Posts Tagged 'Girl'

Never betray the way you’ve always known it is.

Sometimes I just want to be the “hot girl”. Not the nice, smart, funny, quirky girl. Ya know, just once? Then again, on second thought, let’s dismantle the first two sentences I just wrote:

Sometimes I just want to be the “hot girl”.

There’s only one word that describes this kind of girl: hot. This suggests there’s nothing else to her–just her looks–society has deemed her “hot” and nothing else. She’s more concerned about her make up (and probably her hair) then perhaps, her education, what she could be doing with her life, the lives of those around her, the world around her–just a general lack of worldliness and self-awareness. Hmm…does that really sounds like something I would like to be?

Then again, if society has deemed her “hot” perhaps beforehand she had had aspirations to be something more? And then she got branded and it’s was all over. Now I think I’m just giving her too much credit. Hah. These girls are this way because they want to be and it’s easy for them (among many other things. And I’m sure there’s much more to her than being hot, you know, like being…something…).

Not the nice, smart, funny, quirky girl.

Right off the bat, we have four (4) adjectives, and they’re all good ones I’d say, by any standards. I don’t know of any girl who wouldn’t want to be considered nice, smart, funny or even quirky (although, that one may be considered iffy). Those are all great things to be; they make one multidimensional, which is also a great thing. This is the kind of girl that has layers and I’m sure there’s more to her than just those four adjectives.

So why not just be the “nice, smart, funny, quirky, attractive” girl.  I mean, I don’t consider myself hideous, so why not at least consider myself attractive or pretty? Cute, maybe? Something along those lines. It really shouldn’t be this difficult.

Personally, I’ve never felt comfortable referring to myself as someone who is “hot” or “sexy” or even “beautiful” for that matter. And if you have ever heard me refer to myself as such, it was most certainly a joke. Or, sarcasm.

Why worry about being hot when I can just be myself? Sheesh.

Loving is fine if you have plenty of time for walking on stilts at the edge of your mind.

Relationships and dating often come up as a topic of conversation for my close girlfriends and myself–give us a break, we’re single, twenty-somethings who can’t seem to figure out why we’re still single. On one hand I’m OK with being single, in fact, I don’t even want to date– but this doesn’t mean I’m completely OK with it. And to manage with this sentiment, I often joke about it because it’s not fun to deal with if there is no humor. Whatevs. It works. We all tell ourselves silly things at one point or another to make ourselves feel better. Right? Anyway. When we start talking about this stuff–the games that are played, the men in our lives (or lack there of), the crushes, etc. my mind wanders to past relationships and the major lessons I’ve learned–the real reasons I’m not so down to date anymore. I’ve narrowed it down to two reasons:

1. I don’t want to lose myself in a relationship. I don’t want to give myself up for someone else. I’m selfish;  it took me a long to figure this out and I’m not ready to compromise. And I’m afraid of what will happen if I do.

2. I refuse to play games–especially with matters of the heart. Give me honesty, or get the hell out of my way. The end.

And that’s it, really. I’d say those are pretty valid reasons. I’d just rather be single. And until I meet someone that just completely blows me away and takes me for who I am and gives me that feeling–you know, that nervous-excited, butterflies in the stomach, tingly feeling– this is just the way it’s going to be.

And with that, I leave you with the words of Alanis Morissette, whose song I believe conveys my sentiments on this matter exactly. Enjoy!

I don’t want to be the filler if the void is solely yours
I don’t want to be your glass of single malt whiskey
Hidden in the bottom drawer
I don’t want to be the bandage if the wound is not mine
Lend me some fresh air
I don’t want to be adored for what I merely represent to you
I don’t want to be to be your babysitter
You’re a very big boy now
I don’t want to be you mother
I didn’t carry you in my womb for nine months
Show me the back door
Visiting hours are 9 to 5 and if I show up at half past six
Well I already know that you’d find some way to sneak me in and oh
Mind the empty bottle with the holes along the bottom
You see it’s too much to ask for and I’m not the doctor
I don’t want to be the sweeper of the eggshells that you walk upon
I don’t want to be your other half I believe that 1 and 1 make 2
I don’t want to be your food or the light from the fridge
on your face at midnight
Hey what are you hungry for
I don’t want to be the glue that holds your pieces together
I don’t want to be your idol
See this pedestal is high and I’m afraid of heights
I don’t want to be lived through
A vicarious occasion
Please open the window