The Un-date-able Vibe: Speculations On My Singleness

Sometimes I am seriously convinced that I give off an "un-date-able vibe."

Ok, not sometimes.

All the time.

"It's your whole demeanor," he said. "Everything about you says, 'Don't even think about it.'" This was an unnerving moment of truth. I mean, I know how much people annoy me, but was it so obvious to others?

Charmed Thirds

I've considered I give off the un-date-able vibe for quite some time now. I don't think I've even been a contender for someone in the past three years because I sincerely reek of this malodorous stench of un-date-ability. I'm not the girl who gets flirted with by the waiter, the girl who gets a double-take walking to class, the girl who can go dancing and have a guy ask to dance with her. I'm none of them.

And I have to wonder... why not?

When I hear songs that remind me of Blake, it still really hurts. There are a lot of them too. A lot of Taylor Swift to be exact (I have a penchant for equating songs to certain moments or places or people and I bought her first cd soon after we broke up. Think "Cold As You" for our 'fail-ship.') I've quite moved on from that relationship, but there's still so much that connects me to it that it's hard in moments, though they grow more and more infrequent. Redding used to be a huge crutch in my weakness after that relationship. Everywhere I went, I saw him: moments where we drove down long stretches of road smiling, moments where we walked through a city asleep, moments in empty bathtubs with large bowls of macaroni-and-cheese, moments made at mountaintops somewhere down a highway, moments where I could have been more scared than I've ever been in my entire life but I wasn't simply because I was with him.

And then I have to remember that most, if not all, of those moments were carefully calculated to follow the relationship template he had built in his mind.

Now I've realized that there wasn't one moment where I remembered 'this is something Blake and I used to do' during this past Christmas break. I was nervous he'd be at church, but I think that's just because of my outlandish social anxiety I am carefully cultivating here in college. But it's good that I don't think of him like I used to. It was all consuming for over a year. That relationship left me with so many questions that I don't think a conversation with him until the end of time would have given me the closure I so desperately needed.

This is where, I'm sure, my un-date-able vibe truly began, though I'm believe it's been floating all around me since the day I was brought to the world. How can any boy find you attractive when you're so pathetically holding onto the shreds of a failure of a relationship? And I was clinging to those threads with strength I never knew I had.

However, that ended in June of 2009. So, I still need an explanation for the next two years. Let's continue.

Christmas of 2008, well into my Blake-worship, I received two Christmas presents that were highly unlikely to be given to me--I got two rings from two separate people. I've never really worn jewelry. I mean, those who know me now, know those rings are a constant presence on my freakishly small carnie hands, but never before this Christmas. These rings were given to me without consulting ring size and therefore, wouldn't it be such a coincidence that they both only fit on the fourth finger of each hand. I wear both of them proudly and almost without ceasing, leaving one to go on a specially designated finger enclosed in a binding circle of silver.

Is this a part of my un-date-ability? I have to wonder if this is seen by boys as a sign to stay away from me. Am I a girl who threw caution to the wind and married young, too poor to sport a real diamond but instead having a simple silver band as the symbol of my infatuation of a marriage?

Or is it just a ring?

I guess I could be that girl who marries young. I seem like it, don't I? The really good girl who found a really good guy and settled into what should be a long, happy, and loving marriage.

But I'm not. And therefore, this annoys me.

Where to go from there?

I guess we could talk about my endless crushes and infatuations after the Blake-episode.

Here's where I get a bit more honest than I would like...

After Blake there was Andrew (for awhile and throughout), Josh (for a year and a half), Eyal (for a second), Michael (for a time), Chad (for a summer), Henry (for a night) etc. (The strikeout is there for me to feel a little less vulnerable saying things I've never really told anyone, Stephanie aside. A way for me to hide behind a small HTML tag. Thank you for this indulgence. I feel less... naked.) Most of these are simply fleeting infatuations that are mostly just fun for me. To like someone for a little bit, daydream obsessively for a second, then move on. There were a couple scattered throughout that actually meant something to me, but I've learned to just accept that although I may want more with someone, it's usually not mutual.

Could that be a part of my un-date-able vibe? Do I so immediately assume that a current object of obsession won't like me back that I shut down the opportunity before I even let it happen?

That could be the case.

I'm hesitant to doubt myself in this matter. Not because I'm completely convinced of my infallible awesomeness, but because I don't think I'm a bad catch. I'm smart (despite being a psych major in a school full of engineers, doctors, researchers, and researching doctor engineers). I'm funny. I'm not freaking ugly. I would love "cute" and be thrilled with "pretty," though I might be wary if you called me "beautiful" and laugh in your face if you called me "hot" or "HAWT" or anything else remotely like that. I'm mostly happy with who I am as a person. And that's pretty good for me, since I can absolutely abhor myself sometimes.

(Come to think of it, I wonder if I could actually measure the amount I love myself and the amount I hate myself and what those things entail. Future blog post, yes? Line up my insecurities for all the world to see.)

I know I'm a neurotic and rough around the edges. I'm not the feminine girly girl, but I'm not the bad ass Joile kind of girl either. I'm an adaptable middle ground.

Ultimately, with time and patience, I think I will eventually make a pretty kick ass wife.

And therefore, I must admit, those of you who have indeed passed me over, that's going to suck for you.

Ok, so maybe I'm a little convinced of my infallible awesomeness.

You know, I've never been on a date.

No, seriously.

Yes, I've had a boyfriend. I've even had boyfriends.

But I've never been on a real date.

I know this sounds corny, but I would really like someone just to ask me out. Show a little interest. Let me know that I'm not the girl you wouldn't even have sex with in post-apocalyptic world where you and I are the only survivors.

I say I've never been on a date because in truth I haven't. I've never been on one of those "You look cute today in the coffee shop and I would like to get to know you better dates." Granted, those are the ones Joshua Harris warns us good Christians against. But all I'm asking is for one. Heck, I would take one with someone I know.

I've always done the good dating thing-- be friends first, get to really know a guy before taking that next big step into a relationship-- but you know what? I epically fail at that because by the time we get to the "next big step" I'm usually head over heels infatuated and then I'm the crazy girlfriend because I've waited so long for this moment and then I'm clingy and awful and obsessed and absolutely bat shit insane.

Guys, you are definitely wanting to date me now.

HELLO UN-DATE-ABILITY VIBE!
I can feel it.

I mean when the friendships I had with guys turned into relationships, it never felt like dating. We were still hanging out. There was never anything special or exciting or anything that really changed from the friendship. Is courting the friendship? Getting to know each other in groups and then eventually alone? The only thing that ever changed was that now it was ok to hold each others' hand.

Personally, I kind of find a lot of fault in the "friends to relationship" because the only thing that's really different seems to be the physical. And that gets me in a lot of trouble.

So, I would like to go out on a date.

Nothing special. Let me get dressed up and take me to a dinner and a movie. Preferably one I would enjoy. But don't worry, I like movies where things get blown up and there's a lot of gratuitous violence more than the run-of-the-mill romcoms Hollywood shits out every other month. It's not as painful as it would seem, is it?

I don't know what is the ultimate factor of my un-date-ability. It could simply be God protecting me since He knows I go all crazy and He's keeping me safe until the guy who won't mind comes along. And that's fine with me. Well, as much as a single-for-awhile twenty-year-old girl can be fine with it. It still doesn't mean I can't wonder and write about and obsess over in the mean time. It could be any of the multitude of things that I've already talked about. It could be something I've never even considered.

So, I'm asking you, dear readers, my friends, those who are supposed to be honest with me, what do you think makes me this way?

Resolutions and Redemption: The Return to Sporadic, Prolific Blogging

Sometimes I forget I am in college.

That's weird, right?

I think it is.

See, I forget until someone unknowingly snaps my mind back into my brain and brings the fact into obvious light. I was walking down the street that spans from The Village and ends abruptly in the T-intersection in front of the plastic bubble building everyone asks about but no one ever seems to have a real answer as to what happens inside of it situated conspicuously in the inbetween of the Muir upper and lower parking lots, on my way to (of all things) PSYC176: Creativity when it happened this past Thursday. It was simply two boys, one of his longboard and one on his bike, pedaling and pushing after each other, who brought me back to the world in front of me with a single we question-- "Are we going to OVT or Cafe V?" It seemed so normal; a question that everyone on campus would have asked at least once in their time here, at least since both buildings have been built and used as functioning dining halls (but I don't know if I should quite give that label to either as I'm still scarred by high school cafeteria lunches).
It was a part of an everyday lexicon that, had I not gone here, I would have never understood.
And that's when I remembered I was in college.

What can I say about my time spent in college? I'm not sure yet. I'm not sure if it's the place where I've discovered my self, tried new things, "experimented," found my life's purpose and path, found a political identity, found out what sex is really like in all its forms, made mistakes but learned from them. I'm not sure what this place is for me at all.

I'm tempted to call it a continuation of my high school existence, a place of waiting-for-the-next-big-thing. But that would cheapen something I know is not either of those things. Though it feels like it in low moments.

I feel as if my time in college has been on this path I've never veered from. I picked psychology because that's what I've always felt I should and wanted to study "...because after years and years of school, something I'm good at, I could get a job where I could work all the time and make a ton of money to support my family and be comfortable, which is never something I've ever once had in my life." I started working at the thrift store because I love thrift store shopping, buying so many books that I don't think I'll ever get through all of them in my life (my home and school bookshelves are in overflow mode currently). I started doing the radio show because I wanted a time where I could listen to my music as loudly as I wanted (though it is not exactly the place I can do that). I got involved in iHop because I wanted to do something in iHouse that padded my application to get into it next year. I must say though, I continue going because I enjoy the people who go there and what we do. I pick classes that fit what I'm supposed to do, what I like, though they never end up seeming to go the way I wanted and I fall back into my memorize-regurgitate-forget pattern that I so dearly relied upon throughout my pre-college academia. I picked up a Writing minor so I could do the classes, though I feel like I might want to major in it more.

And honestly, I don't know what's bad about any of that.

Why do I feel like I have simultaneously explored new things but stuck to my comfort zone? Why do I feel like I've rebelled against the norm but fit amongst the many here? Why do I feel stuck but in retrospect know that that isn't the case at all?

I've been reading the Jessica Darling series after finally completing ownership of the entire series. I realize how much that girl had an impact on my college path. I applied to Columbia because she went there. I picked majoring in psychology because of the reasoning she did-- I analyze so much, might as well get paid for it. Ok, the two don't seem like much but now when reading her words, I feel less like this main character and I are so similar and more like "Wow, I definitely attempted to follow in her footsteps." I even write like she does. This currently-being-written blog SCREAMS "I am trying to be Jessica Darling" though it doesn't feel too far from myself. Also, she would never blog. At least as far as book three is concerned.
She has this boyfriend, Marcus Flutie, who I am obsessed with. I remember in eighth grade when my passionate love affair with Jessica Darling began, I obscured the pink canvas of my Jansport backpack with "I heart MF." I think he would be my Marcus Flutie because of the awkward history we have together. It's a history I'm not going to dabble in on the for-everyone's-eyes Internet, but it's a history that's never had a real closure for me. It's a little unstable.

I've been wondering what it would be like to get back into contact with Nate and I even looked him up on myspace because I knew that's where he would be. I wondered what he would think if "Chelsey"-no picture, no profile, no nothing- were to contact him out of the blue with a friend request. I wonder if he would remember who I was.

I feel as if there were anyone currently in my life like Marcus, it would be Josh. He's really opened himself up to new things it seems- vegetarianism, Habitat for Humanity, the Peace Corps, doing things I could never dream of doing. Ok, I'm making him sound like some super-liberal-left-wing-nutcase, but I don't see that in Josh at all. He's not that kind to shove opinions down anyone's throat which is just one of the things saves him from being the stereotypical-Save the Whales-dreadhead and being labeled as anything but awesome. He's not into this stuff for political reasons- maybe the vegetarianism- but because he likes them. I remember meeting him in his sophomore year and how he seemed really young and lost in life. Seeing how much Josh has changed since then is a really neat thing. I think he's still a lost though, which is something I think he will fully admit to.

I like the way Josh lives his life though. I don't know how to define it but I don't think I could ever do it, whatever "it" is. I just definitely know it doesn't include this downer, socially phobic, judgmental, close-mindedness thing I have going on. I don't know how to change that though.

Because today is the first day of that time of the month where my body violently turns on itself and attempts to rid itself of all that my uterus has been holding onto, I've been stuck in bed eating Froot Loops straight from the bag and reading Jessica Darling. Reading these books have brought up a lot of new things to think about and I fell into of those thought-naps where you're asleep but it feels like you've been thinking the whole time.

I knew I had been asleep, yet I still woke up wondering why my room was dark, why I hadn't seen the divine blend of colors reflected against the sterile white walls of my dorm room. I was still surprised that time had passed at all though I was in the same on-my-side position with my had holding my place in my book and my heating pad lying on top of my raised hip.

However, I knew it was time to start blogging again.

Weird, huh?

I've been thinking about coming back to really blogging for awhile now. Not that shit I've randomly posted from time to time this past summer and quarter. Something more real.

I've had my doubts about this blog. First, it was merely something to be creative in. Then it was influenced by Hyperbole and Half's wit and comic autobiographical epicness and turned into this must-produce-must-advertise-must-must-must thing that ended up sucking all the fun out of it. And I haven't really been able to go back to it since.

Also add onto the fact that I don't feel like I can be honest on here because of the 20-something people who read it. I'm not that vulnerable, ok? I can't spread my life like that for people. I'm much more of a closed-off, in-my-shell, don't-ask-me-how-I'm-doing-unless-you-want-a-lie kind of girl. I have to work up telling my best friend things, but that's as far as I'm willing to work at the moment.

Well, except for the fact that I'm attempting a new blog yet again. I shall not advertise; I shall not tell anyone that I'm really writing again and trying to write openly and honestly (except for the one event that shall remain "The Event" for legal and safety purposes); I shall not let the blog become a must.

I think these are the New Resolution's I will make.