(Unfortunately) She's Just That Into You

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Or she's not! But either way you won’t get it or accept it. Either way we women are screwed. Screwed I tell ya! Nothing we do is ever satisfying enough. Yup, I know we've heard this broken record from men about women before but I've got a few recollections here to prove otherwise; and, well honestly, a call out to men and women. Don't you think it's time we cut the crap? These sickening dysfunctional mind games that put no one at ease at the end of the day?

What a ridiculous world we live in today where a woman’s feelings are not as valued as a man’s, but then again where in this world is a woman valued as much as a man? It becomes such a frustration when these double standard type situations arise and no one recognizes the significant impact they place upon societal standards and upbringing. Since when was romance biased? Only a beautified rush when a man conducts it and not when a woman?

Why is it welcome with open arms when a man confesses his feelings for a woman but not the other way around? If a girl merely expresses just a slight interest in a man who appeared worth her valuable time she’s dubbed a “crazy, emotional, obsessive stalker,” despite the fact that she really doesn’t do anything excessive. You know, treats him normally, like a friend, says yes when he invites her, manages to smile a little more when she’s around him, and enjoys his presence. Somebody call the stalker police, all hell seems to have broken loose!

Now let’s take this one step further. She’s interested, so by some unknown standard of some invisible law, he automatically has to be turned off, right? Because apparently men only want the chase. The mystery and confusion of the elusive character they mistakenly called woman. The sad truth is most of us women are pretty straightforward and decent, we just run around in circles trying to comprehend the elusive creature called man. But see here’s the first piece of crap we need to cut. I don’t believe this whole “men are from Mars women are from Venus” shpeel. At the end of the day we are both human, living on this poor earth that has enough damage and suffering. Why must we add on to that with such ridiculously petty useless games? We are people with hearts and minds and all we have to do is just use them. But we don’t…or most don’t.

Just last week I spent an evening at Starbucks enjoying a warm summer-like breeze. After a good ten minute inside out search of my purse I came to accept the fact that I really did forget my headphones at home and so I had to settle for the musical tunes of the various conversations each surrounding table was having. The two older Persian men in front of me were having a heated debate—only bits of which I understood thanks to the similarities between Arabic & Farsi and the fact that it was being drowned out by the obnoxiously loud women on the adjacent table. Then there was that one girl, sitting at the table behind me, deeply engrossed in the phone conversation she was having.

“I’m just like you Jason. We’re two peas in a pod!” She let out a small laugh before continuing. “Except different sexes. So honestly if you like her then just tell her. I mean she’s shown interest in you as well, so what’s the problem?” Suddenly I was intrigued. Were my ears deceiving me or was there a man out in this 21^st century struggling to confess his feelings for a woman, wishing she would end his misery and confess first? Ah what a concept! But dear sir, when we do such things you do not rejoice!

However, back to our original non-Renaissance scenario. So a woman is into a man, and he’s freaked out—just by that mere fact—and he slips into his awful moody rejection phase and either says no or acts it. (Look, I get it if she’s seriously stalking you, plotting out your wedding day after you just met, and already talking like you two are something, I definitely suggest running. I would do the same. But the bottom line is most women are really not like that, but most men take every damn nice thing a woman does as overkill. We women will forever suffer from a rare form of male PTSD.) Now our scenario girl has to move on and abandon the hopes her heart couldn’t help but generate. Her interests and feelings are of no real value because, well, she’s a woman.

If it was the other way around (which it has been in my and many other women’s cases) and the woman says no, we’ve sinned. We’ve made a stupid decision and rejected an opportunity we may never receive again—like these men were just doing us a favor. And you know what, those men actually treat us that way. At first our rejection is laughed off, denied, then they try again and the sly backhanded compliments come out. So then when we try and defend our dignity and well-deserved self-respect we are dubbed b*****s with attitude problems. Ridiculous! Those kinds of b*****s you don’t want? Just the cold Kardashian looking vixens?

It’s far worse when we are reprimanded by other women for not having mutual interests in those men. “Why did you say no to him?” she asked as we stood still in the bumper-to-bumper traffic on the 101 Freeway. “He and I are not compatible with each other. I don’t look for love but rather a man I can envision my life with now and in the future. He’s not the one I see. Not my type.” She wasn’t impressed. “So?” she asked. I nodded my head as I looked away from her and back at the sea of red lights before me. I was nodding not in approval of her but rather in acceptance that this is the sad reality we are sinking in. In my head I wondered why every man I ever desired couldn’t just say the same thing. “So what if I am not attracted to her? Into her? Or her type? Let’s throw caution to the wind and give her a shot anyway?”

The funny thing is, from my experience, every man I had to politely decline was someone that I not only couldn’t envision my life with but someone that started to trail down that stalkerish, obsessive, controlling, flawed path. You know, messages six times a day, consistent attempts to try and change my stubborn refusal, creepy sudden awareness of my personal life, etc. So our rejection reasons were legitimate, but it leaves us women wondering: when we don’t take those disturbing paths ourselves with the men we are attracted to, what inspires them to head the other way? And what on earth attracts the shady characters to camp out in our way?

Is it because suddenly we can manage an unconscious Kardashian vixen cold front with the men we are absolutely turned off by? So they want us now? Because suddenly we appear like a chase-able alpha female? And then the men we do find intriguing, the ones we give time and space and wait for them to make a move, what? They mysteriously have some sort of sonar that senses the internal vibe of attraction we make such an effort to hide?

Here are my final wise words of venting. I believe in that Golden Rule: Treat people the way you want to be treated. Honestly I take it as literally as it could possibly be taken. The man that I don’t want to hear from, I can’t help but desire not talking to him. Especially after I made that fact clear and he doesn’t seem to comprehend it despite the number of years senior he is to me. And the man that I am intrigued by, that I’ve maturely deduced as a potentially decent value to life, well I can’t help but desire to communicate with him. And by communicate I certainly don’t mean hourly text messages, bombarding emails and surprise appearances at events I found out about through his Facebook wall. I mean just slowly getting to know him, trying to get together through social events and projects because the desire to see him will be natural, and just enjoying the passage of time with him till we reach whatever destiny has set for us.

(Unfortunately) she’s just that into you, and at the end of this 21^st century day, you just may not be damn well worth it after all because you probably won't care.

R.I.P. Normal Monday Morning

“You have beautiful eyes,” he said as he put his hand on the door. “You both do,” he added nodding towards my friend. “Beautiful. Even you in the back there, cleaning the mirrors.” In the coldest tone ever I muttered a thank you in hopes that it would get him out sooner. He lingered. Why do they always?

Some women have a special energy, an unexplainable aura that attracts the crazies, and it's usually the women that are truly brilliant females with beauty and brains. The ultimate catches. And I will confidently (and finally) state that we are: The three of us women that remained in the quiet Pure Barre studio after yet another fantastic session.

Lingering in the small and cozy lobby became second nature for me after almost a year of attending. It’s like a second home with another amazing family, especially when I get together with these girls. It’s like talking to my soul sisters. Different parents, different faiths, different lives but absolutely similar in everything else. And all it winds down to finding the humor in its simplicities and complexities. So as another seemingly normal morning came into a close so did our conversation…that was until Mr. Slim Shady walked through our studio’s door.

“What’s that guy doing?” Brit asked as she caught a glimpse of him through the glass windows before he came in. I dared not turn around having been used to the shadiest of characters in our lovely Seacliff Village. After all, just 24 hours earlier I was bombarded by a preaching member of some SoCal church congregation, eager to help me with a “proper placement in one of the churches per the Lord’s request.” Every other word was “Praise the Lord” and I began to wonder if she misunderstood me when I said, “Oh yes, I saw the signs [of the church] last week.” Her eyes widened with excitement. “Praise the Lord! I’m ecstatic!” I smiled and told her Pure Barre was about to start in two minutes. (Yes, I’m THAT addicted! #purebarrelife.)

But before I could even ask Brit what she saw through the window he walked in. The shadiest of characters, this man stood at 5’8, raggedy black plaid shorts, dark gray hoodie, ratty old beanie, various facial scabs and a tall almost empty iced vanilla coffee cup from our neighbor Starbucks. Brit and I exchanged the look of “Oh Crap!” as he walked in super jumpy and erratic.

“Hey! What is this place?!?” he called out with great enthusiasm. As if she read my mind, Brit whipped the most brilliant of white lies praying that this guy would get the message. “This is a women’s ballet fitness studio.” We failed. “Oh I love women and I love ballet. Can I stay?” It was clearly a rhetorical question as he found his way to a seat beside me on the couch.

After what felt like an eternity later but only totaled 20 minutes he had given us the most detailed backstory of his apparently magnificent life. An aspiring UFC fighter in training, this late 20s/early 30s something encountered quite a run in with the police due to his undeniable strength (having been able to get through fights as the champion in a matter of minutes), and a lovely 365 days within the state prison because he merely “shoved” his ex-wife out of the bathroom door because she wouldn’t allow him to take a shower. But of course that was only because she kneed his son in the back of the head. He also prefers using his feet verses a car—after all gas prices are still sky rocketing—and he generously invited Brit (and our boyfriends) to join him camping in his lovely beach pit somewhere between Laguna & Seal Beach.

Keeping a polite demeanor is quite difficult for me when I’m uncomfortable, especially around men so hats off to Brit who kept her cool during this entire unwanted exposé. But then again, she wasn’t inches away from him, feeling the smoky stench of his breath on her neck when he explicitly expressed how he is suffering from an awful sexual frustration. The one he has been unwillingly enduring after four awful heartbreaks (the last being a year ago, leaving his gentle heart shattered into thousands of pieces). Apparently ice chomping and fighting have been his release. The bad news was his cup of ice was three cubes away from empty! At that moment I needed a whole other release from this character who was far too close to my body. Kudos to Jay who tucked herself away safely in the back of that studio cleaning the mirrors over and over and over!

Little did we know that we were also in the presence of a literary genius who only stopped writing due to the fact that his works were being stolen and making everyone else but himself rich. “Where are my royalties?” he shouted. I smiled sheepishly wondering if this would end soon. Leaving those girls behind was the last thing I intended on doing but I had an appointment to get to.

“Why do all the pretty girls I meet end up having boyfriends?” he asked when we all alluded to their existence—despite the fact that all we’ve been able to really attract are the ones who put out every interested signal and disappear or are most likely related to this lovely character. “It’s a dog eat dog world out there,” Brit said so nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders. That’s when I knew we had to do something. My trusty iPhone was leaving an imprint in the palm of my right hand because of how tightly I held on to it. Calling Brit or the cops seemed ideal but seeing as how he literally could see what I was dialing I called Pure Barre instead.

The studio phone rang and I realized I should have texted Brit a heads up because as she answered eagerly thinking it was a client her voice came through my phone loud and clear. We exchanged wide eyed glances and I hung up, leaving her leeway to continue pretending she was on the phone with a customer. Of course this meant Slim Shady was now focusing on me. “Is that the iPhone?” Without even turning I said, “Yes.” He exhaled loudly. “Don’t you hate how they are tracking your every move? They know everything about you and what you do and say, you know that?” I pulled out my car keys and stood up. “That’s why I have all applications and GPS settings off. It’s merely my text and call tool.” He wasn’t impressed. “That doesn’t matter. They are still following you,” he said as he stood up closer to me.

If Will Smith is right and Fear Is A Choice I can tell you it was my number one choice here. I walked towards Brit, who was milking that whole client on the phone shpeel, my eyes begging for help yet my mouth trying to withhold the involuntary laughter that I knew was bound to burst out the moment he (hopefully) departed.

“Maybe I’ll come back when there’s a ballet session and watch all you ladies dance,” he said as he mimicked a plié and leg lift, arms movement included. Again, my sheepish smile. That’s when he finally made his way to the door, ice cup completely empty, and reiterated his fascination in our beauty.

Only after we ensured our safety and announced the need to lock that damn door did Brit get off the fake phone call and I let out the long awaited burst of laughter. “Holy crap!” was all we could say. From the back Jay called out, “Oh my god!” and that only sent me into a deeper laughter realizing she had found refuge in a bottle of Windex and paper towels. But she was not forgotten. No, Slim Shady did acknowledge her beauty and cleaning efforts as he walked out of our studio.

“Where do these people find me?” Brit asked. I shook my head and smiled. “Girl, it must be the vibe our presence together is sending because I attract his type as well.” I resisted the temptation to shout, “Praise the Lord” because no one would have understood the reference. But it’s true; I must admit it was something I would praise the Lord for. Only women like us encounter these experiences because women like us can fathom the humor and brilliance out of these adventures. Conjure up comedy, blog pieces and lessons to enjoy. After all, that’s why I started Lady Narrator. It’s my realization that I will forever make sure to find beauty, comedy and adventure in even the littlest of things I experience in my life. And although I titled this R.I.P. Normal Monday Morning, I will confess, normal is so underrated in my life. Instead I will go on being myself, recognizing the confidence that I have to dig deep for every day, and analyze every bit of it like I love to.

So after he left I couldn’t help but wonder aloud, “What are these men thinking when they graciously approach us? Are their expectations really high enough to have hoped one of us would take the place of his ice cup? Believe his ridiculous stories? I mean what?” But just like Brit said, Slim Shady is one of many. He’s not the first ex-con I’ve been approached by. I’ve even been lucky enough to get a man IN prison pursue me via email and phone. How the hell he got my information is beyond me!

I guess the morals of Lady Narrator’s story today are: (1) next time lock the door once class is over, (2) at least I’ve met my soul mates who can enjoy these experiences maturely and intelligently and (3) Praise the Lord! We are safe and sound…except of course for the fact that we all have iPhones and are currently being stalked by Apple Inc. and whoever else they work with on tracking their customers.