Me, myself, and I

In honor of yesterday, my roommate Leah and I hosted an "I hate Valentine's Day" potluck at our apartment and, of course, watched Garry Marshall's Valentine's Day as a part of the festivities. And there was one scene that actually made me stop and think. One character insightfully said: "When you love someone, you love ALL of them. Not just the good parts, but the bad ones too." It's a wonderful sentiment, and a particularly optimistic one, but it's completely untrue for me. I find one reason to hate someone and let that eat away at me until there's nothing left. And I hate that about myself. I always tell myself when I meet someone new that I'm not going to do it, but I find that once we've stopped speaking that I did do it without realizing that I was. And then I say that at least I'm self-aware. But what has that really gotten me?

All that being said, if you're reading this, I'm sorry. I was wrong.

I think it's important to know where your strengths lie and what your weaknesses are, and consciously try to improve on them. I think it may be the most important thing. Because no matter how many relationships you have in your life, you'll be with yourself the longest. And that's the one you really need to work on. So, in honor of Valentine's Day and the romance and couple-ness that goes along with it, I'm going to review myself.

In the words of the immortal Marilyn Monroe, "I'm selfish, impatient, and a little bit insecure."

As much as I love you, I love me more and I always will. The only thing I love more than myself is my cat, Clutch, and that's only because she doesn't need me. I'm independent to a flaw, or at least I want everyone to think that I am, but I'm also the loneliest person that I know. I get annoyed when you talk to me too much, and I get annoyed when you talk to me too little. I will never admit to you that my thoughts contradict each other.

I don't talk about my feelings and I don't want you to talk about yours. I won't tell you when something is wrong, but I will expect you to read my mind. I have an extremely short temper and tendencies towards the dramatic. I can be really unforgiving and a total bitch.

And now that you're all really turned off, let me try to think of the positives, which are a lot more difficult for me to talk about.

My memory is selective. In your favor. I may get mad and blow up at you with a laundry list of complaints, but the following day, week, month, year I will ALWAYS only remember the things I did wrong and the things you did right. You just have to wait out the anger.

I am shockingly, almost unbelievably undemanding. (Although some people may disagree with this one.) I can count the number of things I have asked boyfriends to do for me on my fingers and toes. That being said, if I do ask you do something and you don't, I will pout, sulk, yell, explode, and generally not be please with you. I may not like all the things you do, but I will never tell you not to do something. I hate making decisions, so I will go along with almost any idea you come up with. If you ask me to try something, I have to really not want to do it to say no. I will try to make you happy even if it makes me less so, relationships and friends alike.

Even if I am terrible in a relationship, I am a really good friend. I may talk until your ears bleed, but I'm also a good listener. I ask people how their day is because I honestly want to know. I may be a bitch, but I also care about people. If you lie, I will swear to it. If you need to hide a body, I will help you and not tell a soul. And I know how to take one for the team. If you have an annoying friend who needs to be kept company while you hit a cute guy/girl, I am your girl. I can smile and make nice with the best of them.

I know how to laugh at myself, and I do often. I can take a joke at my expense and I'm not easily offended. I love beer and sports, and I adore any cat, dog, fish, hedgehog, snake, or any other pet that you may have. Except spiders. A girl has to draw the line somewhere.

I tried to make it fairly balanced, but I'm starting to think that posting this is going to blacken my future love life considerably, but life is all about risks, right? And I've got to say, this is the most narcissistic thing I've ever done. It was kind of fun.

Happy day after Valentine's Day, everyone <3

A little rant

I hate texting. No, not hate, loathe. If I were to ever meet the person who invented texting I would give them a big ole' Archie slap right across their face. (Side note: if you don't know what an Archie slap is, check out Guy Ritchie's RocknRolla immediately.) I would slap them and then I would storm away in a huff.

Sure, texting is useful for some things. When my roommate's at work and I need to remind her to pay the bills when she gets home, it would be inappropriate to call, but I will probably forget before I actually see her, so I send her a quick text to remind her. When I'm bored in class, I occasionally text to pass the time. The other day my mother sent me a picture of their Christmas tree and it was nice because a phone call describing it would not have done it justice. If I want to tell someone something quick that doesn't need any sort of response, a text works nicely. So, I admit that it's useful at time, but in general, I hate it.

And I can't escape because that's the primary way that people are communicating. I can't remember the last time my phone rang and it was anyone other than my mother or father calling. People text, so I text. I'm just like everyone else--I want to be kept in the loop and I'm afraid that I'll miss all the gossip and invitations to do stuff if I didn't.

I hate how fake everyone is through text. It's like how I imagine online dating to be--you're only going to show your best side and hide away all your craziness and neurosis to unleash at a time when you are having that actual, rare face-to-face interaction. I hate getting to know someone through texting. It takes me an hour to think of something clever, yet casual, to say, and then another hour analyzing what I sent and thinking of all the better things I could have said. And by then he's responded and I have to think of more endearing things to say.

I'm not witty over text. I'm not funny or engaging. I came across as soulless and flat as the piece of technology that I’m being read and analyzed over. You can't be sarcastic over text or pick on someone affectionately--you end up coming across as a snide, rude bitch. Which I am not. (Obviously.)

And then you find yourself sitting with your phone in your lap, willing it to go off, channeling all of your telekinetic powers to tell that phone to flash the message you've been waiting for. And when it doesn't, you obsessively read through your text conversation, searching for what you said wrong. Did he really think that funny story that you sent him was funny or was his "haha" just being polite? And maybe you should have been a little more open-ended and inviting with your responses to his questions. Remember all that craziness and neurosis that I was talking about before? Well it's in full force now.

I have a phone. It dials and accepts calls. Try it sometime. We can have an actual conversation. You can use that conversation to ask me out on a real date, where I can be awkward and vulnerable instead of just being a series of perfectly pieced together texts. I'll say something, you can say something back, you can ask questions, I can answer them and ask you more, and we can really get to know each other, neurosis and all.