Sunday, August 14, 2011

It is official: I hate dating.

I had another one last night. A date, that is. It wasn't necessarily a bad date. He was a gentleman. He had a quasi-plan for activities. He was really quite sweet.

But, in the wide spectrum of male to female sizing ratios, the dear man made me feel much more like this:

than this:
(Neither are preferable, of course. But these are the two ends of the aforementioned spectrum.)

I am not a tall girl. In fact, I'd say I'm just shy of average. But Mr. Former Soccer Player had me feeling like a fire-breathing, genetically mutated, mythological dragon towering over the helpless streets of Tokyo. And I only had on a slim 1 1/2" wedge: small potatoes in the stilettoed world of women's footwear. I spent the evening feeling astronomically gargantuan and it just wasn't good for this chubby girl's ego. He certainly didn't mind; and, if my radar is adjusted correctly, I think he was jonesing for another date towards the end there. But, though I view myself as an independent thinker willing to step outside traditional gender norms and expectations, somewhere along the way I've been socialized with a need to feel smaller (at the very least shorter) than whomever I end up with.

My mother, I'm sure, will tell me I'm too picky when she reads this. And maybe I am. But he was daintier than I. I had flashbacks of shopping with friends in junior high school at 5 7 9, knowing I was more of an 11 or a 13.

And, more importantly, he lacked that intellectual spark I find so appealing (that intellectual spark makes up for a myriad of sizing disparities). And so I categorize this date as yet another learning experience about myself in relation to the single men of this world. I am officially putting this out into the universe, my dear Nerd in Shining Armor: ANY.TIME.NOW. I'm ready for dating retirement. Aren't you?

Godzilla over and out.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

if i were a rich (wo)man. LaDiDaDiDaDiDaDiDa...

I'd shop at Whole Foods for just about everything in my cupboards and fridge. I'd probably own more shoes and a nicer camera with a slew (yes, a slew) of nice lenses. I'd globe trot. A lot. I'd probably retire Rosy (my car) for something newer, fancier, shinier, and black-er (don't tell Rosy, please). I'd buy my dream home and decorate it and re-decorate it some more. I'd start a scholarship foundation for underprivileged kids.

But that's about all that would change. Because I'd still teach. I'd still have this girl for a best friend (she'd just travel more too--with me, naturally). I'd still believe in this with all I have in me. I'd still have my amazing family. I'd still remain smitten with the written word. I'd still use coupons (because paying full price is for the birds). And this is how I know my life is good. Because even if I had more money, it wouldn't make anything better than it already is.