I’ll never understand boys. And no, this isn’t going to be some melo-dramatic-woe-is-me tale about some lost, confused, insecure girl just trying to find love. Psh, give me at least 10 years until I bring the “L” word into play.
This is about how I, a borderline-cynical 21 year old girl who will end up living alone with 5 dogs and be completely happy about it, will never understand boys. Unless of course, that boy has fur, a tail, and wants nothing but a pet on the head and a bone (no pun intended).
I came to this conclusion not too long ago after getting asked out by a few different guys for seemingly obscure (to me at least) reasons.
Scenario 1:
I am a college student. Therefore I, being a college student, am as broke as Topanga’s heart was when Cory kissed another girl in the Mountain Lodge. When I found out that my lovely, trustworthy bank was taking out $10 a month simply because I am a poor college student, I was livid. I was ready to march right over to said bank and give them my two cents. (Not literally, I need those pennies…)
I had this whole angry speech prepared about how they shouldn’t be taking money away from me, I was going to switch banks, this is unfair, etc and so on. I stepped right on into the bank where I was asked:
“Can I help you?” by a nice young gentleman.
Yes, yes you can sir! This is a disgrace! I am leaving this bank! I am disgusted that you are charging me a $10 monthly fee! I am a STUDENT! I am the future of America! How is this just? How is this fair?
…is what I should have said.
And instead, I blurted out in between sobs “I have no money and you guys keep taking money from me and I just, I don’t have any more to give. And it’s not fair.”
*Tears rolling down my face*
To make a long story short, the nice guy consoled me, fixed my account, and then e-mailed me further information. We continued e-mailing professionally about how sucky the bank is and my poorness and my new account that won’t charge me the steep fee of $10/month….
and then the e-mails turned into “Where do you go to school? What’s your major? Do you like to travel? Would you like to go out to dinner one night?”
…WHAT? How did that even happen? I came to you SOBBING about being broke, complained about your place of employment via e-mail, and you….you ask me out!?
Did my wet tear-soaked cheeks turn you on? Or was it my shaky voice resembling that of a two year old’s that did you in?
Naturally I said yes, exchanged phone numbers, and neglected to tell him when I was back in town…
Scenario 2:
I can’t remember if this was during my fall break or my Thanksgiving break, but it was over a break, and that’s what matters. I was home from school and decided to head out to a local bar with some of my friends from home.
On this particular night, my, should I say, more-affluent (or hardworking…whatever) friend Drouche* (name has been changed) decided to treat me and our friends to drinks all night.
All…Night… Free drinks…all night… If I was paying for myself, Lord knows I wouldn’t have imbibed nearly as much alcohol.
And so, by the end of the night I was feeling quite alright. As we were exiting the bar, we realize we have to wait outside for our taxi, and for Drouche to finish his cig.
And that is where I met the bouncer. (Or bartender? Or just a worker at the bar? Hell if I remember). The bouncer and I chat for a bit…apparently… not quite sure about what.
I do slightly recall mentioning rugby, which is the sport I play in college. And with the mention of rugby, my friends chime in “She’s a lesbian! She likes girls!”
While there is nothing wrong with that, for the record, I am in fact not a lesbian. And I do like boys.
And as we were leaving, the bouncer/bartender/worker-man asks for my number. As I am giving it to him, Drouche takes it upon himself to tell my potential-mate that I have a leg-hair fetish…
Drouche elaborated that I am so obsessed with men leg hair, that I go around shaving their thighs and knit sweaters out of the collected hair.
And then the taxi came, so I had no time to deny my leg-hair fetish, nor the fallacy that I like girls, and so I waved goodbye to bouncer/bartender/worker-man and expected never to receive a text from him…
Next day, “Hey, want to go out some time?”
WHAT!? What. HOW? You were told a) I wasn’t into your gender b) I like leg-hair c) I shave men’s thighs and then knit sweaters out of it….
Even as unbelievable as B & C may be, clearly my friends are some strange ones, why on earth would you want to get involved with that?!
Conclusion:
These aren’t the only strange circumstances in which I’ve been asked out. For example, there was that guy on Christmas Eve who asked me out while I was helping him pick a Vera Bradley bag out for his mother because I was a sassy salesperson and clearly made fun of him while at work, but these two instances really stand out.
What is it about my neediness and sobbing that attracted the guy in scenario #1 ? Or what was it about my inebriation mixed with strange accusations made about my hobbies and sexual preferences that attracted the guy in scenario #2?
Or, even more, what was it about the fact that I was sassy and picked on the guy on Christmas Eve that made him interested?
I am in no way trying to generalize guys into being attracted to the same thing here, since obviously these are three very different scenarios (the many attributes of myself shining through), but they don’t seem to be the usual reason a guy asks out a girl, do they?
In fact, seeing as my generation is one of a hook-up culture as opposed to “dating”, I have only ever been asked out on a “date” a handful of times, and these are 3 of those few…
Does a girl have to show something unique, crazy, strange, or sassy in order to attract a man these days? In order to be seen as worthy of a “date” ?
Should I start bursting into parties drunk and sobbing wearing sweaters made of leg-hair throwing out sassy remarks about how I’m a lesbian in order to attract a mate?
Is everyone so freakin’ average these days that something obscure and random is what’s needed to gain attention of others?
Or are we all too afraid to let our inner weirdness & emotions show, and so once we have those momentary slips in character, finally we are noticed again?
Tales Of A Twenty-Something 