Saturday, September 27, 2003
Walking on, walking on broken glass...
Recently I joked with CuteNerdBoy that I must have been sleeping in class when they were teaching the "stereotypical female thing", because I never quite understood it. I was referring to the whole "women taking men's words and twisting them into something that honestly wasn't meant" sort of thing that too many lazy (usually male) comics use for material. Though I think there is some truth in that stereotype, because I've seen other women do it all too often. Hell, they've done it with my words and, though I may be naturally hairier than the average woman, I'm patently not a man. I think.
*takes off clothes, looks in mirror*
Nope, definitely not a man. Never have been, never will.
*puts clothes back on*
But sometimes I do find myself engaging in behavior that is almost laughably "feminine". I'm not talking about squealing over clothes and jewelry and shoes (though I certainly do that). No, nothing quite so innocent.
I constantly second-guess, nay, triple-guess, things that I say or do, wondering if I'll be mis-interpreted. It's not such a good thing to do, as it causes plenty of stress. Stress that is most likely unwarranted. And I'm doing that now.
The other night I responded to an e-mail from CuteNerdBoy. I was in a very playful mood, returning a very cool compliment he had paid me earlier in the week and suggesting that, if he needed soup to help him get over his flu, I would be more than happy to bus on over there with some. I admit that I was serious about it on some level, but I was also being rather jokey, trying to have fun with it.
Now my mind, my supposedly "sexy brain" (™FriendsterFriend), won't shut the hell up. It tells me that I was too forward, that I might have come off rather stalkery in the way I wrote and I don't want to drive the man away, do I? It questions every word I write, every word I say and expression I make (possibly even every breath I take) and tells me that, oh, won't that just be misconstrued?
I know that it's not just my mind saying these things. That my heart, while willing to take certain risks, is also in collusion with the brain, trying to shield me from possible pain. I tell them to chill out (like many people, I've been known to have contentious discussions with the various parts of my psyche), but they can be a rabble-rousing lot.
I've mentioned this tendency to a number of my female friends, all of whom say that each and every one of them have done the same thing. And that it seems to be more of a feminine than a masculine trait. In the interests of fairness (and subjective science) I should probably take a poll of my male friends. See if they do the same thing on a frequent basis. I have a feeling that they don't, but I could be wrong.
Of course, it would all be so much easier if I (or he) were really psychic. I mean, I do have some psychic abilities (yeah, I know, how freakin' earthy-crunchy, trippy-tra-la-la-head, Shirley MacLaine sounding of me - but it's true), but I'm also blessed - or cursed - with a rather cynical side that, while keeping my head from floating off into the clouds (which is of the good), has a nasty habit of saying, "Yeah, right, whatever," when I get psychic flashes (which is not always of the good). So I don't really know what my ESP is telling me and what is just hopeful (or cynical) thinking.
And even if CuteNerdBoy were seriously psychic (I believe we all possess such abilities in one way or another - they're just more developed in some people), he's not the sort to really buy into all that, so there's no way he could know what's going on in my mind, especially if that mind is too busy dancing around in twin efforts to protect my heart and not drive him away.
*sigh* I don't remember any of this being so friggin' difficult in my twenties...
*takes off clothes, looks in mirror*
Nope, definitely not a man. Never have been, never will.
*puts clothes back on*
But sometimes I do find myself engaging in behavior that is almost laughably "feminine". I'm not talking about squealing over clothes and jewelry and shoes (though I certainly do that). No, nothing quite so innocent.
I constantly second-guess, nay, triple-guess, things that I say or do, wondering if I'll be mis-interpreted. It's not such a good thing to do, as it causes plenty of stress. Stress that is most likely unwarranted. And I'm doing that now.
The other night I responded to an e-mail from CuteNerdBoy. I was in a very playful mood, returning a very cool compliment he had paid me earlier in the week and suggesting that, if he needed soup to help him get over his flu, I would be more than happy to bus on over there with some. I admit that I was serious about it on some level, but I was also being rather jokey, trying to have fun with it.
Now my mind, my supposedly "sexy brain" (™FriendsterFriend), won't shut the hell up. It tells me that I was too forward, that I might have come off rather stalkery in the way I wrote and I don't want to drive the man away, do I? It questions every word I write, every word I say and expression I make (possibly even every breath I take) and tells me that, oh, won't that just be misconstrued?
I know that it's not just my mind saying these things. That my heart, while willing to take certain risks, is also in collusion with the brain, trying to shield me from possible pain. I tell them to chill out (like many people, I've been known to have contentious discussions with the various parts of my psyche), but they can be a rabble-rousing lot.
I've mentioned this tendency to a number of my female friends, all of whom say that each and every one of them have done the same thing. And that it seems to be more of a feminine than a masculine trait. In the interests of fairness (and subjective science) I should probably take a poll of my male friends. See if they do the same thing on a frequent basis. I have a feeling that they don't, but I could be wrong.
Of course, it would all be so much easier if I (or he) were really psychic. I mean, I do have some psychic abilities (yeah, I know, how freakin' earthy-crunchy, trippy-tra-la-la-head, Shirley MacLaine sounding of me - but it's true), but I'm also blessed - or cursed - with a rather cynical side that, while keeping my head from floating off into the clouds (which is of the good), has a nasty habit of saying, "Yeah, right, whatever," when I get psychic flashes (which is not always of the good). So I don't really know what my ESP is telling me and what is just hopeful (or cynical) thinking.
And even if CuteNerdBoy were seriously psychic (I believe we all possess such abilities in one way or another - they're just more developed in some people), he's not the sort to really buy into all that, so there's no way he could know what's going on in my mind, especially if that mind is too busy dancing around in twin efforts to protect my heart and not drive him away.
*sigh* I don't remember any of this being so friggin' difficult in my twenties...
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