country... all because of a haircut.
Those of you close to me know what I'm talking about. The rest of you are probably scratching your heads, knowing I've lost my fool mind. You see, I told you I'm the type of person that blends into the crowd. I don't really stand out. At least not unless I'm talking - loudly. Otherwise, you barely notice me. I'm not saying this for attention. Part of it I bring on myself. I don't like to be embarrassed. So I tend to be content in the wings.
Until last year. That fateful day. It was time for a haircut. My regular hairdresser was busy and I needed a change. So I go to Great Clips. I mean hey - $6.99 for a haircut? This ought to be good. I bring in pics. I want a classic bob. What better to blend in with? So Crystal starts to cut. Looks like she knows what she's doing. There's a lot of hair falling to the floor, but it was pretty long. Typical PTA supermom hair. Maybe more like the church lady. Well, I digress. Hair. Lots and lots of hair. It feels a lot lighter and cooler. This should be good.
Crystal tells me that it's just a little shorter near the ears than in the picture. Uh, oh. You are not supposed to see my ears. Classic bob. Shoulder length... that means to my shoulders. Ears are not in the picture. No ears. No "a bit shorter." Then she swings me around. Here it is - the "ta-da" moment.
Holy *&^%$! OMG. Nooooo.... My hair is short. Really short. I haven't had it this short since probably college. Maybe not since second grade when I sported my Dorothy Hamill cut and my grandfather thought I was a little boy. It's short. Not quite Halle Barry. Maybe more like Victoria Beckham short. "Glue it back on!!!" I'm screaming this in my head. Not because I'm being polite. Because I'm in shock. My hair is gone! I can't make a sound. (Trust me - this is an extremely unusual event in my life. I am never at a loss for words!)
She asks me what I think. I just smile and nod. Again, not being polite. I'm about to cry now. I pay. Get into my truck. Drive home. Thinking. Planning. Hat. Scarf. Maybe no one will notice. Riiiight...
My kids just stare at me like I am a seven foot giant that has walked into their world. My husband (at the time) gives me a look from hell. He hates short hair. And it's short. He figures I did it on purpose just to tick him off. I didn't, but hey - I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I go to bed early. Too much stress. I have no idea how I'm going to handle this in the morning. There is absolutely no way that I am going to hide with this haircut. Everyone is going to notice...
(continued tomorrow...)
(That means you have to come back for the "rest of the story..." lol)
Monday, March 7, 2011
Beautiful
"The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious...He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed. " ~ Albert Einstein
We all need to be told we are beautiful once in a while - even if it is by a drunk guy...
Let me preface this a little bit...we went out Friday night. Girls night out. Whoohoo! One of my bestest (my mom's word) friends from High School, Pat, was celebrating her birthday. We had several guys show up as well. Pat's handsome man, some of his good friends, boyfriends/husbands of other girls. The ones that were there were the "cool" guys - those guys that I only met through having a cool friend like Patty (sorry girl, but that's how I still think of you...). I was just not quite that cool in school. Band geek. Smart kid. Not too nerdy, but too awkward to truly pull off cool.
But that's what friends are for, right? I was one of those people that was friends with everyone. Every clique. I didn't fit in with any of them, but they all accepted me. The cheerleaders, the rockers, the cool kids.... But as for dating, that kind of guy would never look twice at me. I blended in too much for that.
Well, at the party, I walk in and all of the seats near Pat are taken. There's this amazingly cute guy at the end of the table. Of course there is nowhere to sit but at the other end of the table. I go to walk towards an open seat and cute guy tells me to hold on. He moves everyone over and gets me an extra seat right next to him. Then we proceed to have this amazing conversation. I'm thinking "this is too good to be true." This is me, of course. 1) Cute guys don't just talk to me out of the blue, and 2) they are never interested in ME. He even says he doesn't understand the connection he feels towards me seeing that we just met. Then in the next breath, he says "that's what drew me to my lovely wife...she made me feel so comfortable with her." Ta-da. There it is. Just like I said, too good to be true. But hey - I made an incredible new friend with a really cool guy who just happens to be totally in love with his wife. That's OK. Gives me hope that love is still out there... :)
Well, cute guy takes off. A few minutes later, someone spills their beer right behind me. Being the soccer mom that I am, I jump up with napkins and help clean it. This guy starts laughing at me. I tell him that with three kids, it's just a habit. He still thinks it's funny. Introduces himself. Laughs as sit back down. A slow song comes on. He comes over and asks me to dance. OK. Well, I'm not a very good dancer, but it's a slow song. I can handle this.
We go out to the floor. He proceeds to tell me that he watched me get passed by all night and I was simply too beautiful to sit on the sidelines. Ahhh. See - chivalry is not dead. It's simply hiding behind a bottle of Blue Moon. Then, he points over at the table and tells me about his beautiful wife that he's known since fourth grade. Yep, it's there again. The wife. Oh well. He made me smile. I told him that "actually, I wasn't passed up by the guys since they were all taken, but it was really sweet anyways".
So, I'm still not quite the cool girl. But I'm getting there. Very happy with the person I have become. OK with being at a party without a date at the moment. Comfortable enough to talk to an amazing guy and dance with another one. And I'm beautiful - Mike said so!
Monday, February 28, 2011
What makes you smile?
"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around."~Leo F. Cuscaglia
Today I had a perfect stranger ask me "what makes you smile?" Wow. What a question. Kudos to him. What a great segue into a conversation.
I had to think about my response for a few. He really caught me off guard. I know that no one has ever asked me that question. Hmmm.
What makes Michele happy? It's hard to pinpoint. But I finally know what happy feels like, so I should be able to answer this.
- My children. Without them my life would be completely unfulfilled.
- Warm towels when they first come out of the dryer.
- Sunsets - love them! God's favorite canvas.
- Snowflakes. Especially the really big flaky ones.
- Bacon, egg and cheese croissants
- Venti hot chocolate from Starbucks
- When one of my photographs I take really turns out great.
- The smell of Fall. The only word I can think of to describe it is crisp. I came back to visit Ohio a few years ago and could sense it as soon as I got out of the car.
- My pillow. Although I don't get to spend nearly as much time as I would like with it.
- Taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon. Decadent!
- Trying on clothes and having to go a size or two smaller.
- Christmas trees. Mine's still up :)
- Curling up with a good book. Especially one that continues on in a series.
- Stimulating conversation.
- A friend who knows you and knows your thoughts without asking.
- Someone who comments on my blog posts.
- You!
So, that's just what I could think of off the top of my head. I would love to know what makes you smile...
I am the exception...
"Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up. If a guy punches you he likes you. Never try to trim your own bangs and someday you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending. Every movie we see, every story we're told implores us to wait for it, the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule. But sometimes we're so focused on finding our happy ending we don't learn how to read the signs. How to tell from the ones who want us and the ones who don't, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave. And maybe a happy ending doesn't include a guy, maybe... it's you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is... just... moving on. Or maybe the happy ending is this, knowing after all the un-returned phone calls, broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment you never gave up hope." ~Quote from "He's Just Not That Into You"
(If there has ever been a movie that mirrors my life, this one hits pretty close to home...)
Ahhhh, dating.... Seems like a never-ending source of blog posts. There are millions of single guys out there. How do I keep finding the real "winners?"
Met a pretty cool guy online. Yeah - online. My circle of friends is pretty small here, even with all of the family activities. Still seems to be the best option for meeting someone. We talk for several weeks. Lots of lost sleep. He finally gets the nerve up to ask me on a date. I make the babysitting arrangements and am pretty excited about this one. He's a different sort of guy. Really honest. Maybe too honest sometimes but has a great sense of humor.
The Sunday before the date I'm talking to him again on the phone. In the middle of the conversation he says "Do you mind if I get off of the phone for a few? There's a girl I've been trying to set up a date with that goes to bed early. I know you'll be up for a while. Do you mind if I call you back?" OK, here's me - mouth dropped open. Stomach clenched. Tears even attempt to sneak into my eyes. Oh - hell no he didn't. Yes, yes he did.
"No, I don't mind," I say. "You guys have a great time." Then he has the nerve to ask if I'm upset. "No, no of course I'm not upset. Why would I be upset?" [Possibly because I thought you were a pretty great guy and now you just relegated yourself into the loser pile???] Then he says that I appreciated his honesty. Yeah...I was wrong. Honesty sucks. Needless that date never happened...
Well, there was no way I was going to sacrifice a date night since I already had a babysitter (my awesome mom!) lined up. There was this guy who had been texting me for about three weeks. I wasn't sure how I felt about him, but he texted me every morning. Like clockwork. As soon as he got up. Thought I'd give him a shot. The date actually turned out so much better than I thought. He turned out to be a super nice guy. Lots of fun. Made me laugh. We talked for hours. It was a nice surprise.
Even after the date, he continued to text. Same pattern. Thought that was interesting. Asked some of my guy friends their opinions of this. The consensus was that he either really likes me or he likes to text. But most likely he really likes me. That's what I thought. Then one Friday I asked him if he had plans for the weekend. "Yeah, I have a date Saturday." What??? Really? Did this just happen to me again?
Alright - I know we weren't exclusive. It was just one date. But I don't need to know that you are dating someone else. I need to repeat that: "I DON'T NEED TO KNOW YOU ARE DATING SOMEONE ELSE!!!" I want to pretend in my nice little dating world that our date meant something more than a nice conversation. I don't want to be "that girl." I don't want to be your buddy or pal. And if I am, please have the cajones to tell me that I am. Don't text me every single morning and make me think that there is something there.
I have a sneaking suspicion that dating in my forties is just a torture chamber. That the point to dating is that I will meet so many bad guys that I eventually give in to what is left. That I will be so worn down from trying that I will settle for just barely OK because it is so much better than the alternative. Surely that's not what's in store for me?
So, why keep beating my head against the wall? Believe it or not, I still believe in the possibility of there being one decent single guy left out there. One that will take me on a real date. One that can't wait to call me when he gets home even thought he knows he should wait a day or two because he doesn't want to seem eager. The one that will check his phone constantly to see if he missed a call/text/e-mail. The one that won't be calling other girls for dates because he knows he already found the perfect one. And me - I'll be the girl smiling. Why? Because I know I am the exception...
Ahhhh, dating.... Seems like a never-ending source of blog posts. There are millions of single guys out there. How do I keep finding the real "winners?"
Met a pretty cool guy online. Yeah - online. My circle of friends is pretty small here, even with all of the family activities. Still seems to be the best option for meeting someone. We talk for several weeks. Lots of lost sleep. He finally gets the nerve up to ask me on a date. I make the babysitting arrangements and am pretty excited about this one. He's a different sort of guy. Really honest. Maybe too honest sometimes but has a great sense of humor.
The Sunday before the date I'm talking to him again on the phone. In the middle of the conversation he says "Do you mind if I get off of the phone for a few? There's a girl I've been trying to set up a date with that goes to bed early. I know you'll be up for a while. Do you mind if I call you back?" OK, here's me - mouth dropped open. Stomach clenched. Tears even attempt to sneak into my eyes. Oh - hell no he didn't. Yes, yes he did.
"No, I don't mind," I say. "You guys have a great time." Then he has the nerve to ask if I'm upset. "No, no of course I'm not upset. Why would I be upset?" [Possibly because I thought you were a pretty great guy and now you just relegated yourself into the loser pile???] Then he says that I appreciated his honesty. Yeah...I was wrong. Honesty sucks. Needless that date never happened...
Well, there was no way I was going to sacrifice a date night since I already had a babysitter (my awesome mom!) lined up. There was this guy who had been texting me for about three weeks. I wasn't sure how I felt about him, but he texted me every morning. Like clockwork. As soon as he got up. Thought I'd give him a shot. The date actually turned out so much better than I thought. He turned out to be a super nice guy. Lots of fun. Made me laugh. We talked for hours. It was a nice surprise.
Even after the date, he continued to text. Same pattern. Thought that was interesting. Asked some of my guy friends their opinions of this. The consensus was that he either really likes me or he likes to text. But most likely he really likes me. That's what I thought. Then one Friday I asked him if he had plans for the weekend. "Yeah, I have a date Saturday." What??? Really? Did this just happen to me again?
Alright - I know we weren't exclusive. It was just one date. But I don't need to know that you are dating someone else. I need to repeat that: "I DON'T NEED TO KNOW YOU ARE DATING SOMEONE ELSE!!!" I want to pretend in my nice little dating world that our date meant something more than a nice conversation. I don't want to be "that girl." I don't want to be your buddy or pal. And if I am, please have the cajones to tell me that I am. Don't text me every single morning and make me think that there is something there.
I have a sneaking suspicion that dating in my forties is just a torture chamber. That the point to dating is that I will meet so many bad guys that I eventually give in to what is left. That I will be so worn down from trying that I will settle for just barely OK because it is so much better than the alternative. Surely that's not what's in store for me?
So, why keep beating my head against the wall? Believe it or not, I still believe in the possibility of there being one decent single guy left out there. One that will take me on a real date. One that can't wait to call me when he gets home even thought he knows he should wait a day or two because he doesn't want to seem eager. The one that will check his phone constantly to see if he missed a call/text/e-mail. The one that won't be calling other girls for dates because he knows he already found the perfect one. And me - I'll be the girl smiling. Why? Because I know I am the exception...
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Elusive...
"In the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in a clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness."~ Mahatma Ghandi
Well, I've discovered that finding a house is as difficult as finding the right guy. Elusive. Teasing. It sucks just as bad when the house deal doesn't go through as when the guy deal doesn't go through. Actually worse.
I'm finding there are a lot of similarities. The house has to be in the right neighborhood. Same with a boyfriend. He has to be close enough to your "class" of people. This doesn't mean race, religion, etc. (because then I would have to renege on my previous blog Diversity, and you know I would never do that.) But somewhere in the ballpark for whatever differences you do have to be surmountable. Location is also important. Close enough to the school and work to make it convenient. Long distant dating sucks. Especially if there are kids involved because most likely neither person is going to move because of school districts and stuff like that.
The house has to have a certain appearance. Do you like white picket fences? Ultra-modern and sleek condos? Worn-out jeans and a t-shirt or Italian suits? BBQ joints or fine linen? And it has to fit your family just as well as the new man. In my case there has to be room for three children and a working mom. Plenty of space to spread out and grow. Comfortable - not stuffy. Same with a guy. He has to have the room in his heart for four more. The ability to expand his life to accept us all. And for lack of a better phrase - broken in - so he can adapt to our crazy, chaotic lives.
I didn't think that the house process would be this difficult. I thought I would pick a house, make an offer, then get it ready to move into. But seeing how much fun dating has been so far, I guess I should have expected it.
So, for now, we will stay in the apartment. Hey - the electric bills are super low and I don't have to mow the lawn. The right house will come when it's time. Just like the right guy lol!
Well, I've discovered that finding a house is as difficult as finding the right guy. Elusive. Teasing. It sucks just as bad when the house deal doesn't go through as when the guy deal doesn't go through. Actually worse.
I'm finding there are a lot of similarities. The house has to be in the right neighborhood. Same with a boyfriend. He has to be close enough to your "class" of people. This doesn't mean race, religion, etc. (because then I would have to renege on my previous blog Diversity, and you know I would never do that.) But somewhere in the ballpark for whatever differences you do have to be surmountable. Location is also important. Close enough to the school and work to make it convenient. Long distant dating sucks. Especially if there are kids involved because most likely neither person is going to move because of school districts and stuff like that.
The house has to have a certain appearance. Do you like white picket fences? Ultra-modern and sleek condos? Worn-out jeans and a t-shirt or Italian suits? BBQ joints or fine linen? And it has to fit your family just as well as the new man. In my case there has to be room for three children and a working mom. Plenty of space to spread out and grow. Comfortable - not stuffy. Same with a guy. He has to have the room in his heart for four more. The ability to expand his life to accept us all. And for lack of a better phrase - broken in - so he can adapt to our crazy, chaotic lives.
I didn't think that the house process would be this difficult. I thought I would pick a house, make an offer, then get it ready to move into. But seeing how much fun dating has been so far, I guess I should have expected it.
So, for now, we will stay in the apartment. Hey - the electric bills are super low and I don't have to mow the lawn. The right house will come when it's time. Just like the right guy lol!
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Helpless (or hopeless?)
"So many tangles in life are ultimately hopeless that we have no appropriate sword other than laughter." ~Gordon W. Allport
So, I'm at the gas station the other night. Thought I would be the prepared one and get gas the night before so I didn't have to rush around. I get out and fill up the tank. It's cold. The pleasure of living on the lake in Winter. I clean out the trash from the back. Then I pop the hood and fill up the windshield washer fluid. There's a guy pumping next to me. I think "it sure would be nice if he would offer to help..." But he doesn't, so I finish my tinkering.
Then a car with two girls pulls up. The driver opens her window and starts talking to the guy. "Excuse me...can you help me?" I figured she needed directions. But, nooo... in a sing-songy voice: "It's really cold out (flipping her hair back). Would you pump my gas for me so I don't need to get out?"
I laugh. Out loud. Real loud. Did I really just hear that? I look at the guy, thinking "there is no way he is really going to fall for that." Oh, but apparently I'm a really bad judge of character. He shrugs his shoulders and pumps her gas. Really? I'm laughing even harder now. In total disbelief. Yeah, he fell. Probably figured she would give him her number if he did.
Apparently I'm not the "flip your hair back and bat your eyes" kind of girl. I'm the "pop your hood and check the oil and maybe even rotate the tires" girl. I was brought up learning to fix my own bike because you never know when you're going to break down. I have my own set of tools. I wonder just for a moment if perhaps I should have been taught the flippy-hair thing. The coy, needs a man to help her thing.
But I'm not that girl (Wicked reference lol). I never could be. It's not that I don't want a man around. That would be nice. But I don't need one - at least not for the "man's work". If I don't know how to do it, I'll either learn or pay someone to fix it. I was given a brain. A damned good one to tell you the truth. Two good hands to fix whatever it is, whether a broken Bakugan, a torn hem, or a loose muffler. I'm still feminine and classy, but I carry my own Swiss Army knife and a bottle of superglue....
So, here's to those who do for themselves. And maybe even for those who can get away with flippy hair. Because without them, how else would the rest of us weed out the guys that just aren't worth the time?
So, I'm at the gas station the other night. Thought I would be the prepared one and get gas the night before so I didn't have to rush around. I get out and fill up the tank. It's cold. The pleasure of living on the lake in Winter. I clean out the trash from the back. Then I pop the hood and fill up the windshield washer fluid. There's a guy pumping next to me. I think "it sure would be nice if he would offer to help..." But he doesn't, so I finish my tinkering.
Then a car with two girls pulls up. The driver opens her window and starts talking to the guy. "Excuse me...can you help me?" I figured she needed directions. But, nooo... in a sing-songy voice: "It's really cold out (flipping her hair back). Would you pump my gas for me so I don't need to get out?"
I laugh. Out loud. Real loud. Did I really just hear that? I look at the guy, thinking "there is no way he is really going to fall for that." Oh, but apparently I'm a really bad judge of character. He shrugs his shoulders and pumps her gas. Really? I'm laughing even harder now. In total disbelief. Yeah, he fell. Probably figured she would give him her number if he did.
Apparently I'm not the "flip your hair back and bat your eyes" kind of girl. I'm the "pop your hood and check the oil and maybe even rotate the tires" girl. I was brought up learning to fix my own bike because you never know when you're going to break down. I have my own set of tools. I wonder just for a moment if perhaps I should have been taught the flippy-hair thing. The coy, needs a man to help her thing.
But I'm not that girl (Wicked reference lol). I never could be. It's not that I don't want a man around. That would be nice. But I don't need one - at least not for the "man's work". If I don't know how to do it, I'll either learn or pay someone to fix it. I was given a brain. A damned good one to tell you the truth. Two good hands to fix whatever it is, whether a broken Bakugan, a torn hem, or a loose muffler. I'm still feminine and classy, but I carry my own Swiss Army knife and a bottle of superglue....
So, here's to those who do for themselves. And maybe even for those who can get away with flippy hair. Because without them, how else would the rest of us weed out the guys that just aren't worth the time?
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