Typical Conversations with Kelli

On giving career advice to a student

 Me: After class today, a student came up to talk to me. He's a really smart guy and I love talking to him because he's bright and curious and wants to learn; I never feel my time was wasted talking to him. He was talking to me about possible majors and it looks like he wants to go into linguistics, poor thing (How will he ever find a job?). Anyway, after talking about career stuff, I felt like a real professor.

Kelli: Look at you, shaping tomorrow’s unemployed readers! Go YOU!

On observing people around me

 Me: I am very tired. I just got back from the gym and my feet feel like they were run over or something. 5 hours of standing while teaching with only a half-hour break, followed by the gym, is not a good plan. I'll have to rethink my gym schedule.

However, I did notice a man at the gym today, despite my fatigue and aching feet (must get better shoes!). He was one machine over from me and I noticed him because he had an e-reader. I couldn't see what he was reading, but I was still impressed. It's nice to not be the only nerd at the gym!

Kelli: I am fond of most men who read. The material itself might cause me alarm, but a man reading is sexy.

Me: That's one thing I said to Elaine when we were in Chicago. We were sitting on the train and I said, “I have to move here. Look at all the boys with books! And they're real books, like books I might actually read!”

On weird things for sale on Amazon
Me: Oh wow. Check this.

Kelli: I am asking Santa for that.

Me: I thought you might. It's so stylish and sophisticated.

Elaine: wtf? So you put wine in your boobs like an inflatable boob?

Me: …that deflates as you get drunk, because that's what sophisticated, classy people do. How are you so out of the loop? Don't you have this?

On salsa packets from Taco Bell
Me: I just got my second marriage proposal—from a hot sauce packet.

Kelli: I think that is a sustainable & useful relationship.

Me: It was—until I got hungry. Whoops.

Kelli: Look who is using packets! Poor packet.

Me: Eh, I don't think he was sincere anyway. How many packets did he flash that message before meeting me?

Kelli: He was looking for more than his kind!

Me: He was a bit hot-tempered for my taste. First proposal came from a 4-year-old. He was nice enough, but hot-tempered as well.

Kelli: You have a type.

Me: Apparently—hot-tempered and messy.

Kelli: I'd be worried about hurting the packet's feelings.

Me: Wow. Really? Are we really still on this?

Kelli: Packet has squishy feelings of tastiness.

Me: I know you'll say I'm being too particular, but I don't think packet was a good fit. I didn't especially want packet; he was just kind of in the bag with my tacos.

Kelli: So you didn't even want him & you used him!

Me: I had more packets than I needed. In truth, I regretted it afterward because he made my taco soggy.

Kelli: :(

Practice

It’s awkward to begin one’s dating life at twenty-five, but unfortunately for some of us, it happens that way.

To say I began my dating life at twenty-five is not completely accurate. Starting at seventeen, I began going on “dates.” This usually involved going to a movie, or bowling, or some other out-of-the-norm activity with a guy who was very nervous, and made me nervous, and the whole experience was uncomfortable. I went out with guys who asked me and who seemed nice, never feeling any genuine interest in them, but hoping interest might develop despite the fact that I was not interested in boys or dating in the least. But I went on these dates because that was what I was supposed to do, because friends pressured me to be “normal,” because I received positive affirmation when I told people, “I have a date.” However, nothing ever developed with anyone because I wasn’t invested. Looking back, I feel badly for the boys I went out with, boys who presumably hoped I would like them, and who did not know that the world was much too big and exciting for them to hold my attention.

Around age twenty-four, something changed. I went from a complete lack of enthusiasm for dating to suddenly wanting a relationship, and not the kind of “relationship” where people self-consciously hold hands and nervously call each other a few times each week. I never wanted that high-school romance. I wanted something more; I yearned for emotional intimacy.

So when I finished grad school, I set up an online dating account, figuring this would be a good way to meet people and make friends, and possibly find the kind of relationship I sought. Six months in, I was demoralized; one year in, I feel defeated. I have been on dates with close to twenty different men, ranging from lawyers to Army officers to men finishing their bachelor’s degrees, but with every man something is lacking. And so I’ve let online dating taper off; I reply to fewer and fewer messages I receive, often not even bothering to check the messages, and focusing more on my jobs and friendships—doing exactly what I had done before, seemingly no closer to what I want.

Two weeks ago, I had a date with a man I’ve exchanged messages with for many months. A few nights before the date, as I was lying in bed, I began having doubts. I texted Lindsay, asking, “How bad would it be if I canceled?”

“Very bad,” she replied. “He would be very disappointed.”

“I just see no point,” I said. “We live too far apart, and I really am terrible at this whole dating thing. Do I want to give up another Saturday and drive all that way just to feel awkward?” My reasons went on and on.

“Those sound like excuses,” she said.

“I just don’t want to be disappointed again. I know I’m just not meeting the right men or something, but after a while of meeting people and not connecting, not feeling attraction, it starts to feel like I’m broken. I don’t want to feel that way any more.”

“I think you should go. Maybe he isn’t ‘the one,’ and maybe you won’t even like him once you meet, but how do you know? Maybe you’re supposed to be there. If nothing else, it’s practice.”

I reflected on that last statement for a while. “It’s practice.”

Everything is a matter of perspective. I’ve been telling myself that I’m deficient, that something’s wrong with me because I don’t enjoy dating, and because I have a string of first dates that never led anywhere, and half a string of second dates that were perfunctory as well. I’ve been tallying up my “failed” dates and letting them reinforce the idea that I’m a failure. But Lindsay is right. These dates didn’t go well for reasons beyond my control—lack of chemistry, lack of common interests, lack of human DNA in a few cases—but ultimately they were not right simply because they were not right. It’s no reflection on me. And that’s ok, because practice is where you’re supposed to mess up.

Dating is hard for some people. I am one of those people. But changing my perspective will be important to staying in the game. So now I’m trying to see each new date as an opportunity and I’m redefining my definition of success. I go into these situations mostly blind, but I always come away having learned something about myself or mankind. So long as my goals are to keep learning and have fun, there is no failure; all that stretches before me is opportunity.

Typical Roommate Conversations

A typical conversation between me and my roommate at 8:30 AM on a Wednesday morning. Note: Elaine has to be at work at 9 on Wednesdays.

Me: Good morning!

Elaine: dont want to wkae

Me: I know. I was preparing to bring a cat up and stick it in your bed.

Elaine: Uh I'm out of bed. I have been out of bed

(Translation: Please do not be weird and put a cat in my bed. I do not want to look from the waist down like I was attacked in a slasher film.)

On planning weddings

Me: So Kelli helped me plan my wedding. Want the details?

Elaine: Sure.

Me: I was thinking courthouse and then lasagna. Then maybe a walk in the park. And if things get really crazy, I might hold the groom's hand.

Elaine: Uh, god.

Me: That bad?

Elaine: Yes, you’re 26, not 66.

Me: Kelli didn't like the lasagna idea. I said I could compromise on that and settle for chicken parm.

Elaine: How did she plan it?

Me: She said the lasagna had to go and that she felt I should go crazy and hug the groom at some point.

Elaine: Kiss.

Me: Crap. I'd better really like this guy if there's going to be all that touching.




On potential Halloween costumes
Me: Earlier today I was thinking back to a costume I used to have. It was a Renaissance princess thing. It would have looked lovely on you. :)

Elaine: I am eating veggie tray. 70 cals per serving / 5 servings.

Me: It was just the right shade of deep purple. You’d carry off the whole thing really well. It’d be flattering, but not overly-sexualized like most costumes.

Elaine: I think the cals come from the “light ranch.”

Me: I don’t feel like I have your attention. Are you listening?

Elaine: I am trying to resist eating the whole tray.


On our cats wrestling through the house
Me: Sounds like a massive herd of buffalo stampeding through the house!

Elaine: I wondered what you were doing in your room.

Me: You did not seriously think that was me?

Elaine: I thought you were searching for stuff.

Me: Ha ha, no, the three kitties are chasing each other. If I heard those noises from your room, I'd assume something had fallen!

Elaine: Oh, ha!

Me: Your response—“Brittany's so loud!”
       My response—“Oh no! Is Elaine ok? Is she trapped under a bookcase?”

Elaine: …