Well…it happened. Last night I walked into the gym a normal sane person, one with a life outside the mirrors and wood floors, with friends who didn’t constantly monitor their heart beat every 15 minutes and who felt absolutely no guilt for eating an entire box of Oreo’s nor are they mathematicians, calculating how much time they have to spend on the Elliptical to work off said box of cookies. Yes yes I may have walked in normal, but I walked out (please insert ominous music building up to a crescendo to enhance the dramatization of this pivotal moment in my life) a creepy gym rat.
It was a subtle transformation, one I noticed towards the beginning of last week with the addition of a gym partner. A permanent one. This was an easy justification. I need the motivation. We will inspire each other. It’s a good time and a new friend. And that little twinge of omg what are you doing was quietly rubbed out. Then came, and this is with the greatest of affection, the gym bitch. My go to guy who answers all my questions, offers insight and instruction and who has literally over night become a staple to my/our work out regiment. Again, I rubbed away that twinge of what are you doing? Why are getting to know the staff? However, when I realized that I was coming often enough to recognize and create pet names for some of the other patrons in the gym I panicked slightly and justified this behavior as an attempt to make light of a situation that was slowly spiraling out of control. It started with aimless wanderer. This is the guy who wanders from machine to machine without rhyme or reason, reading the instructions, trying them out for about two reps before moving on to the next. Then it was Grunt man. He lifts free weights and apparently the exertion of the weights compels one to grunt…loudly…every single time it is lifted Then there was disinfectant boy, who as his name implies, goes from machine to machine with a bottle of disinfectant and all I hear is squirt squirt squirt….grunt….squirt squirt…grunt…while stuck in the 80’s man some how manages to constantly stay in my peripheral with his halved sweat shirt and matching head and wrist bands, all the while I’m trying to keep Mr. Universe (this is a constantly rotating label I give to who ever is the hottest guy working out upstairs at the time) in my eye line without looking like a stalker. Not as easy as one would imagine.
Then I showered at the gym. I broke my one rule, that no matter what, I would never, ever be one of those people that showered at the gym. But I did it, I knew at the time, as I stood there and let that hot water run over my tired and aching muscles, I knew I was crossing a line and I liked it. Oh yes. It felt good in a very very wrong way. And I knew it would do it again. After I broke this one personal rule, all the others where easily justified away. Over the next couple of days, I/we were referred to as regulars by the night staff, other patrons recognized us/me and spoke, I started favoring certain equipment over others, and mastered that I go the gym strut coupled with a sense of superiority. I pull it off quite nicely I think. Never mind the fact that the phrase “the gym” is dropped into just about every conversation I partake in, I bought shoes and clothes to wear there specifically (and those who know me well I can only imagine your shock) and virtually arrange my entire day around the time I will be going to the gym. And then there was tonight, tonight the transformation was complete. It was a relatively simple thing that happened, comparatively speaking.
I sat with my gym buddy in the women’s dressing room slathering Bengay over my body, forgetting that this incredibly outstanding ointment is like an aphrodisiac to gym people, discussing the discovery that the cute Mohawk headed boy who works the front desk is leaving. And then as I joked about having to beat the guys off with a stick from the wafting prowess of the bengay I realized that I was genuinely distressed that tonight was his last night. And I realized why. He was nice, and I looked forward to seeing him and having him say hi to me, asking me how I was doing so I could reply with my usual response, Outstanding, thank you. I was upset, because in only three weeks, I had gotten used to everything, and most importantly, I had come to find the consistency of it all comforting. Ta da…the transformation was complete.
Trust me, no one is more upset over this recent turn of events than me. I have become one of those people that until yesterday, I joked. I hate that I look forward to heading to the gym when I get off work, that the mere action of walking through the doors makes me feel better about myself both physically and mentally. I hate that I get a small thrill and honestly, all joking aside, get a little creeeped out with the changes in my body, such as the sudden appearance of an ass (I really wish somebody could see me naked and confirm this). And above all else, I absolutely loathe the fact that I feel…off… on the nights I don’t make it the gym.
I have resided myself to the fact that I have turned into one of those creepy gym people, and not one of the cool ones either. But one of the ones that get dubbed stupid nick names, that perpetually smell like bengay and grimace slightly every time they have to take the stairs because she knows her gym partner is going to look at her knee and ask if that’s where that crunching sound is coming from. Yes, yes, I have joined the ranks of all those that live for power bars and heart rates, where extra strength deodorant and a supportive sports bra are a must, where it’s ok to get naked in front of complete strangers on a daily bases (as long as your in the locker room) so on and so forth. I’m sure my creepy gym behaviors will continue to manifest in different and disturbing ways. But, at the very least by God, I’ll look good doing them.
Friday, June 19, 2009
End of Hell Week - I did it!
Well I did it. I have been smoke free for one whole week. I feel outstanding, I can breathe, I don’t stink, my teeth are getting whiter, food is starting to taste better ….everything is better. I am so proud of me. This was one of the most difficult things I have ever done, but the feeling of accomplishment more than makes up for the rough spots during the week, the surprisingly few times I lost my cool, had a nicotine attack and got rather…unpleasant and the massive amount of food I have consumed. Amazingly I have lost 6 lbs!!! So a great big thanks to the gym is in order, I’ve been going every night after work for the past 2 weeks, about 2 hours a day and I can really see the results. Honestly I think all the time I’ve spent in the gym and the abhorrent amount of water I have consumed have helped immensely and made this past week a lot more bearable. I also want to send out a very BIG thank you to my two best friends Kate and Allison, Kate thank you for making the effort to always have your phone on you and talking me through those rough patches. I love you and don’t think I would have done it with out your support. Allison, you’re the only person in the whole world who can take me being mean to them so well. I am sorry I was a bitch…those couple of times, but thank you for forgiving me and being so understanding. I also want to thank God…yes I really did type that and I’m not being sarcastic. I prayed very very hard (yes. I do f-ing pray) and I know that he has been moving in my life in very mysterious and wondrous ways. Well now that my blog reads like an Oscar acceptance speech I should skedaddle, I just got home from the gym and I stink so a shower is in order…there’s also a box of WW cookies calling my name….
p.s. I’ll be working on a new instatement to my relationship urban legends blog hopefully this week. I’m having trouble concentrating from the nicotine withdrawal and I also have to learn how to redo some things, such as writing at my desk with out getting up every 30 mins to go smoke…the ciggs helped me think. But I’m working on it.
Hell Week - Day 2
Hell Week-Day 2
I did it. I’m a quitter. Yesterday I quit smoking. As Twain said, “quitting smoking is easy, I’ve done it thousand times” no true words have every been uttered. I’ve been holed up in my room for the past 48 hours, playing…of all things…the Sims. I keep reminding myself why I’m doing this. I’m doing this because since I started smoking, 13 years ago, I’ve spent 26,867 dollars on ciggs. I’m quitting because I’m not going to pay for state funded health insurance for children…heartless yes, sorry no. The increase in the federal sales tax on cigs is part of President Oboma’s economic stimulus plan. Socialism any one? I’m doing this because it stinks, I need money, when I do decide to start dating again I wont be limiting myself to only 20 % of the male population, and most importantly I’m quitting because one out of every two smokers will die of a smoking related illness. I have shit luck and I don’t like those odds.
These past two days have been crap. I feel, edgy and it’s hard to concentrate. Bijiggity even. I feel like I have nervous energy and I desperately desperately want to go smoke …right now. But I’m not…I’m blogging and I’m thinking about how I’ll feel when hell week is over. Directions, directions, I’m following the directions from the American cancer society on how to quit smoking. I am remaining calm. I have a quit buddy…(I love you Kate) I have crunchy snacks and cinnamon flavored gum. In the past 48 hours I have consumed 3lbs of grapes, 4 apples, a half ..who am I kidding…a whole pan of brownies, a box of weight watchers cookies, a whole head of broccoli, about 4 banana’s….ahh lets just say that I’m all out of my quit smoking provisions and thank god I joined a gym. I have made my mind up that I’m a quitting smoking, will not start again, and anyone who knows me at all knows this, once I’ve made my mind up to do something …I do it. And it’s hell getting me to change it, I’m a pretty stubborn bitch.
I did it. I’m a quitter. Yesterday I quit smoking. As Twain said, “quitting smoking is easy, I’ve done it thousand times” no true words have every been uttered. I’ve been holed up in my room for the past 48 hours, playing…of all things…the Sims. I keep reminding myself why I’m doing this. I’m doing this because since I started smoking, 13 years ago, I’ve spent 26,867 dollars on ciggs. I’m quitting because I’m not going to pay for state funded health insurance for children…heartless yes, sorry no. The increase in the federal sales tax on cigs is part of President Oboma’s economic stimulus plan. Socialism any one? I’m doing this because it stinks, I need money, when I do decide to start dating again I wont be limiting myself to only 20 % of the male population, and most importantly I’m quitting because one out of every two smokers will die of a smoking related illness. I have shit luck and I don’t like those odds.
These past two days have been crap. I feel, edgy and it’s hard to concentrate. Bijiggity even. I feel like I have nervous energy and I desperately desperately want to go smoke …right now. But I’m not…I’m blogging and I’m thinking about how I’ll feel when hell week is over. Directions, directions, I’m following the directions from the American cancer society on how to quit smoking. I am remaining calm. I have a quit buddy…(I love you Kate) I have crunchy snacks and cinnamon flavored gum. In the past 48 hours I have consumed 3lbs of grapes, 4 apples, a half ..who am I kidding…a whole pan of brownies, a box of weight watchers cookies, a whole head of broccoli, about 4 banana’s….ahh lets just say that I’m all out of my quit smoking provisions and thank god I joined a gym. I have made my mind up that I’m a quitting smoking, will not start again, and anyone who knows me at all knows this, once I’ve made my mind up to do something …I do it. And it’s hell getting me to change it, I’m a pretty stubborn bitch.
Relationship Urban Legend #274 The One Who Got Away...
Probably isn’t coming back….
We all have one, that indefinable ONE that got away, slipped through the cracks, joined the peace corps, got married what have you. While in their presence, violins played, fireworks exploded every time you kissed (even in the day time), and every love making sessions was something out of a Daniel Steel novel. We knew, we just knew, that we had found our soul mate, and then for what ever reason they left. Poof. No longer part of your life, usually with out much of an explanation. But life goes on, you get married, divorced, become a lesbian and forget about that one person who got you so completely, that made you so happy that if you didn’t allow your self to become numb to it, the pain of not having them in your life would render you socially and emotionally crippled. And then it happens. Your having lunch with an old friend, or see someone at the your high school reunion and you get asked a very simple question, Hey, do you remember? Do you remember so and so who was dating that guy for like forever and we all thought they were going to get married, but he disappeared in a freak spelunking accident 2 weeks before graduation. Well she got married, had like four kids and then a couple of years ago got divorced. You’ll never guess who she ran into at Starbucks! Yes, him. Apparently they found his body and he was in a coma for 12 years and the only thing he had on him was her senior portrait picture, which they used to track down his next of kin but it took so long she had already went to college and they couldn’t find her. So he’s on his way to physical therapy and stopped by Starbucks to get a latte and rolled right into her with his wheel chair. There getting married in June.
Now you have hope.
So you start to think. You think maybe, just maybe….no you can’t even dare put it into words. You pour over old year books, pull out the super secret hope chest that’s hidden under a loose floor board in your bedroom where you keep every single piece of memorabilia from the time you spent together. You find him on myspace, or facebook, and then stalk his page religiously every Saturday night while drinking a bottle of Boonsfarm. You read his blogs and every vague reference he makes to some random girl you wonder if he’s talking about you. He looks sad in his wedding pictures, so he must be thinking about you, he wont look at his girlfriend in her birthday party pictures, so he’s probably remembering your birthday party when you guys did that wild and crazy thing. Then you call your very old and very dear friend who was witness to your entire relationship and have her analyze, hypothesize, and relive every moment you to spent together a half a dozen times…(ahh please accept this as my formal written apology…you know who you are). And then, out of the blue maybe you see him, or maybe you get a phone call. And it rocks you to your very core. And you think, maybe, maybe this one guy who got away, is going to come back.
But here’s the thing. Barring some unfortunate accident where he had amnesia for 10 years, he’s not. He’s not ever going to come back. There I said it. Let’s just take a moment and let the words sink in. Go ahead and breath into your brown paper bag (god knows I did when I realized this) get mad at me, hate me, cry do everything you need to do. But when your done, please come back and finish reading. Because I’m going to tell you why. Time lapse-twenty minutes. Welcome back, see it didn’t kill you, but I’m sure you have questions. And the answer to every single question you might have is very very simple. He knew, and it was still not enough. He knew that you loved him, no matter what the nature of your relationship was, friendship or actual relationship, he knew how you felt, decided he didn’t and then walked away. Harsh, yes, but it’s the truth. Men, as much as it pains me to say this, are not as moronic as we think. They are perceptive. And there is nothing in this world that hurts more than to know that the one person who you valued above all else, for whatever reason found you lacking and did not want to spend the rest of his life with you. But when you can remove the rose colored hind sight glasses, and look at the past realistically, there’s a couple of things you’ll probably realize. More than likely, it wasn’t as good as you think it was. You where probably young, and in love which means stupid. You more than likely put up with a lot of horse cockery that you’d never put up with now. You might see that he took advantage of how you felt about him, that he was selfish and couldn’t do the right thing and let YOU go, so you could move on. Or that maybe, he wasn’t even that great of a friend to begin with. When you’ve realized that he actually did you a favor by walking away, well…that’s something to get excited about. Because although he may have decided that you weren’t enough…of whatever he was looking for at the time, there is somebody out there who will. There is somebody out there that knows that you’re an outstanding super hottie who will make them the luckiest guy in the world.
You may be thinking, but Shannon, what about that girl in the beginning of your story, or my friends cousin’s father’s roommate who wound up with her “one that got away”. Who after all those years realized his mistake and now there living the happily ever after fantasy. It happens. And you can’t tell me otherwise. Yes, your right, it does happen, which is why we have this particular Relationship Urban Legend. But what your not realizing is this, that those men who show up after years of separation, never really left to begin with. Though they may have been separated by time, space, or a medical condition, deep down in their heart they where always there. So their not really coming back and starting over, their coming back to pick up where they left off. And that is a very big difference. The right man is going to come along. The right man will never ever, choose his girlfriend over his best friend because the girl friend looks better, he will never pick his career over his wife (if it means him leaving her permanently), the right man will stop at nothing, move heaven and hell to get to you and stay with you. Becase the right man, will know how outstanding you really are, know that no one else will ever be able to compare, and ultimatly....the right man would never have left to begin with.
We all have one, that indefinable ONE that got away, slipped through the cracks, joined the peace corps, got married what have you. While in their presence, violins played, fireworks exploded every time you kissed (even in the day time), and every love making sessions was something out of a Daniel Steel novel. We knew, we just knew, that we had found our soul mate, and then for what ever reason they left. Poof. No longer part of your life, usually with out much of an explanation. But life goes on, you get married, divorced, become a lesbian and forget about that one person who got you so completely, that made you so happy that if you didn’t allow your self to become numb to it, the pain of not having them in your life would render you socially and emotionally crippled. And then it happens. Your having lunch with an old friend, or see someone at the your high school reunion and you get asked a very simple question, Hey, do you remember? Do you remember so and so who was dating that guy for like forever and we all thought they were going to get married, but he disappeared in a freak spelunking accident 2 weeks before graduation. Well she got married, had like four kids and then a couple of years ago got divorced. You’ll never guess who she ran into at Starbucks! Yes, him. Apparently they found his body and he was in a coma for 12 years and the only thing he had on him was her senior portrait picture, which they used to track down his next of kin but it took so long she had already went to college and they couldn’t find her. So he’s on his way to physical therapy and stopped by Starbucks to get a latte and rolled right into her with his wheel chair. There getting married in June.
Now you have hope.
So you start to think. You think maybe, just maybe….no you can’t even dare put it into words. You pour over old year books, pull out the super secret hope chest that’s hidden under a loose floor board in your bedroom where you keep every single piece of memorabilia from the time you spent together. You find him on myspace, or facebook, and then stalk his page religiously every Saturday night while drinking a bottle of Boonsfarm. You read his blogs and every vague reference he makes to some random girl you wonder if he’s talking about you. He looks sad in his wedding pictures, so he must be thinking about you, he wont look at his girlfriend in her birthday party pictures, so he’s probably remembering your birthday party when you guys did that wild and crazy thing. Then you call your very old and very dear friend who was witness to your entire relationship and have her analyze, hypothesize, and relive every moment you to spent together a half a dozen times…(ahh please accept this as my formal written apology…you know who you are). And then, out of the blue maybe you see him, or maybe you get a phone call. And it rocks you to your very core. And you think, maybe, maybe this one guy who got away, is going to come back.
But here’s the thing. Barring some unfortunate accident where he had amnesia for 10 years, he’s not. He’s not ever going to come back. There I said it. Let’s just take a moment and let the words sink in. Go ahead and breath into your brown paper bag (god knows I did when I realized this) get mad at me, hate me, cry do everything you need to do. But when your done, please come back and finish reading. Because I’m going to tell you why. Time lapse-twenty minutes. Welcome back, see it didn’t kill you, but I’m sure you have questions. And the answer to every single question you might have is very very simple. He knew, and it was still not enough. He knew that you loved him, no matter what the nature of your relationship was, friendship or actual relationship, he knew how you felt, decided he didn’t and then walked away. Harsh, yes, but it’s the truth. Men, as much as it pains me to say this, are not as moronic as we think. They are perceptive. And there is nothing in this world that hurts more than to know that the one person who you valued above all else, for whatever reason found you lacking and did not want to spend the rest of his life with you. But when you can remove the rose colored hind sight glasses, and look at the past realistically, there’s a couple of things you’ll probably realize. More than likely, it wasn’t as good as you think it was. You where probably young, and in love which means stupid. You more than likely put up with a lot of horse cockery that you’d never put up with now. You might see that he took advantage of how you felt about him, that he was selfish and couldn’t do the right thing and let YOU go, so you could move on. Or that maybe, he wasn’t even that great of a friend to begin with. When you’ve realized that he actually did you a favor by walking away, well…that’s something to get excited about. Because although he may have decided that you weren’t enough…of whatever he was looking for at the time, there is somebody out there who will. There is somebody out there that knows that you’re an outstanding super hottie who will make them the luckiest guy in the world.
You may be thinking, but Shannon, what about that girl in the beginning of your story, or my friends cousin’s father’s roommate who wound up with her “one that got away”. Who after all those years realized his mistake and now there living the happily ever after fantasy. It happens. And you can’t tell me otherwise. Yes, your right, it does happen, which is why we have this particular Relationship Urban Legend. But what your not realizing is this, that those men who show up after years of separation, never really left to begin with. Though they may have been separated by time, space, or a medical condition, deep down in their heart they where always there. So their not really coming back and starting over, their coming back to pick up where they left off. And that is a very big difference. The right man is going to come along. The right man will never ever, choose his girlfriend over his best friend because the girl friend looks better, he will never pick his career over his wife (if it means him leaving her permanently), the right man will stop at nothing, move heaven and hell to get to you and stay with you. Becase the right man, will know how outstanding you really are, know that no one else will ever be able to compare, and ultimatly....the right man would never have left to begin with.
Why I'm Crap. By Shannon Nguyen
I’m crap. I can admit it. It has been a really really long time since I’ve blogged. I know….*insert long melodramatic drawn out sigh here*…..I know. I’m sure, as my faithful readers, you all have been waiting on the edge of your seat , with bated breath shivering in anticipation for the next installment of my Relationship Urban Legends series, and it is coming. I promise, just as soon as I get it written. I will not insult you all with excuses, I’m quite obviously crap. But in my defense I would just like to say that what with saving the world on a daily bases while maintaining my level of total bad assness, rationalizing with Allison that the lepers who live in the compound in her fantasy land should have sunshine too and staging a very elaborate and tedious coup at work has left me creatively and mental drained. However, I’m hoping that this weekend will be used to recharge my batteries (I have a mud mask and a bottle of really cheap wine in my future) that I will be able to get the creative juices flowing again. In lue of an olive branch, please accept my deepest and sincere apologies and these words of hope: All is not lost, you are not doomed forever to bear the absence of my voice via blog format nor are you condemned to reread…constantly….. my older posts in the attempt to satisfy your craving’s for my brilliance. In a couple of days, all will be well, so in the meantime breath, relax and please please stop sending all the imaginary hate mail inquires that I’m pretending to be getting. It’s starting to creep me out.
Relationship Urban Legend #28
Relationship Urban Legend # 28
Looks Don’t Matter: Because they all look the same in the dark
Idontcare69: hey baby, I’ve been waiting for you
Pillsburyprincess: really, for how long?
Idontcare69: my whole life
Pillsburyprincess: you always say such sweet things to me
Idontcare69: so will you tell me what you like look?
Pillsburyprincess: can I see a picture of you first?
Idontcare69: sure baby, anything for you.
Insert picture via chat box of the hottest guy ever.
Idontcare69:so, what do you think? Tell me what you look like.
Pillsburyprincess: omg your hot
Pillsburyprincess: and your also the most funny and amazing man I have ever met/chatted with. I don’t think I’m your type
Idontcare69: what do you think my type is
Pillsburyprincess: well I’m not blonde and I don’t have an eating disorder
Idontcare69:lol
Idontcare69: just tell me baby
Pillsburyprincess: well, I’m 4’8 about 350 lbs, I have long stringy brown hair, brown eyes and because of my hump I walk with a slight limp…
Idontcare69: god you sound so beautiful can I have your number.
Pillsburyprincess: well I don’t talk on the phone very much…I have a speech impediment.
Idontcare69: please, I’ve never met a women like you before. I can’t stop thinking about you
Pillsburyprincess: I also have genital warts , nicotine stained teeth and some unsightly facial hair.
Idontcare69: I don’t care, baby, looks don’t’ matter.
This is obviously a dramatization. Because in real life, this will never, ever happen. I am probably going to have my woman card pulled (again) and get kicked out of the big girls club, but I’m going to say it. Looks matter. And when a man tells you that they don’t he is lying. It’s a numbers game really. We all know it, we all know our number and unless your rating yourself above a 7 we don’t talk about it. You see a girl who is a 10 on the hotness scale with a guy who is like a 9 . Or vice versa. What you seldom see is a 9 with a 2, or an 8 with a 1. It’s because that deep down, no matter how much we want to deny it, we all have a type. We all have a preference for certain physical qualities that attract us to the opposite sex. Research shows that people are attracted to symmetrical qualities. That’s why most movie stars are so incredibly good looking. There facial features are symmetrical. There eyes are the perfect distance apart, there lips are the exact amount of fullness. So on and so forth. And as much as I hate to say it. That’s ok. It’s part of our nature. We want to look good, and most importantly we want our mate to look good too.
It boils down to attraction. Because regardless of how outstanding you are ( and yes, we are totally bad ass outstanding women) there is absolutely no way for a guy to deduce that just from looking at you. I know, that in real life, because I’m still chunky, don’t have large breast and an ass that you can crack walnuts off of, that unless I’m wearing a sign around my neck that says: This person is the funniest, smartest, and most incredible women you will ever met. She is the women of your dreams and if you go up to her right now and get her number you will be the luckest man alive, that I’m going to get over looked at what ever venue I’m at where there are a large number of super foxes. And that’s ok. Because I know that I’m hot, and sexy( in a awkward way that makes most people uncomfortable), but I’m also not delusional.
I understand that we are a visually driven society and that just because the Mr. Universe didn’t think I was hot does not mean that he was a douche bag, and honestly, not only am I ok with it, I kind of want to encourage it. Not blatant shallowness. That’s wrong. But ultimately I think that having a type, or at the very least knowing who or what your attracted to, means you have standards. Personally, I don’t want to date the guy who has no standards. Should looks be the deciding factor, the most important thing on the scale, when deciding whether or not to date someone. No, they shouldn’t be. And they probably wont ever be. Because whether your aware of it or not, if you gone up to the girl in the bar, or given the guy your number, you’ve already decided if he/she is hot or not. Otherwise you wouldn’t be talking to them.
It happens though, very rarely, but you will see a Brad Pitt look alike with a Roseanne Bar type. And that is what keeps the Relationship Urban Legend that looks don’t matter in circulation. Because even though the harsh truth is that looks mater, they are also subjective. You not witnessing a rare mathematical phenomenon, what your seeing it that the guy who is a 10 is thinking that the girl he is with is a 10 also. What your seeing is an awesome and beautiful women on the inside making her outsides match. It’s about confidence, working with what you have, and taking care of yourself. It’s her feeling good about herself, regardless of what everybody else think she looks like. Men notice things like that. And it’s those rare women who are able to exalt that sexiness and confidence no matter what size they are, or how big their hump is that give everyone else hope. That mislabeled perception, that hope is why in high school you’ll see the geeky boy tear himself away from the D and D table to talk to the head cheerleader. And it’s also why you had to awkwardly console your bff around her head gear when she got rejected by the captain of the football team. Because although looks matter, that they will ALWAYS matter, the truth is that when the right guy comes along, whatever his number is, he is always going to see a perfect 10, as long as you see it in yourself first…or if it’s just very very dark.
Relationship Urban Legend #1
Relationship Urban Legend # 1
The Fixer-Upper: He Will Change, Because I will make him.
When I was in college I had a friend who’s cousin’s college roommate was dating a complete and utter douche bag. He cheated, he was verbally abusive, he drank, did drugs, gambled you name it. Virtually he indulged in every vice known to man. And then, they got married and almost over night, he became a changed man. His wife’s love and compassion, her strong will and her superhero abilities transformed him into the loving husband and devoted father he is today. Ok, this is quite obviously bull shit. However, we all have heard a story similar to this one about a man who had some horrendous personality trait that was systematically weeded out by the sheer strength of his girl friends will power. Essentially, she was able to change him. It was with stories like that in mind, which had been regaled to me in various forms, most of which from married friends and my mother, that several weeks before my wedding I found myself making a Pro’s and Con’s list about the man I was intending to marry. Yes really. On the con list, to name a few, where blatant insensitivity, selfishness, and gross immaturity. I debated, and several days later decided that those where traits I was willing to live with. I would settle, because his other qualities redeemed him. Or I thought I was making the conscious decision to live with them. What I was actually doing was ignoring them because, subconsciously, I figured I could change him later. Well, surprise, surprise…I was wrong.
This attitude that we women have, that we can change the things we don’t like about our significant other, is probably the biggest relationship urban legend in existence. Most likely, because to some extent it‘s based on fact. Or so we think. Every time I got him to stop peeing on the seat, or to close the cabinet door instead of leaving them open (oh my god, something that drove me absolutely crazy) was proof that I could bend him to my will, and those bigger things, like cheating on me, or the fact that he put just about everything on the more important than his wife list could actually be changed, it would just take longer. What I didn’t understand, until much much later, was that I wasn’t changing fundamental character flaws, I was just eroding bad habits. And unfortunately, most women never realize the difference, until it’s to late.
You are probably at the point where your thinking Yessssss Shannon I know that I can’t change people. THEY have to want to change themselves. Stop rolling your eyes. Because your still trying to do it. Think about it for a few moments. I’ll wait. Yes, I agree everyone knows this, but the point is that we women still try and do it, especially with men. I know I still do from time to time. For me, it’s because I tend to forget that men fall into the “people” category, and are subject to the same base laws of nature like everyone else, such as they have feelings, needs, and are not just inanimate objects subject to my will. Something that my friends continuously remind me of when dealing with them. Regardless of why we still continue to think that we can change our men, the point is that, unless he has some very key ingredients, the recipe for a whole new boyfriend, will fail. And unfortunately, the things on this shopping list are ones that only he can pick up.
For most, there has to be the ability to recognize that there might be something about himself that needs changing. This calls for a self awareness that most men, actually most people don’t poses. Once he realizes that there might be a need for change, he has to be able to recognize what exactly those things are that need to be remedied. He also has to have the tools to fix them. And most importantly there has to be a genuine desire to change, that‘s not being motivated or influenced by anyone other than himself. Unless he has done all this, no matter how strong your will is, or how determined you think you are, there is no amount of bitching, pleading, crying, nagging or bribing that is going to get him to stop doing the things that are hurting you.
You can not change him. There I said it. What you can do, however, is first figure out whether the man you are with actually has some deep rooted flaws or just bad habits. Bad habits, are just that, regularly repeated negative behavior patterns that one has picked up over the years. They are, but not limited to: the above mentioned peeing on the seat, dropping the F bomb in almost every conversation, never replacing the toilet paper roll when empty, ext… Character flaws, are much more serious and often much harder to spot. Lying, habitually cheating, insensitivity, laziness (and I’m not talking about laying on the couch trying to turn on the T.V. with Jedi mind tricks) alcoholism, drug abuse, being a horribly dresser. The list is endless. Once you have decided which category he falls into, then you have a decision to make. If it’s primarily bad habits that he is guilty of, then stay, and hope that he’ll eventually realize that it’s not ok to tell R rated jokes to your grandmother and will stop. Or leave and find someone with some class. If it’s the other, then make the conscious decision to stay, accept that you will never ever change him and then stop bitching about it. Or realize that you are a total badass, an outstanding women and walk away. Then go find the guy that you’ve been trying to turn your boyfriend into all along. Trust me, he’s out there and you deserve it.
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