Me, Myself and I.

Originally posted 12/06. I'm not really known in the blog world for being funny, but I can be sometimes, I think. I like this post because it's a little different from my usual stuff. I think it shows a different side of me.

Today I went on a blind date. With a girl. A girl blogger.

In some ways, I think meeting other women is even more angst inspiring than meeting men ever was. I always knew how to dress (provocatively), how to act (ditto) and what to talk about (them) to win men over. Men were really pretty easy, because generally speaking, they are simple creatures at heart and because their expectations tend to be less lofty than those of women.

Men expect nothing, and are pleasantly surprised when things go well. Women expect everything, and end up pissed off and bitter when things go wrong.

If you're not butt ugly and and demonstrate even mild interest in them, Men are usually happy to continue spending time with you, even if you have nothing in common with one another.

But women...well, we all know that women are just...really...insane complicated.

So though I was really looking forward to meeting this person, I was also weirdly nervous about it.

Here's what transpired in my bathroom this morning:

Me: What are we going to wear? Everything makes us look fat.

Myself: We are fat.

I: We could wear the black pants. They still fit, and black is slimming.

Myself: Veto.

I: What's wrong with the black pants?

Myself: They're too dressy.

Me: SO?

Myself: It will look like we're trying too hard.

Me: We are trying too hard. We're a woman. It's what we do.

Myself: Riiiiight. But we don't need to look desperate.

I: What about the boot cut jeans with heels and a casual sweater?

Myself: I'm cool with that.

Me: Yep. The jeans are hip. The sweater covers our jelly belly.

I: Okay, jeans and sweater it is.

Myself: Right, but...we're not wearing that lipstick are we?

Me: What's wrong with this lipstick? We like it.

Myself: Well...it looks kind of...inflate-a-date.

Me: WHAT? It does not.

I: It kinda does.

Myself: I'm just sayin..women generally despise other women who look like whores.

Me: Wearing bold lipstick does not make us look like a whore. It's daring. And it signifies self confidence.

Myself: Right. It signifies that we're a self-confident whore.

I: I wouldn't go that far. It is kind of Courtney Love with "Hole" though.

Me: Fine, what about "Earthen Suede"? It's very sedate.

Myself: Works for me.

I: Me too.

Me: Ummmm, maybe we should consider driving Husband's car.

Myself: Why?

Me: Well, the van is so..."suburban soccer Mom who defines herself by her children's accomplishments".

I: And that would be innacurate...how...exactly?

Me: Our children play baseball.

I: You don't say.

Myself: Yeah, and whatever happened to not apologizing for our choices?

Me: We are so not apologizing for our choices.

Myself: Oh, right, my mistake. We're denying them altogether. Way to go Betty Friedan.

I: It does seem kind of disingenuous.

Me: FINE. We'll take the van.

Myself: Fine.

I: Fine.

Me: Okay. Are we ready?

Myself: I think so.

I: Ready as we'll ever be.

Me: Wait...

Myself: What now?

Me: We're all agreed that we steer clear of politics, gay marriage and abortion, right?

I: Right.

Myself:

Me: Right???

Myself(sighing): FINE.

Me: And let's watch the F bomb, okay?

I: Right. And blasphemy.

Myself: Blasphemy?

Me: Like, we shouldn't say "Jesus Christ".

Myself: Oh...right. What about "Sonuvabitch"?

Me: Mmmmm...no. It's right up there with the F word.

Myself: Okay Pollyanna, can we go now?

Me: Yes. Let's go.

I: I just wish we had a sexy cell phone. This one is so...utilitarian.

Me, Myself: I.....

I: Alright, alright. But can we ask Husband for one for Christmas?

Myself: I thought we agreed we were asking for a Treadmill.

Me: Umm, no, we're asking for the leatherbound edition of "Persuasion" by Jane Austen.

Myself: Okay, we never agreed to that....


So, umm, anyway...it turned out that I needn't have worried. The woman that I met was incredibly warm, and friendly, and genuine. She used the F word twice. Not that I was counting. Really. I was so at ease with ther that I might have said "Jesus Christ" a time or two.

So why do we do this to ourselves? Why are we so concerned about what other women will think of us? I think it's because so many of us are lonely. We may have lots of friends and acquaintances, but we want so badly to connect with other women in a meaningful way that we're willing to sacrifice ourselves on a superficial level to accomplish that.

But the truth is, *I* don't really care what color lipstick someone wears, or how much they weigh, or how they style their hair. I don't even care if they have different ideals, as long as I believe they are trying to live their best life. And I think most of us are...trying to live our best life.

So Jessica...it was really and truly a pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for making time, even though your little ones weren't feeling well. And I hope we can do it again sometime soon. You don't even have to wear lipstick. :?)