Well I’m starting to remember why I serial date. After one week, one little tiny week of having no one to hold me or call me pretty, my confidence is shot. I mean I am still having a blast with friends, pouring my heart and soul into academia, and shopping like I’m Paris Hilton (except I’m doing it at Target). And yet while my friends sit there at dinner talking about their boyfriends or potential boyfriends or imaginary boyfriends, I can’t help but feel like the frumpy loser friend.
Now all of my friends think my man fast is hilarious, and all of them are beyond supportive of my endeavor. And they constantly remind me, “You know, you could have a guy right now if you wanted.” But then my mind starts turning…could I? I mean the whole reason I secretly started writing this thing is because lately I seem to have lost my mojo. Back before I turned 20 and got cellulite on my ass (I swear, God gave me cellulite for my 20th birthday), I had a new guy asking me out every week. Now my options were dwindling…and my God, I am only 20.
You’re constantly hearing from people that 30 is the new 20. That women are getting sexier with age, and the line between “young lady” and “middle aged” has been blurred by Botox. But listen…any college lady worth her weight in Busch Lite knows that the phrase, “I’m a junior” is the kiss of death at any party. Whether the guy is a freshman or a senior, it seems that the idea of fresh blood is far more appealing. Now there’s only a two year difference here, so I doubt my looks have severely declined since the age of 18. In fact I find I carry myself better, am more confident and secure in my own body. There is a better explanation for this.
It is probably true that the upstanding gentlemen on frat row single out the freshmen because those girls don’t recognize the effects of GHB right away. But let’s not write this entire phenomenon off as a symptom of douchebaggery. Is there something the wide eyed, tube top clad freshman girls are offering? And I mean besides a lack of discretion in who they fellate.
Well, as usual, I think I may have an answer. And it’s simple. They ain’t bitter yet. By junior year you have been used, you have been hurt, burned, embarrassed, and don’t have the capacity to endure one more walk of shame. But when you’re a freshman, everything is new and exciting, and you really believe that Matt Frat might be your next great love. And there is something not only appealing about that naïve attitude, I will venture to say there is something beautiful about it. The younger you are, the easier it is to love like you’ve never been hurt.
The older you get, the more you fall into patterns. You start feeling like you’ve met the same guy 500 times, and are less inclined to believe that someone can be different. They are guilty until proven innocent, and it takes an unbelievable amount of time and energy and flowers and apologies for a man to convince a wise woman. When you’re younger and untainted, you feel attraction in its purest form. You consider whether or not you’re attracted to the person, if you find them smart and funny and awesome. The older you get, the more variables there are. Are they secretly just like Johnny Exboyfriend? Are they lying to you like all the other men on the planet besides your daddy? Are you yourself even ready to be in a relationship right now?
So yeah, why was I fighting off guys with a stick at the age of 18, and suddenly spend every Friday night with Jose Cuervo at the age of 20? Maybe because at the age of 18 my expectation was simple: To meet someone cute and fun who I could have cute fun with. And now at the age of 20 the expectation is: To meet someone so amazing they can completely restore my lack of faith in mankind caused by the past two years of dating torture. Yeah, those are some big shoes to fill, and maybe it’s no wonder most guys hightail when they figure that out.
I now wonder which attitude is worth it. I suppose I could always reset to my old mindset of just finding some cool guys to have fun with. To keep it light, not get invested, and try not to get too hurt. Or I could wait around for someone willing to take on the tough job of earning my trust, no matter how many spoonfuls of frosting and cries with my mom it means. Is true love, if it exists, worth all the lonely nights?
I could be having lots of hot make outs with lots of hot strangers, and get lots of expensive dinners with lots of guys who want in my pants. Is it fulfilling? No, not really. But is it more fun than sulking alone in your room wearing black stretch pants and a pudding stained shirt? Yes, yes, and God yes. So I suppose that given the choice, I would reinstate my policy of searching for Mr. Right Now. But after all the disappointment and rejection, the question really becomes…Can I ever go back to dating like I haven’t been hurt?
In that awkward age between teen dream and cougar,
Ivy
No comments:
Post a Comment