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?

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?

Socializing in Your 20s vs. Your 30s

20-something friend: The club opens at nine-thirty, but no one cool shows up until ten-thirty. So let's get there by eleven.

30-something friend: I need to be home by nine-thirty, because the babysitter can only stay until then.

20-something friend: Let's do something fun this weekend! Let's go to that new club/bar/skydiving place!

30-something friend: Let's do something fun this weekend! How about instead of board games, we have a themed potluck dinner?

20-something friend: Oh my God, my boyfriend/girlfriend just did the cutest thing for me! He/she filled up my apartment with flowers/took me out to an expensive restaurant/wrote "I love you" in skywriting with a plane that he/she flew on his/her own!

30-something friend: Oh my God, my spouse just did the sweetest thing for me! He/she did the dishes/folded the laundry/mowed the lawn!

20-something friend: My boyfriend/girlfriend is so adorable. (pulls out phone and shows at least half a dozen pictures of significant other in adorable poses, like the two of them drinking a milkshake with two straws in the same glass.)

30-something friend: My kids are so adorable! (pulls out phone and shows at least a dozen pictures of children in adorable poses, like one where the children have ice cream all over their faces).

20-something friend: I've been at this job for a few months, and I HATE it. Maybe I should go to grad school or take a break, especially because I'm sure my band will make it big sooner rather than later.

30-something friend: I've been at this job for years, and I HATE it. But I can't take a break right now, because I need to take care of my family.

20-something friend: I want an outfit that says, "Come hither, but only if you're the type of person that will text back right away."

30-something friend: I want an outfit that says, "I look ten years younger than I actually am, especially because this 'age-defying' face cream isn't working."

I missed out on a lot of socializing in my twenties, because I was almost always working. I truly regret that, because I feel like I sacrificed my youth and missed out on a lot of fun. But on the rare occasions that I did go out, a few of my friends actually were like that (though we never went skydiving. I don't even like riding the elevator). And after spending the last several years teaching students in their early twenties and hearing them chat with each other, I know for a fact that people in their twenties DO act like that.

Now that I'm in my thirties, my friends are almost exactly like the ones I just described above. Although I usually prefer a quieter life, I must admit that there are a few occasions where I wish I could be in my twenties again and go out dancing until 3 A.M., without having to worry about getting up early for work in the morning. (I could do that now, but my 30-something friends probably wouldn't want to come along, because they'd need to get home early to pay the babysitter, take care of their kids, and maybe take pictures of them with ice cream on their faces.)

What about you? How has socializing changed for you as you got older?

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?

Snubbed

When I first moved to Small Town, I didn't know anyone there or even anyone who lived in that entire state. That's why I was very grateful to Small Town Guy, who introduced me to his circle of friends. They have all been very kind and welcoming to me. We regularly go out for dinner together, or we hang out at a bar in town. Whenever it's someone's birthday, we either throw a party for that person at someone's house or take them out to dinner.

Recently, a person new to Small Town joined the group. I'll refer to her as New Girl. She is attractive, successful, and only a few years younger than me. I thought it would be nice if we became friends. 

But every single time I've tried to talk to her, she moved to talk to someone else within minutes or even seconds. For example, last weekend I attended a party at someone's house. New Girl was there, and I sat down beside her and struck up a conversation. I barely said three sentences to her before she quickly got up and stood next to someone else on the other side of the room.

I don't expect her or anyone else to spend the entire time talking to me, or even half the time, and it's not like I follow her around all the time, because I don't. Still, it would be nice to have a conversation that lasts more than a couple minutes (or in this case, more than thirty seconds). I wondered if maybe I had done something to offend her. It's not like I told her about how I can name any Britney Spears song in five notes or less. I didn't tell her about all the times that I deliberately sneezed and/or coughed on people who cut in front of me. I didn't tell her about how I wish I could put Kick Me signs on the backs of Trump supporters. 

Instead, I was friendly and polite to her, and I asked her questions about herself. But she acted like she didn't want to talk to me. New Girl does not, however, act like this with anyone else in the group, at least not from what I can tell. She is also very friendly to Small Town Guy. 

I arrived at the party after they did, so I can't be sure, but I am fairly certain that they came to the party together. Maybe he just gave her a ride, or maybe she came as his date; either way, I found myself clenching my fists under the table. I haven't harbored any feelings for Small Town Guy in a long time. I've accepted the fact that he and I will always just be friends.

It's not like I listen to Adele's songs in my spare time, weeping, "Her lyrics just speak to me!" Instead, I listen to country songs like this one (hey, I live in the South now, and I'm about three "y'alls" away from driving a pickup truck):


Months ago, when I first developed feelings for him, somehow I knew it wouldn't end the way I wanted it to. I thought that was just my low self-esteem talking, but maybe it was my heart's way of telling me that he wasn't the one.

Still, the idea of him with someone else, especially someone like her, stung a little.

From now on, I will not snub New Girl (the way it feels like she's snubbed me) or be mean to her. Maybe I'm wrong about her. Maybe I'm just being overly sensitive. But on the other hand, I won't go out of my way to talk to her anymore. If she's not interested in talking to me or being friends with me, that's her prerogative. But at the same time, being around her reminded me of being around some of the girls from high school. That night at the party, I felt like the wallflower I was back then, when my classmates voted me "Most Likely to Become a Nun."

What about you? Have you ever dealt with someone that all of your friends liked but whom you were unsure about? Have you ever dealt with someone who snubbed you? 

You Know You're in the Friend Zone When...

1. You're a woman and the guy you like addresses you as "bro," "man," or "dude." (On the other hand, if you're unromantic like me, if the guy you liked addressed you as "the most beautiful woman who ever lived," you just might respond by throwing up.)

2. He reaches out to you, not to hold your hand, but to high-five you.

3. You compliment him on his appearance and he immediately changes the subject to something less flirtatious, like the national debt.

4. You mention that you're considering online dating, and rather than act jealous, he says he might join the same online dating site too.

5. He says that you remind him of his sister/mother/grandmother.

6. He talks about other women that he's interested in, while you resist the urge to run home and lie face-down on your bed while listening to angry girl singers from the nineties.

Unfortunately, it seems like as far as Small Town Guy is concerned, I am firmly in the Friend Zone. To most guys I've liked, I've always been the "funny" friend, the "smart" friend, or the "friend who thinks coffee is one of the food groups." I'm never "the one they can't stop thinking about." It's disappointing, but it's not like I can try and change their minds. You don't get to choose who you fall for.

With this guy, I tried not to get my hopes up too much, because even at the beginning of our friendship I had the feeling that it was not going to turn out the way I wanted it to. When you're still single at thirty-five, you tend to be more pessimistic than you might have been at fifteen.

Sometimes, the possibility that I'll be alone for the rest of my life is depressing. On the one hand, it makes things easier as far as my work is concerned. If I find a good job at another school somewhere across the country, I can just pack up and move.

But on the other hand, I do want to get married and have children, and now that I'm getting older, it feels like that fantasy is becoming more and more unattainable.

There is one silver lining in this whole situation. Like I mentioned before, Small Town Guy has been kind enough to include me in his circle of friends, who have all been very nice to me. Recently, they all took me out for dinner and drinks to celebrate my thirty-fifth birthday. Several of them brought gifts for me, which I hadn't been expecting. It made me feel glad that I moved here, met them, and finally stopped working long enough to let these friendships develop.

What about you? Have you ever been in the friend zone?

In honor of the theme of this today's post, here's Danielle Bradbery's song, "Friend Zone." (Yes, it's country. Blame it on the fact that apparently 90% of the restaurants and stores in this Small Town play nothing but country music, and CMT is their favorite channel, other than Fox News.)

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?

Socially Awkward

I will never be referred to as a "social butterfly." I'm much more likely to be described as an obsessive neurotic workaholic who will suddenly come down with an incurable case of I-don't-want-to-go-so-BACK-OFF whenever someone invites me to a party.

I am grateful to the people I've met for making an effort to include me in their social circle. I've done more socializing in the past few weeks than I did in the previous months, when I was still getting settled in Small Town. It has been a pleasure to get to know some nice people and spend time with them.

But on the other hand, I've always been an introvert and a loner, and I don't like to socialize THAT often. For example, one thing that Small Town Guy and his friends like to do on a regular basis is go out for drinks to a local bar. Since I'm a teetotaler, I like bars as much as I like trying on swimsuits within earshot of girls who are a size zero and complain that they look "fat". (I have a head-butting reflex for girls like that.)

But I go and drink soda at the bar with them, because I've finally realized that it's not good to let my life revolve around work all the time. Sometimes I feel shy and nervous around that many people; big social situations like that have always made me feel anxious and prone to saying things that make me want to slap my face so that I'll stop talking.

I've declined more than one social invitation, partly because I can't afford to go out as often as the others do, and partly because most of the time, I'd rather go off and do my own thing. Although I enjoy their company, sometimes my mind wanders when I'm with them.

I find myself thinking about the books I'm reading, and all of a sudden I'm not at a bar or out to dinner with the others. I'm sitting on the fire escape of a Brooklyn tenement with Francie Nolan from A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, or I'm writing in a Paris cafe with Ernest Hemingway in A Moveable Feast, or I'm camping out in Taos, New Mexico with the main characters in Natalie Goldberg's Banana Rose.

Other times I think about my own writing, which I've sadly been neglecting due to my full-time job and part-time job. I think about which guy my main character should end up with, and I think of scenes that I want to rewrite or take out altogether. It makes me wish I could take out my journal and jot a few notes down, but then the others would either think I'm rude or want me to read my writing out loud to them, which is about as appealing as wearing a swimsuit in front of them.

When I was younger, I tried to be more social. On the rare occasions I wasn't at one of my three (or four) jobs,  I went to bars, clubs, or parties with my friends. But more often than not, I'd make up an excuse and leave early, because I felt uncomfortable or bored. Once I went to a party where I only knew one other person. All the guests spent the whole time gossiping about people that I didn't know, so finally I stood up and announced that I was going home. One of them said, "Oh, I hope we weren't boring you with all of our talk!"

I replied, "Actually, you totally were. See ya!" (I also have a thing about being a little too direct sometimes.)

I remember going to a nightclub with some friends, where they danced, drank, and flirted. All I could think was how much I'd rather be watching one of my favorite crime dramas or browsing in a bookstore. I felt that as someone in her twenties, I should enjoy myself in situations like that, as so many other twentysomethings did. But I never really did.

Now that I'm older, I do try to adapt to social situations more often. But I still feel awkward and out of place sometimes, and I feel bad for being so antisocial. I think it's something that just comes with the territory of being an introvert, and it's not something I'll ever be able to change.

What about you? Do you consider yourself to be an extrovert or an introvert?

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?

Bad First Impressions

When I'm not working, there isn't a lot for me to do at night in Small Town, other than try not to cringe and scream, "SHUT UP, KNOW-NOTHINGS!" at the people on Fox News, which is always showing on the majority of the TVs at my gym, or go to Walmart and see how many Confederate flags, mullets, and/or pickup trucks I can spot in one visit (last count was twenty-seven).

That's why I was glad when a guy I met invited me to go out for drinks with him and his friends. It wasn't a date, just a friendly invitation. One thing about the people in Small Town is that they're generally pretty friendly (though I still get stared at suspiciously from time to time by random people, who can tell that I'm an outsider) and are always inviting me out to socialize with them. Coming from a big city, where strangers are more likely to rob you, attack you, or chase you down the street for no reason, this was very unsettling to me. (Even a simple "good morning" from some stranger on the street is still enough for me to grab my pepper spray or my keys, just in case.)

I have to admit, though, that even though it wasn't a date, I wouldn't have minded if it was. I won't say how I met this guy, just in case he comes across this blog and recognizes himself, but I will say I didn't meet him online. I've only socialized with him a couple times before with other people, never alone, but I know him well enough to know that I like him. I like the fact that he's attractive, smart, and just a little bit nerdy without being creepy.

Of course, whenever I'm around a guy I'm attracted to, one of two things will happen: 1) I clam up and act like I'm indifferent to him, or 2) I do or say something completely stupid, which will usually make him cringe inwardly and suddenly lose my phone number.

Unfortunately, when I went out with this guy and his friends, the second thing happened, despite the fact that I drank soda, not alcohol. If I drink alcohol I will: 1) fall into a crowd of people ; 2) start talking extremely loudly and stupidly; or 3) start singing and encourage other people to sing with me (all of this has happened).

We were talking about online dating at one point, and then all of a sudden it was like my brain floated out of my body, leaving my mouth unrestrained.

My mouth: And then my mother called me and said that I'm 34 and my biological clock is ticking, and...
My brain: Oh, my God! Stop talking stop talking stop talking!

My mouth: On the other hand, I would like to have at least one or two kids, hopefully soon, and...
My brain:  What are you doing? You might as well tattoo the word "IDIOT" on your forehead!

My mouth: I would like to get married someday, but I'm not sure if I could stay faithful to someone for the rest of my life, because...
My brain: YOU WILL BE SINGLE FOREVER.

I've been on enough dates to know that you NEVER talk about marriage or babies on the first date, because that's enough to make any guy run in the opposite direction. And the thing is, this wasn't even a date, like I said. But I was nervous, shy, and I hadn't been on a date in months, and unfortunately my brain could not get my hand to slap myself in the face to stop myself from talking.

I'm worried that I've totally ruined any chance I might have had with this guy, especially because it's been a few days and I haven't heard from him. But I will get to socialize with him and his friends, who, despite my babbling, invited me to hang out with them again soon. Hopefully I'll make a better impression the next time, though I'm not sure if it'll be enough to make up for what I said before.

What about you? Have you ever made a bad first impression on someone? Were you able to overcome it, and if so, how? 

Me Time

In Chicago, people sat next to each other on buses and trains for hours and barely looked at each other. I'd go to my favorite coffee shop or bookstore and see other regulars there, but we never talked to each other. City dwellers usually try to avoid looking at or speaking to strangers, because they never know if those strangers are just regular people or people who would whap them in the head and run off with their wallets.

In Small Town, Tennessee, although I can't go anywhere without being stared at and gossiped about, the townspeople are generally friendly and strike up conversations with me, which startled me when it first started happening (I was all, "Why are they talking to me? Are they going to rob me? Because that's what happened the last time I got robbed.") Several of my colleagues have invited me to lunch, parties, or to barbecues.

Here's the thing, though. While I appreciate their invitations and have said yes to a few of them, what I often feel tempted to say is, "Sorry, I can't! Maybe next time...or NEVER."

In my version of hell, I would have to go to parties every day and make conversation with a bunch of people. When I was a kid, I liked going to parties, because we got to play games, eat cupcakes, and bring home goody bags. Now that I'm an adult, all people usually do at parties is drink alcohol, talk about the new diet they're on, and go home feeling obligated to reciprocate the social invitation.

I have a heavy course load this term, and I'm teaching more students at one time than I've ever taught before. As an English teacher, that means a lot of papers to grade, which means I might get so stressed that I end up writing, "All work and no play makes me a neurotic workaholic" or "redrum" over and over again.

I still have my website job, which, due to the car I had to buy (there is no public transportation in Small Town), my credit card debt that I accumulated when I moved here, and my student loan debt, I can't afford to give up. So that means I'm working too many hours every week. It's still the beginning of the school year, and I've been so tired that I end up falling asleep by ten P.M. (though I have to slap myself awake to finish my work) almost every night.

That means that when I have time off, I'd like to spend it doing what I want to do, like exploring Tennessee. Once I save up enough money, I'd like to visit Graceland and Dollywood. There is no mall in Small Town, so I'd like to drive to one of the bigger cities and go shopping. I'd also like to stay in town and write in a coffee shop, and I want to read more books without footnotes in them.

I've always been an introvert, and while I don't want to be alone all the time, I don't enjoy socializing every weekend, or even every other weekend. I prefer to do things on my own, because then I can do things on my terms. On the rare occasions I do go to a party, I spend the whole time counting the minutes until I can make up an excuse and leave "fashionably" early.

I don't want to be rude to my colleagues, which is why I've said yes to a few of their invitations. And I know that it is a good opportunity to network as well. But if I say yes more often, I'll end up resenting them and blurting out things like how I disagree with several of their teaching methods, the English department's policies and how I think it's extremely unfair to give us low salaries, heavy course loads and also require us to make time for endless meetings and committees. Or I might just blurt out, "Why does everyone in Small Town keep staring at me? Is it because they think I'm an alien, or are all of YOU the aliens?"

What about you? Do you consider yourself an extrovert or an introvert, and how do you deal with social invitations that you feel pressured to accept (but don't actually want to say yes to)?

I Remember...College

1. I remember when I was in college, I befriended a group of fellow Catholic students, whom I thought of as the "Not only am I holier than thou, but thou art going to hell" group. I enjoyed potluck dinners with them, snowball fights on the quad, and movie nights with them.

They went to Mass at a small church near campus almost every day, and they made me feel as if I was a "bad" Catholic because I only attended church on Sundays and other holy days of obligation. I made it clear to them that I didn't think I would burst into flames just because I didn't want to spend my Saturday nights playing the guitar and singing songs about why God was awesome. As much as I liked them, I grew irritated with their attempts to pressure me to be the kind of Catholics they were.

2. I remember that my friends described me as "independent." I went on my own to watch the movies or concerts that none of them liked. I often went to open mic nights and book signings alone while they hung out in bars, studied at the library, or sat around singing songs about why God was awesome. Whenever I heard about an interesting neighborhood, museum exhibition, or bookstore, I would look up the information and figure out how to get there by myself.

Some of my friends thought it was weird that I was a loner while most of the undergrads didn't even want to be seen eating dinner by themselves, but I enjoyed the freedom of being able to choose exactly where I wanted to go and stay for as long as I wanted.

3. I remember that I often stayed on campus during spring break, while everyone else visited their families or traveled with their friends. I was studying in my room with the door open one day, and one of the only other people on my floor who was also staying on campus passed by and invited me to join her and her friends on an outing to a restaurant and a park near campus.

I accepted, grateful for the invitation and the company. Her friends were very nice and welcoming to me. All went well until we were sitting in a circle in a quiet corner of the park, when one of the friends pulled out a joint and started passing it around. They offered it to me, or rather, they offered it to my quickly retreating back as I made up an excuse and left early, so as to avoid getting high and also avoid the possibility of getting arrested for getting high.

4. I remember that I had a vague idea that I wanted to teach someday, but I was afraid of public speaking. I got over that fear by becoming a campus tour guide. I'd like to say that I perfected the art of walking backwards while talking to large groups of people, but what usually happened was that I would keep hopping up and down, yelling to make myself heard before I eventually backed up into a trash can or a patch of grass.

5. I remember that I toyed with the idea of becoming a journalist, which is why I wrote for the school paper. I remember that the editors (as well as many other students at college) strongly disliked one of the faculty members at the school, so much so that they encouraged us student reporters to interview all the people who also disliked that faculty member in an attempt to dig up dirt on that person. The editors claimed that this was the type of article that would get published in Rolling Stone. I thought it was the type of article that would get published in Us Weekly, and it disgusted me so much that I stopped writing for the paper.

6. I remember that four years of English classes taught me how to over-analyze books and write papers about them, though none of them taught me what I was supposed to DO after graduation. I did internships in public relations, publishing, and the nonprofit sector, which educated me on the proper ways to make copies, make phone calls, and organize filing cabinets.

7. I remember that I wanted to be like my professors, who taught me how to understand and appreciate fine literature and poetry, which opened up my mind in endless ways. But when I told them that I wanted to be a professor, almost all of them warned me about how difficult it would be and how long it would take. I remember I thought that as long as I was good at teaching and liked it, that would be enough.

After spending the better part of my twenties and thirties working in academia, I finally understand what my professors were talking about.

What about you? What do you remember about your college years?

Why I Am a Teetotaler

Last weekend, Chicagoans celebrated St. Patrick's Day early by dyeing the Chicago River green and having a big parade in the Loop. I didn't go to the parade, but I did see people all over my neighborhood dressed up like giant leprechauns.

Even though I had a lot of work to do (as usual), I agreed to go barhopping with a group of friends. I rarely drink alcohol; in fact, the last time I had a drink was a year and a half ago, when I attended my cousin's wedding in New Orleans. The night before the wedding, my younger cousins dragged me to Bourbon Street with them and made me have a cocktail; I drank a third of it and then secretly poured out the rest in the street when they weren't looking.

Last Saturday, I caved in to my friends' teasing about how I am a teetotaler and drank a few cocktails. I didn't get drunk, though; with each cocktail I drank, I drank a Coke, because I figured that the stimulant (caffeine) would counteract the depressant (alcohol). Each time I ordered a Coke for the first time at a different bar, the bartender would get this puzzled look on his or her face for a moment; one of them said, "Okay, but what do you want me to put IN the Coke?"

My friends and pretty much everyone else at the bars we went to, however, DID get drunk. I watched as everyone else's movements grew looser and more relaxed. I listened to their voices become slurred and louder. A lot of people became really rowdy. Some other guys at the bars got really aggressive, which happens at every club and bar. It's like, "Just because you're drunk, that does NOT mean you have the right to paw at me, so get your frickin' hands OFF me before I make you walk around with a limp for the next three days!"

I had been having fun hanging out with my friends, laughing and talking about what was going on in our lives and with our work. But the tone of the evening changed after they got drunk.

It reminded me of when I was in high school and attended my first "drinking party", which was held at a farm, and everyone got drunk in a field (what? I grew up in a small Midwestern town). No one was driving that night, because everyone slept over at the host's house. I was the only one who didn't drink any alcohol, and I watched as everyone guzzled beer, ran around, and yelled at the top of their lungs. I drove home early (I was sober, after all) so that I wouldn't have to watch them anymore.

When I was in college, I went to parties where there was alcohol. When I was in my twenties, I went with friends to bars and clubs that served alcohol too, of course. Occasionally I gave in to peer pressure and drank a cocktail, a beer, or a shot. I never had more than one or two drinks, though, and I never got drunk, only "tipsy". I didn't like the way alcohol tasted. I didn't like the way it made me feel when I drank it, because I knew that it lowered my inhibitions and it meant I wasn't fully in control of my actions. As a Type A personality, I am a total control freak and I HATE it if anything or anyone tries to control me.

I used to think that part of being young meant clubbing and barhopping; often, TV shows that feature young people show them drinking and having fun. For example, the characters on How I Met Your Mother apparently spend 90% of their time at a bar.

I used to think that I was "boring" compared to them, because I never felt comfortable in that kind of atmosphere. I preferred to hang out in a café or a bookstore, or go out for dinner with a few friends. Caffeine became my vice instead of alcohol, which is why I have become addicted to coffee and Coke (not "coke" with a lower-case C! I feel like if I ever did any of THOSE drugs I'd end up trying to climb the walls of my classroom and then my students would think I'm even MORE weird!). One of the reasons I moved to Chicago was because there are so many things to do here that DON'T involve alcohol.

So I stopped pretending to like alcohol, clubs, and bars. I still go to bars occasionally with friends, though I order soda 99% of the time. But I don't feel like I should have to apologize for the fact that I am a teetotaler, and I don't think it gives people the right to make fun of me or pressure me to "loosen up" and drink. I admit, though, that even though I resent people who judge me for being a teetotaler, I couldn't help judging people at the bars that night for getting drunk.

What about you? What do you think of the bar scene and drinking?

Don't Be That Friend

Even though I am a loner, I do try to make friends with people who have similar interests to mine, whose company I enjoy, and who don't make me feel like I'm stuck in the movie Mean Girls. For example, once I invited a girl my age to have a picnic in Grant Park. Even though it was a nice day out and the food was good, I still felt like hiding out in my apartment with the shades drawn and the door locked, just so I wouldn't have to listen to that girl talk about the fight she had with her boyfriend. She spent the entire time talking about him.

In college, I was friends with a guy who talked about his girlfriend every single time we saw each other. It didn't matter what conversation we were having; he always found a way to bring her into it.

Me: Do you want to go check out that new music store?
Him: Yeah, that sounds like fun. I think I'm going to buy a new CD for my girlfriend. I haven't bought a gift for her this week. (I'm seriously not making that line up.)

Me: This pizza tastes so good.
Him: You know who else likes pizza? My girlfriend.

Me: Don't you hate it when people are always talking about the same thing? (This was my not-so-subtle hint to him to shut up about his girlfriend.)
Him: I know. My girlfriend doesn't like it either.

I also tried to make friends with a young woman who I liked a lot, until she met her boyfriend. One year, she promised to take me out for dinner for my birthday, but then she didn't respond to my e-mail where I tried to confirm the outing. I spent that birthday eating dinner in front of the TV and waiting for her to call. I later found out that she didn't call because she wanted to keep the night open in case her boyfriend wanted to go out.

Even worse, every time we saw each other after that, she'd have more "good news" about how amazing her boyfriend was and how much in love they were. "Did I tell you about the flowers he sent me? I felt so loved." "We're going to buy his and her towels when we move in together." "He is so handsome. I think he should have been a model instead of a doctor."

I smiled and nodded and looked at their vacation pictures, but what I really wanted to say was, "Good thing the flowers didn't give you an allergic reaction." "In addition to the towels, are you also going to tattoo each other's names on your faces so that everyone knows that you're in a relationship?" "Does he carry a mirror around so that he can admire his good looks all the time?"

I admit, I was a little jealous that those people found happiness with people that they loved, while I was still alone. But it wasn't like I wasn't happy for them too, because I was. I just didn't need to hear about their boyfriends/girlfriends all the time.

Maybe it's harder for me to relate because I'm single. I don't know what it feels like to want to talk about one person all the time, or to want to spend all my time with that person. (If and when I do fall in love, I don't think I'll want to spend all my time with him. I'll need time to myself to work, write, and put banana peels on the ground in front of unsuspecting annoying people.)

I also can get focused on one topic. Most of my blog posts this summer have been about online dating, ever since I joined match.com. Not to mention a lot of my other blog posts are about my work, seeing as how work is the love of my life. I'll also admit that in the past, I talked about my various jobs with my friends a LOT. But now I've learned that it's important to write and talk about other things. I've learned that it's important to listen to what other people have to say, and to consider the fact that what I'm obsessed with might not be what they want to hear every single time together. I've learned that if I want to stay friends with someone, I have to show them that I really do value their company, that I don't take them for granted, that I'm sensitive to their feelings, and that they're not just a sounding board for my personal life.

Still, it made me a little sad that those "friendships" didn't work out. It made me blame myself a little; maybe the fact that I'm a loner or the fact that I'm a neurotic workaholic keeps me from connecting with people. It also made me value my own company more, because at least I don't make myself want to hide in my apartment with the door locked and the shades drawn.

What about you? Do you have friends who go on and on about their boyfriends, girlfriends, or spouses? If so, how do you deal with it? Do you ever get to a point where you can tell them that you don't mind hearing about their love lives occasionally, but you don't want to hear about them all the time?

Reaching Out to Others

After that brutal meeting with two of my professors, I contemplated several ways of dealing with all the fear, shame, and sadness that I felt as a result. One way involved about two gallons of caffeine (preferably in the form of Coca-Cola) and a barrel of chocolate. (I decided against doing that, but I was REALLY tempted.) Another way involved crawling into bed and listening to sad music for several hours, but all of my playlists consist of stuff like Maroon 5's Fifty-Ways-to-Sing-about-Lust-songs and Britney Spears' I'm-going-to-sing-really-fast-while-dancing-around-in-tight-clothes songs.

I even contemplated dropping out of grad school. I can't stop beating myself up over the fact that it has taken me so long to work on this dissertation. After what my professors said, I became so discouraged that I wondered if everything I've done over the past ten years - all the teaching jobs, the retail work, the nights where I felt so exhausted after working all day that I wanted to scream, cry, and head butt anyone who did anything remotely annoying (like the people who sneeze on me and THEN say, "I think I'm coming down with a cold."), the low pay, the sacrifices, etc. - had been for nothing.

With the exception of a few close friends and the occasional foray into the dating scene (which never ends well for me, and is partly why my Taylor Swift playlists - yes, I have more than one playlist, I admit it - are good to listen to after yet another disappointing date), I am a loner. I prefer solitude most of the time, and if I'm going to spend time with other people, I want it to be with people I actually like. I don't want to spend time with people who cause me to paste my fake smile on my face while I'm secretly thinking, "If I pretend to throw up right now, will they take that as a hint that they really are that boring and self-centered? Or will it at least give me an excuse to leave early?"

But this time, I was so devastated that I uncharacteristically reached out to other people. I called an old friend. I joined an online community called Versatile PhD, which is a community made up of grad students and other academics; it was founded by a woman who has an English PhD and helps other academics find "nontraditional" (i.e., nonacademic) jobs. There are online forums on Versatile PhD where people can seek advice and feedback; I wrote a description of my situation, and received several detailed responses from other academics. They told me about dissertation coaches and writing groups; they commiserated by sharing their own difficult experiences in grad school; they told me about how they struggled to support themselves financially too.

I also talked to someone in my department at school; she already has her PhD, but she continues to teach at the school. She told me about how other grad students have struggled with their committees and dissertations, and she advised me to stand up to those professors, especially if I really believed in what I was writing. She also put me in touch with another grad student, who offered to meet with me this week and give me more advice.

Talking to them made me feel a lot better about my situation. It made me wish that I had reached out to more of them in the past. I had tried to socialize with other grad students before, but faced some difficulties because a) I don't drink alcohol; b) when they started talking about their accomplishments, I had little to add to the conversation; c) there are several cliques in grad school, and I belong to none of them. The last one in particular was tough because when they talked about dinner outings or parties, I was rarely invited. I would sit at my desk and pretend that I didn't care. So I focused on the other things that made me happy and stopped trying to "fit in" with the grad school cliques. But I ended up missing out on the chance to connect with other peers who weren't like them.

I contacted another professor on my dissertation committee, and what she said surprised me. She encouraged me to stay in grad school and finish my dissertation. She pointed me in the direction of another professor who might be able to provide guidance. She said that I was talented, and it made me feel good to know that there was someone who believed in me. 

What also helped was blogging about it, and reading all the thoughtful and nice comments that you wrote. The great people in the blogosphere are why I continue to blog (also, I figure that ranting about my obsessions online is a better way to deal with it than giving annoying people wedgies). I am grateful to you for your support.

I'm still plugging away on a new draft, and hopefully this one will be enough to satisfy my professors. I am still scared, ashamed, and sad over the fact that it will take me two more years to finish this dissertation, but knowing that I am not alone makes it easier to deal with it.

Friends and Frenemies

In the story that I'm working on right now, two women who have been friends for many years start to realize that their differences, which they'd pretended to overlook all that time, are driving them apart. It's made me think about the differences between friends and frenemies. 

A few years ago, I started socializing with a group of people that I'd recently met. One night we went out to dinner, and most of the others said they weren't hungry and just ordered drinks for themselves. I, on the other hand, had thought that "going out to eat" meant that we actually would eat, so I ordered an appetizer for myself. Maybe I shouldn't have thought that eating food in front of other people who weren't eating was a good idea, but I don't think I deserved what happened next. When the food arrived, everyone helped themselves to my food without even asking me if they could have some.

It bothered me that they did that, especially since I was paying for that food, I had specifically stated that I was ordering it for myself, and I literally only got two bites of it. (They didn't offer to help pay for it either, and it wasn't cheap.) They were all "young professionals" and had salaries that dwarfed the paltry wages I earned from working as an adjunct and from my job at the Expensive Clothing Store, where I managed not to strangle my retail supervisors with scarves when they made me refold clothes until they were perfect. I hardly ever got to eat in restaurants, because I couldn't afford to go. I should have said something to them, but they immediately started eating my dinner before I could stop them.

I suddenly wanted to transform into Ms. Pac-Man, so that my mouth would suddenly become huge and I could eat all of my food really quickly before anyone else got to it, or perhaps those cheap moochers would become so frightened of my enormous mouth that they would run away from me and pay for their own food next time.

It also made me come to this conclusion: frenemies mooch off of you. Friends do not take advantage of each other. I continued to socialize with those people after that incident, but I didn't tell them that it bothered me.

In college, I was friends with two girls who told me about a homeless man they'd seen on the train; the man was begging for money. They suddenly started imitating the way he was begging, and they mocked his voice. They laughed about it, as if it was hilarious that a man would become so desperate that he would ask complete strangers for money. Their "joke" made me see them for what they really were, and I didn't want to be friends with them after that. I am ashamed to say that I didn't call them on their insensitive, disgusting behavior. I wish I had said something like, "You should pack some sunscreen with you, because you're going to need it in hell."

In college I was also friends with a girl who came with me to the oral surgeon when I was getting my wisdom teeth taken out. I was so scared that it was going to hurt, and she came with me so that I wouldn't have to be alone. It helped to have her there, even though the oral surgeon told me that I shouldn't flail my arms around so much because I might accidentally smack him in the face. (I tend to thrash around when I get emotional.)

I've also been thinking of other things that make some people your friends and other people your frenemies. Friends make an effort to stay in touch with each other. Frenemies only call you when their other friends aren't available. Friends are able to tell you the truth without hurting you. Frenemies will pretend they're not insulting you even though that is exactly what they are doing. Friends are people you can order dessert in front of without worrying that they're going to judge you because they claim that their salads made them too full to eat dessert. Frenemies pretend that they're not hungry but will eat all of your food and expect you to pay for it.

Here's another video by my favorite vlogger, Kevjumba, who has his own take on what it means to be a true friend.




What about you? What do you think makes someone a friend? What makes someone a frenemy?

Talk Flirty to Me

As you know from my last post, I've been feeling stressed out over graduate school lately because I had hoped to finish my Ph.D. next year. But now it looks like I may have to stay in the Ph.D. program for another year after that. I've been struggling to think of how I'm going to support myself for that extra year and how I'm going to explain myself to my family about why it's taking longer than expected to complete my degree.

I wanted to thank those of you who left really nice, encouraging comments on that post; that definitely made me feel better. I must admit that I'm still worried about what's going to happen; that's one of the problems with being an English Ph.D.: constant uncertainty over the future, because unlike people who graduate from medical school, for example, my chances of getting a decent-paying, full-time teaching job are far fewer. Not to mention it takes more years to get an M.A. and a Ph.D. than an M.D. Honestly, if I could go back ten years and choose a different career, I might have, even though I do like teaching. I'm just so tired of being in grad school and all the b.s. that comes with it, and I'm tired of working all these jobs that barely (and sometimes don't) pay enough to cover my bills.

I've been trying to get my mind off of stressful things like that by thinking of other things that are less stressful and sometimes just plain funny. Pick up lines are one example. I have heard them used by both men and women, and now, with online dating, there are the "pick up e-mails" where they have to make themselves sound engaging and attractive through their writing. (You'd think that the e-mails would be easier for me to do than to just go up to some guy in person, since I am a writer, after all. You'd think, right?)

But here are a few examples of pick-up lines that I've heard from guys (in person):

Want to go back to my place? My mom will be asleep, so we don't have to worry about her walking in on us or anything. (I swear I'm not making this one up. And no, I didn't hear this line when I was in high school.)

Hey, lady! I want to @#$* and @%$#, and then I'm going to @#%*@#! (Several guys I've passed on the street have sworn at me, because apparently they think that curse words are sexy. FYI? They're wrong.)

You looked so lonely sitting by yourself, so I figured that you WANTED me to come over here and keep you company.

My friend's dog has the same name as you. Maybe that's a sign that we should have a drink together.

Why are you wearing so many layers? Take some of them off, but...do it slowly.

I totally think that men and women are equal. That's why I don't think I should ever have to pay for your dinner. In fact, I think you should pay for mine. (I'm not making this one up either. And no, the guy wasn't joking.)

Women do it too, of course. Here are a few examples:

I'm going to let you buy me a drink just because you're so cute.

Quick, my ex-boyfriend's coming this way. Let's make him jealous.

Do you think my top is too low-cut?

Could you bend over and pick up that pen for me?

I've never been good at flirting; in a post I wrote a couple years ago, I wrote about how a friend once described me as "the nonflirt". When I'm around a guy that I'm attracted to, I either start tripping over everything and blurting out embarrassing stuff, or I clam up completely and can't talk to him at all. And I'm not always good at picking up on cues when guys flirt with me (unless they're being totally obvious); a cute guy I used to work with and had a crush on kept flirting with, me and once he indirectly asked me out. But I just brushed him off, because I thought he was joking around. It wasn't until after he left that my coworkers told me he really was asking me out. But by then it was too late, and I felt too shy to tell him that I liked him too.

I'm not condemning anyone who uses pick up lines. I think it actually takes courage to go up to someone (especially someone you really like) like that. On the other hand, I don't like it when guys can't take a hint and won't stop flirting with me. (Of course, except for that guy I mentioned, guys that I'm actually attracted to aren't the ones that flirt with me. No, the guys who have problems controlling their behavior and maintaining their personal hygiene and the ones that look like they should be on one of those reality shows before all the cast members get drastic makeovers are the ones that typically hit on me.) That is, if I've already made it clear that I'm not interested, that does not mean it's okay for them to continue hitting on me. In the movies they often show guys who are very persistent when it comes to pursuing women. But in real life I don't find that to be charming; I think it's creepy, especially if I have already said no.

The truth is, I like it best when a guy can just talk to me without trying too hard to impress me. That is, he doesn't brag about himself or make a big show about what a gentleman he is just because he picked up the check. It's nice when a guy can just be himself, though I can understand that some people (both men and women) are too nervous to be themselves on first dates. I think it's very attractive when a guy is confident and outgoing without being arrogant and aggressive.

The problem with pick up lines, in my opinion, is that it's like you're presenting yourself to be something that you're not. I think that if people just struck up regular conversations with each other without including cheesy come-ons, it would make the dating game a lot less awkward (and also a lot less annoying).

Here's a funny video I watched on Youtube where several celebrities presented their own pick up lines. My favorite is Simon Helberg's (Howard from The Big Bang Theory) seduction attempts. (Side note: A few of the actors make dirty jokes in this video, just so you know.)





What kinds of pick up lines have you heard/used in the past? What do you think of pick up lines in general? If you write fiction, do any of your characters use pick up lines?

Loneliness is Good for the Writer's Soul

I first started writing stories when my third grade teacher showed us how as part of a creative writing assignment. I wrote stories (complete with illustrations) about a girl my age who lived in the woods. I wish I'd kept them.

I started reading a lot when I was in the third grade too. I read through almost all the books in my teacher's classroom library and earned several of those Book-It Pizza Hut gift certificates (remember those?). I especially enjoyed Beverly Cleary's books, because she seemed to understand just how little girls my age viewed the world.

I kept reading all the books I could get my hands on, and I kept writing stories and jotting down my ideas and feelings in journals too. One reason I read and wrote so much was because I didn't have any close friends in grade school. I grew up in a very small Midwestern town and went to an even smaller Catholic school; the cliques formed in the first grade and more or less stayed intact through senior year of high school.

I always hated recess, because I used to stand on the sidelines and watch the girls play tag or other games. I'd call out tentatively and hopefully, "Can I play?" Once in a while they'd say yes, and I'd run with them, happy that I got to be included. More often than not they'd say, "Sure, but after we finish this game," and I'd watch them keep playing until the bell rang and we had to go back inside.

I dreaded class field trips because of the bus rides. I usually didn't have anyone to sit with, so I was stuck sitting next to a teacher or by one of the "couples", who were never very happy to have me invade their "couple" time (yeah, like I was ecstatic about it).

I was one of the "smart" kids, so I wasn't completely ostracized. The other kids were usually nice to me when they needed help with their homework. And if one of the kids had a birthday party where the whole class was invited, then I would get invited too.

When I got to junior high and high school, though, kids started throwing parties where only the ones playing on sports teams or who were on the cheerleading squad were invited. In my hometown, sports was the main form of recreation, so if you weren't athletic, then you were "out".

So I played along for a while and joined several teams and even became a cheerleader for a while, even though I am one of the most physically uncoordinated people you will ever meet.

First of all, I almost always get hit by the ball, even when I'm watching a game; that was why I often would run away from the ball when it came at me, which really wasn't the best idea when I was playing in a game. Second of all, when it came to cheerleading, I couldn't do the splits, because I had this slightly irrational fear that I might rip my entire body in half if I did them. I also couldn't do cartwheels, because I was afraid I might land on my face and then the crowd in the bleachers would shrink back in horror at the sight of all the blood and think that they had stepped into a scary movie titled Klutzy Cheerleader Gone MAD.

The fact that I wasn't good at sports didn't help me make friends and only made even more people make fun of me. In both grade school and high school I was often the butt of other people's jokes. They'd laugh and say, "It's just a joke. Can't you take a joke?" I wasn't even allowed to feel bad about the fact that they didn't realize how much they hurt my feelings. Looking back now, I realize that I was overly sensitive sometimes, and I did take some things way too seriously. But sometimes, the other kids were just being jerks.

Since I didn't have any close friends to talk to when I was a kid, I wrote down a lot of what I was thinking and feeling in my journals. Being one of the "quiet" kids made me a lot more observant of the world around me.

For example, once I was walking around outside with a group of girls from my class; I think we were doing some kind of outdoor class project. I pointed at a bird hopping towards a tree and said to one of the girls, "Look at the way that bird is moving." She laughed and said, "I can't believe you even noticed that!" She told the other girls, who thought it was hilarious too. After that I kept most of my observations to myself, and wrote them down instead. I wrote down a description of the bird I'd seen, and I wrote down how I felt when the other girls laughed at me.

It wasn't until high school, when a few new students arrived, that I finally started making friends. I became a "drama geek", even though I was neither a good actor nor a good singer. That would probably be why I always ended up with the small roles, where I'd show up on stage and say three or four lines and then try not to trip as I made my exit. But even so, I finally made friends and was happy.

The only time I really felt left out in high school was when my friends started dating. My parents were very strict and said that I should focus on getting into a good college, not on getting a boyfriend. I was, however, allowed to go on "dates" to dances.

I don't really think of those nights out as real dates, though. I think of them more as "Let's all get dressed up in uncomfortable, expensive clothes that we will never wear again, and then let's all stand in a circle and show off the five dance moves that we know while we dance to interminably long songs like 'American Pie' and think to ourselves, For the love of God, does this song NEVER END? And then let's all start line-dancing (hey, this was the Midwest) or do the Macarena (hey, it was the 90s, and we all thought it was fun; it wasn't until later that we realized how stupid it looked). Then when the slow songs start up, let's all pair off and sway back and forth and try not to sweat on each other."

Because I didn't really date in high school, I stayed home on the nights that my friends and classmates went out with their boyfriends. I wrote stories about unrequited crushes, teenage bookworms like me, and I wrote down my dreams of escaping my hometown, even though I loved it because it was familiar and the only home that I knew at the time.

When I went to college in a bigger city, I felt freer to step outside of my shell because it was the first time in my life that I was living in a place where everyone didn't know me and every single embarrassing thing I'd ever done. It was easier to meet people during freshman year in particular, because everyone was new and eager to make friends. I went around with a group of girls and guys, but by sophomore year the big circle of friends became smaller; I stayed friends with the people I had more in common with.

At my college, a lot of people went off-campus on the weekends, usually because they went home to visit their families or boyfriends or girlfriends. I stayed on-campus, because my family lived in a different state. I started walking around the city and soaking up as much of it as I could.

A lot of the other college kids I knew were more interested in partying and going to bars. I went with them a few times. Once I went to a bar with a group of people. A few of the girls jumped up on top of the bar and started dancing. They beckoned to me to join them. I am not a very good dancer, and I didn't really want to advertise that fact to all the people watching. I also thought I might fall on top of the people watching and then there'd be all this beer and blood everywhere, and then I'd get thrown out of the bar. I remember looking around at all the people standing around drinking and checking each other out without talking to each other, and I remember how lonely and bored I felt. I made up an excuse and left early, and I wrote down a description of the scene for a story.

Now that I'm older, it's more difficult to meet new people and make friends. After college, most of the people I knew moved away to different cities for jobs or grad school. Now that I'm thirty, most of the people my age are married and have children now; they're busy with their families. Other people I know have full-time jobs and work long hours; they have little time for socializing. I don't get to go out a lot either, because I'm busy with school during the week. My retail jobs often require me to work on weekends when everyone else goes out.

But I do still have a small circle of friends from high school and college. We see each other once or twice a month. But to this day I am still a loner. I actually enjoy doing a lot of things on my own, like watch movies, explore interesting neighborhoods, go to museums on free admission days, watch plays at tiny theaters that sell inexpensive tickets, or eat lunch in cheap but good restaurants. I don't feel the need to always be with other people in order to do things that interest me. In college, I had this friend who would always ask me, "Who'd you go with?" whenever I told him about how I went to a concert or a new bookstore. He could never understand why I liked going on my own.

I read somewhere that solitude can be good for writers, because it makes us more observant of things that we might not have noticed if we were with other people. I think that that's true. And when you grow up feeling lonely a lot of the time, you can either spend a lot of time feeling sorry for yourself, or you can put that loneliness to good use. I don't think it's good to completely isolate yourself, and I don't do that anyway. But I think that the fact that I grew up feeling lonely a lot of the time fueled my writing. I don't think you can't be a good writer if you were/are popular, because you can still generate good material from the memories you make with your friends. Either way, I think it all depends on how you utilize your personality, childhood, and relationships with other people when you sit down to write.

What about you? What motivated you to start writing?

Do Not Disturb...or I Will GET You

Recently, the brilliant Theresa Milstein, who writes the blog Substitute Teacher's Saga, wrote a post about the role that writing plays in her life and how sometimes life gets in the way of her writing. And yet she still manages to get a lot of writing done, so that I envy her. I think a lot of people could relate to that post in particular, especially me.

As a teacher and as a graduate student, I do a lot of my work at home. In addition to teaching classes, holding office hours, and attending lectures, workshops and department meetings, I also have to spend a lot of time grading papers, making lesson plans, doing research, and working on my dissertation. I also work for a website that allows me to complete my projects from my own laptop. Not to mention I also have to make time for my fiction writing, but I actually prefer to do that at coffeehouses because the coffee and chocolate somehow make me feel creative. Or maybe it just makes me hyper and that makes me think I'm being creative...

I don't like working in the library for too long, because apparently it's no longer considered a quiet place to work, at least not according to a lot of the students who go there. To a lot of them, the library is the place where you go to talk with your friends at the top of your voice and ignore the people who glare at you until it feels like their eyeballs are going to fall out. Or it's the place where you do anything BUT study and hog the computers so you can update your Facebook pages or play computer games or watch Youtube videos for hours because it's not like anyone else needs those computers to do RESEARCH....but I digress.

I do have my own workspace at the schools where I teach, but I typically have to share an office with several other people. At one school where I used to teach, I didn't even get my own desk because there were so many more instructors than desks available; we had to sign up to use the desks for a couple hours at a time. And it's hard to work in shared offices, because sometimes the other instructors are just as loud as the students; if they're not meeting with students to discuss assignments, they'll talk about their teaching, what happened on last night's episode of American Idol, where they're going to go to eat, etc., until I want to stand up on my desk and yell, "Would you please keep it down!" But I don't, because one of my students might walk in at that moment and then they might tweet about it or something and then I'll be known as the teacher who throws tantrums and pulls her hair out in front of her colleagues.

So I generally prefer to work at home, even though my neighbors don't make it any easier for me to work either. But at least I don't have to be in the same room with them, because then I just might attack them for leaving their garbage bags in the elevator or getting drunk outside my apartment window at two A.M. again. (You might say that I have anger issues. I would reply that everyone ELSE has issues, and that's why I get angry.)

A lot of people think it's great to work at home, because then they can work in their pajamas and set their own schedule. But I don't like to work in my pajamas, because what if there's a fire and I have to run out in the street in my pajamas and then everyone will laugh and say, "Why are you wearing such a long nightgown with all those ruffles and teddy bears on it?" And even if there wasn't a fire, I'd still just get sleepy in my pajamas and doze off at my desk; then I'll wake up and start berating myself for not working, and then I'll feel bad for not being disciplined, and then I'll start wondering if I really do have issues, and...

Since I don't have a typical 9-5 job, and since I work at home, some people seem to think that my schedule is more flexible. That would be why they think I should be able to spend time with them whenever it's convenient for them, or why they call at all hours of the day, interrupting me when I'm working. They think that since my boss isn't there to supervise what I'm doing that I can set my own schedule and do whatever I want. But even if I am working independently a lot of the time, it's still work. And I still have deadlines, especially when it comes to grading papers. I often get e-mails from anxious students saying stuff like, "Have you finished grading my paper yet? I turned it in hours ago and I should think that you'd be done grading it by now!"

That's why I hate answering the phone, because it keeps me from getting my work done. I've tried telling the person on the other end of the line that I'm busy and will have to call him or her back, but more often than not the person will keep talking (or texting). I've tried not answering the phone at all when I'm working and just letting the machine take my messages, but then the people calling will say stuff like, "Why didn't you pick up your phone? I know you were home when I called so why didn't you want to talk to me?"

It's something that's happened again and again for years, no matter how many times I try to explain to people that it's nothing personal; I'm just busy working. After all, I wouldn't bother them when they're working; it's not like I would walk into their offices or wherever they work and expect them to drop everything and talk to me. But because I'm at home some people think that I have more time to socialize. And I don't.

How do you deal with it when people interrupt you when you're trying to work?

Maybe the next time I go on a date...

1. I won't dress like an uptight old maid from the 1900s, only more conservative.

2. I won't mention that I read a dating self-help book. (He's Just Not That Into You changed my whole mindset. Its message is basically common sense: if a guy doesn't call, it means he's not interested. And this whole time I'd been thinking, "I'm sure as soon as he gets out from that boulder he's been trapped under, he will TOTALLY call me.")

3. I won't describe the e-mails and winks that I got from weird guys on okcupid, including one from a guy who was married (and had a picture of his wife on his profile) but was looking for "new friends" who were "open-minded".

4. I won't order noodles or salad, so that I don't have to spend the whole time wondering if I have food in my teeth.

5. I won't mention how many other guys I've met and gone out with through online dating (I'd rather not say how many on this blog, because the number is just depressing at this point).

6. I won't say that everyone else my age is getting married and having children, and then give him a meaningful look.

7. I won't get the directions to wherever I'm meeting my date from CTA's website, so that I won't end up in the wrong neighborhood and walk up and down the streets while muttering, "Where am I?"

8. I won't watch a crime drama right before the date, so that I end up being several minutes late because I just had to find out if the criminal got away with his "my iPod made me do it" defense.

9. I won't walk really fast to get there, so that I end up panting with my tongue hanging out when I show up for the date.

10. I won't say, "Gee, this chicken is making my tongue feel all garlicky..."

11. I won't vent about my temptation to drop anvils on my students' cell phones when they use them in class.

12. I won't keep checking my shirt to make sure I didn't spill anything on it.

13. I won't drink a lot of soda, so that I end up being hyper from the caffeine and sounding like my conversation is one long sentence, as in "Wow, this is a really cool neighborhood there are so many people here that food smells good how's your food taste gee I think I'll order more soda...."

14. I won't run in the opposite direction or duck if he leans in to kiss me at the end of the date.

Did I actually do all of these things on previous dates? I'm afraid so. I've been reflecting on the dates I've been on, and trying to think of what I can do better so that if I do end up liking any one of the guys, he won't be turned off by how weird and neurotic I can be sometimes (and by sometimes, I mean all the time). And also, I've been thinking of what I can do differently so that the guys I don't like will never call me again. Do you ever do that when you go out on dates, or, if you're married/in relationships, did you ever think about these kinds of things when you were single?

But then again, it may be a moot point as far as I'm concerned. Aside from the two guys I met through eharmony and went on dates with a few weeks ago, I haven't been having much success with online dating lately. Three more guys on eharmony disappeared by the time we got to the third phase of the guided communication (which is the phase right before we send regular e-mails); it's like, seriously, what is UP with that? Two of them closed the match, blocking off any communication, and one of them had initiated contact with me first!

I guess I should keep trying, but dating is hard work. And even though I'm a workaholic, sometimes I wish I could just retire. For some people, finding someone seems to come so easily. But to be honest, I'm tired of it. I know that I shouldn't give up, and I don't intend to...yet. But I've come to realize that I've always felt at least a little bit lonely when I was dating, even if it was with someone I actually cared about. It just always felt like something was missing.

I don't feel lonely when I'm writing, when I'm teaching, or when I'm doing graduate work. Is that a bad thing? I don't think so. Maybe it's just that I haven't met the right person. Or maybe it's just that I'm meant to take a different path in life.

And I know what you're going to say. "Don't give up yet." I haven't given up, not yet. Or, "You have to have something in your life besides work." And I know, and I do. I have other things and people in my life that make me happy. But I don't think it's such a bad thing to be a workaholic, especially since it is such a central part of many people's lives. And my work is important to me, and I don't think it's a bad thing to say that.

I'm just wondering if that thing that millions of other people have written songs, novels, and poetry about will ever happen for me, and if it would really be the worst thing if it didn't.