Not Okay

Today I cried in the bathroom at school, while waiting for my study partner. My mom had just called to tell me that my great Uncle Wilbur had died. While I wasn't super close to Uncle Wilbur, I loved him dearly--he had a great spirit-- and the news filled me with a sadness that then triggered many of emotions that I have been withholding over the past few months.

I hate school. Okay, that's not entirely true. I like my classes and not having to work. But I'm over constantly having to function outside of my element. When I visited DC last week, I was reminded of how happy I used to be. How happy I am capable of being. Here, I manage. Don't get me wrong, there are some people whom I have grown to adore and because of them, school is bearable. But I hate the pettiness, the feeling of being in high school again, constantly worried about who's saying what about whom, not knowing whom to trust or people's honest intentions. I hate that someone whom I thought that I could trust has fallen short of that expectation. I hate that every day I have to defend myself against our class bully (yes, in grad school). I hate that I'm not as resilient as I pretend.

Yesterday and today, two friends have asked me about my ex-boyfriend and later insinuated that I made a mistake in ending our relationship. I don't feel that way (or maybe I do and I am in denial?), but I hate that my judgment is in question. I do miss him. I read the funniest FML story the other and I emailed it to him, accepting that he wouldn't respond. I miss having a boyfriend, and dating is not something that I look forward to partaking in. But I know that I wasn't completely in love with him, and that I need to work on myself some more, before I committ to another being. I know that I made the right decision at the time. But some days, I have my doubts.

Part of me feels silly. Because I'm not even strong enough to face these challenges, which are relatively small and insignificant. But in order for me to become a stronger person, I think it's important that I acknowledge these low moments. That I try to understand why they surface. I know that I'm going to be okay. I'm just not today. And I think that that's okay.

About a Boy

While I have yet to regain my footing on the dating scene, I will admit to liking a boy. In a I-don't-want-to-date-seriously-but-it's-nice-to-have-a-crush kind of way. If that makes any sense. This boy refers to himself as "Bear" (and here I will, too), has a closet that resembles the aftermath of a Brooks Brothers/J. Crew showdown, and is admittedly, and demonstratively, immature. So why do I like said boy, you ask. Let me to explain.

I have met guys whom I have placed in the "to wed" category within minutes of meeting. You know those guys. They are the "nice" guys. The ones who your friends want you to like, because they themselves think that he is "too nice" to take seriously. The ones sans the dramatic pasts and shady tendencies. Who call you when they say that they will, treat you real nice, and are all to happy to discuss the future . The ones who girls learn to appreciate only after they have been burned by boys who are not quite so good. I have dated many of these "nice" guys, but I've always ended up bored, frustrated, and feeling overwhelmed. While I don't exactly like "bad" boys either, I do appreciate a man with some quirks and an interesting story. Ideally, I'd like to marry a reformed not-so-nice boy who has managed to retain his quirk and charm while learning how to treat women. If only such a man existed.

Which brings me to my crush. Bear and I are classmates. I had a boyfriend when we started school, and being the judgemental whore that I am, I assumed that Bear I would be among the least likely to become friends. Seeing as how Bear represents all things preppy, white, and east Coast privileged and I am the poster child for all things preppy also but am in denial hip,Blacktina, and Southern hard-working, I didn't see what we could possible have had in common. The truth is lots. However, we barely spoke over the first few weeks. Until one night at a bar, of course, he randomly blurted out, "So, when are you going to break up with your boyfriend and date one of us?" And by us he meant himself. I, of course, ignored the rude Bear's comment and turned back to my $3 PBR, feeling shocked, annoyed, and flattered all at the same time. But Bear didn't stop there. Over the next few months he never missed an opportunity to talk about our kids, our future, and how "smokin" he thought that I was. Game running aside, somehow Bear's crazy talk has lead to us forming a quirky and fun friendship. We even made out night, but we agreed to erase it because I had just gotten out of relationship (and we agreed that rebounds are doomed) and because our school setting is not exactly conducive to exploring any type of legitimate relationship (think: high school. with 27 year olds).

I like Bear because he is a strange bird. He says the most off the wall things and the most inopportune times because he expresses himself best through awkward commentary. He claimed that I give him a disapproving look whenever I see him, before he even gets to say a word, because I anticipate him saying something inappropriate. He later admitted that I am usually warranted to give him those looks. He is in tune with his "feelings" side which is nice, because I know that when I ask for his opinion about something, he isn't just giving me a meathead perspective. He also supports my eating habits, tells me that I'm pretty, and appreciates my girl babble. And because he is immature, he does little shit--that's sometimes cute-- that I know are signs that he likes me. To top it all off, he is tall, adorable, and fine. Exactly the stuff that crushes are made of.

I doubt that anything will ever evolve between Bear and me, and I'm okay with that. Because as much as I like hanging out with him and pretending to be disgusted whenever he touches me, I have a hard time making myself vulnerable to men, especially immature men who still try to holla at 19 year old undergrad girls. I think that our quirky flirtation coupled with his tragic flaw are the stuff that great friendships make. Throw in a few too many beers and that great friendship can quickly turn into a fantastic heavy petting session. Not that anyone is trying to go there. Again. :0)