I keep dreaming about the bassist in my band class. I know he has a thing for me, and I sort of like flirting with him. In my dreams, though, it’s more. Of course, the obvious solution is to date the poor guy, right? I mean, he even asked me out on a date once, much to my shock as he is not the type to put himself out there AT ALL. But I don’t like him, not like that. I mean, I like his attention, but no. Just no.
My dreams embarrass me. They over-compensate for my misgivings about this kid. In my dreams, bassist boy is, um, better looking than in real life… I wake up thinking, “Well, he’s nice to talk to, and tall, maybe I can overlook his occasional lack of wit or his inability to keep up with me intellectually,” and drive to school with that warm fuzzy crush feeling.
Then I get to second period. I see him hunched intently over his bass, the forearms straining, the veins visible even from across the room. The calf muscles sculpted by football practices, the Florida tan (which I will never have). I set up my microphone and look over to wink at him and then… Oh God why am I such a shallow and terrible human being. His face isn’t the same face my subconscious gives him. This one is marred by a perpetual dirt lip, a constant reminder of the slovenly-ness he is so misguidedly proud of. There are other things, but I refuse to further describe them because they will just make me seem like a horrid person. Not that you don’t think that already.
Sigh.
GRRRRR WHY DOES MY GUT HAVE SUCH INTERMINABLY HIGH PHYSICAL STANDARDS. Though I might wish it, I probably won’t end up with Michael Fassbender (he’s a little too old for me, let’s be honest) so I should settle, right? As my mum would put it, “You aren’t going to marry the guy, it’s just a date.” Sometimes she just puts it as, “Sarah, you need to learn to talk to boys.”
Yes mother.
I suppose I have diagnosed the reasons for my single-ness: I scare off most boys with my awesome personality - not my fault they can’t handle it, I’m inept around the few boys I’m interested in who don’t run away immediately (in another dream I had, I was able to talk to a cute guy, then woke up in the dream to find that I couldn’t before finally waking up for real. Apparently only in my dreams in my dreams am I able to communicate effectively with the opposite sex), and my sky high standards take everyone else out of the running before we even begin. I’m not sure if any of these things will be fixed soon.
Like yesterday? Feeling pretty self-confident from my interactions with bassist boy, I decided to try to flirt with the super cute foreign exchange student from Argentina. Did I talk to him? Of course not. Instead I joked with a friend of mine who was semi-interacting with exchange student. Perhaps if the transitive property had been in effect this method would have worked for me, but seeing as I can’t seem to get math to behave for me even in a classroom, my dependence on it for interpersonal issues seems idiotic at best.
I still haven’t resolved the issue of BB. No, that’s not true. I have. My dreams occasionally confuse me, but my gut won’t allow me to get physical with someone who doesn’t appear to own a razor. So no joy with a boyfriend there. I have resigned myself at this point to “There will be cute guys in college woooooo” though that doesn’t help me get a prom date or feel less like I’m missing out on some part of my high school experience. Or something. Also, my hormones just need to shut the fuck up because they are really exacerbating the issue. They just want me to find someone really hot and they seem to believe this will solve all of my problems. I’m getting better at tuning them out, but watching movies with cute couples seems to bring them back full force. Also, Mad Men. Ugh.
Most of the time, I don’t mind being single. I’m busy and often thankful that I’m not being distracted by a relationship. And I am an individual, forging my own self-image, and I don’t need to be reliant on a stupid boy for happiness. But then rational me gets tired of talking and it gets really annoying being single and I don’t know what to do and it’s so stupid and blehhh.
Maybe someday I could ask dream-me to let me borrow dream-bassist boy, or maybe dream-in-a-dream-me could teach normal-me how to finally say hello to someone without my voice going all weird…
*I originally wrote this over a month ago, so it’s not really totally applicable anymore…
