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Frankly, I Do Give a Damn

When I start liking a guy – I change.

No matter how confident I am in my career, with my life, with how I look – when I start feeling those little butterflies or sense possibility, I alter myself somewhat. And I hate it.

Now, I’m not Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride who doesn’t know how she likes her eggs, but because I fear losing a guy’s interest or his attention, I almost always become this needy, overly obsessed and ridiculous girl while I’m “dating” or “talking” to someone. In no shape, form, or fashion am I out-of-my-character unless I’m with a dude I’m intrigued by. Instead of keeping up my fierce, go-getter nature, I almost always crumble into someone who is readily available, kind and inviting, and overly easy to get along with.

In my true form (or normal state), I question. I always want to figure out the next adventure. I’m a planner but like random decisions too. I’m bold and brilliant and I am pretty fearless of doing most anything. My friends always select me as the gal who goes up to the group of guys at the bar, and my co-workers deem me the one to be the “bitchy” receptionist when we need it. I am a naturally kind and thoughtful person, but I also stand up for myself and what I believe. I wouldn’t call myself brave because taking risks just comes easy to me. I have this sense that everything will work out and I’ll be fine, so I tend to just go for it.

This mentality holds true in every section of my life except with men. I don’t want to say the wrong thing or act the wrong way or be too disagreeable because if they see this vivacious, argumentative, daring, inquisitive, real me – they may be turned off, intimidated, or just not like it. And then they’d leave.

But why does that matter?

If they don’t like who I am at my core and how I am when I’m emotionally naked – are they even worth my time? I mean, Marilyn Monroe in all of her infinite beauty, says if a man can’t handle you at your worse, then he doesn’t deserve you at your best. But what if they can’t handle you at your best? When you’re the happiest and most in-tune with who you are? Is dating a journalist, a woman, a powerhouse, like me (and all of you) really that difficult? I mean, c’mon!

I’m so tired of morphing into a person I’m not to try and keep a man’s attention. While I don’t think age has much to do with it –I’m sincerely at a point where I’m falling in love with myself, with my life, with my city, and no man has the right to come and stomp all over that so he can remain satisfied. I have wants, needs, desires, and qualities that are just as important as any guy’s, and I don’t want to surrender them anymore. I would much rather be alone and happily single then to be with someone who doesn’t appreciate, adore, and love me for who I am – no questions asked.

In honor of proclaiming my over-the-top and completely ridiculous personality that I will now keep the same, regardless of what man walks into my life, I’ve made a list of some of the things that are important to me. These are things that I normally apologize for or don’t mention because I don’t want to be difficult to get along with. But now, I don’t care anymore.

-If you say you’re going to call, then call. If you say you’re going to text, then text. If you say you’re going to be somewhere, be there. I’m not your mother or personal assistant. Stay true to your word and don’t make me remind you.

-I like wearing high heels. Wait, I love wearing high heels. If this means you have to walk slower, that’s just how it is. I’m a girly-girl and I make no excuses for it.

-I wear makeup. When you kiss me or hug me, it may get on you. I don’t think that’s a bad trade for getting to touch my body or my lips. If you do, move on.

-If I say I don’t care where we go for dinner, I don’t. Make a decision.

-Drinks are not a date to me. Drinks are hanging out. If you want to ask me on a date, be more creative.

-I will compliment you and try and help you work through your problems. I will not support a whiny, depressed funk for very long. Learn how to take care of yourself.

-I may not agree with your viewpoints, but have them. No, it’s not okay for you to be okay with everything. The best of life comes from passion.

-I don’t want to hear that you don’t like your job or your career. You’re a grown-up and have the ability to change it. Life is too short to go to a place you hate every single day.

-I’d prefer not to know your ex-girlfriend’s name. If you feel the need to bring her up or reference to her, then maybe you should give her a call.

-I don’t mind watching sports and drinking beer with you sometimes. That doesn’t mean I want to do it every single Monday night.

-The hard work I put into my figure has nothing to do with you. Running is for me, so stop telling me to run for you.

-I’m a journalist. This means I like questions and I like answers. If you feel interrogated, maybe you should have a stronger back bone.

-I expect you to remember things that are important to me because I’ll always do the same for you. If I say something is special to me, please don’t disregard it.

-I need at least 24-hours notice before hanging out with you most of the time. Sometimes, I’m okay with spontaneity but my days are packed, and if I’ve deemed you someone I want to hang out with, please be reliable.

-Yes, my last name is Tigar. You don’t need to growl at me or sing “Eye of the Tiger” to me. It’s okay.

-Most of the time, I’m very happy, optimistic, bubbly, and full of energy. If you’re not like this, or if you don’t like this type of personality, then ta-ta.

-I’m not incredibly tidy, but I will try to be if I’m in your space. If you scold me for it more than once, I’m done.

-I need girl time and me time. And I don’t need to see you every single second of every single day, but I need to know you’re there.

-If you need an instructional manual to my body, I think we should see other people. Yes, every union is different, but if you can’t kiss at this age, I’m not interested.

-I was raised as a lady and I expect you to treat me that way. Open doors. Mind your P’s & Q’s. I will do the same.

-No, it’s not okay that you cancel plans an hour before we’re supposed to have them. That’s rude.

-Shower.

I promise I’m really a sweet, generous person, but I also need to embrace and enforce my values. I realize that everyone puts their best face first when they are starting to see someone, but being up front about who you are and what you need – is so important. Because if someone can’t put up with me or fall for me when I’m being myself, they aren’t the person that I’m meant for.

So here is to being me, the beautiful mess and everything. Frankly, when it comes to what I want and who I am, I do give a damn.

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The Never-To-Be Love: Mr. Rebound

Solo cups piled as tall as the ceiling, guys with baggy jeans, polo shirts, and drunken grins. Sheets that haven’t been washed in weeks (possibly months), every rap song there ever was playing loudly, and girls gladly flaunting their goods to help their dude (or the guy they met that night) win a game of beer pong.

Remember college?

I can’t say I was ever the biggest fan of the college party scene, but I tried to be. Even though I knew the guys were way immature, almost-alcholics, and many forgot about a little thing called ‘class’ – I attempted (and succeeded) to date several of them. But the one to introduce me to the university dating world was much more of a class act than your average frat boy: Mr. Rebound.

We met the summer before my freshman year via MySpace (no judging) when I went looking for people who went to Appalachian State because I would be attending in the fall. He was very sweet, always flattering me, and he had this certain appeal to him that my 17-year-old self found absolutely irresistible: he was a college guy.

This meant he wasn’t like the young and ridiculous boys who paraded my high school, no he was in college. That meant he was sophisticated and educated and working towards a goal. And he wanted to talk to me? A little incoming freshman? How could I not swoon?

And swoon is just what I did. Within the first three days of college, I found myself pinned up against a wall and a hard place as Mr. Rebound tried to kiss me and I refrained for 24-hours – just long enough to break up with Mr. Faithful and set up a movie date with my ‘college man.’

When I went over for this so-called date to let Mr. Rebound know I was newly single, I thought he would jump at the opportunity to call me his girlfriend. I mean he had been texting constantly, always made himself available, and never forgot to invite me and my roommate to parties he knew of. I mean, he even took me out to dinner at Murphy’s – a place he called a “nice” restaurant to eat at. (My 21-year-old self later found out how wrong that statement was).  But instead of swooning for me, the itty-bitty freshman, and proclaiming the love I was sure he had for me – he just jumped my naive bones.

Needless to say, we ended up in a “hooking-up” (although I never went all the way) relationship, and eventually he stopped talking to me, as those sorts of things typically go. While at the time, I was unfamiliar with this type of union – where the boy was difficult to comprehend and unreliable – I learned a lot.

The first time I had my official walk of shame, where I sported sky-high heels with basketball shorts and a t-shirt from his apartment to my dorm, I knew something was wrong. My roommate (and now best friend) raised an eyebrow at my attire, which caused me to question what exactly I was doing.

Mr. Rebound didn’t want a relationship. He didn’t want to love me. He didn’t want to take me on dates or court me. He didn’t care about getting to know me. He didn’t feel the need to be drawn to me or to fall head over his Dockers. No, Mr. Rebound wanted to have sex.

And I wasn’t down for that.

As a single woman, it’s so important to define your boundaries. To decide what you’re willing to put up with and what you’re not. To decide for yourself what is acceptable behavior and what is flat-out not cool by you. If you want to have a random hook-up for your own sake, then do it – but make sure you know what will make you happy before you dive right in. For me, I get too attached and I can’t do it. For others, it may work.

After an initial hiatus that allowed me to dis-attach myself from my romantic notions about him, Mr. Rebound and I eventually made up and over lunch before he graduated,we  made peace. We’re able to laugh about what we experienced and he always makes a point to check-in on me and I doubt he’ll ever stop calling me “babe.”

I wouldn’t say I ever loved the man, but he did open my eyes to the dating scene that defines being a college student. Sometimes it is never about the romance or the love or the fire or the passion or attraction. Sometimes, it’s about getting your jollies off.

For this girl, it will never just be about that. And honestly, for that I’m proud. Sure, I’ve had my random make-out, but I know whoever I give myself to one day, I can feel proud of the decisions I’ve made in the past. I’m still the type of girl who only can be a vixen in bed if I feel comfortable and know that the guy has a sincere interest in my well-being. Preferably, he would love me. But Mr. Rebound taught me what would be the start of my dating career in college –and one that I wasn’t ever very good at. Even now, Mr. Rebound always comments on my butt (or since I picked up running, he says, lack thereof) – and I find it as a compliment, rather than feel objectified by a guy who I once wanted to date. I’m glad I made an impression and I’m even happier that we never explored a relationship.

Because one day, in this magical world, I’ll find the man who I’m meant to be with who will cherish and respect me (and enjoy all of my sexual talents because I trust him). And until that day, I can depend on myself and my ability to make the best choice for me.

Thanks Mr. Rebound, for opening my eyes and shaping my morals. I’m sorry that I had the boys in my dorm wipe their sweaty armpits on your basketball shorts and t-shirt when I returned them. I’ll buy you a drink for that one.