Month: December 2015

Why You Should Get To Know Me.

I have to write a personal statement. Like I’m applying to graduate school? Kill me now.

Where’d the drop downs go?

First up: “Why you should get to know me.”

So far, three versions:

Why You Should Get To Know Me, Version 1:

As opposed to reading a great book? Or watching an Errol Morris or Clint Eastwood movie? Going to see a play or concert, or hanging out with people you already know you like? Well—I know what I’d be doing instead.

(That’s good right? Like the guy learns what I like to do, while at the same time, I also have a little humility. Not too presumptuous. Is mentioning Errol Morris obnoxious? I wanted to put Herzog and Morris just for the truth of it, but I think that could be alienating maybe and I don’t want to attract an elitist-intellectual-asshole or seem like one. I love Bill Murray too. Not that he’s stupid.) 

I have a lot of interests of my own and I get pretty excited about them. But equally, I’m eager to learn about things other people are interested in. I’m no neuroscientist, but I’m smart enough. Generally very fond of and seek out, well, I guess the stuff most people do: movies, music, theater, (some) opera, (some) classical music, art museums, food, drink, etc. I’m not a cultural snob—I like 40 Year Old Virgin, Zoolander—lots. I’m a fan of Bill Murray and jokes that involve tripping or falling down stairs. Physical Comedy=yes. I’m good at or at least enjoy decoupaging stuff. Sometimes it even sells on Etsy. I exercise, but not compulsively. I have my own thoughts about things. I don’t take credit for things that aren’t mine to take credit for. It’s possible that on occasion (ahem) I’ll try to convince you I’m right. Or ignore the fact I’m wrong. Probably both.

(Like: I’m my own person and generally happy. I like other people who are their own person. I’m not an anorexic and I like myself enough to take care of myself. I’m not a total snob or a hick without any taste. That’s what I’m trying to convey).

Version 2:

Me. I love my job (design, children’s publishing, not book covers, corporate branding). I have friends who are very dear to me, some of whom have been my friends for a long, long time. I’m from a small town where, despite being excruciatingly shy, I held the titles of Future Farmers of America Sweetheart, President, Reporter and Historian and was State Champion of both Citrus and Horse Judging. Third in the “world” in Horse Judging, I might add, the “world” consisting of some town in Mexico and the USA. First/only time I’ve been in Dallas/Fort Worth. All this to say: I very much appreciate this city, but sometimes miss the dirt.

I have a nice family, one that’s definitely dysfunctional enough to be interesting. My parents are divorced and remarried (to other people): On one side: academia, public television and public service; on the other, a house on the fifth hole, a mammoth-size TV, usually blaring Fox news. It makes for spirited conversation.

My friends tell me I’m quirky. I don’t know what that means exactly. They also say I am one of the most active people they know, but I think that’s because they don’t happen to be around when I’m not doing anything. I do have a lot of interests. I’m always taking a class on something.

I have opinions. For example: I think someone should sue Bath and Body Works for creating that machine that blows lotion fragrance outside their stores. Seriously—isn’t it public space? Plus it’s always some massively sweet smell, melon or peach. Just a thought. And I’m open to your two cents. Like if you think we should get vigilante and counter with our own fragrance-machine, that’s cool. What fragrance? Hm...

 (Family/friend version with a bit more of my sense of humor (too unkind to unleash on internet strangers? some of whom I might like to actually go on a date with?). That is the point of this. Right. Do I just seem weird? Also: been near a Bath & Body Works recently? I’m serious about that machine.)

Version 3:

I love cornbread. The sweet kind though. Not the kind with the peppers. If you gave me the kind with the peppers, I’d be grateful for the gesture. But, I wouldn’t lie and say I love it and eat it and suffer and never tell you, so that you just kept trying to be awesomer by bringing me all this cornbread I don’t like. I’m at least that well adjusted.

I can listen and talk. I’m thoughtful. I have a sometimes-crude sense of humor. I enjoy my job. I think most things require asking a lot of questions. Or should. I wish I asked more of them. I appreciate people that do. I like to try new things, even when I’m afraid (terrified?)—or, actually, I don’t like to try frightening new things, but I do stuff anyway because I think it’s probably good for me.

(I’m a decent/thinking person. I think that’s the gist of this one. Kinda middle of the road version.)

Okay, so—which one of me would you date?

Kate Moss

I chose Athletic because Slim/Petite is as slender as you can get. There’s no Kate-Moss option in the drop down to contextualize Slim/Petite. This is New York City. I know I’m thin but I rather my date isn’t totally disappointed. I don’t want to witness the moment he walks up to me at the bar and finds out I’m Erin, see some “Oh-I-thought-you’d-be-Kate-Moss-Skeletal-but-you’re-Just–Thin,” expression washing over his disappointed face.

Women who choose Athletic, I’ve been told, are often overweight. But I think it’s possible the guys who told me that are overly judgmental slash ridiculous. All their girlfriends are total waifs. They probably don’t know what overweight is.

Counterpoint: I’d up my chances of actually getting dates by choosing Slim/Petite, right? While depressing, perhaps also optimistic?As if the guys looking for emaciated ladies would meet me, Just Thin, and, inspired by my incredible wit and charm, make the exception? Shrug to themselves, figure—Hey? Why not see what dating a Just Thin Girl is like? I’d like to be an optimist. And still, I don’t get why a person would oversell themselves on their profile, because your date is definitely going to find out and you’re going to have to watch their facial expression as they do. Excruciating!

I think New York City needs its own drop-downs. Seriously. Body Type: Emaciated/Williamsburg Skinny, Kate Moss Soho Skeletal, California Slim, French Svelte, American Slim-Petite, Athletic, Average, Anything More than Average/a Little Extra Padding, including: Thick, Generously Proportioned, Great Personality, Will Travel/Open to Moving Inland.

I guess a guy can see my photo anyway. Body shot.

Drop Downs.

It’s the (non)choices in the form of drop downs. That’s what’s getting to me.

Interested In: Friendship, Play, Dating, Serious Relationship

Gender: Female, male

Age Between: 30-34

Live In: Brooklyn

Relocate? Yes, No, Maybe 

Body Type: Athletic, Average, Slim/Petite, a Little Extra Padding, Thick, Generously proportioned, Prefer not to say

Hair Color: Blond, Red, Black, Brown, Other

Hair Length: Long

Eye Color: Blue

Race/Ethnicity: Asian, Black/African, East Indian, Hispanic/Latino, Middle Eastern, Native American, Pacific Islander, White/Caucasian

Languages: English

Education: School of Life, High School, College, Master’s Degree, PhD, Post-Doctoral

Marital Status: Single, Married, Divorced, Separated

Occupation: Graphic Designer

Income: Rather Not Say

Have Children: No

Want Children: Yes, No, Maybe, Prefer not to say

Pets: Likes

Religion: Atheist, Agnostic, Spiritual, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, Jehovah’s Witness, Shinto, Sikh, Other, Not Religious, Neither Religious nor Spiritual, Prefer not to say

Star Sign: Leo 

Glasses Or Contacts: Neither

p.s. Ok, can I just say: I can’t believe people actually choose Play for what they’re Interested In. I’m repressed. Or they’re gross. I’m repressed. Also: who is here for Friendship? Really? Friendship? I imagine all the sex offenders choosing Looking for: Friendship.

“You’re right, you’re right, I know you’re right.”

My online dating screen name: ilipsez.

Please don’t tell me it’s stupid because that’s what it is and I can’t change it now. I like the definition: “The omission from speech or writing of a word or words that are understood from the context.” Shared meaning, the spaces in-between. I like the idea that an ellipses can exist. Optimistic.

Am I being too intellectual? If so at least I have company—I couldn’t have “ellipsis” because other people already had it and who wants to be ellipses_twohundredtwenty? So I used the phonetic.

Oh, and, my headline: “You’re right, you’re right, I know you’re right.”—You know, from When Harry Met Sally. I love Marie, Sally’s friend, who dates that married man and is repeatedly disappointed as he continues not to leave his wife. I love how Sally, and all her friends, keep telling her, over and over: No one thinks he’s EVER going to leave her, Marie. And how Marie just says You’re right, you’re right I know you’re right and then keeps dating him and keeps being disappointed, straight-up admitting to the problem out loud, implying some level of self-awareness, but then continuing to behave precisely the same way? I guess that’s what denial is. Nuts. Who hasn’t done this? No, I’m serious. I challenge you to find that person. We all do this, which is why I like the quote. And why it goes so well with my screen name. Some things do connect us all.

Mostly, When Harry Met Sally—killer movie. I should re-watch it tonight.

Oh, another headline idea I had: “If you want a guarantee, buy a toaster.” Eastwood! But might seem noncommittal or avoidant or something?

A Screenname, A Headline.

First, I need a screen name, a log-in.

One that’s great because everyone will see. Okay, not everyone, but here’s hoping a bunch of guys on the Onion Personals do. A screen name. For my profile. Something either totally ambiguous or something funny. Not something like: moving4wd (that’s just sad), not anything like sexy1 (ew) or swankkat434 (why?).

A screen name. And then I need a catchy headline, just a sentence or phrase. One that’s witty but not too witty, self-aware but not meta-obnoxious, maybe has a reference, but one that isn’t too pop-fun-woo-hoo-party-gurrrrrlllll or too academic stick-up-your-ass-boring. One that makes people look, obviously, but isn’t one-foot-in-and-one-foot-out, nothing like I’m Supposed to Write a Headline. That’s just a truly pussy thing to write. Who would date that person? Also it can’t have those kinds of words—nothing like ‘pussy’ that might give the wrong impression or totally offend. I guess that’s obvious. It should be a little edgy but not so edgy that it seems sarcastic or disingenuous. You know? A screen name. A headline.

Been checking out some guy’s profile headlines for fodder. I read this one the other day: This is a headline that is trying to grab your attention. Which, first of all, has too many words. I could cut three right now. Also: uh—not that creative. But it does grab your attention (or mine anyhow). It’s the word “grab”. Grab is a great word. It sounds like what it is. Like crooked. Crook-kid. Grab.

Headline Pressure Too Much To Take 

For a reason I can’t explain, this makes me laugh. Headline. Pressure. Too Much. To Take… I can hear the pressure building.

Area Man Sure The Onion’s Server Must Be Down (Or Something). 

Hilarious. Hil-ar-ious! I want to steal this headline. I’m upset I didn’t think of it. Please date me.

Given up on a clever headline 

Wow. Great attitude. You’re already giving up? In that case I totally want go out with you tomorrow!

Ok, super judgmental, I know, but—seriously?

Nasty, Brutish, and Short 

I do like a Hobbes reference, but do I like a Hobbes man?

because nothing says intimacy like the internet 

Fun-ny. Sounds like an ad for cologne. A little negative, though, right? And also: fun-ny. See, this is where I’m attracted to a person that I should probably-definitely not date. I want to email him right now.

Not In My Profile

This is not going in my dating profile:

The Most Private Thing I’m Willing To Admit Here

Blank. Not answering this.

I am allowed to not answer. It’s my choice, I realized.

This is not going in my profile—The Most Private Thing I’m Willing To Admit Here: My fear is that I won’t know how much I don’t know. My fear is that I’ll realize it later and hate myself. Or that someone will realize it before me and hate me first. I’m afraid I’ll never know what or who I am, at all. My fear is everyone else will and they’ll leave. My fear is that there is no reason to stay. My fear is that I’ll be exposed. My fear is that I’m totally invisible. Or that I should be. I’m afraid I won’t explain it well enough. I’m afraid explaining doesn’t even matter. I’m afraid I’ll be understood. My fear is I’m wasting my time. My fear is that the time that I have is worthless. My fear is I’ll never have potential. My fear is that I’ll die at the exact moment I realize I do. My fear is that I’ll get paralyzed and do nothing and it will be like I’m already dead. I’m so afraid, I feel paralyzed. I’m afraid it will always be this way. I’m afraid my mind will stop working just when I need it. I’m afraid I won’t remember. My fear is that I’ll die not remembering who I am, or that I’ll die knowing who I am and that it will feel as empty as not remembering. My fear is that I’ll hold back when I should give or that I’ll give when I should hold back. My fear is that I’ll think it’s me when it’s really you or that you’ll think it’s me when it’s not, at all. What if I mess up? What if it’s a mistake? What if I’m wrong and can’t fix it and I can’t go back. What if I ruin it? My fear is that I won’t contribute anything. My fear is that no one will remember me. What if the answer was right there and I just didn’t see it. I’m afraid I’ll repeat the same mistakes and I won’t even notice. I’m afraid everyone else will.

Do I have the right fears? That’s what I’m afraid of. I’m afraid that I’m afraid of the wrong things.

Jake wrote it better:

It’s deer and bees that do most of the killing. 

Deer and bees, deer and bees. 

We are afraid of the wrong things. We are afraid of the wrong things.