by Jennifer M Dryden (c) 2009
“Hey, what’s up?” (Insert any of my girl friends’ names here) enters.
“Not much, you?”
The conversation goes on like any normal person’s might. You talk about classes, family feuds, roommate drama, plans for the weekend, and, of course, boys. Even if you don’t have one, this question still arises and most of the time you have something to respond with – some new crush or an old flame that will never burn out completely. The question either comes out of my fingertips or hers after a long pause in search of the next topic that will help us procrastinate homework a little longer. Her fingertips beat mine. “So, what’s your boy situation?”
“Hmmm,” I enter, racking my brain for my answer choices. Well, I could talk about the ex, but we’re just friends now. I could talk about this guy I’m crushing on, but that’s pointless because I’m moving in June. I could talk about hot male celebrities but let’s get real, Jenn, Robert Pattinson won’t ever marry you. I know I’m out of options unless I want to throw myself into either a dark night of depression or a too sarcastic version of me explaining that Edward Cullen will sweep me off my feet one day. Both are dumb ways to spend my precious hour of procrastination. I’d rather do homework. So I enter, “Nonexistant.”
That about sums it up. My boy situation is nonexistent. I’m not lying. What are lying are my heart’s feelings for the same boy, and my head that Mr. Right will someday sweep me off my feet with my idealistic pick-up line. It’ll go something like this:
“Hey… Your writing is amazing. I’d like to get to know you more.” Mr. Right will say in my dream world. “Can I take you out for dinner to (insert Italian restaurant in NYC here)?”
My reply will be a most definite, “Yes,” and we’ll have dinner and order some kind of expensive chocolate raspberry cake laced with both dark and milk chocolate with just a dab of whipped cream on top for dessert. He’ll bring along, not just a delicate white lily, but a copy of my latest book/short story with his comments and edits. He’ll be charming but not too perfect. He’ll challenge me with his honest notes on my book and we’ll sit up at a 24-hour coffee shop editing each other’s unpublished drafts until dawn.
Man, that would be… if I’m remembering right… my best date EVER. How perfect would that be? Pretty perfect. It wouldn’t be about how I looked, dressed, or spoke because I don’t dress in body-flaunting tight clothes, or clap my way through a tile hallway with my six-inch heels. I don’t put on a pound of foundation brushed with bronzer to accent my cheekbones because that’s not who I am day to day. The guy I will meet will love me for me and in order to do that will need to see me for me. That’s someone who is most comfortable in a t-shirt and jeans, who has nice clothes for nice events but doesn’t consider going out for pizza a fashion show opportunity. I wear glasses on Sundays to give my eyes a rest from contacts and I swipe eyeliner on in the morning and call it good most days.
If my outsides and insides were switched, I’m positive I’d win Miss Universe. I’m one of the most dependable people you’ll meet; I get things done right and on time. I’ve been told my smile saved someone’s life once and because of that I try to be happy and smile every day. I crack sarcastic and lame jokes, and exaggerate my hand movements and facial expressions when telling a story. I fall asleep to the Disney channel and find myself laughing really loud at Wizards of Waverly Place (which is on at 10 p.m. every night if you were wondering). My laugh is never quiet no matter the venue and, no, I won’t quiet down. I eat my sandwiches plain – ham, swiss, salt/pepper – and drink hot cocoa instead of coffee. I believe in God, and that my brother is a good person despite his prison placement. One of my flaws is making life-changing decisions; the only thing I’m 100 percent sure on is I want to be a mom some day. I have places I want to go, some I’d like to live in. I’m absolutely in love with Cincinnati, not only for its Skyline cheese coneys, but for the family who go along with it.
I sound like sugar and spice and everything nice, but I’m a challenge and, I, in return, like to be challenged. I like to debate topics I’m passionate about and listen to sides I’m not familiar with. I love football (actually getting a Bengals Ochocinco jersey for Christmas), which attracts most boys from “hello,” but I’m a fan of the Twilight Saga and that usually pushes them away again. I’m a homerun and a strike out every other day. I have my flaws and maybe those have nothing to do with my nonexistent boy situation. I can only speak on my best girl friends’ boy situations, my past ones, and my dream world. I’m okay with that… for now.
So maybe I shouldn’t type “nonexistent.” Maybe I should say something philosophical like “Ask me later.” Or maybe the question should be refined to something totally exaggerated like, “What’s your latest theory as to what your boy situation will be in the next ten years?” Yeah, I like that one. That way I could procrastinate homework and tell her something.