Try try try again

Growing up, I always held the ideal of the 'NY woman' as my aspiration -- fashionable, feminine yet assertive, tough, and always extrodinarily put together. I acheived my goal when I was 17, right before my first year of my women's college experience. I was always well dressed, 15 lbs thinner, make-up on perfectly, the perfect first date who laughed at the the dumbest jokes and struck the balence of making a man feel like a million dollars yet making him second guess whether you were completely into him. The summer before I began my first year of college, I was unstoppable when I went out. I would walk into a gay club and I would end up pushed against the wall being ravaged by some hot sexually confused older man.

Now let's examine where my I am 6 years later. 15 lbs heavier, forgotten how to put on make-up, there is something always eskew with my outfits (yesterday I ran out of clean clothes and had to febreeze myself and this morning I got deoderant all over my black summer dress that did not quite fit perfectly), and I lost my nasty streak -- the streak that made men find me so insanely attractive.

Proponents (aka the marketing professionals of MHC, Smith, and the other 7 sisters) will boast how a women's college education makes women more assertive, allows us to pursue our intellectual potential w/o male classroom domination and all in all, a women's college education makes us better humanbeings. If I am such a better humanbeing, why am I pining away for the days when I was 17? The days I would laugh in a guys face if he didnt kiss well, buy me my drink on time, or wasn't hot enough for me. Granted, I am a nicer human being, I no longer laugh in guys faces, give everyone a chance (because there may be a diamond in the rough), and try to keep in mind that even the ugly men are humanbeings with a story to tell.

Fuck my education, college gave me a conscience.

Living in sweatpants for 4 years will fuck with a girls sense of fashion and her self esteem. Granted during those 4 years I worked on my "self:" I can debate the validity of Nietzsche, hold intellect in the highest regard, and value life experience rather than the mall experience. I learned to value myself as an intellectual as opposed to a cute well put together LI girl. Hence why I have been single ever since. Living in those sweatpants taught me that sometimes fabulous people dont always look so fabuous.

For the past year, having become a bonafide NYer, I have tried so hard to become the woman I once was..the woman who always had her hair straightened, always had a quick joke, an a cigg dangling out of her mouth. The woman who would never get horribly drunk, who sipped her vodka as opposed to chugging, and cured hangovers with water and fruit as opposed to scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast. I tried hard within this past year to become the woman I was at 17 but since I worked for a small start-up in NJ, and there were no eliglble men who I worked with, I went back to old habits. Same ratty jeans and same ratty sweatshirts that punctuated my college experience, and same old drinking habits that I learned in college. You may have chugged coors light back in the day, my friends and I chugged shots of absolut vodka.

Now that I have everything in place that would force me to become the woman I have always wanted to (appearance and alcohol consumption wise, everything else I am really happy with myself), I think I forgot! This morning I got my deoderant all over my black summer dress. Instead of making a big deal, scrubbing it out, I shrugged my shoulders and rationalized that we are all human, as I pulled my hair back into a messy bun.

WHAT THE FUCK?!

I have spent the last 5.5 years romanticizing the messy intllectual, the quiet one with a nose in her book, who always looks slightly astray. I am 23 going on 24...I am last few singletons who have not found a fling this summer! I am working with cute boys with prob even cuter friends. Oh 17 yr old me...where are you?

In other news, I signed my lease today. Am moving into my new digs Aug 10, around the block from my old place. Traded in the seventh floor walk-up for a third one. YEA!! As exicted as I am to move in with John John, I realize that I am fucking myself over. Let's think why we date...companionship, cuddling, and putting up with my neurosis. Not sex. I mean, with the wabbit and hott erotica, I get myself off better than any guy. Fine, I do miss kissing and being thrown up against a wall...but most men dont do assertive like that well anyway.

As of 8/10 I will have no reason to date or to pursue a boyfriend. John John and I are taking Merengue classes together and I love just hanging out with him. No need to spend the hour and half getting ready, no need to sit through shitty dates and he occasionally treats me. What else does a girl need?