I Used to Be Mysterious...

When I was in High School, I had a boyfriend for 3.5 weeks that I had to give up.  It wasn't because he was bad for me, or because I fell in love with someone else.  He was a really excellent boyfriend.  I just realized at the 3.5 week mark that I wasn't able to care for him on the same level he did for me, and I couldn't bear to let him go on like that with me.  I knew he deserved to be loved more than I could give him.

The shitty thing was, being in high school, I broke up with him in a note because I couldn't bear to face him, (and was pretty certain he would change my mind if I tried to do it in person.)  He was pretty furious with me, and rightly so, and for several months wouldn't speak to me.  (Ah, high school.  Were we ever that young?)  But the amazing and wonderful thing was, once he got over being mad, (and we were both in other relationships) he reached out to me again (first anonymously through AOL instant messenger, then confirmed at a dance that it was him I'd been talking to) and we started one of the best friendships I have ever had.  (Certainly one of the best in high school.  Between him and Lashley, and Celeste and Kimba, I was a lucky girl back then, without ever really realizing how good I had it until many more years of hindsight could prevail.)

In many ways, the friendship I had with my ex-boyfriend, (for the sake of the continuing narrative here, let's call him Paul) was more intimate than our short-lived relationship ever had been.  We wrote each other endless notes, (we once got into a competition about who could write the longest - I can't remember who won, but it was probably him because I think I cheated by using drawings and things) bought each other silly and super sentimental presents, played songs with meaningful lyrics to each other, and constantly analyzed our mutual romantic relationships and tried to help each other figure out what the heck we should do with our high maintenance significant others.  There was a rough patch where Paul hurt my friend Celeste pretty badly due to some romantic mishaps that I didn't feel he handled very well, but we got through it somehow.  I even came back to high school just for him (I was a year older) and was his college girl date to homecoming when he got dumped right before the dance.  We might have even gotten back together that night if I hadn't been stupidly thinking I should give my doomed high school relationship another go, (see high maintenance significant other above) and for some dumb reason decided to rekindled that failure that same night, instead of staying and being with Paul in such a hard time.  (Though I'm glad we didn't get back together, either.)

Even after the breakup he called me "dearest" and we played poker together at lunch and generally shared all our plans, schemes, and dreams with each other.  Of all the relationships I have lost from high school, that was the toughest and the one I miss most, (thought admittedly as a married woman it could never have carried on the same way and been ok, so it's all for the best) but I have often wondered why that particular relationship was so seductive and addicting, when the romantic aspect failed so quickly.  I've thought long and hard about this, for years, on and off.  (You can find him mentioned in some of my other blog posts as time has given me small insights, bit by bit.)  The characters in my self published novels come largely from my friendship with Paul, and its narrative and dialogue are peppered with our memories and words to each other, along with bits I picked up from my other friends in high school along the way.  All the things I don't want to forget about that friendship are immortalized as best my writing skills would allow, in my books.  Paul also takes his place in other narratives I've written.  Whether I like it or not, a lot of my thoughts, feelings, and experiences were shaped by this complex and crazy man.

I think the reason why that friendship was as fascinating as it was to me is because Paul provided one very valuable feeling throughout it all - he made me feel mysterious.  Let me explain.

In all the notes Paul wrote me as my friend, there was one enduring quality.  Because he always seemed to know me better than I knew myself, (and this did not work in the reverse) he made me feel like there was something mysterious about me that only he knew, and only he understood.  This mysterious something was always just out of reach of my own comprehension, yet it was clear Paul was well acquainted with this quality in myself, and that was what he most loved and cherished about me.

Even in the first note Paul wrote to me after our breakup, when we were still not speaking and had not yet started our epic friendship, he told me "You have a prized and cherished innocence about you.  Never let go of that.  If the world had more people like you, it would be a very different place."

I can't tell you how many times I read and re-read that line.  Part of it was because after the way I had hurt Paul, it was good to know he still valued something about me and didn't just hate me.  But part of it fascinated my brain.  I had never once considered the fact that I had a prized and cherished anything, let alone innocence.  For long years after I tried to discover what this thing was he saw.  I never found it.

It was maddening that Paul was always calling to my attention qualities in myself I hadn't suspected I had, yet I wasn't ever on the same level with him.  Try as I might, I could never see and understand all of his thoughts and quirks, yet he seemed to know every one of mine most minutely.  It boggled and fascinated at the same time.  I always wanted to know more, I always wanted to understand....I wanted him to stop being such an enigma, and I wanted to know him the way he seemed to know me.  Because if I could do that, maybe I could find my own mystery of being.  No one else ever saw in me half of what Paul did, and I craved the insight into that unique view of myself that he had.

Time and perspective have also left me with a unique guilt that I can't quite resolve.  The guilt is not about me or him, but about my friend - I already changed her name to Celeste above, so we will use that now - that Paul had been briefly involved with romantically.  At the time, Celeste and I both blamed him for the sudden cessation of his affections towards her, with only vague explanations given to both of us as to why he did what he did.  Looking back, though, I fear I might have caused some of it.

When Paul first became interested in Celeste, I was delighted.  There were double dates, (amazing for my boyfriend at the time, who hated Paul with a passion.  He said it was because Paul was a moron, but I suspect it was really because he went to a different school than we did and was jealous of the friendship I somehow maintained with Paul.  This was maybe a somewhat justified concern, but it didn't help that some of my dumber friends in high school kept telling my boyfriend that he was supposed to be jealous.) and joint schemes between Celeste and I for helping the relationship grow and blossom.  I truly did want her to succeed where I failed.  I really hoped she could love Paul the way I hadn't been able to, and more importantly, I wanted to see her loved the way I knew Paul was capable of loving someone - 110%.

But I remember there was a day where Paul left lunch early to buy Celeste presents, and I remember being jealous, (amazing that this escaped me at the time when things started crumbling, but it literally took me years before I saw this for what it was and rightly blamed myself for my part in the disaster.)  I went with Paul to buy the presents and while I can't remember the details, something to the effect of "What about that thing you were going to buy for me?  You're not going to forget me while you're courting Celeste, are you?" escaped my mouth.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I could go back in time and take that back.  If I could have swallowed my own selfishness and just been happy for the excess of attention he was spending on Celeste.  Attention she well deserved, because she was one of the kindest, sweetest people I knew, (still is) and certainly had been nothing but the best of friends to me, despite me being a self-absorbed, crappy teenager.

But I wasn't selfless that day, and I was suddenly self-centeredly afraid of what would happen if his all-consuming interest in my dear friend Celeste continued on like this.  Would my little gifts of friendship, my notes, my nicknames and endearments all cease?  Would my interestingness to him be replaced by hers?  Would I lose my mystery?

It was shortly after that when Paul stopped paying attention to Celeste and stopped pursuing her.  At the time I was mad at him, and as I mentioned, we were on the outs for a long time.  But now I wonder if myself wasn't more to blame.  I don't know if bringing my jealousy to Paul's attention decided him on his unkind course, if it was just one of many factors, or if it was only a coincidence in the timing of the whole situation.  I didn't know what I was doing at the time, but maybe what I did was destructive to Celeste's happiness.  And that is a horrible thing I hope she can forgive me of.

This may be hard to understand, but I really wasn't in love with Paul.  At no point did I ever have a desire to re-try a romantic relationship with him, (the offer was made openly to me at least once, to my knowledge, and almost always at least appeared to be a standing one whenever Paul wasn't attached to someone else.)  But I was in love with someone making me feel like I was mysterious.  To be mysterious, after all, is to be important.  It means there's something about you another person will constantly pursue until he can unravel it.  And I selfishly liked being pursued in that way by someone who was not my boyfriend.

You see, my boyfriend (we shall name him Brad) never made me feel mysterious.  In fact, Brad often made me feel taken for granted.  We had an amazingly codependent mess of a relationship that involved physical, verbal, emotional, and sexual abuse on his part, and emotional manipulation on my part as a defense.  That certainly did not help me needing to feel special, when I wasn't getting what I wanted from Brad, (and was in fact getting the reverse.)  I'm not using that as excuse - it was my own fault and I could, and should have left him when things first started getting bad.  But I desperately wanted to feel like someone loved me during that time.  My doctor had also diagnosed me with depression shortly after this whole mess of a bad romantic relationship with Brad and my intensely weird friendship with Paul both got started.  That also doesn't excuse it, but I realize there is not an excuse for myself at this point, just exposition and as complete an explanation as I can provide into all the many and messed up pieces of this sordid story.

It's worked out okay in the end, too.  Celeste is much better off without Paul.  He was a judgmental, hardcore Republican who only seems to have gotten more intolerant, jaded, and obnoxious with age, (and who knows if I played a part in any or all of those three qualities as well?)  Celeste is a beautiful, vibrant woman full of well-informed liberal opinions and beliefs.  I have known too many women like her who married conservative men and were subsumed by them.  I don't want to see her ideals and views squashed like all the other liberal ladies I know who gave up their politics to adopt their husband's own ideas instead.  I don't want to see Celeste replace her hard-earned thoughts with a man's who didn't go through the same things she did and doesn't see the world the same way she does.  I am happy Celeste is with someone who compliments and encourages her, and doesn't try to dictate to her what she should believe.  I am happy Paul wasn't able to make her intolerant, jaded, and obnoxious along with him.

But I wish I hadn't been so obsessed with feeling like I was special and different.  I wish I hadn't decided I needed the validation of being someone who should be pursued because she had an innate mystery.  Because I'm happily married now to a man who's better than I deserve and the horrible truth I've come to realize is I am NOT mysterious.  It wasn't mystery that even first attracted my wonderful husband to me.  It was my straightforwardness, my honesty, my sense of humor, and the things that he could see and understand about me on the surface.  My husband wasn't interested in playing games or having to guess how I felt about things, and thankfully, at that point in my life, I no longer was either.  There's nothing forbidden or exciting or miraculous hidden in my personality.  I am not a special and unique snowflake.  And that's ok.  I like who I am, I like even more who I've become being in a healthy relationship, and I like my life as it is now, even without that complex friendship.  I am happy to leave it behind.  I just don't want to forget it.

Because it's important to remember that my selfishness should never be allowed to damage a friendship and/or a relationship like that again.  I'm not perfect, but thankfully I'm a lot more secure now, and I hope I never make that gaffe ever, ever, ever again.

I'm sorry we all had to experience being hurt, jaded, and broken for me to realize that.  But it turns out I am not mysterious.  And I'm just fine being solid, predictable, dependable me.

A Post for Elyse

A very good friend of mine recently posted an article on her Facebook page that I almost agree with.  There are a lot of interesting points and it's a good read, but I have a sharp division from the theme and it sparked an idea for a narrative.  Here's the article that intrigued me so -

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/sabrina-nelson/taylor-swift-solidarity-a_b_4428410.html

The author's point, as best I can understand it, is that women categorize ourselves as us and them, or to use the terminology in the article, us and the "other" girl.  We are not like the "other" girl because we don't like drama, we aren't fussy, and we prefer hanging out with guys to other women, etc.  Other women like lipstick, sparkles, and cute shoes.  We have to define ourselves as not being like "them", and this gives men power over us.

I happen to be a girly girl in many respects.  When I was little, the only two colors I wanted to wear were pink and purple.  I (still)love glitter and shiny things and puppies and dolphins.  I was a boy crazy teenager, and I will forever enjoy a good (or even sappy or cheesy) love story.  I adore wearing dresses (even if I don't like to pay more than I have to for them) and I will even allow myself to admit that I love cute boots and sexy high heals (as long as I can walk in them.)  But I also don't like drama or building myself up at others' expense or passive aggressive sniping and bullying.  No one should, because it's horrible behavior for anyone, man or woman.

So I am so close to agreeing with this article!  I agree that women should all be on the same team.  I agree that dividing ourselves from our common cause gives men more power over our emotional state than they should have.  I agree that there is NOTHING WRONG with a woman wanting to dress sexy, wear cute boots, or being very into boys.  I don't think we should stereotype women who have traditional girly interests as shallow or vapid.  I agree that we do each other a big disservice when we split ourselves up this way.  So GO article, there.

But here's the problem.  The article seems to suggest that if we just commit to STOP this, if we don't do it and encourage each other instead, problem solved!  No more passive aggressive bitchy behavior to put up with.

As much as I loathe passive aggressive behavior, as much as I want it to be true that if we just stop stereotyping each other and just root for each other instead, this will all go away and we can be one big happy group of sisters, I know in my heart that it just doesn't work that way.  I know, because I've lived it.

Let me tell you instead what I do believe is true, in words better than mine could ever be.  The woman who nailed my thoughts right on the head was the fictitious Olivia Joules (from "Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination" one of my favorite books, and written by the wonderful Helen Fielding, author of the Bridget Jones books)  Here's how she puts it -

"Olivia's theory was that you could divide women into two types: those who were on the Girls' Team, and Undercover Bitches.  If a woman was on the Girls' Team, she could be as beautiful, intelligent, rich, famous, sexy, successful and as popular as fuck, and you'd still like her.  Women on the Girls' Team had solidarity.  They were conspiratorial and brought all their fuck-ups to the table for everyone to enjoy.  Undercover Bitches were competitive: they showed off, tried to put others down to make themselves look good, lacked humor and a sense of their own ridiculousness, said things which sounded okay on the surface but were actually designed to make you feel really bad, couldn't bear it when they weren't getting enough attention, and they flicked their hair.  Men didn't get all this.  They thought women took against each other because they were jealous.  Quite tragic, really."

I wish with all my heart the above statement weren't true, but all of middle school, most of high school, and even a few more experiences in college and the work place have taught me that no matter how loving, how kind, and how encouraging you are to other women, there will always be, somewhere, an Undercover Bitch.

Now the good news is I believe saying this is a "type" of woman is a stretch.  I am confidant that women who act like Undercover Bitches are doing exactly that; acting.  At no point are you stuck being an Undercover Bitch.  I am positive it is a behavior, not an unavoidable state.  (I know this because one of my greatest tormentors from Middle School recently tracked me down only to apologize for all the years of insecurity and put downs she subjected me to.  My response?  Welcome to the Girls' Team!)

So the first part of my post is simply that.  This exists.  I'm sure I've even had moments where someone could have classified me as an Undercover Bitch.  So if you find yourself being competitive towards other women, and you also realize that along with those feelings you "showed off, tried to put others down to make themselves [yourself] look good, lacked humor and a sense of their [your] own ridiculousness, said things which sounded okay on the surface but were actually designed to make you [others] feel really bad, couldn't bear it when they [you] weren't getting enough attention..." (we can let hair flicking go for now) maybe take a moment to evaluate.  And then just STOP IT!  STOP DOING THAT!  Because I agree with the spirit of that article.  We are women!  There is no reason we shouldn't all be rooting for each other in this big, insanely hard world.  This is just behavior, and only you can decide to put an end to it.  So come join the Girls' Team!  My evaluation of women is that most of us are already here anyway.  It's lonely when you go Undercover.  So just don't.

Which brings me to point/part 2.  I had to say the above because the sad sad truth is, all the rooting for them and being overly nice in the world won't make Undercover Bitches stop behaving that way.  In fact, in my unfortunate experience, it will only make them worse.  It will make them try to make you their bitch, because they are following impulses that demand to be in control, to have the advantage over you, and to know that they are prettier, better, and more liked than you.  We can't stop that behavior using the "kill them with kindness" approach (trust me, I've tried)  The only way is to basically be polite but otherwise ignore Undercover Bitches.  Only they can decide to stop acting out that way.  The Girls' Team is open to anyone, but you have to want to be a member of a team.  To not always be the best or prettiest or in charge.  You can't make anyone join a team if they don't believe in team work.  You have to make the decision to support team behavior for yourself, and be as dedicated to it as you can.  We all slip up, but if you are willing to do all you can to leave the behavior that is really damaging to others behind, there is always an open invitation waiting.

Once that happens, we can all be in the Girls' Team together.  I know Helen Fielding believes this despite her Team/Bitches theory, because in the third Bridget Jones book, Bridget encounters a woman named Nicolette who puts her down almost the entire length of the book, taking passive aggressive swipes at her in public and through group emails.  But the second this woman finally comes clean, admits her problems and struggles, and is real about her life, Bridget's response is exactly that; welcome to the Club!

And THAT is what we need to do as women.  Always forgive, always be ready to welcome another sister to the Club (when she's ready to want to be there) and always be rooting for everyone on the Girls' Team to succeed at this wild, wonderful mess called life.

Just don't trust Undercover Bitches too far until you know they're on your side.  Caution, not exclusion, is the order of the day.  Remember, Bridget Jones didn't befriend Rebecca, the woman from the 2nd book who purposely set out to steal Mark Darcy from Bridget just to see if she could, chucked him as soon as she got bored with her conquest, and then tried to steal him back from Bridget once she and Mark were able to make it up again.  That would have been a bad move for Bridget's self-esteem and forever have put Bridget under Rebecca's thumb.  But that's only because Rebecca was unrepentant.  Rebecca only wanted to hurt others and make herself look good at their expense.  Rebecca was never willing to admit she had flaws or insecurities or share her hopes and dreams.  Rebecca was set on knowing she was the prettiest and the most popular with all the boys, married, otherwise attached, or single, and she cared not one whit what that behavior might do to any other woman she came in contact with.  And it's okay to be careful around those people.

But we don't need to give a crap about whether a woman wears T-Shirts, or skirts, red lipstick or chapstick, expensive shoes or the best bargain boots from Target.  That stuff doesn't matter or make a woman who she is.  What makes us women is our incredible capacity to care and share, to love and be patient, to help and nurture and be loyal.  And the women who value those qualities are waiting for anyone else who wants in and wants their love and friendship, whether they prefer to drink their welcoming toast with a cosmopolitan or a beer can in their hand.

So if you're a lady, and you're not here already, come join the Girls' Club.  What are you waiting for?  We'll take you anytime.

Let's root for the women who won't purposely try to burn each other.  That's something I want to promote.  That's something worth cultivating.

And I know a great girl who can do your nails ;-)