It’s almost April and that means three (or more things):
- The deadline for accepting your acceptance for graduate school will be in and hopefully I can get off a waitlist.
- It’s National Poetry Month so my blog will be infested with filthy and rich poetry.
- I’m doing my very first blogging challenge brought to me by A-Z Blogging. This means that for the entire month of April (minus Sunday’s or whatever day I’m too busy that week to not do a blog) I’ll be writing a blog a day with each letter of the alphabet. Maybe this will take my blog to the next level, and then maybe not, but we’ll see, just prepare yourselves.
Now that the business of my blog is out of the way (how boring it is to be in business….yesterday I learned that I could never work in a cubicle if I had a wheeled chair because I’d just want to race down the hallway in my chair and be Reigning Desk Chair Race Champion). But, last night while I slid into walls at work with my boss’ chair, I was just thinking about the people around me and how we were just all thrown together in this job to learn how to play old school card games. In my mini-notebook, mulling all this over as soon as the card game ended, I got to thinking and wanted to ask this question (very Carrie in Sex & the City voice): Have you ever just met someone and imagined your entire life together in fast-forward?
Now, I’m not just saying opposite sex here…you could have a jinx moment with another girl (if you’re me) and be like wow, we could be friends forever, we could get chipped heart necklaces and make-up a handshake, and go see movies that no one else will see with us and order the same coffee at Starbucks, because of course, we like the same coffee. because it smells so delicious when you remove the plastic cap (and then we recycle it, because we’re both into causes that way).
But then, most likely it is the opposite sex that we’re always doing this with (I wish I could get some guy feedback on this one to see if this actually happens to them as well…which they would never really admit to because that would ruin the image for men everywhere. No men ever think about marriage on the first date, no men discuss you at boy’s poker night and they DEFINITELY don’t talk to their mother about you…(now that I’ve let everyone in the blogging world know that boys, you can just whisper your small secrets about this in my ear and I will post anonymously about your long phone conversation with your mother last night about the girl you met at Subway and how you laughed over olives). So, I guess I’ll just imagine myself, imagining another person, and my life with them, upon the initial meeting and this is probably EXACTLY how my mind goes….
“Wow he has excellent eyelashes, very freckly though, so that means he has moles…on his back most likely, which I don’t really like, but I guess if you spend your life with someone, one, insignificant mole can’t hurt right? I could let the moles go? Could I though? This is my SIGNIFICANT OTHER FOREVER and I’m already going to let a mole go? If I spot one, then I’ll just pretend I didn’t and never touch it again and make him keep his shirt on even at the beach. Ou, the beach is nice in April! I wonder if he’s a beach person or a mountain person…I wonder if he would like to live in a cabin and if I could slowly convince him to chop wood in the snow and wear one of those dopey hats with the ear flaps that hang down and you can tie around your chin…and then we’ll joke about him looking like a dork with the things tied around his chin and then he’ll probably try to wrestle me to get me back for tying it around his chin…why do guys always want to poke and wrestle? It’s like their mating call is to sweat, flex, and pin you on the ground? Thanks cave men, thank you, for that epic training on how to please a woman with just your body and a large barbaric wood chunk. Oh God, I have to sneeze. Oh God, what if snot dribbles down my nose, or I miss a booger with the tissue and this forever-thing is ruined. Or what if he’s the kind of guy that just tells you, you have a booger hanging out of your nose and then while your scratching around your nose for it with your finger, he directs you..’no up a little, no a bit more inside, wow it’s a big’un, no other nostril, almost, yea yea, YEA YOU GOT IT – HIGH FIVE.’ At least he’s cheering for me right? He probably won’t be cheering when I want to go to his boys pick-up game in the back of the neighborhood just to see if he’s any good. I wonder what kind of face he makes when he’s mad….”
Have I exhausted this topic enough for you guys? I know I’m not the only one who’s crazy this way, and I know other people pick apart an initial meeting because it’s in the over-analyzing nature of almost every girl I know, give or take a few who never worry about this kind of thing, or about getting fat and wrinkly or about wearing the wrong belt because they’re new age and have their noses pierced (I did, and will have again) and don’t care about any human, but themselves. One day all of those people will move to New York and New York will be a city where no one talks to each other, they all just shuffle passed, stepping all over the sidewalk cracks (because remember they don’t give a shit about grandmother’s back) and go home to their cozy apartments where they just sleep, and eat. Because people who don’t care, don’t turn on Jersey Shore or read a Romance Novel and … touch themselves? (Maybe I shouldn’t have gone there…but I did).
So, the question remains, who would like to admit to their own insanity and say, “Hey Cassie, I have imagined my entire life with someone solely on a first meeting, and no, not just a first date, just a first meeting – like my first day on the job at Blah & Blah where the guy in the desk cube behind me laughed at my paper-stopper and I saw our future children…” I’m here to tell you it’s okay, I freak out about moles and many other Jerry Seinfeld-like things.
And lastly, this is a shout out to my boyfriend, who I’ve imagined three-thousand and four hundred different ways since we’ve been dating and he’s matched &/or broken most of my ideas about him.
I’ll take a que from the 90’s Real World Episodes now, “We think we know, but we have no idea….”