My Life Is Not a Lifetime Movie

A few years ago, when I was still teaching at a college in Small Town, one of my students asked me out. I was coming out of my office on campus and was on my way to the library, when one of my students approached me. "Hey, Professor, could I ask you something?" he asked. 

"Is it about the grades?" I asked. "I told everyone that I'll post the grades online later this month." 

"Uh no, actually, my friends are having a party, and I was wondering if you'd like to go with me." 

Startled, I said, "No, I can't do that. Sorry, but I have to go." And then I turned and hurried off to the library, moving so rapidly that I might have left a trail of dust behind me.

This happened on the last day of the semester, so I didn't see the student again after that. That's probably why he waited until then to ask. 

If this were a Lifetime movie, I would have said yes, and then, in typical Lifetime movie fashion, either he would have turned out to be a menacing stalker, or I would have.

But my life is not a Lifetime movie. Was I tempted to say yes? NO, not even a little bit. I don't view the guys in my class as people I could date. I just think of them as students, who, along with my female students, are the reason that my hair is turning white. (I have to get it dyed every few months.)

Even though I instantly knew that I had no interest in dating the student who asked me out (or ANY of the students at the colleges that have employed me, for that matter), I tried to picture myself at the college party he invited me to. What if some of my other students were there? What would I even say to them? "Oh, yes, I'm here with your classmate. We're dating now. And by the way, let me know if you have any questions about your final grades. Okay, everybody DRINK!"

There have been other instances. RateYourProfessors.com used to have a chili pepper rating, where students could "award" their professors with a chili pepper if they thought the professors were hot. I was one of the faculty who was rated in that way. The chili pepper rating was eventually removed after a female professor (not me) complained that it was offensive and degrading. 

Another student at one of the other colleges where I used to teach had a crush on me. He never asked me out, but I could tell because he often lingered after class. He'd say things like, "Do you want me to erase the chalkboard for you, Professor? Do you need any other help with anything?" I always said no, but one time, I turned around after packing up my bag and he was literally right there behind me, which freaked me out. He said, "I just wanted to tell you that you did a really good job teaching today." 

I said, "Um, thanks, gotta go." And then I took off, leaving a trail of dust behind me.

I did tell my program director about the student who made me uncomfortable, but there wasn't anything the director could do at that point because technically, nothing he had done was against the rules, even though it was weird and seriously creeped me out. But the director did tell me to let her know if the student tried to go any further than that.

And I've never been inappropriate with any of my students. I never flirted with them or anything like that, so I don't know why they thought it was okay to make advances towards me, because it WASN'T. I thought maybe it was partly because I am a woman; it's often harder for women in academia to get respect from students than it is from men. For example, now that I have my doctorate, I use the title of "Doctor" in class. But every year, there are always a few students who disregard the title I earned and call me Miss ____, and I correct them every time. Almost every time, the students who disregard my title are guys. My male colleagues have not reported having this problem, but several of my female colleagues have.

Most colleges, including the one I currently work for, have strict rules against faculty dating students. A lot of colleges don't allow faculty to date students at all, at least not until after the students graduate. Others do allow it, but only if the student is not currently enrolled in the professor's class. 

Some schools won't even allow graduate students who work as teaching assistants to date the undergrads, even though technically, the T.A.s are still students. They say that it's a conflict of interest. For example, what if you were dating someone who is doing poorly in your class? Would you be able to remain objective and still give that student the grade he or she earned? 

Despite the strict rules that prohibit faculty from dating students, that obviously hasn't stopped some professors at colleges everywhere from dating them anyway, and I personally know a few of the ones who have. Most of them are middle-aged men pursuing students young enough to be their granddaughters. They typically get away with it because they either keep it a secret, or they are A-list scholars who bring in tons of money and recognition to their departments, so they get away with a lot of stuff that the rest of us academic plebeians would get fired for.

But I also know a female professor in Small Town who was several years younger than me who dated one of her students; she said that they didn't start dating until he was no longer in her class, but he was still enrolled in the college as a senior. They eventually broke up after a few months, and she started dating someone (not a student) who was significantly older than her.

Those young people often think that the professors are so smart, sensitive and romantic because they can do things like quote Shakespeare and poetry, but hello, all English professors can do that. It's like Puck said in A Midsummer Night's Dream: "Lord, what fools these mortals be."

Some people might argue that as long as the student is of a legal age to consent, then both the student and the professor are consenting adults. Others might say that there are professors and students who ended up getting married after the students graduated, and the relationships lasted. And ultimately, it's true that it's their choice whether or not to date, not mine.

But in my opinion, professors who date students while the latter is still enrolled at the college, even if the students are no longer in the professors' classes, are taking a huge risk. I heard about a professor (not in College Town) who hooked up with one of his students, and then he moved on to another student. The first student reported him to the university, and he was fired. (The playwright William Congreve wrote, "Heav'n has no rage, like love to hatred turn'd, nor hell a fury, like a woman scorn'd.") He successfully sued his department and was reinstated in his job, but even the judge admonished him for his behavior. 

As a workaholic who has sacrificed almost everything else in my life that mattered for my work, I can't imagine risking everything I've worked for and everything I'm still working for. I may never get tenure, but there are still a lot of things that I want to do. At the very least, I want my contract to be renewed at the college I am currently teaching at, and a relationship with a student might negatively affect my chances of renewal. There are also opportunities for promotion at this school, or if I eventually have enough publications and awards, I could possibly move on to a more prestigious school in the future. I'm also interested in teaching at a military college (they occasionally hire civilians to teach the core subjects like English, math, and science) because the pay and benefits are typically better than at civilian schools. I want to publish scholarly books that are related to the research I did for my dissertation and master's thesis. I want to do so many things that would be very difficult (or in some cases, impossible) to do if I were to do just one thing, which is date a student.

One's professional reputation is very important in any workplace, but it's especially important in academia where almost any time a full-time college teaching job becomes available, even if it's not on the tenure track, there are literally hundreds of people applying for it. I want to have a reputation where I'm known for being a good scholar, teacher, and writer. I don't want to be known as the professor who hooks up with her students, which is why I have never done it and will never do it.

There's also the fact that I am a lot older than my students. Many people have told me that I look young for my age, but that doesn't change the fact that at 39, I am an entire drinking age older than most of my students, which makes ME want to drink. That's why even if those guys weren't my students, I still wouldn't want to date any of them. Legally, they may be adults, but in every other sense of the word, most of them still have a lot of growing up to do. I don't mean that as an insult. I still had a lot of growing up to do when I was that age. When I was eighteen, I scheduled my college classes around episodes of All My Children, and I wanted to marry Ricky Martin (insert facepalm here).

When I first started teaching, I was still in my twenties, and several of my students were older than me. One of them invited me to go out for drinks, but I said no back then, too. If one of my older students were to ask me out today, I would still say no. 

The men I know who date younger women claim that they want women who can have kids more easily than middle-aged women can. That may be true, but I think they also want women whose bodies have not yet been affected by giving birth. 

I'm not totally opposed to May-December relationships. I think there are some instances where it can work, and it can lead to lasting, loving connections. But I think that when one person is a student and the other person is a teacher, it blurs the lines that are supposed to be in place between the faculty and the students. The teacher is in a position of authority, and in my opinion, he or she should remain professional and adhere to ethical standards.

What about you? What do you think of teachers who date their students? What is your opinion of May-December relationships?

Throwaway Teacher

A couple months ago, Small Town Guy proposed a Zoom meetup for everyone in our social circle since we were all still living under the shelter in place order. I'd kept in touch with Small Town Guy and my other friends in Small Town through Facebook and texting, but I hadn't actually seen any of them since I moved to College Town three years ago.

The first time we all talked on Zoom, we ended up talking for more than three hours. It was wonderful to see all of them again and hear about their lives, as well as tell them about my life here in College Town. Small Town Guy is now living with his girlfriend. When I saw him on screen, I thought of how just a few years ago I thought I was head over heels for him, but whatever I felt for him paled in comparison to what I felt for the Model. Nevertheless, I couldn't help feeling a small pang when I saw him with his girlfriend in the house they share. I thought that if he had felt the same way about me back then, I might have suffered a lot less heartache than what I went through with the Model, especially because even though Small Town Guy has his flaws, he's not a narcissistic sociopath like the Model is. On paper, Small Town Guy was almost perfect for me (whereas the Model was wrong for me in pretty much every way), but he just wasn't that into me.

We all had such a good time talking to each other on Zoom that we arranged more Zoom meetups. But the most recent one ended badly, at least for me. I want to preface this by saying that I actually liked Small Town Guy's girlfriend because she was a nice person and I'd never had a conflict with her before. The Girlfriend, who is a tenured professor at the college where I used to teach in Small Town (though unlike me, she does not teach English classes because she works for a different department), kept talking about an award she'd won for her research.

Then we started talking about the classes we were teaching. I mentioned how a few of my students were not doing their assignments in the freshman composition classes I was teaching, and the Girlfriend said, "Well, that's because it's a throwaway class that no one cares about."

And that's was the moment that I wished that I was with her in person, so that I could do THIS:



via GIPHY

I didn't say anything right away, but through the webcam I could see my facial expression change from a cheerful smile to something more like this:



via GIPHY

I didn't say anything for a long time, until someone else commented that I was being really quiet. Finally, I spoke up: "You know, I don't think that the General Education classes that I teach are 'throwaway classes'. I think that they're important too."

The Girlfriend quickly said, "Oh, I wasn't talking about your classes." But she knows that as an untenured faculty member, the only classes that I am literally allowed to teach are General Education classes, like freshman composition and lower-level literature classes, whereas as a tenured professor, she gets to teach advanced classes and graduate seminars.

Small Town Guy did not say much either. He stayed out of the conversation and got down on the floor to play with their dog, maybe so he wouldn't have to look me in the eye or witness the smoke coming out of my ears.

I told them that I had to go and I logged out of the conversation. But here's what I wanted to say to the Girlfriend and to the others, many of whom were also tenured professors: "I'm not like you. I'm not on the tenure track. I most likely never will be. I admit that I envy you. But I don't resent your success because you earned it. But I work hard too, and I'm a good teacher. Yet no one will ever recognize the value of my work like they do yours just because I'm not a tenured professor. I'm not even eligible for more than half the awards that you've won because I'm untenured. Untenured faculty like me teach bigger classes and have heavier courseloads so that tenured professors like you can teach fewer, smaller classes that are related to your pet projects.

"Yes, it's true that most of the students don't want to take GenEd classes. But there's a reason that the classes I teach, unlike the classes YOU teach, are required for almost every college student in the country. The skills and knowledge I teach, like writing, are essential in college AND the workplace. I'm not saying that your classes aren't important too, but I AM saying that my classes are not 'throwaways' either.

"The reason some students ask for extensions isn't always because they view my classes as throwaways that they don't care about, as you so thoughtlessly put it. It's because they spend at least 6-7 hours a day on their phones and 1-2 hours a day on their homework. Then the deadlines start piling up and they panic and ask me for extensions. But not all of my students are like that. Some of them show me several pages of notes and outlines they wrote for a five-page paper. They want to do well and are willing to work hard.

"I know you didn't mean to insult me. But you did. And I need you to understand where I'm coming from, so that you'll understand why it's not okay to say crap like that."

But I didn't say that. I wish I had. It made me think of the pandemic and how although millions of people were furloughed or lost their jobs, others were classified as "essential" workers and were able to keep working. It made me wonder about the value people place on certain jobs and how it must have affected the people who weren't classified as "essential", even though their work was important too.

It also made me think of how that conversation, as well as the Girlfriend's attitude, was indicative of the hierarchical nature of academia. It's a world where there are way too many people with PhDs and not enough jobs, so we all have to do whatever we can to succeed. It's so competitive that it's cutthroat. And there's definitely a wide gap between the tenured faculty and untenured faculty because of the disparity in how we're treated and paid. But it's also a world that I chose to work and live in, so it's just something that I have to deal with.

But the next time they organize a Zoom meetup, I'm going to say that I can't join in. I'll just say something like, "Oh, I can't. I have to replenish my voodoo doll collection so that I can cast a curse on someone tonight, one that will hopefully cause them to have nightmares that make them wake up screaming or one that will cause their hair to turn into the snakes that adorned Medusa's head. But have fun on Zoom!"

I'm not saying I'll never talk to them again because I will. But I think it's best if I not participate in the next Zoom meetup because what the Girlfriend said still bothers me, and I don't want to lash out at her or any of the others.

What about you? Do you deal with competitive or condescending people in your line of work? Are you an essential worker, and if so, what has it been like for you?

Ghosting, Creepy Conversations, and Why I'll Never Be Anastasia Steele

I've been on Bumble for two months now and keep striking out, despite the fact that I've literally matched with dozens of guys (on dating apps like Bumble, you "match" with someone if you and the other person both "swipe right" on each other's profiles).

On Bumble, the woman has to make the first move, and the guy has up to twenty-four hours to respond. As I've stated before, many of the guys I've matched with don't respond, possibly because a) they swiped right on literally every profile in order to increase their chances of getting matches, not because they were actually interested in me; b) they didn't check Bumble before the twenty-four hours were up; or c) their wives/girlfriends found out that they were looking for dates online.

What's even more annoying are the guys who send one brief message because they think they're being polite and then disappear after that. But I have had a few conversations with guys that were actually interested in talking to me. Here are a few of the conversations I've had so far:

Me: So, do you have any kids?
Bumble guy #1: Yes, I have a six-year-old daughter. You?
Me: No, I don't have any kids.
Bumble guy #1: You wanna practice? Lol.
Me: Practice what?
Bumble guy #1: Making a baby. Lol (FYI: adding "lol" at the end of a sexual proposition doesn't make it sexy. It just makes it weird.)

I responded to that guy by "unmatching" him, which is an option on Bumble. I quickly regretted doing that, though, thinking that maybe I overreacted and maybe he was just trying to flirt, in a clumsy way (or maybe he was just looking for a hookup). He was cute and otherwise seemed nice. But I didn't know his last name or have any other way to contact him, and once you unmatch someone on Bumble, you won't come across his profile again in the queue.

Me: So, what are you looking for on this site?
Bumble guy #2: Well, that depends. Are you submissive?
Me: Um, are you talking about S&M?
Bumble guy #2: Yes. I am a dominant and I would really like to tie you up sometime.

My response: UNMATCH. (I'm not a prude, and I will admit that I did watch the Fifty Shades of Grey movie, though I cringed at the bad writing the whole time. But as a woman, I think it'd be extremely risky to let a "dominant" guy that I've never met do anything like THAT when we first meet. What if he turned out to be a serial killer, a human trafficker, or at the very least a thief who will steal my purse while I'm unable to stop him?)

He wasn't the only guy who was into S&M that I came across on Bumble. I found another guy's profile that included pictures of his wife because he stated that they were looking for a "third", and he literally included pictures of his wife tied up and suspended from the ceiling in chains, while he stood over her, dressed head to toe in leather. (Again, I'm not a prude, but I feel like that's not something that you should put on Bumble.)

Other guys are clearly lying about their age, like the ones who claim to be in their early forties but look like they're in their early sixties. Hey, I don't like admitting my real age either, especially because guys my age often prefer women who are fifteen years younger, but I'm not going to lie about it.

Nor do I see the point in including my high school pictures, as so many thirtysomething and fortysomething guys on Bumble have done (and I can tell that they're from high school because they're usually prom pictures and look about twenty years younger than they do in their other pictures in their profiles). FYI to guys and people in general: if you're middle-aged, don't include your high school pictures in your profiles, unless you're a vampire who literally hasn't aged since you got turned into a vampire in high school.

It's not like I haven't tried to meet guys offline either, but a lot of the people in College Town aren't that friendly, especially compared to the Southern hospitality of most of the people in Small Town. For example, at my gym, there are two water fountains right next to each other; one is for people who want to refill their water bottles. The problem is that when you use the one for refilling water bottles, it decreases the water pressure on the other water fountain. I was drinking out of the other water fountain when some guy started refilling his bottle; I looked up and said, "Um, I was still drinking." He went off at me and snapped, "Fine. You don't have to be so rude about it." I called after him, saying, "I wasn't being rude! I was just saying!" But he just walked off without listening to me, probably because he had to report back to Satan or something.

There are young male faculty members close to my age whose offices are near mine on campus. I've said hello to them a few times as I've passed by them in the hall while I walked towards my own office, not in a flirtatious way, just to be polite. But every time, they've ignored me.

I joined a Meetup group that plays board games at a local bar every week. Unlike the trivia team I belonged to in Small Town, who liked to socialize between trivia questions, the members of the mostly male Meetup group I joined are very focused on the games and don't like to talk about much else but the games. (But at least they're nice and polite, unlike the rude guys I've encountered elsewhere in this town.)

I will admit that I "ghosted" a guy I was talking to on Bumble recently, which I guess wasn't so nice either. There wasn't anything wrong with him per se, other than the fact that he went on and on about himself and asked me exactly two questions about myself. It was just that I realized that I was actively hoping that he would not message me so that I wouldn't have to deal with the hassle of dating him. And I've found myself hoping that with the vast majority of the guys I've matched with and sent messages to. It's weird in that it bothers me when they don't write back, and yet there's a part of me that still doesn't want to date anyone.

A friend of mine said that maybe I was afraid of getting hurt again. But I think that it might be less about fear and more about being tired of all the bad first dates, awkward small talk, and weird online dating profiles. I wish I could skip the awkward early dating phase and skip ahead to the relationship phase. At the very least, rather than ask questions I don't really have as much interest in, like "So where are you from?" or "What do you and your friends do for fun?" I'd rather ask questions like, "If I ever got sick, would you be there for me and bring me cough drops and Kleenex? I'd do that for you, by the way." or "If I'm having a bad day, will you sit there and listen to me vent, or are you the type to tell me to get over it and then turn up the volume on the TV?" or "Um, you're not into chains or anything like that, are you?"

I still can't help thinking that maybe my multiple online dating fails are the universe's way of telling me that true love is not in the cards for me, or maybe my true love just isn't online. Or maybe it's just the universe's way of telling me that there are a lot of weird/rude/Christian Grey wannabe guys in College Town.

What about you? If you're in a relationship or single, did you ever get tired of the dating scene and the awkward first conversations?

How I Became a Neurotic Workaholic

Two years before I left Chicago, I suffered a nervous breakdown and went into therapy. There were several reasons why I sought counseling, but the catalyst was that my best friend of more than fifteen years had ghosted me a year before. The last time we hung out, Former Friend told me that "it's not very attractive" to complain about work so much, even though they had vented about their job many times. After that, every time I suggested getting together to have coffee or lunch, Former Friend had an excuse for why they were too busy. It took me months to realize that they no longer wanted me in their life, which crushed me, because they were one of the only friends I had left.

In high school, I used to hide in my bedroom and shovel handfuls of peanut M&Ms into my mouth when dealing with my parents and sibling was too much for me. I gained thirty pounds in one year and struggled to lose the weight for years after that. I eventually lost weight by working out regularly and cooking healthier meals.

But after Former Friend ghosted me, I started binge eating and gaining weight again. I knew I needed help when I opened my refrigerator one day and realized that I'd filled all the shelves with large bags of peanut M&Ms. I was still in grad school at the time, so I went to the counseling center at my university, and they gave me a list of referrals to therapists who offered low-cost counseling.

At first, I felt ashamed and sad that I felt so alone that I had to pay a stranger to listen to me. But over the course of the next two years in therapy, I learned that there is no shame in seeking help when you need it, and I learned a lot of valuable things.

My therapist said that I suffered from depression and anxiety, including social anxiety and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. My anxiety was connected to my workaholism, she said, because I always felt like I couldn't relax unless I got all my work done. But due to my graduate studies and multiple jobs, I always had a lot of work to do. My social anxiety was shown through my hyper-awareness of things most people took for granted. When I interacted with my students or with other people, afterwards I would berate myself for something I said or did wrong, and I thought that was all those other people remembered about me. I'd always known that I was neurotic and had low self-esteem, but it wasn't until I was in therapy that I realized how and why I became that way.

My therapist said something that struck a chord with me: "You are an amazing young woman. You're attractive, highly intelligent, and kind and compassionate to others. You've earned a bachelor's degree and a master's degree; you're a Ph.D. candidate; you balance multiple jobs, and you're a good teacher. But you can't see anything good about yourself or recognize any of your accomplishments. All you see is what you think is bad about yourself because your family, especially your mother, has conditioned you to think that way."

When students approached me at the end of each term to tell me how much they enjoyed my class and that I was their favorite teacher, I used to think that they were just being polite. I thought the same thing when people complimented me on my writing. My therapist was right: I had internalized the verbal abuse that my parents and sibling had inflicted on me to the point that I couldn't recognize any compliments directed at me as being genuine. Although I hadn't lived with my parents and sibling for years, their voices were still in my head every day, pointing out everything I did wrong so that I was constantly obsessing about it.

I thought of the times my sibling and I fought and how they claimed that their screaming insults were justified because they were merely "responding" to my bad behavior. Sibling did not escape our parents' house unscathed, but is now in denial about the way they've treated us. Also, I always received the worst of it, like the time my father and sibling went out for ice cream, while I had to stay behind because my mother was angry at me; they knew that she would scream at me for hours while they were gone, which she did, but they left anyway. Both my father and Sibling are more willing than I am to tiptoe around my mother. Sibling says that stuff like that is my fault for "provoking" our parents because I talk back to them (my father and mother say the same thing). Sibling also says that I'm being too melodramatic about how they treat me.

I thought of my father, who is not usually as bad-tempered as my mother but who never protected me from her either. He has also made his share of cutting remarks, such as the time I was hired to teach at the college in Small Town and he said that it was good that I was "finally going to start working." I pointed out that I had been working multiple jobs for years, but he said they didn't count because none of those jobs were full-time and didn't come with health insurance or benefits.

Most of all, I thought of my mother, who has always criticized everything about me: my weight, my hair, my clothes, the way I walk, etc. Years ago, when she was visiting and I was out on an errand, she read through some of my course evaluations that my former students had filled out. Although most of the evaluations were highly positive, my mother honed in on the few that weren't. To this day, she reminds me of the bad things that my students said about me, to show that I made the wrong choice when I pursued a career in education, rather than the more lucrative career she and my father pressured me to pursue. Sibling caved in to my parents' demands and chose that career, which is partly why they favor Sibling over me.

I think that's one reason why I've spent all these years working so hard: I wanted to prove that my mother was wrong when she said that I wouldn't last five years as a teacher. But my therapist helped me realize that I shouldn't work so hard to get my parents' approval because they were toxic and nothing would ever be good enough for them.

Therapy also helped me realize how isolated I had become and that I needed something in my life outside of work. When I moved to Small Town, I accepted the invitation of Small Town Guy, who also worked at the college that hired me, to join his trivia team that met at a local bar every week. He introduced me to his other friends. They were kind to me and welcomed me into their group, and for the first time in years, I had an active social life.

I've been thinking about all of this as I've continued writing my book, Obsessions of a Workaholic. I also wondered why I let the Model push me around and why I blamed myself for everything that happened. My therapist might have said that I'd been conditioned to believe that the problem was solely within me, not in the people who treated me badly. But I don't put all the blame on my relatives for why I fell for the Model.

When he first messaged me on Tinder, I had just recently moved to College Town. I was lonely for the friends I left behind in Small Town. I wasn't attracted to the other guys I'd met on Tinder or Bumble. I'd been rejected by most of the guys I'd had crushes on in the past. The Model was exactly the kind of guy I've always been attracted to but who never even noticed me before. The fact that he not only noticed me but wanted to be with me was flattering and thrilling, like a fantasy come true. And despite the awful way he treated me, he did have a few good qualities.

For one brief, desperate moment after I found out that he had used me to cheat on his girlfriend, I actually considered pretending that I didn't know about her, because the thought of never being with him again hurt even more. But in the end, I couldn't do it. I knew in my heart that he saw her as girlfriend material, and me as a friend with benefits. There was no way that I could keep being with him, not only because it was wrong to hook up with someone else's boyfriend but also because I'd be cheating myself out of everything else I wanted with him.

Whatever I had with him was a fantasy. It wasn't real, even though I wanted it to be, especially after years of bad first dates and failed relationships. I had fallen back into the pattern of allowing myself to be treated like crap in the vain hope of one day having my efforts be validated with love. As my therapist told me, I needed to recognize the good in myself again, instead of only focusing on what was bad, and to remember that I deserved better.

Some days, it's still hard to do that, especially because my parents and sibling have no remorse for the way they've treated me and still make me feel bad about myself. I haven't completely cut them out of my life for complicated reasons that would make this post even longer, but my therapist taught me strategies for dealing with them. She said that I should severely limit the time I talk to them on the phone and spend less time with them, and I've followed her advice. She told me that I needed to put my foot down with all of them more often, and I have, much to their displeasure, though I still have a long way to go.

I had to put my foot down with the Model too. I never again want to let anyone, whether it be the Model or my relatives, make me feel like I'm someone whose feelings don't matter and who is worthless. Now, I take pride in my academic and professional accomplishments, even though my mother doesn't and my father says I still need to do more. Now, I know that I'm not a loser just because I'm still single at 37, even though my sibling tells me otherwise. I've also lost twenty-five pounds since May, and that makes me feel good too.

"You're stronger than you think," my therapist once told me. "You could have continued obeying your parents and done everything they wanted, but you stayed the course and focused on making your own dream come true instead."

I'm not sharing all of this to make you feel sorry for me. But I wanted to explain why I obsess over things that some people think are not a big deal, and why I regressed into a depressive spiral after I found out what kind of person the Model really was. If it hadn't been for what I learned from those two years in therapy, I might have spiraled even further. I thought maybe this post was TMI, which is why I almost didn't post it. But writing my book-length memoir, Obsessions of a Workaholic, has made me contemplate how and why I became a neurotic workaholic and also includes TMI about my parents and sibling (I do not refer to them as my family and never will). That's why I will have to edit some of it once I finish the rough draft.

What about you? Have you ever been ghosted by a friend? Do you ever worry about including too much information in your own blog posts or manuscripts?

Friends with Kids

Ever since I turned thirty-seven, I've been thinking a lot about the fact that I will most likely never have children. Richard Gere can father a child at age sixty-eight, but women can't do that. I know that a lot of women do get pregnant in their forties, but that usually happens with the help of fertility treatments or surrogates, which I, an underpaid English teacher with two jobs and thousands of dollars in student loan debt, cannot afford. Not to mention I do not have a husband or a boyfriend, and I'm on the pill, so I'd say my chances of getting pregnant are slim to none.

When I lived in Small Town, several of my friends there had young children, which affected their social lives. That is, unlike my college-aged neighbors, who regularly woke me up at 2 A.M. with their loud parties that made them sound like they were drunk wolves howling at the moon, my thirtysomething friends often had to leave our get-togethers by nine or ten P.M. to get home in time to pay the babysitter or tuck in their children.

When they hosted parties at their homes, they often invited their other friends to bring their kids along, and they would have kid-friendly activities available, like a crafts table, a swing set and plenty of toys, etc. The kids would work on their art projects or run around, playing, while their parents kept one eye on them while conversing with the rest of us. I would sit with the parents, suddenly feeling so much younger than them, despite the closeness in our ages, because I did not have any children of my own. Unlike my friends with kids, I never had to say things like, "Annie, be careful with your soda. You're going to spill it," or "No, you can't have any more soda. If you drink any more you're going to be up all night and then I'll be up all night and you know how cranky Mommy gets when she gets tired," or "Oh, my God! Do not eat that worm! That's not food! I am so sorry, everyone. He's just curious. My son doesn't normally eat worms or anything else that's still moving, haha!"

I didn't really know what to say to them sometimes. It's not like I could relate to their stories about being up all night with a crying baby or how difficult it was to handle life with a toddler. So I'd usually say things like, "So, I, uh, hear that it's hard to get kids into kindergarten these days! What is up with that?"

Here in College Town, I've joined a Meetup group made up of women, most of whom are close to my age, who go out for dinner to various restaurants in the area. At a Thai restaurant one night a few weeks ago, we were talking about motherhood. I said I was ambivalent about having kids, and one of the women, who had a child of her own, said, "If you're not a hundred percent sure that you want to be a mother, you shouldn't do it."

And I knew she was right. My father is still holding out hope that I'll be married with at least one child within the next few years. My mother tells me about all her friends' daughters, most of whom are younger than me, who are already married with children. She has called me an old maid on more than one occasion, including my birthday one year, where instead of giving me birthday wishes she commented on the fact that I was now an old maid in my thirties. I haven't told either of them that it is very unlikely I'll be a mother. But then again, they still think that I'm a Republican, like they are, and I have to bite my tongue from shrieking like a banshee when my mother quotes Sean Hannity and says that Donald Trump is a "good man". I learned a long time ago that the less they know about my life, the better, because we fight enough about the little they do know as it is.

My parents are partly why I am ambivalent about having children. My mother is a verbally abusive, controlling pessimist who is always convinced that the worst-case scenario will happen, which is why she predicted that I wouldn't last five years as a teacher. (I've been teaching for more than a decade now, but she keeps reminding me that I'm untenured and not secure in my job, in order to emphasize that I made the wrong decision.) My father is a verbally abusive, controlling cock-eyed optimist who stubbornly holds on to his view of the world even when everything is falling to pieces around him. My sibling is their golden child, who is not treated half as badly by them as I am, and gets angry when I get upset with our parents because my sibling agrees with both of them that I am the one with the problem.

I only see my parents twice a year for a few days each time, and I call them once a week out of obligation. I talk to my sibling less often. Therefore, I've always viewed time with family as time to dread and be endured, not time to look forward to or to cherish. It's hard for me to picture myself with a happy family because I never got to have one, and part of me is afraid that I'll turn out to be like my mother or my father if I had my own kids. And I know that although they would love to have grandchildren, eventually their cruel streak would surface and they would lash out at my kids. And then I'd fight back as hard as I could because I'll be damned if I let them hurt my kids like they hurt me.

I think that parents have the toughest, most stressful, most heartbreaking, and most rewarding job in the world. It's a job that they can't ever quit, and I have to admit, the idea of having my own son or daughter who may even look like me, someone who I would love unconditionally, is appealing.

But I've always viewed motherhood as akin to winning the lottery. It'd be an amazing life-changer, but it's okay if it never happens. And I haven't gone out of my way to buy lottery tickets. And although my job status as an untenured college professor is insecure, I like that if I were to get a good job offer at some school halfway across the country, I have the freedom to just pack up my stuff and go.

Here in College Town and the other small Midwestern towns that surround it, people typically marry their high school or college sweethearts before they turn twenty-five and have several kids before they turn thirty. That's why most of the single guys my age are divorced with children, including two of the guys I dated, the Artist and the Musician. I know that it's slightly unrealistic to prefer to date a guy close to my age without kids, but...

Sometimes I feel guilty about the fact that I'm not thrilled at the prospect of becoming a mother or stepmother. I feel like society pressures women to view marriage and motherhood as not only a happy ending but the only happy ending. And if a woman chooses to create a different kind of happy ending for herself, she's considered "weird."

On the other hand, I'd rather be "weird" than to be living a life that I don't really want.

What about you? Do you have kids? If you do, how did you know that you wanted to be a parent? If you don't have kids, how do you feel about parenthood?

The Girl Most Likely To...

Recently, one of my former high school classmates started a thread on Facebook about our twenty year class reunion. Technically, we graduated nineteen years ago, but they want to start planning now. (The fact that it's been almost twenty years since high school made me immediately check my reflection in the mirror for white hair, which is why I have a small bald spot now.)

I'd be willing to go to the reunion. That is, if clones were real, then I'd send my clone, as long as my clone was twenty pounds thinner, a tenured professor at an Ivy League university, and married to George Clooney's clone. I'd also be willing to go if I could arrive in a helicopter, like the class nerd did in Romy and Michele's High School Reunion.

My other classmates were excited about it, suggesting ideas like going on a hay ride and roasting hot dogs over a fire (God, they're so Midwestern, but then again, I used to like those things) together, having a picnic at a park or someone else's house, or going out for drinks (I don't normally drink alcohol, but I think I would need gallons of it to tolerate an evening with the people who voted me "Most Likely to Become a Nun.").

There were parts of high school that I enjoyed. I liked my English teachers; they were partly why I majored in English in college. I liked performing in school plays, even though I usually had small roles.

But I didn't like how people made fun of me for being different. I didn't like how I stayed home from prom both junior and senior year, as well as most of the school dances, because no one asked me, and the ones I asked to go with me said no. I didn't like how one of the bullies who regularly taunted me once bullied me so badly that I cried, and then she pointed out my tears to everyone else and laughed about it. My mother, father, and sibling already made me feel bad about myself on a regular basis at home. I didn't want to have to deal with that from people at school too, but I did.

On the other hand, all of that was almost twenty years ago, and maybe they've changed for the better. But when I moved to College Town, which is only a few hours away from the small Midwestern town where I grew up, one of my former classmates contacted me on Facebook and suggested we go out for dinner. I couldn't go on the day she wanted to go, but I suggested alternate days and also said I could rearrange my schedule in the future. She said she'd let me know. That was three months ago, and I haven't heard from her since then.

My best friend in high school suggested we meet for coffee because she lives near College Town. We did, and she kept saying that she couldn't understand why we lost touch. I didn't tell her that I tried to keep in touch with her in college, but she was busy with her new boyfriend, new friends, and other college activities, and she stopped returning my phone calls and e-mails. I sent her a message suggesting that we meet for coffee again. She never answered. That was two months ago.

Another classmate tagged me in a post on Facebook, which normally wouldn't be a problem, except she also tagged another classmate that I'm not friends with on Facebook (or in real life, either). I sent her a message on FB asking her to remove my name from the tag because the problem is that other guy is Facebook friends with my mother, who still doesn't know that I'm on the site. Not only that, but my mother is convinced that I should date this guy, and I know that he is the type of person who would tell her all about my Facebook account. I didn't like him then, and I don't want to date him now. (He basically had the personality of Lurch from the Addams Family, although not as nice.) Despite my request, the classmate who tagged me ignored my message and left the post up.

That's why I'm not exactly thrilled at the prospect of going to this reunion. I'd rather go to a Trump rally and yell, "Lock HIM up!"

I didn't go to the other reunions they organized in the past. I know that at some point one or more of them will bring up some embarrassing thing I did back then, and then they'll all laugh. And then they'll say what they always said: "It's just a joke. Can't you take a joke?" as if I wasn't allowed to be offended and I was the one with the problem.

I also know that they'll ask me why I'm unmarried and childless. In the small Midwestern town that we all grew up in, people, including the majority of my classmates, married the first or second person they ever dated (i.e., their high school or college sweetheart) before they turned twenty-five and had several kids before they turned thirty. I'm one of the only people in the class who didn't do that. There's nothing wrong with that kind of life. It seems like it's a good life, and my classmates seem happy with it (at least, they seem they do, in the Facebook version of their lives). But I left my hometown because I wanted a different life.

And I do have a different life. I'm a college professor with a master's degree and a Ph.D. that I worked hard to get and that I'm proud of. I went from teaching in Chicago to a small town in Tennessee to a college town in the Midwest. That may not be the same as having a family of my own, but it's something.

If I do go, I won't tolerate any "jokes" like I did back when I was in high school. All those years in Chicago made me tougher and much less tolerant of jerks. Therefore, if any of them start up again, I'll say, "Back in high school, I never stood up to you. But now I can tell you to go to hell, and walk away. So go to hell." And then I'll walk away, and I'll never go back.

P.S. Let me know if you hear anything new about clones.

What about you? Did you go to any of your high school reunions?

Ottomans, Ice Breakers, and Anxious E-mails

I've been living in College Town for about a month now. It doesn't seem that long because I've been so busy.

For one thing, I had to deal with the movers and unpacking all of my stuff. Fortunately, the moving company I hired this time around did a MUCH better job than the furniture-stealing, price-gouging, we-were-out-getting-high-or-who-knows-what-and-THAT'S-why-your-delivery-was-several-days-late-but-deal-with-it-SUCKER scam artists I hired the last time around. None of my furniture or belongings were stolen or damaged this time, and the movers showed up when they said they would. And they didn't scream at me like the last movers did (the scam artist on the phone literally screamed at me when I asked them why it was three days past the promised delivery date and I still hadn't gotten my stuff yet and he just kept yelling, "I don't KNOW!").

Since I hope to stick around in College Town longer than I did in Small Town, I've actually made more of an effort to furnish and decorate my apartment. I've made a "wish list" of things I'd like to eventually get for my apartment, including a storage ottoman that could double as a coffee table, a bedside table (to replace the one that the scam artists stole two years ago), and another bookcase (the moving company from two years ago not only disassembled my bookcase and refused to put it back together, they damaged it so badly that I couldn't reassemble it myself). I also have a wish list of pop songs I want to download, including the solo singles of all the members of One Direction, but that's another story.

I went to the orientation for new faculty at my new school, and it lasted several days long, for eight or nine hours a day. We had to do various ice breakers that everyone else seemed excited to participate in, whereas I was all:


via GIPHY

The fall term just started, and I've literally already gotten dozens of anxious e-mails from students that say stuff like, "I don't have the textbooks for class yet! I won't get an F for that, will I?" or "I might have to miss class for two days in October. I won't get an F for that, will I?" or "I think I bought the wrong books for this class. But it's not like I really need the textbooks for this class, right?" My response to that question was basically like this:


via GIPHY

But so far, it's been okay. The other faculty have been pretty nice to me, and the campus at my new employer's school is beautiful and much bigger than the campus at my old school. College Town is all right, too. There are more shopping and dining options than there were in Small Town, which is nice, because I no longer have to drive several hours just to go someplace like Best Buy, a shopping mall, or a restaurant that doesn't play country music 24/7 (actually, I basically had to drive OUT of Tennessee for that last one, because that state is all ABOUT the country music).

As far as socializing goes, I set up an account on Meetup.com, and there are a few meetups that look interesting in College Town. One of them organizes get-togethers almost every week, and they have one coming up pretty soon. I'm planning to go and hopefully meet some nice, interesting people who I could possibly be friends with, and whose personalities don't make me want to head-butt them.

What about you? Other than Meetup, how do you meet new people and make new friends?

Singing My Way Out of the South

Before I left Small Town for good, Small Town Guy organized a going-away dinner for me. Nine of my friends showed up for the dinner, which meant a lot to me. When I first moved to Tennessee, I didn't know a single person there. I'd come from a life in Chicago that revolved around work, eating alone in school cafeterias, and kicking/and or swearing at guys who tried to grope me on the El. My life in Small Town also revolved around work, but it also included shared meals and parties with friends. When I look back on the two years I spent in the South, I'll miss the friendships I made there the most.

I remember looking at everyone as we ate together and spent hours talking, and thinking to myself, It'll never be like this with them ever again. Sure, I might come back to visit, but that is a long time from now (I have to pay off at least some of the enormous debt I incurred from all my moving expenses first), and by the time I come back, some people will have moved on to other places too and new people will have shown up, and it won't be the same. It made me feel sad when I thought of how this was yet another important part of my life that I had to give up in order to pursue a career in academia.

Although many things bothered me about my life in Small Town, such as the fact that I wasn't treated fairly at work, drivers who drove fifteen miles an hour in the left lane, and neighbors who yelled "WHOOOO" approximately five hundred times a night while tossing beer cans in the parking lot, there are some things I'll miss, other than my friends.

I'll miss the mild weather (it felt like spring lasted a lot longer there), even though Small Town basically shut down during the winter. There were usually no more than a couple inches, but it was enough to make most of the restaurants, stores, and schools shut down. People frantically stocked up at Walmart for the "blizzard," and I'd say, "You mean the snow that is melting as we speak?" In the Midwest, we get several feet of snow, wear multiple layers of clothing for more than two-thirds of the year, and keep ourselves warm by complaining about how cold it is.

I'll miss the mountains. As I drove out of the South, I went from driving past the green mountains of Tennessee to the flat farmland of the Midwest. Sometimes when I got claustrophobic in Small Town, I'd drive to bigger cities and towns, but what I enjoyed most was looking at the mountains. I never failed to marvel at how beautiful they all were.

I'll miss the interesting cities in Tennessee, including Nashville, which was my favorite. It was several hours away from Small Town, but I liked going there because of its thriving literary scene, including the open mic nights and poetry readings that were held there every week, hosted by hipsters who would no doubt have tossed their man buns at me in disgust if they saw all the pop songs on my playlist (I heart you, Taylor Swift. You too, Ariana Grande.) I even took a one-day writing workshop at The Porch, which is a writer's collective.

Nashville also has a really good music scene. A few months ago, I watched Vanessa Carlton perform (she sounds just as good live as she does on her albums) at 3rd and Lindsley, a bar that has a Sunday night concert series.

I also went to a concert at the Grand Ole Opry (there were a variety of musicians that I didn't recognize, but they were all very good), where several people attended wearing cowboy hats and boots. I also walked down Broadway in Nashville, which is full of honky tonk bars where aspiring country musicians perform. I bought a soda in a couple of those bars and listened to the musicians sing, and I thought it was so cool that I basically had access to all these "concerts" for the price of a couple bucks.

I told the English Department secretary at my former school about my new job in College Town, and I remarked about how I had spent almost my entire life in the Midwest. She said, "Well, maybe it's where you need to be." Maybe she's right, at least for now. But I think it was good for me to get out of my comfort zone, live in a state that I had never been to before, work at a rural college, teach students whose mindset was very different from my Chicago students (in Small Town, several students wore Make America Great Again hats. If they did that in Chicago, people would probably snatch the hats right off their heads, yell, "What's the matter with you, FOOL?" and throw the hats into oncoming traffic), and make new friends.

Before I left, I made a "Southern Songs" playlist made up of country music. Even though I felt sad to leave my friends behind, I sang practically the whole time I drove out of the South.

What about you? If you were to leave your town/city behind, what would you miss most?

Spiders, Horror Movies, and College Towns.

Last week I literally drove all day from Small Town to College Town, which is several states away. It was less expensive than flying there, not to mention the airport nearest to College Town is hours away. It was my first time driving such a long distance by myself, and of course, I got lost.

I used the GPS on my phone, but took a wrong turn and ended up all the way out in Tiny Town (and at that point I'm still not sure what state I was in). The cell phone reception in that area was almost nonexistent, so I couldn't use my GPS. And like the genius that I am, I did not bring a road map either.

I had to stop at more than one gas station to ask for directions (I was all, "Stopping at a gas station for directions? What is this, the nineties?) before I finally made it back to an area with cell reception. I was very relieved, especially because getting lost in an unfamiliar place is exactly what happens in way too many horror movies, and the umbrella that I keep in my car would be no match against a chainsaw-wielding cannibal.

When I got to College Town, I got a room at a "hotel", and I use the term loosely because it was exactly the kind of hotel that you see in almost every horror movie, complete with screaming in the halls. Fortunately, the screaming wasn't from people being chased by serial killers or ghosts but was more along the lines of, "Dang it! Who drank the last beer?" and "I KNOW you were looking at her! Don't you lie to me!" and "Keep it DOWN! I don't want people calling the cops on us again!" Several of the guests hung out in the parking lot, drinking beer with their shirts off.

I went to College Town so that I could find an apartment. Here's what happened:

Me: Does the landlord pay for an exterminator if there are bugs in the apartment?

Leasing agent #1: Actually, the tenants are responsible for the cost of that if there are bugs. But don't worry, we don't have that problem around here.

Me: Okay, but there is a ginormous spider spinning a web behind you right now.

Me: Do a lot of college students live here? Most of my current neighbors in Small Town are students, and they are the reason that earplugs were invented.

Leasing agent #2: Oh no, this apartment complex is very quiet.

Me: (starts to answer but is distracted by the sound of someone playing the trumpet in the apartment above us.)

Leasing agent #3: And as you can see, we have a lot of nice amenities around here, like a swimming pool for the tenants.

Me: Oh, that's nice. (What I was really thinking: This is the Midwest. The tenants won't be able to use the pool for 80% of the year, and yet they'll have to pay for it 100% of the year.)

I finally did find an apartment that I liked. After I did things like get renter's insurance and set up my electricity in my new place, I drove to the campus of the school where I will be teaching. The last time I set foot on that campus was almost twenty years ago, when I was a seventeen year old high school student looking at colleges. Although I liked the school, I didn't go to that college; I chose another one that offered me a scholarship and a place in their honors program. It was so strange to go back to College Town as a thirty-six-year-old college teacher and see the place now that I was older, wiser, and much more heavily caffeinated.

I also drove around College Town, which is more than twice the size of Small Town. I noticed that the former has more restaurants and stores; it will be nice not to have to drive several hours just to go shopping at someplace other than Walmart.

Now I'm back in Small Town, researching moving companies, packing up my stuff, and getting rid of the stuff that I no longer need or use. I'm leaving for my new town and job in less than a month, and I feel nervous, excited, and a little scared. I hope that I'll like it there, and I hope that I can stay at that job longer than I did at the one I had here.

When I drive back to College Town, I'll be sure to bring a road map. And possibly a chainsaw.


What about you? Have you ever moved to a new place where you never lived before?

A Liberal in a Town Full of Trump Supporters

Small Town Local #1: I think President Trump has the right idea! I want to shake hands with that man!

Me:




Small Town Local #2: If people are poor, it's because they don't work hard enough.

Me:



Almost two years ago, I went from living in a big city where drag queens read stories to children in public libraries to a small town where many people think that homosexuality is a "choice". It was definitely a culture shock.

Although I've become fond of several of my students, sometimes listening to some of them is like listening to a panel of Fox News correspondents. Every time I see one of them wearing a Make America Great Again hat or one of the other locals drive around town in a pickup truck with a giant Confederate flag flying from the back, I have to bite my tongue to keep from screaming.

Yes, it's America, and they're entitled to their beliefs. And I have to be very careful not to become one of those professors who use their classrooms as political soapboxes. But it isn't easy to live in a town where a lot of people think that Hillary Clinton should be "locked up," shake their heads over "fake news", and yell racial slurs at minorities from their truck windows.

I'll be the first to admit that not all of the people in Small Town are like this, and fortunately, I haven't heard any of my students say racial slurs (although one of my students, who is from another country, confided in me that other students from other classes ridiculed him and laughed at him because of his accent when he tried to talk to them).

I'll also admit that there are advantages to small town life, such as the fact that I'm far less likely to get body slammed for my wallet or for no reason at all (both of which did happen to me in the city I lived in previously), and people are generally friendlier here.

I'll also admit that I'm not completely liberal, partly due to certain liberals whose behavior is often as intolerant as some of the Trump supporters I've met, like the ones who try to prevent controversial people from speaking at colleges and have even gone so far as verbally (or physically) attacking them when they try to give their speeches.

Many colleges are in small towns like this one, so it is quite likely that I'll spend the rest of my career in a small town. I'd be okay with that, as long as I had more job security, a salary that enabled me to quit my second job and have at least one day off a week, and more classes that I want to teach, rather than the "required" classes that most of the tenured professors do not want to teach. That's not the case at the school where I'm teaching now, which is why I want to leave.

I've applied to almost forty schools, and I'm hopeful that I'll find something, although I've already received a few rejections. There's a strong possibility that I'll still be here next year, although it's not a guarantee.

I'm worried, though. If I don't find something better for next year, then who's to say the situation will be any different next year? I'll still have mostly the same qualifications. I do need to do more academic research, which is hard when I'm working about thirty-five to forty hours a week at my teaching job (due to my full teaching load, large number of students, department/committee meetings, etc.) and twenty hours (and sometimes more) a week at my website job.

It's ironic (and unfair) that in order to advance in my career I have to do more research, but because I'm not in an advanced status yet I don't have time to do that research. Tenured professors, on the other hand, have fewer classes to teach and assistants to grade papers and hold office hours for them. But I digress. Such is academia. I probably should have gone into something less stressful, like taste testing for the North Korean dictator, Kim Jong Un.

What about you? How do you react when people start praising a politician that makes you want to Google "one-way ticket to Canada" and "cheap flasks"?

The Girlfriend

When I found out that Small Town Guy had a new girlfriend, my reaction was basically like this:
via GIPHY

When I found out they were taking a trip out of town together and saw their pictures from the trip on Facebook, my reaction was basically like this:



via GIPHY

I thought I had let go of any feelings I had for him months ago, and truth be told, I'd already accepted a long time ago that he and I would never be more than friends. After that incident where he made me feel like my feelings didn't matter, I found myself cringing anytime someone mentioned his name.

I distanced myself from the friends I'd made here in Small Town and tried to avoid him, which isn't easy to do in a small town like this one. I swear, I keep bumping into my students everywhere: at the gym, at the local coffee shop, and once at the pharmacy, where I was buying anti-itch cream for a rash on my legs (I told the student that I ran into that "Uh, this is for a friend! Not for me, haha!").

When I finally decided to start socializing with them again, Small Town Guy was there, along with the Girlfriend (who isn't New Girl by the way, but someone who occasionally socializes with the group). He mostly ignored me, and I couldn't help but flinch when I saw him put his arm around her and listened to her say things like, "We went to that movie, and it was so romantic!"

I left after twenty minutes. Even before I found out he was dating someone, I no longer wanted to be with him (especially not after he excluded me and hurt my feelings). But still, it stung to see him with someone else.

On the one hand, it's probably for the best. I will (hopefully) be leaving Small Town pretty soon for a different job at another school in another state (if I can find one, which I won't find out about until the end of the school year). It wouldn't make sense to start something with someone when I have to leave again. I hope I can leave and find a job with a higher salary, so that I won't have to work seven days a week at two jobs anymore. (That's mainly why I've been blogging sporadically this school year.)

But on the other hand, living here finally made me realize that there has to be more to life than work. I spent all those years hiding behind my work, developing crushes on guys who just weren't that into me, which made me wonder if there was something wrong with me. Maybe I liked them because it was safer to like guys like that, because then nothing would happen and I could refocus on my work. Or maybe I'm just man repellent.

If and when I move to a new place, I've decided to try online dating again once I get settled. I've been thinking that I'll join Tinder, since I'm on Facebook now (you have to have a FB account in order to join). I've heard that a lot of people join it for hookups, but other people have ended up with more serious relationships because of it. Maybe it'll work out for me this time. Or maybe I'll end up with another freezer full of ice cream.

Coping Mechanisms

Lately I've resorted to using coping mechanisms, because working seven days a week (with no days off) at a full-time job and a part-time job, in addition to applying for teaching jobs for next year and trying to make time for academic research has been very stressful. Since my situation will not get easier any time soon, I've relied on some of the following techniques:

1. Listening to (and occasionally singing along with) my favorite songs: As an English teacher, I almost always have a stack of papers to grade. When you read dozens of essays on the same topic, it can make you fall asleep sitting up. That's why I keep YouTube and iTunes open on my computer, so that I can play my favorite songs while I'm working.

For some reason, it often makes me feel better when I sing along to the radio when I'm driving. Sometimes I get carried away, though; recently, during a rare traffic jam on one of Small Town's few main streets, I was singing along to "Vogue" by Madonna, complete with the "Vogue" hand gestures she did in her music video. I heard some people laughing in the car beside me, and I turned my head to see a group of my students watching me. "Hey, Professor!" they called out. If it wasn't for the fact that I would have caused an accident, I would have slunk down in my seat until they drove past. I waved back and said, "Hi kids! I'm just, uh, listening to Madonna for research purposes." (What? I was caught off guard.) That's the thing about living in a small town: you're much more likely to run into (and embarrass yourself in front of) people you know on a regular basis.

2. Making time to write: Although I can't write every day, at least three or four times a week I sit down to work on one of my manuscripts before I do work for my teaching job or my website job. It helps to write something other than, "Your thesis statement is too vague," or "Your citations are incorrect," or "Although you clearly have valid reasons for being mad at your roommate, you should not discuss them in your research paper." Knowing that I get to write fiction makes it a lot easier to sit down at my desk in the first place, and even if I don't get to write for as long as I'd like, it makes me feel good to know that I got some writing down.

3. Reading a good book before bed: I spend hours every day reading stuff for work, but for at least fifteen or twenty minutes before I go to sleep I try to relax by reading a novel or a memoir. I just finished reading the actress Isabel Gillies' memoir, Happens Every Day, where she describes following her professor husband to Ohio (and her description of life in academia is spot-on) as well as the breakdown of her marriage when he fell in love with another woman. Her writing made me feel like I was walking along the streets of Oberlin, Ohio with her, and the emotion she conveyed made me so angry at her selfish, condescending, and unfaithful ex-husband.

She also did something that is similar to the work of other authors I've admired (like Dave Barry, Jen Lancaster, David Sedaris, Natalie Goldberg, etc.): she described ordinary life in a way that was extraordinary. That is, she described simple things like going to the farmer's market and taking care of her kids in a way that made it sound interesting and heartfelt. That's the kind of thing that I try to do in my own writing.

Reading good books like that help me feel less annoyed about constantly being stuck behind cars going less than twenty miles an hour in both lanes, spending extra hours grading late papers, and people who take five minutes to order one cup of coffee (which is never a good idea when they're standing in front of a sleep-deprived, neurotic workaholic who may or may not end up cursing them in three different languages).

4. Socializing with friends: The new friends I've made in Small Town have made me realize that there should be more to life than work. Recently, I had my usual stack of work to do, but I decided to set it aside for one night so that I could go out for dinner with my friends. Even though it meant I had to work extra hours the next day, it was worth it because I had good food, good conversation, and good friends to share them with.

What about you? What kinds of coping mechanisms do you rely on when you get stressed out?

On the Road Again

Whenever university administrators talk about the need for making budget cuts, I can't help thinking of their six-figure salaries and how they have more than enough money for food, nice clothes, and country club memberships where they can get together with their rich friends and talk about how hard life is.

At the school where I teach, there's talk of budget cuts. Although I am a full-time faculty member, my untenured status means that I might not have a job next year. When I first came here, they told me my contract could be renewed for up to three years, and that many people stayed longer. But now they're advising me to apply for jobs elsewhere, just in case, which makes me angry; I could have stayed where I was before and saved thousands of dollars.

I'm applying for everything that I'm remotely qualified for: postdoctoral fellowships, lecturer positions, and tenure-track jobs. I doubt I'll get a tenure-track job, though, due to the fact that I don't have enough publications. I've been trying to work on my research, but my two jobs are why I've been working more than fifty hours a week with no days off. I was so stressed out that the other night I had nightmares about being attacked by raccoons (WTF?) and being crushed by stacks of students' papers while having a bunch of red pens thrown at me.

I think that I can afford to be a little more choosy about where to work, despite my lack of academic publications. I have my PhD now, as well as recommendation letters from my bosses, teaching experience at both rural and urban colleges, and positive evaluations from students.

The question is where I'll end up next. I'm hoping for a place that's bigger than Small Town and a job at a school with a more selective admission rate. I saw ads for a few schools located in towns where the entire population was made up of less than two thousand people, and I immediately thought, "NEXT!"

It's okay if I end up in another college town, as long as I don't have to drive too far to get to the nearest big city. But I must admit that all those years in a big city have ruined me for small town life. Sometimes I feel claustrophobic in Small Town, to the point where I feel like shrieking, "I have to get OUT of here!" Other days I find myself wishing that I had a little bit of vodka in my coffee mug when I'm at work (and I don't even drink alcohol!).

My ideal teaching situation would be at a medium-sized Catholic liberal arts college in a big city or medium-sized town, where the majority of the students are respectful, disciplined, hard-working, and turn in all their work on time. Then I wouldn't have any more nightmares about red pens. I'd like to teach more literature classes than freshman composition classes. I'd like to teach English majors. I've mainly been teaching students who are only in my classes because of their General Education requirements and would rather be getting root canals while watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians than learning how to write thesis statements.

I'd also like a job with better benefits than the ones I get now; although I have dental insurance, I currently can't afford the copay for a dentist appointment. (I also have nightmares about my teeth falling out and me teaching while looking like a jack-o-lantern). I'd like a salary that allows me to quit my second job, so that maybe I could have at least one day off a week. Maybe then, I would be less of a neurotic workaholic, and I could finally let myself relax for the first time in more than a decade.

My biggest fear is that I'll end up in the middle of nowhere, teaching at a school whose students spend more time partying than studying, with coeds who are "offended" by pronouns (apparently that's a thing now. Insert eye-roll here).

What about you? What does your ideal day job (other than writing) look like?

Back to School

When I was a kid and saw the back-to-school commercials, I looked forward to buying new notebooks and pens.

Now that I'm an adult and a teacher, when I see those commercials, I buy antacids and aspirin.

I also buy coffee, because I know I won't get much sleep until Thanksgiving break.

For the first time in years, I actually let myself relax during these past couple summer months. I still had to do work for my website job, but it was a relief to be free from grading papers, teaching, and e-mails from students that said stuff like, "Is there a movie version of the book? I was just wondering."

Since I had a car, I was able to leave Small Town for the first time in months (I hadn't left the town at all since January, except for a brief trip to Chicago during spring break, because I was so busy with my full-time job and part-time job.). I drove to some of the big cities nearby to go sight-seeing, try new restaurants, and browse in independent boutiques that I hadn't been to. It felt good to have days that were truly mine, without worrying about a stack of work waiting for me at home.

I've been dreading the first day of school. It's not that I'm unwilling to work. I am a workaholic after all, and if I go too long without working I start getting antsy and trying to climb the walls, shrieking, "I just can't LIVE like this!"

But last year was incredibly stressful, and there were times when I didn't even like teaching anymore. No teacher that I know loves teaching all the time, but it got to the point where I felt so frustrated that I actually contemplated giving up the career I'd devoted my life to for so many years and trying something less stressful, like bullfighting.

The school where I currently teach is a good school, and I've grown fond of many of the students. The faculty has been very kind and welcoming to me, for the most part. But there are several things about the department's rules and methods that I don't agree with, though that would've been true of any department. Although I'm a full-time faculty member, I'm also untenured, so I have no voting power in the decisions that are made, which is why I haven't expressed my true feelings about how things are done here.

It's also frustrating to have to keep saying over and over, "It's not okay to miss so many classes," or "No, you can't turn in your work several weeks after the deadline," or "For the love of God, PUT DOWN that cell phone!"

I've had to say those things at other schools where I've taught, but last year it just got to the point where I'd look in the mirror and see that my hair was turning white again; my face looked tired, sad, and exasperated.

There's also the fact that after spending all those years in a big city, small town life has been difficult to adjust to. I've made some good friends here, and I socialize with them regularly. But I'd like to be able to live somewhere that doesn't require me to spend hours driving just to shop somewhere OTHER than Walmart or a place where most businesses and restaurants in town don't close by 9 P.M. or earlier. I'd also like to be able to walk into a place that doesn't make me want to wring my hands and shriek, "Can we listen to something other than banjo music, PLEASE? The HUMANITY of it all!"

That's why this year I will work harder on my academic research, because I'll never be able to find a better job if I don't publish more articles that hardly anyone but other professors and scholars read (but I digress). I'll also actively pursue job leads at other schools, and hopefully by the end of the school year, I'll find a place that is a better fit for me.

What about you? How has your summer been? Have you ever felt burned out or frustrated with your job or living situation?

You Can't Go Home Again...Or Can You?

Reasons to Leave Small Town:

1. When I first moved here, my employers hired me on a one-year contract, but they said that the position was renewable for up to three years. Now they're telling me that due to a new policy set by Human Resources, they may only be able to renew my contract for one more year.

2. Too many students told me, "I have to leave class twenty (or forty) minutes early today. Can you just tell me what I'm going to miss?"

3. I found out that there's a job opening for a more secure position at a school in the Chicago area.

4. Too many students gave excuses for not having their papers ready, like "I forgot," or "My WiFi wasn't working...again," or "My computer ate my homework."

5. This year, I taught literature and freshman composition classes. But next year, my employers said that they need me to just to teach writing, due to enrollment and staffing issues. At the Chicago school, I'd get to teach more literature classes.

6. I've heard more than one person say to me, "Don't tell me you're a liberal," as if I'd just admitted to being a bank robber, a serial killer, or a One Direction fan.

7. I've taught at that Chicago school before, and I remember that the students were very disciplined. None of them ever came in late or missed too many classes, and most of them turned in their work on time.

8. I'd really like to walk into a store or a cafe without hearing banjo music.

9. When (not if) Small Town Guy gets a new girlfriend, I'd rather not stick around and listen to them say things like, "We're moving in together!" or "We went shopping for rings today." Then I might say, "I'm thinking of adopting some cats."

10. I miss Chicago. I went there for a few days to visit, and some lady threw a cup of what may or may not have been urine at me and screamed, "Get a job (insert expletive here)!" A guy on the El hit on me on the train. When I ignored him, he got mad, picked his nose, and wiped it on my coat. But I was so happy to be back in the city that I loved that all I thought was, "Ah, Chicago. It's good to be home."

Reasons to Stay in Small Town:

1. I can't really afford to move again. The move to Small Town cost thousands of dollars, and I am still paying off some of the debts. I'd have to borrow money from my parents, and I'd rather listen to banjo music and excuses from my students than another lecture from my parents about money.

2. In Chicago most of my friends had already moved on to other cities or states. The ones that were still there lived in the suburbs and were busy with spouses and children. So I was alone a lot, which made me become even more of a workaholic. In Small Town, I've made several nice friends who I socialize with regularly. Being with them made me realize that there should be more to life than work.

3. The faculty at this school have been very kind, supportive, and welcoming to me.

4. I like living in a larger apartment that costs hundreds of dollars less than my tiny studio in Chicago, and I like having my own washer and dryer, which is something I've never had before.


I really thought I'd never live in Chicago again. But when this job opportunity came up, I decided to apply for it and see what happens. Chances are, I won't get the job, and I'll be in Small Town for another year. But if I do get that job, it will be hard to leave my new friends behind. I can't stay just for them, though.

What about you? Have you ever been torn between two places when it came to deciding where to live or work?

The Gift That Keeps On Giving Me Heartburn

Now that I'm making friends and socializing more in Small Town, it's nice to interact with people and say something other than "Get OUT of my parking space, FREAK SHOW!" (to my neighbors) or "Put your cell phones DOWN!" (to my students).

One thing about socializing, though, is that it can be expensive. Recently I was invited to a birthday party at the only fancy restaurant in Small Town. The birthday girl said that we didn't have to get her anything, but I knew that several other people would bring gifts. I didn't want to be the only person who showed up without a birthday gift. Not to mention I didn't have enough money for a meal at a fancy restaurant, especially considering how most of my meals consist of pasta, peanut butter sandwiches, or toast and scrambled eggs.

Due to the debt I accumulated from my move to Small Town, as well as student loans, car payments, rent, and other expenses, I just don't have enough money for an active social life sometimes. I know that you can't put a price on friendship, but you can put a price on gifts for those friends, like gifts for birthdays, weddings, baby showers, housewarming parties, etc., etc.

I don't tell this to Small Town Guy and his friends, because they've all been so nice and welcoming to me. But they all make a lot more money than I do, so I think it might be harder for them to relate to the fact that I can't afford a ticket to a play in the nearby big city that they want to go to, or a shopping spree at a mall in one of the other big cities (the closest thing that Small Town has to a mall is Walmart).

I could try giving them homemade gifts. But although I've gotten a little better at cooking, it's still difficult for me to bake anything without cringing immediately after I taste it. I can't sew or knit without accidentally poking myself (usually in the eye) with the needle.

It reminds me of that episode of Sex and the City, where Carrie Bradshaw had to spend a bunch of money on gifts for her married friends, but lamented over the fact that single people like her rarely received gifts for their own special occasions (the fact that they were single apparently meant they had fewer occasions to celebrate).

But here are a few of MY ideas for special occasions that single people like me would like presents for (I know it'll never happen, but still, it'd be nice):

A gift for all the times my mother tells me about all the women younger than me who are already married with children, and then she calls me a spinster or an old maid (one of the times she did this was when she called me on my thirtieth birthday).

A gift for all the bad dates I've been on, like the one with the guy who waited a month to call me after our first (and only) date, and then he got mad and insulted me when I made it clear that I was no longer interested.

A gift for all the hours I spent poring over online dating profiles, only to dismiss more than half of them because the guys my age made it clear in their profiles that they only wanted to date women who were at least ten (or fifteen) years younger.

A gift for all the messages on online dating sites that I received from guys who were twenty (or thirty, or, in one case, forty) years older than me.

A gift for all the times I had to tell my parents' friends that yes, I'm still single; no, I don't have a boyfriend right now; NO, I'm not a lesbian. (I WISH I was making that last one up.)

A gift for the time I sat next to a couple in a coffee shop who kept making out and calling each other cutesy names, and I resisted the urge to eat the croissants they were neglecting and/or throw those croissants at them.

It would be nice if single people got their own special day to celebrate being single, similar to how couples have Valentine's Day and anniversaries to celebrate their relationships. But we're not supposed to celebrate our single status; we're supposed to keep looking for love, or else be accused of being old maids or lesbians (as if there's something wrong with being either, which there isn't).

Oh, well. Either way, I am grateful to the people who have extended their offers of friendship to me, even if I have to occasionally decline their invitations to hang out. It's just too bad that I can't give a peanut butter sandwich as a gift.

What about you? Are there any occasions in your life that you wish you could get presents for? How do you deal with the costs of socializing?

What It's Like to Have a Crush...When You're a Neurotic Workaholic Like Me

1. You spend more time on your physical appearance, because you want to avoid what happened the first time you ran into him: you neither brushed your hair nor your teeth that day. You start wearing makeup, even though you always hated wearing it, and you style your hair and choose outfits more carefully. Then you look in the mirror and think, "Wow, I look good!" And that makes you feel good.

2. The day you are supposed to go out for dinner with him and his friends, a ginormous zit will suddenly appear on your nose or your chin. When you sit next to him at dinner, you feel as if your zit is growing larger by the second, to the point that it might jump off your face and attack Small Town Guy or his friends.

3. You do something you rarely did for anyone else before: you give up time that you normally spend working in order to hang out with him and his friends, who socialize regularly.

4. When you come home from hanging out with him and his friends, the stack of work on your desk will make other zits pop out on your face in response.

5. You find yourself thinking more about him than about your work. You like that he's been kind enough to include you in his circle of friends, which really helps after moving to a town where you did not know anyone.

6. You find yourself obsessing over small things, like the time you texted him and he didn't text you back. When he apologizes a couple days later for forgetting to text you because he was busy with work, you resist the urge to say, "That's okay. It's not like I was waiting by the phone, picking out the names of my future cats."

7. You start to feel hope again, which is something that you haven't felt for anyone since your Grad School Crush last year, who liked you back but also liked playing with your heart as if it was a yo-yo.

8. After all the bad dates and failed relationships, you half-convince yourself that there is no reason to feel hopeful. Small Town Guy hasn't asked you out; he's just friendly to newcomers like you. You think, If it was going to happen for me, it would've happened by now. A great guy like him could have his pick of any other woman in town, like a thinner, more attractive woman whose mind is not like an eternal Seinfeld marathon. 

9. You think that maybe eventually, your life won't revolve around work and that maybe it could be about much more than that.

10. You also think that if by some miracle Small Town Guy ever feels the same way about you, it could interfere with your professional goals. He is established in his career in this town, but you plan to eventually move on to a more secure teaching position at another school who knows where. Your work has always been the most important thing to you, and you're not sure you'd be willing to give up everything you've worked for (and everything you're still working for), even for someone like him.

What about you? When you had a crush on someone, what were the positive/negative aspects for you?

All Grown Up

If you looked up the word "controlling" in the dictionary, you'd find full-page pictures of my parents.

A few nights ago, I went to the gym, which has a policy against the use of cell phones. That's why I often leave my phone in my locker or in my car. I engaged in a longer workout than usual, because I was lifting weights in addition to my cardio exercises.

It takes longer to lift weights, because some muscleheads at the gym (there are jerks like this at every gym) hog all the machines. They use several machines at the same time, meaning they'll work in reps, alternating among the different machines. If you dare to sit down at one of the machines in between one of their reps, they'll be on you in a heartbeat, insisting that they're "still using" it, even though they're also using three others. If you ever see a story about a woman in a small Southern town who got kicked out of her gym for "accidentally" dropping barbells on obnoxious lunkheads, that just might describe me someday.

Anyway, when I got back to my car, I found not one, not two, but more than half a dozen missed calls and irate messages from my parents. I was worried at first that something was wrong, like maybe one of them was in the hospital or one of their dogs had gotten hurt. But once I called them and they started yelling at me, I soon realized that they were worried that something was wrong with me.

Why, you might ask? Because I didn't answer my phone at 9:30 at night.

Although I am thirty-four years old, have a full-time job (and a part-time job), have three degrees, and have not lived with my parents since I was eighteen years old, they still act like I don't know what the hell I'm doing with anything, so they believe that they still call the shots on my life.

My mother and father actually called the police in Small Town twice, because they wanted the cops to go to my apartment and make sure I was okay. The police declined to do so, and they told my mother (I kid you not), "Ma'am, I'm sure she's all right. She's probably at Walmart or the gym, because those are pretty much the only places that are open right now." (They were right, seeing as how I was at the gym.)

I was (and still am) angry that they called the police just because they couldn't reach me for more than an hour. They think that I shouldn't go out at all at night, because "it's not safe."  If I can survive Chicago, I can survive in a small town.

I live in an apartment building full of students, including some of my own students. What if they had seen the cops show up at my door? This is a small town, and everyone knows how quickly gossip travels in a small town. Even if I tried to clear things up later with the truth, some people might still hold on to their false speculations.

I could just see my face plastered all over the local evening news, and the news anchor saying something like, "A local college teacher was questioned by police and will most likely NEVER TEACH AGAIN! In other news, there are no news! And now, on to the weather!" I'm still relatively new here, and I'm anxious to make a good impression on my employers, especially because I want them to renew my contract. I can't have gossip about the cops showing up at my door spreading all over the school where I teach. I mean, seriously!

My parents have always been controlling, but ever since I turned eighteen, I started standing up to them more and more. I first rebelled by choosing a major and career that I wanted, not the ones they wanted for me. To this day, if I dare to talk about a problem I'm facing as a teacher, my mother will say, "Well, you chose that career, so..."

I didn't back down to my parents when they got mad at me this time, either. I told them that they couldn't expect me to be at their beck and call, and that I had a right to go out whenever I wanted.  I know that they truly believe that they were just looking out for me. But why are they so worried now, yet they didn't show me any sympathy when I was in the EMERGENCY ROOM last year, and acted like it was my fault that I suffered from serious health problems (which I still haven't fully recovered from)?

I'm all grown up now. I'm not going to follow their "rules" for my life. After all, what are they going to do if I refuse to obey them? Ground me and make me go to bed early without any dessert?

But one thing I'm still learning to accept is that they will never change. I heard or read somewhere that the only thing that I can change about people like them is the way I respond to them. So it's one thing if they keep trying to control my life every chance they get. That doesn't mean I have to let them. And I never will.

What about you? Have you ever struggled for control over your life, your work, or something else?