I’m going to get pretty deep down and personal today, guys
and gals, so watch out.
I’m going to start today by traveling back in time to my
childhood. I was an only child with very few friends. Actually, I only had two.
There was my next door neighbor, Dale: a private school kid a year under me. I
was older, but he was always smarter. Then there was Elizabeth, whose family
slaughtered pigs in the front yard and I would come inside to see the head in the
kitchen sink. I believe these were two were my only friends because I was a
mean, power-hungry little kid. I wanted to be in charge. I wanted to tell
people what to do and when to do it. Dale took my shit because I was his next
door neighbor and we were the only two kids close to our age in the
neighborhood. Elizabeth took my shit because…well, I’m not entirely sure why,
really, but she always did.
I do remember once when a few kids closer to our age had
actually moved onto our street. I didn’t know how to ride a bike, but they all
did. So I made them ride their bikes around me while I twirled around with an
umbrella, because I wanted to be the center of it all and I wanted the
attention.
I guess that’s what it all came down to was the attention. I
was a mean, power-hungry kid because I wanted the attention. I wanted people to
listen to what I had to say because I didn’t feel I was listened to enough. I
wanted people to do what I wanted them to do, because I wanted them to respect
me and know who was in charge.
As I grew older, I realized that this was not a great way to make a lot
of friends. Dale decided to move onto kinder people once he moved into
my public school; In fact, he never spoke to me again once he transferred.
Elizabeth, I ended up bailing out on once I realized she was crazier than me.
This sudden clarification of life hit me about 7th
grade. Then, I became a total pushover. Not quite the direction I had intended,
but that was where it took me. I lost my balls because I wanted friends. Turns
out, if you haven’t got any balls of your own, you just attract people who do.
Those people will pull you by your tail and show you how those innocent victims you tortured so long felt.
This was when I met Audrey. She was a year or two younger
than me, but that girl had balls. It
was the summer after my 7th grade year. I was constantly hanging out
with Jenna and Audrey. Then it was just Audrey.
At this point in life, I had never had any guy show the
slightest bit interest in me. Then, when I became a push-over and started
hanging out with Audrey, I thought I had found the answer: Brian, Audrey’s older brother.
Turns out, he wasn’t the answer. He was just a teenage boy
in desperate search for an easy lay. Guess what, guys and gals? He got it. You
want to know why? No one ever told me “Don’t have sex or you’ll get pregnant
and die.” Okay, so I may have heard the first part in that whole extremely
awkward puberty video we had to watch in school, but no one actually sat down
and talked to me about both the physical and emotionally consequences (So don’t
forget to talk to your children about sex, parents! If you think it’s too
early, it’s probably not.) That’s a whole terrible story and we won’t get into
that, but I will say this. I had planned on saving sex until marriage, but in
that past year of my life I had lost sight of so much I thought to be true that
I think I had given up on myself, even.
Brian taught me a lovely lesson, though. Don’t get fucked
over. He fucked me, found ways to avoid me, and never spoke to me again. For a
girl that was planning on saving herself until marriage, this was a huge
wake-up call. Life was getting real.
I learned a lot from that experience though. Once my eighth grade school year hit, I began to rebel. I didn't know exactly where I stood. I knew I wasn't in control, but I wasn't being taken advantage of my men or friends, either. I was incredibly lost that year, trying to find my place in the world. It wasn't until my freshman year when I found out where I stood.
Never again did I let a man have that much control over me. I learned to spot a player
from a mile away (ask anyone, I’ve got an eye for that). I know when a fella is
being legit or just trying to get you for what is between your legs). He taught
me to have some self-respect for myself and never let a man convince you to do
anything you don’t want to.
After Brian, I changed. I wasn’t a push-over. I wasn’t an
over-controlling bitch, either. I became extraordinarily smooth over the next
year. I knew how to spot a fake and I knew how to play my own cards out. I got
in a lot of shit over the next year, but no man ever messed with my heart. I’ve
been broken up with twice over the last six years, both by men that I “dated”
for less than a week. I never slept with them. I wouldn’t give them that
leverage.
In fact, I went from psychotic bitch to complete pushover to
peace maker. Turns out, the peace maker is a great medium. Everybody likes you.
People can get pushy about wanting you on their side, but you just have to
listen, keep your own opinions in, and do what you can do to get shit worked
out.
Being the peace-maker is a lot like being the therapist of
the group. I know this because I’ve done this many of times. When I was a
freshman, I went to a New Years Party. It was me and five or so other people,
two of whom were another couple. Well, we were walking to the apartment where
we were going and the couple began fighting. By time we actually got inside the
place and started with our celebrations, it had become a full fledged fight. Before
I knew it, there was a bottle being smashed into the sink and glass in my arm.
Naturally, the first thing you do is separate the fight. I sent the girl into
one room and the guy into another. Weirdly enough, I wasn’t particularly close
to either of these people, but everyone is a lot friendlier and open when they’re
drunk. First, I went and talked to the guy and calmed his ass down with “I know
very well how much she loves you” blah-blah bullshit. Whatever gets him to stop
breaking bottles and gives me the full story. Naturally then I go to her, get
the story from her. Tell her all the positives of his words to me and his
worries that he was too afraid to share with her. Sometimes there needs to be a
second talk with the fella, but it varies from situation to situation. This is
all generally followed my “ Suddenly everyone gets all cuddle again and all is
good in the world. The best part is, the peace maker is the one to thank.
This is a nice prequel for my soon to be blog post
COMING SOON: My Passion VS. My Day Job
(trust me, this post is a lot more necessary for it than you might believe. Originally this started out as "My Passion VS. My Day Job," then I got caught up in the back story.)
