They say that acceptance is the first step towards recovery. With this in mind I’ve decided to face the fact that no matter how pulled together, no matter how seemingly “with it” I like to think I am, from time to time my crazy gets the better of me. My friend Marshall (voice of reason type of guy) likes to remind me that all girls are crazy; that given the right situation and the right set of circumstances we will all over analyze, all play the what-if game, and all cross that imaginary line that separates our amazingly fabulous 97.5% of the time self from our 2.5% of the time self. The 2.5% self that even I don’t want to admit I know. You know the girl, the one who does things that make you sit back and shake your head and say “yeah, I wouldn’t have called me back either.”
I realize that by using the word “all” I am committing a gross generalization. There are girls that play it cool every single time, the girls that never call too much, the girls that have found the perfect balance between mystery and availability, and the girls that never, ever look desperate. I know these girls; I am friends with these girls; I secretly hate these girls because I will never be a member of their club. As you may have guessed from this declaration I am without a doubt a 2.5% girl.
The good news is that the difference between a 2.5% girl and a boiling the rabbit girl is that the 2.5% girl isn’t necessarily crazy she just occasionally does crazy things. She knows that she shouldn’t have written that unsolicited email that was designed to be just the right amount of wit, sass, and innuendo and ended up being none of those things (she knew what a bad idea it was the minute she sent it); she shouldn’t have sent that last text message since he never responded to the first two (always erase the phone number, always), and she knows that she shouldn’t use facebook/twitter/myspace to stalk him (but it is so hard not to, right?). She knows these things, she recognizes the issue, and she is working so hard on erasing them from her repertoire of tricks.
Now most of you are probably saying are you a moron? Have you never watched Sex and the City, have you never seen He’s Just Not That Into You? I know, I know…I should be better at this dating thing…I’ve been doing it for over half of my life, but I’m not. I make rookie mistakes every single day. If I could somehow start the dating process at about date #5 my relationship success rate would be so much higher. Part of me blames my friends and family because they keep telling me how great I am, that it’s his loss, that I am a catch (thanks Dad), but the truth is I am a disaster. I’m not great at the getting to know you part of dating (due to the afore-mentioned bad behavior) and the end tends to be ugly no matter who you are (things end for a reason). But I do have a bright shining star moment: I’m absolutely awesome in the middle. Once I get over the hump of impatience and ambiguity, I return to the 97.5% girl that I am so much prouder of being. You know, she isn’t demanding, she gives the proper amount of space, and she has finally stopped using sarcasm to deflect insecurity. I’m like a dream, really I am.
So maybe being the 2.5% girl isn’t the worst thing in the world. As Marshall also so astutely told me two weeks ago when I asked “why am I crazy” after sending an email that I would have given my first-born to take back…“because you were born that way Lyds”. We are who we are, and I’m a work in progress, slowly but surely learning from my mistakes. The 97.5% girl wouldn’t be half as appreciated if not for her 2.5% alter ego. Perhaps someday I’ll be closer to a 1.75% girl. Or perhaps I’ll just pack it in and get the cat.
you ARE great!!
[...] felt he believed those things about me, it would have gone differently, I would have been the 97.5% girl I know that I can be (we haven’t talked about her in a while), things would have ended [...]