We all knew the inevitable moment would come when the myth must be shattered for the man. I’m an advocate of employing the Band-Aid method to all painful situations, so here it is:
Contrary to the deeply-rooted and much worshipped belief, “Foreplay” does not include a set of golf clubs, two carts, three other friends, and a 30-pack of beer.
“WHAT?”
Just breathe… I know this is a big mind-fuck, so I’ll tread lightly to avoid panic. We’ll get through this together using our small words.
Okay.
First and foremost, remember that this is a Thinking Man’s game.
Reserving Your Tee Time
Reserving your tee time is not something you attempt to do an hour before you would like to take your first swing. No, it’s a process. First you have to contact your three friends, decide on a day, a time, and most importantly, select a course. There’s planning involved and, knowing this, it stands to reason that if you can plan a four-some at 8am on Sunday morning, you can certainly plan dinner reservations for a two-some at 8pm on Saturday night. To do this, simply apply the same methodology as the tee time.
Where to Play, Where to Play…
Every course is different and each requires a different skill-set. If you’re relatively new to the game, obviously you’ll want to stick to the “easier” courses. They require less agility and the bar for success is generally set pretty low. Added bonus: the players are younger so lack of experience or natural talent is less critical. For the experienced player, you’ll want to look for a more interesting challenge. There’s a big pay-off here because, if you take your time and focus on each hole, it will play you as well as you play it. It’s a win-win situation.
CAUTION: Over-estimating your abilities could quickly ruin your scoring potential, so do not rush all willy-nilly into your selection.
Hit the Driving Range
Warming up is an essential part of playing a good game. You take a few big swings; stroke a few putts – just to get your bearings and get the lay of your course. Same holds true for foreplay. What separates the good from the great is the warm-up. By the way, warming up should always start once the silent agreement has been reached to play through.
How Many Holes
Pacing yourself is key if you’re planning to tell your friends what a great round you played on Saturday. There are many considerations when making the decision about how many holes to play, and they should be made early. Additionally, ask yourself, do you want to walk the course and make a day of it, or grab a cart and do it all, only faster? If you’re only going for nine – a quickie, if you will – you definitely want to go full out early and consider the cart. After all, it’s just immediate gratification you’re looking for. And maybe bragging rights. Conversely, if you’re looking for a longer game, you don’t want to give too much too soon. Prepare for the many phases of the course and mind your timing. Compare it to drinking your whole 30-pack on front nine. Sure you can, but you're not going to play up to par on the back nine.
Choose Your Club Wisely
Every hole is different. You have to know how to choose a club and accurately read the green. Obviously several different clubs are used to successfully navigate the course, so know where you’re going before you get there. And remember, this is a game of finesse. The Grope-Grope-Stroke-Then-Poke is not a successful combination; it’s a recipe for hitting dry sand. Sure, I can get you out of it, but most girls aren’t as good with a sand wedge.
If I weren’t already bored, I could take you through the whole game, down the long, straight fairways, in and out of the rough, through the crazy dog-leg, around the water hazards, and into The 19th Hole for drinks, but frankly, I’m not down with doing all the work. Besides, every player has his own style. Sometimes you're Phil Mickelson, sometimes Happy Gilmore. Either way, here are a few tips to improve your chances of success:
1. Rule of Thumb: Always address the ball with your brain first, instincts second.
2. Never, ever address the ball, your club, or the hole with that little kid voice. It’s not endearing and frankly, it’s creepy.
3. If you want to shave a few strokes by avoiding hazards, try streamlining yourself. It’s key to be as well groomed as the greens!
4. Check the winds regularly. Sometimes they change mid-game and you need to be prepared to accommodate or redirect.
5. Remember, everyone has an off day on the course. But this is about longevity so keep your head down and focus. It’s never too late to recover.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Still to Cum
I know, it ‘s a vulgar title… get over it.
Last night I did something I’ve never done, and heard something I’ve never heard. First, I handed “Fore-Play” over for editorial review. Normally I just write it, post it, and wait for the fallout – or lack thereof! Nonetheless, I’d completed the piece but still felt there was something inherently not quite spot on.
Now, I’m of the ilk that says, don’t ask for an opinion then get all shitty about what you hear. Still, like all writers, I went into the experience hoping I’d hear, “you’re brilliant!” but expecting… er… “critique.” So what did I hear?
For the very first time in my entire life I was told, “there’s not enough words.” WHAT?????? What do you MEAN not enough words? Not enough words you understand? Not enough material? Not enough what words?
Obviously I didn’t actually say any of that because he was really doing me a favor, and he’s relatively familiar with my work. Sadly and in truth, I knew he was right. Blast! I collected my piece and made some notes and now I’m going back at it. So…. Cumming Soon?
*groans*
Sorry. Since you’re already here, why not read something else? If you only have a few minutes, read the list of “Life Truths” posted last January. It still holds up well. Feeling like you really want to believe, click on March and read “Don’t Judge.” If you’re in a flying mood, there are entries written from 30,000 feet last fall. Click on 2008 to your left and read “September 11, 2008” or “Above Illinois.” I’m still receiving Comments and email regarding the question posed below so I’m going to leave it a bit longer. Cheers!
Last night I did something I’ve never done, and heard something I’ve never heard. First, I handed “Fore-Play” over for editorial review. Normally I just write it, post it, and wait for the fallout – or lack thereof! Nonetheless, I’d completed the piece but still felt there was something inherently not quite spot on.
Now, I’m of the ilk that says, don’t ask for an opinion then get all shitty about what you hear. Still, like all writers, I went into the experience hoping I’d hear, “you’re brilliant!” but expecting… er… “critique.” So what did I hear?
For the very first time in my entire life I was told, “there’s not enough words.” WHAT?????? What do you MEAN not enough words? Not enough words you understand? Not enough material? Not enough what words?
Obviously I didn’t actually say any of that because he was really doing me a favor, and he’s relatively familiar with my work. Sadly and in truth, I knew he was right. Blast! I collected my piece and made some notes and now I’m going back at it. So…. Cumming Soon?
*groans*
Sorry. Since you’re already here, why not read something else? If you only have a few minutes, read the list of “Life Truths” posted last January. It still holds up well. Feeling like you really want to believe, click on March and read “Don’t Judge.” If you’re in a flying mood, there are entries written from 30,000 feet last fall. Click on 2008 to your left and read “September 11, 2008” or “Above Illinois.” I’m still receiving Comments and email regarding the question posed below so I’m going to leave it a bit longer. Cheers!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
I Pose This to You....
...dear Reader. How do you react to being hurt by someone you care deeply about? I added the qualifier because we all react differently depending on the person who is causing the big ruckus. For instance, those few people who have actually known me for longer than a minute can all say with the same confidence that I shut down, shut up, and shut off. No, it's not healthy. I know that! But I need a few minutes of privacy in my head to ensure some semblance of civility. Now imagine me if I didn't take those few minutes... hours.... days. Yikes! OK. So comment below, or send me an email at PeaceOutCat2@aol.com for added privacy, though either way, I promise not to reveal my source. In the meantime, I'm going back to work on what I now consider The Blog Topic I Can't Ever Publish, and something else that came to me in the bed last night about sex and golf. Cheers!
Thursday, April 9, 2009
I Hear You!
I do. I hear you.
And it's not that I've gone all lazy again... no, the lack of posts this week stems from my promise to find the hysterical side to all of life's events... Yeah. Not so funny, really. Right now I'm all-consumed with holding my tongue. I know a woman who publishes an eZine called, "Elegant." She recently posed the question, "how do you manage your elegance?" or something like that.
[Sidebar: much like I'm not always listening, I'm often not really reading either...]
I mulled for, oh I dunno, a second, then typed, "Think twice. Speak once."
Excuse me? Do y'all think I didn't just hear the guffaws? It's true that, generally speaking, I will say just about anything. In my own defense - or to my detriment - I DO hear it before I say it. But some things just need to be said. And yes, I'm working on my "tone," but sometimes you just need to hear it like I thought it.
While I work out my damage, I have a great bit of news! My dear friend and fellow writer, Lisa Jones, has agreed to guest blog here with me! We've been great friends for many, many years so I suspect you'll see some bit of similarity between us. I'll write a formal introduction once she submits. I sent the topic, now we're just waiting...
*drumming fingers*
So that's that. I won't keep you any longer.
And it's not that I've gone all lazy again... no, the lack of posts this week stems from my promise to find the hysterical side to all of life's events... Yeah. Not so funny, really. Right now I'm all-consumed with holding my tongue. I know a woman who publishes an eZine called, "Elegant." She recently posed the question, "how do you manage your elegance?" or something like that.
[Sidebar: much like I'm not always listening, I'm often not really reading either...]
I mulled for, oh I dunno, a second, then typed, "Think twice. Speak once."
Excuse me? Do y'all think I didn't just hear the guffaws? It's true that, generally speaking, I will say just about anything. In my own defense - or to my detriment - I DO hear it before I say it. But some things just need to be said. And yes, I'm working on my "tone," but sometimes you just need to hear it like I thought it.
While I work out my damage, I have a great bit of news! My dear friend and fellow writer, Lisa Jones, has agreed to guest blog here with me! We've been great friends for many, many years so I suspect you'll see some bit of similarity between us. I'll write a formal introduction once she submits. I sent the topic, now we're just waiting...
*drumming fingers*
So that's that. I won't keep you any longer.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Humiliation
Humiliation...
Oh, we’ve all done it. I’m not talking about the kind of humiliation brought on by a particularly stinky fart in an enclosed area where everyone knows that’s YOUR smelly ass. Not even the kind that requires an apology for your drunkenness the next day. No, I’m talking about the kind we’ve all voluntarily subjected ourselves to… Relationship Humiliation.
You can pretend like you have no IDEA what I’m talking about… and that’s okay. I’m not here to judge. How could I possibly? But like it or not, we’ve all done it. We’ve debased ourselves to the extent of putting all of “it” on the line. We say out loud the things we can barely even think to ourselves… and then we’re rebuffed. Oh, the horror. And it IS horrific. You go in thinking, “if I just gather my balls and say what I feel, SURELY the sentiment will be returned.” Let me take this opportunity to save you from yourself – IT PROBABLY WON’T.
And then there you are… There you are, with your heart on your sleeve, your dignity at your feet, saying the things you feel most deeply, only to be told, “it’ll pass,” or “what about when your feelings change in three months?” Well then, to this I say simply, “fuck you.” It takes a tremendous amount of courage to say what you feel, because saying it out loud means acknowledging the risk. Risk is huge. Not everyone is brave enough to take it and it’s horribly unfair that, when we do, we’re sometimes summarily dismissed.
Nonetheless, here's where I am with this whole phenomenon: ya might as well do it anyway.
Take the chance. What do you have to lose really? If you don’t do it, the open-ended question will fester in your head forever. And there’s no greater draw than the “what if.” It's a dangerous magnet it is. *nodding*
My only real words of caution:
1. Go in knowing that you may still leave the way you came.
2. Understand that, just because you want it doesn’t mean it’s yours to have.
3. And most importantly, set your personal boundary. Don’t keep going back to relive the humiliation over and over, because the result won’t change. Be prepared to walk away without sneaking a peek back over your shoulder. You did your part; your side of the street is clean.
I say, do it one time. Go ahead and humiliate yourself. Why not? Wallow in the feeling of total debasement. Then when you’re done, never, EVER try it again.
Every person we involve ourselves with deserves a shot of making a decision based on the facts. If… when… the answer is “no,” know that the only real recourse is to just sweep up what's left of your dignity, tuck your heart away, head up, shoulders back, and leave it. Irrespective of your situational interpretation, get that you’re weren’t that important. I know that’s harsh. I know that it’s extraordinarily difficult to digest. But you don’t have a choice. So collect your toothbrush, extra socks, and magazines then get the hell out.
One and done, people! One and done!
Oh, we’ve all done it. I’m not talking about the kind of humiliation brought on by a particularly stinky fart in an enclosed area where everyone knows that’s YOUR smelly ass. Not even the kind that requires an apology for your drunkenness the next day. No, I’m talking about the kind we’ve all voluntarily subjected ourselves to… Relationship Humiliation.
You can pretend like you have no IDEA what I’m talking about… and that’s okay. I’m not here to judge. How could I possibly? But like it or not, we’ve all done it. We’ve debased ourselves to the extent of putting all of “it” on the line. We say out loud the things we can barely even think to ourselves… and then we’re rebuffed. Oh, the horror. And it IS horrific. You go in thinking, “if I just gather my balls and say what I feel, SURELY the sentiment will be returned.” Let me take this opportunity to save you from yourself – IT PROBABLY WON’T.
And then there you are… There you are, with your heart on your sleeve, your dignity at your feet, saying the things you feel most deeply, only to be told, “it’ll pass,” or “what about when your feelings change in three months?” Well then, to this I say simply, “fuck you.” It takes a tremendous amount of courage to say what you feel, because saying it out loud means acknowledging the risk. Risk is huge. Not everyone is brave enough to take it and it’s horribly unfair that, when we do, we’re sometimes summarily dismissed.
Nonetheless, here's where I am with this whole phenomenon: ya might as well do it anyway.
Take the chance. What do you have to lose really? If you don’t do it, the open-ended question will fester in your head forever. And there’s no greater draw than the “what if.” It's a dangerous magnet it is. *nodding*
My only real words of caution:
1. Go in knowing that you may still leave the way you came.
2. Understand that, just because you want it doesn’t mean it’s yours to have.
3. And most importantly, set your personal boundary. Don’t keep going back to relive the humiliation over and over, because the result won’t change. Be prepared to walk away without sneaking a peek back over your shoulder. You did your part; your side of the street is clean.
I say, do it one time. Go ahead and humiliate yourself. Why not? Wallow in the feeling of total debasement. Then when you’re done, never, EVER try it again.
Every person we involve ourselves with deserves a shot of making a decision based on the facts. If… when… the answer is “no,” know that the only real recourse is to just sweep up what's left of your dignity, tuck your heart away, head up, shoulders back, and leave it. Irrespective of your situational interpretation, get that you’re weren’t that important. I know that’s harsh. I know that it’s extraordinarily difficult to digest. But you don’t have a choice. So collect your toothbrush, extra socks, and magazines then get the hell out.
One and done, people! One and done!
Friday, April 3, 2009
I Was Told I Was Wrong... Nice!
Only a few minutes had passed since I posted the blog below (The Friendship Game, Part 1 - The Girls), before I received an anonymous comment reminding me that I did, in fact, write somewhat of a Part 2, which I claim not to have done. So thank you Anonymous. I found that one after your shout out. Below is a reprint from May 8, 2008:
I started to write the “Boy’s” equivalent to The Friendship Game, as promised. I got through the It’s My Career Boy, the I’m Gay Boy, and the Relationship Gambler Boy but by the time I got to the It’s Not You It’s Me Boy (and by the way, it’s TOTALLY you; because you aren’t Her) I had a revelation. I’m writing away and thinking, “this is all complete crap. Boys just aren’t that complicated." At least not complicated enough to warrant more than a couple of short paragraphs of discussion.
So I’ve decided to keep this short enough that a Boy could get all the way through it before remembering that it’s been more than 6 minutes since the last time he had a beer, ate, thought about sex, masturbated, checked SportsCenter, or re-alphabetized his porn collection.
Though there are a few variations on the theme – minor additions that is, to the list – that’s all there is. For instance, a Boy plays sports so he thinks about that… which inevitably reminds him to check the scores on SportsCenter and, while switching the channel he spies the porn, which reminds him that the last movie he looked for he couldn’t find so now he’s thinking about porn and having sex. Post-masturbation, he requires a snack and a cool beverage, and now we’ve come full circle. It’s a simple process.
Boys are cool. They’re simple creatures. Work with the list and you can have whatever you want. Work against it and again, you’ll discover it really IS you.
Boys: go on about your business.
Girls: shut up.
I started to write the “Boy’s” equivalent to The Friendship Game, as promised. I got through the It’s My Career Boy, the I’m Gay Boy, and the Relationship Gambler Boy but by the time I got to the It’s Not You It’s Me Boy (and by the way, it’s TOTALLY you; because you aren’t Her) I had a revelation. I’m writing away and thinking, “this is all complete crap. Boys just aren’t that complicated." At least not complicated enough to warrant more than a couple of short paragraphs of discussion.
So I’ve decided to keep this short enough that a Boy could get all the way through it before remembering that it’s been more than 6 minutes since the last time he had a beer, ate, thought about sex, masturbated, checked SportsCenter, or re-alphabetized his porn collection.
Though there are a few variations on the theme – minor additions that is, to the list – that’s all there is. For instance, a Boy plays sports so he thinks about that… which inevitably reminds him to check the scores on SportsCenter and, while switching the channel he spies the porn, which reminds him that the last movie he looked for he couldn’t find so now he’s thinking about porn and having sex. Post-masturbation, he requires a snack and a cool beverage, and now we’ve come full circle. It’s a simple process.
Boys are cool. They’re simple creatures. Work with the list and you can have whatever you want. Work against it and again, you’ll discover it really IS you.
Boys: go on about your business.
Girls: shut up.
The Friendship Game, Part I - The Girls
This afternoon, my friend and most faithful reader Lizzie, sent me a text asking what happened to a blog I wrote a long time ago about the different types of friends. As some of you know, my previous site collapsed and I lost quite a bit of work. I got to thinking that today was a good day to take action and see if I could find versions of these stashed away somewhere. So with the fire finally lit under my ass, I was able to lay hands on a few not completely shitty blogs. The following is not something I consider great work. This is being published at Lizzie's request and as she was, after all, the inspiration for the very last category, I could not deny her. (Lizzie, forgive me for divulging that.) This is a reprint from April 11, 2008:
The Friendship Game Part I – The Girls
Let me say right up front that I’m not good at this one. Oh, I get the friendship part; it’s the “game” bits that confuse me. Well, that and some of the players. By definition, friendship is something one begins voluntarily. One would think that one remains out of some sense of, I dunno, connectivity maybe? Loyalty? Yes. No. I mean, yes… right up until you feel the sting of a sharp knife between the shoulder blades. This, this is where my confusion usually begins. In an effort to sort out what I just don’t understand about girls and friendship, I’ve decided to categorize.
The Best Friend
She’s the one who will tell you ALL about yourself in a good dressing down for no reason other than someone has to be brave enough to tell you the truth… or because you’re embarrassing her in public. There’s no malice or personal gain involved. It’s as painful for her as it is for you… so she’s sure to have both a tissue and a cocktail at the ready. No other friend can do this.
The Sweet Girl
People are inexplicably drawn to her. She’s sweet, and she’s pretty, and she’s ever so wholesome. She usually possesses an underlying sense of sadness that drives a need to make her laugh. While that distracts you, know that she’s primarily interested in getting what she wants…. and it’s usually a Boy. She’s your friend as long as you have something she needs. Sadly, this is the most difficult type of friend to sort out, and once you get the read, it’s too late. She’s off with the Boy. Not to worry though. She’ll be back. She always is. He’s all she has.
The Pretty Girl
Admittedly, she’s a great chick to have around when you’re single because she’s sure to reel in a bevy of dateable boys. Unfortunately, no one ever told her that eventually her looks will fade and she’s going to HAVE to have something to say other than “how may I direct your call?” She doesn’t follow politics, the news, the weather or any current event that doesn’t occur on Facebook. She’s sweet and needy and you want to take care of her even though she can’t hold your attention for more than a few moments at a time. Be careful of her vacuous ways… It’s not unusual for The Pretty Girl to actually be The Master Manipulator in disguise.
The Master Manipulator
It’s sometimes hard to tell if she possesses an IQ of 82 or 160. She cries when it suits her ultimate goal. She watches and she waits. She seeks out the weak underbelly of her “friends.” It is singularly important that she always has the upper hand – in her own mind anyway – so that she can manage her own damage control just prior to her antics being revealed for all to witness and ridicule. She is incredibly insecure; hence, her need to be the center of everyone’s Universe… or the bar. Men forgive her because they think she’s just kinda dumb; harmless until she takes what she wants and leaves them in emotional or financial ruin.
The “I Love You” Girl
She says it to everyone… Everyone. People whose last name she doesn’t even know. She NEEDS people to love her – all people. She feels generally unworthy. It’s hard not to take her in; to help her; to tell her she really IS good enough. Caution is advised. She doesn’t love in actuality because she doesn’t know how. She only loves the feeling of love and will follow it down any dark path. The good news is, she’s basically harmless except to herself.
The Competitor
She wants your life and you can’t imagine why. She slides in under the guise of The Sweet Girl or The Pretty Girl… sometimes even the I Love You Girl, but that’s a hybrid. The Competitor has many, many faces. Unfortunately, it’s easy to miss the imaginary competition she brings to the inner circle in the beginning – easy to mistake it for enthusiasm or gratefulness. This girl is very dangerous because she’s not happy unless she’s “winning”… and she’s playing a game no one else knows about. Much like The Master Manipulator, she will pit friend against friend if she feels left out or overlooked. She doesn’t care who she hurts or whose relationships suffer. She just wants to wear the sash and the crown. Someone should tell her that the walk is done alone… But then, she’d need a Best Friend for that.
The *Shrug – Eyeroll* Girl
She is my absolute favorite! She truly, honestly, wholly, and completely could not possibly care any less about all y’all’s drama and life crap. I know three of these women. They make me laugh harder than anyone in the world, and wish I were heartless, too. Don’t misinterpret that. Underneath she’s soft and sensitive – but you’ll never find that out unless she decides she wants you to. She can keep a secret. She never reveals your personal conversations. This is partly because she doesn’t really care, and partly because in her heart she knows that it’s not her story to tell. She’ll happily sport a trench coat and Fedora to go on a recon mission with a 6-pack just because. She is the most trustworthy of friends. She doesn’t say “I love you” to anyone – until she does.
I’m sure every girl sees a bit of herself in a couple of these. Fortunately, some girls are simply 100% of one or another which is great material for me. I know each of these girls… These girls are my “friends.” Lucky me…! Next up: The Friendship Game Part II – The Boys
NOTE: Though it’s been a year since I wrote this and much has changed, I find it interesting that every one of these women still exist in my life. Some of the faces are new; some are not. Odd really, how well these held up. And in case you’re wondering, I still only know three *Shrug – Eyeroll* Girls… the same three… and that makes me very lucky indeed! And no, I never did write Part II.
The Friendship Game Part I – The Girls
Let me say right up front that I’m not good at this one. Oh, I get the friendship part; it’s the “game” bits that confuse me. Well, that and some of the players. By definition, friendship is something one begins voluntarily. One would think that one remains out of some sense of, I dunno, connectivity maybe? Loyalty? Yes. No. I mean, yes… right up until you feel the sting of a sharp knife between the shoulder blades. This, this is where my confusion usually begins. In an effort to sort out what I just don’t understand about girls and friendship, I’ve decided to categorize.
The Best Friend
She’s the one who will tell you ALL about yourself in a good dressing down for no reason other than someone has to be brave enough to tell you the truth… or because you’re embarrassing her in public. There’s no malice or personal gain involved. It’s as painful for her as it is for you… so she’s sure to have both a tissue and a cocktail at the ready. No other friend can do this.
The Sweet Girl
People are inexplicably drawn to her. She’s sweet, and she’s pretty, and she’s ever so wholesome. She usually possesses an underlying sense of sadness that drives a need to make her laugh. While that distracts you, know that she’s primarily interested in getting what she wants…. and it’s usually a Boy. She’s your friend as long as you have something she needs. Sadly, this is the most difficult type of friend to sort out, and once you get the read, it’s too late. She’s off with the Boy. Not to worry though. She’ll be back. She always is. He’s all she has.
The Pretty Girl
Admittedly, she’s a great chick to have around when you’re single because she’s sure to reel in a bevy of dateable boys. Unfortunately, no one ever told her that eventually her looks will fade and she’s going to HAVE to have something to say other than “how may I direct your call?” She doesn’t follow politics, the news, the weather or any current event that doesn’t occur on Facebook. She’s sweet and needy and you want to take care of her even though she can’t hold your attention for more than a few moments at a time. Be careful of her vacuous ways… It’s not unusual for The Pretty Girl to actually be The Master Manipulator in disguise.
The Master Manipulator
It’s sometimes hard to tell if she possesses an IQ of 82 or 160. She cries when it suits her ultimate goal. She watches and she waits. She seeks out the weak underbelly of her “friends.” It is singularly important that she always has the upper hand – in her own mind anyway – so that she can manage her own damage control just prior to her antics being revealed for all to witness and ridicule. She is incredibly insecure; hence, her need to be the center of everyone’s Universe… or the bar. Men forgive her because they think she’s just kinda dumb; harmless until she takes what she wants and leaves them in emotional or financial ruin.
The “I Love You” Girl
She says it to everyone… Everyone. People whose last name she doesn’t even know. She NEEDS people to love her – all people. She feels generally unworthy. It’s hard not to take her in; to help her; to tell her she really IS good enough. Caution is advised. She doesn’t love in actuality because she doesn’t know how. She only loves the feeling of love and will follow it down any dark path. The good news is, she’s basically harmless except to herself.
The Competitor
She wants your life and you can’t imagine why. She slides in under the guise of The Sweet Girl or The Pretty Girl… sometimes even the I Love You Girl, but that’s a hybrid. The Competitor has many, many faces. Unfortunately, it’s easy to miss the imaginary competition she brings to the inner circle in the beginning – easy to mistake it for enthusiasm or gratefulness. This girl is very dangerous because she’s not happy unless she’s “winning”… and she’s playing a game no one else knows about. Much like The Master Manipulator, she will pit friend against friend if she feels left out or overlooked. She doesn’t care who she hurts or whose relationships suffer. She just wants to wear the sash and the crown. Someone should tell her that the walk is done alone… But then, she’d need a Best Friend for that.
The *Shrug – Eyeroll* Girl
She is my absolute favorite! She truly, honestly, wholly, and completely could not possibly care any less about all y’all’s drama and life crap. I know three of these women. They make me laugh harder than anyone in the world, and wish I were heartless, too. Don’t misinterpret that. Underneath she’s soft and sensitive – but you’ll never find that out unless she decides she wants you to. She can keep a secret. She never reveals your personal conversations. This is partly because she doesn’t really care, and partly because in her heart she knows that it’s not her story to tell. She’ll happily sport a trench coat and Fedora to go on a recon mission with a 6-pack just because. She is the most trustworthy of friends. She doesn’t say “I love you” to anyone – until she does.
I’m sure every girl sees a bit of herself in a couple of these. Fortunately, some girls are simply 100% of one or another which is great material for me. I know each of these girls… These girls are my “friends.” Lucky me…! Next up: The Friendship Game Part II – The Boys
NOTE: Though it’s been a year since I wrote this and much has changed, I find it interesting that every one of these women still exist in my life. Some of the faces are new; some are not. Odd really, how well these held up. And in case you’re wondering, I still only know three *Shrug – Eyeroll* Girls… the same three… and that makes me very lucky indeed! And no, I never did write Part II.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Silence
I’ve spent the entire day ignoring this blank page. It has antagonized me from the bottom of my screen as if to say, “see! I told you. You can’t really do this after all.”
Yes. I’m painfully well aware that paper can’t talk, but lately I’ve been expected to interpret silence at every turn and in every aspect of my life: work, friends(?), my personal relationship. I told someone the other day that I’m much better at interpretive dance than interpretive silence.
I’m a words person. Silence is completely meaningless to me… a blank, much like this page was… until my second cocktail of course!
Cocktail #2.
Yep. Pretty sure I’m beginning to understand. With a bit of the edge off, silence feels a little like the Universe is participating in a game of CYA (that’s cover your ass for those who live outside the world of the perpetual acronym). Okay, Universe… what have you done? What are you hiding? Do you think if you sit quietly maybe I won’t divulge what I already know? Ba! Best of luck with that! You’re not that clever, and hiding behind a curtain of “look how harmless I am” isn’t going to prevent me from sending out the hounds.
Cocktail #3:
So what if I AM drinking alone? Whose business is that? I also happen to be working out while I enjoy my adult beverage. The panting and gulping satisfactorily camouflages the fact that the silence is getting really loud.
*turns up music* “Hey, I put some new shoes on and suddenly everything’s right. I said hey, I put some new shoes on, and everybody’s smiling, it’s so inviting!” I can’t hear you, silence! I got my New Shoes song on!
Cocktail #4:
Now what? It’s probably dinnertime. I dunno… I stopped watching the clock shortly after 5AM on Saturday last weekend. What does time really mean when you’re not actually working? Feels a little like I have nowhere to be and all night to get there.
*listens for something outside of buzzing head… nope… nothing*
Well, I do enjoy consistency. I like being able to count on things. It makes me comfortable in an otherwise very uncomfortable world. It reminds me of the same discomfort you get from a beautiful pair of shoes you really really want to buy, but somehow have the inkling you’ll never wear because, ultimately, either you or they just don’t belong.
*sings* “One of these things is not like the others! One of these things just doesn't belong!”
Cocktail #5:
Maybe I’ll go to bed. The silence isn’t so noticeable while unconscious. I’ll read 20 more pages only of Midnight Sun in hopes of lovely, colorful dreams; tuck in the puppies; then let the silence envelope me. I can rage against it again tomorrow!
Yes. I’m painfully well aware that paper can’t talk, but lately I’ve been expected to interpret silence at every turn and in every aspect of my life: work, friends(?), my personal relationship. I told someone the other day that I’m much better at interpretive dance than interpretive silence.
I’m a words person. Silence is completely meaningless to me… a blank, much like this page was… until my second cocktail of course!
Cocktail #2.
Yep. Pretty sure I’m beginning to understand. With a bit of the edge off, silence feels a little like the Universe is participating in a game of CYA (that’s cover your ass for those who live outside the world of the perpetual acronym). Okay, Universe… what have you done? What are you hiding? Do you think if you sit quietly maybe I won’t divulge what I already know? Ba! Best of luck with that! You’re not that clever, and hiding behind a curtain of “look how harmless I am” isn’t going to prevent me from sending out the hounds.
Cocktail #3:
So what if I AM drinking alone? Whose business is that? I also happen to be working out while I enjoy my adult beverage. The panting and gulping satisfactorily camouflages the fact that the silence is getting really loud.
*turns up music* “Hey, I put some new shoes on and suddenly everything’s right. I said hey, I put some new shoes on, and everybody’s smiling, it’s so inviting!” I can’t hear you, silence! I got my New Shoes song on!
Cocktail #4:
Now what? It’s probably dinnertime. I dunno… I stopped watching the clock shortly after 5AM on Saturday last weekend. What does time really mean when you’re not actually working? Feels a little like I have nowhere to be and all night to get there.
*listens for something outside of buzzing head… nope… nothing*
Well, I do enjoy consistency. I like being able to count on things. It makes me comfortable in an otherwise very uncomfortable world. It reminds me of the same discomfort you get from a beautiful pair of shoes you really really want to buy, but somehow have the inkling you’ll never wear because, ultimately, either you or they just don’t belong.
*sings* “One of these things is not like the others! One of these things just doesn't belong!”
Cocktail #5:
Maybe I’ll go to bed. The silence isn’t so noticeable while unconscious. I’ll read 20 more pages only of Midnight Sun in hopes of lovely, colorful dreams; tuck in the puppies; then let the silence envelope me. I can rage against it again tomorrow!
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