Gay Best Friend

I know why every girl wants a gay best friend, whether or not she'll admit it to herself.

No, it's not to have a shopping companion or wingman. Nor is it to gossip about guys. But both are fringe benefits.

Girls like to be friends with guys. That's a fact. Guys are easier to be friends with, and are a relaxing trip away from Girlworld, which very much sucks. However, guys are also wired differently than girls. Ask any straight guy that's friends with a girl if he would hook up with her, given the chance, 99 times out of 100 he'd say yes. And girls are completely clueless to this fact, because we don't think like that! Unreciprocated feelings are a dangerous territory.  And because guys are so easily able to develop romantic feelings, there's a lot of nastiness that can result between "just friends" with guys.

However, gay guys aren't like that. They'll be your rock, your boy best friend, your comfort. But they also won't up and start liking you all of a sudden, making everything increasingly more and more awkward between the two of you.

There's incredible solace in that fact. Nothing gets interpreted the wrong way, there's no danger of overstepping boundaries or leading on.

It's simple.

Being Ladylike is Hard

I'm going to use the age-old example of getting rid of unwanted hair. Let it be known that I'm not unladylike. I just don't have excellent composure all the time, don't get mani-pedis every weekend, and don't know all the designers by hand. I enjoy being a girl, but am by no means someone who allows girly things to run my life. I roll out of bed twenty minutes before I leave for school, and the most effort I put into my hairstyle most of the time is just braiding it. I don't wear makeup most days, and generally don't care what I look like.

That being said, this is pre-Prom. Debatabley  the second most important/glamorous day in a girl's life (after her wedding, of course), and the culmination of her high school experience. Everyone goes through rigorous beauty rituals (makeup, nails, flowers, shaving, some tan, some do their eyebrows, uncomfortable shoes, uncomfortable dresses, some diet, etc.) in order to be perfect. This, for me, involved the hair on my legs and underarms.

I didn't feel like shaving, and I still had some Veet left from spring break, so I decided to use that instead of a razor. These are the instructions that were on the bottle:

"5 STEPS TO BEAUTIFUL TOUCHABLY SMOOTH SKIN
1. Read precautions before use. Before showering, take the outer cap off the bottle, remove the sponge from inside the cap and apply the cream evenly onto dry skin using the soft, colored side of the dry sponge. Ensure the area you want to remove hair from is completely covered with cream. DO NOT RUB IN. Wash hands thoroughly."

This seemed easy enough to me. Read precautions (most of which were ignored), take sponge, spread cream. Dry skin, check. I used it on both of my legs before moving along in the directions. Although I'm not sure how "completely covered" is defined. I did my best. Also, it's pretty freaking hard to evenly cover all of your legs, including the back of your thighs, while balancing on one leg and not touching your other Veet-slathered leg to anything. It takes extreme coordination, and I'm sure I looked ridiculous.
 
"2. Once applied, wait for 2 minutes before stepping into the shower."

Wait, what? It took me ten minutes to apply this damn cream to both of my legs. Are they expecting you to do this in exactly 0 seconds, so that all the cream is on for exactly 2 minutes? And I couldn't do one leg at a time because it has to be dry skin. Oh well, not a whole lot I can do at this point except move on. 

"3. During your normal shower routine, leave the cream on for 3 minutes by timing carefully. Don't worry if some cream gradually washes away when in contact with running water. To prevent cream from washing off too soon, avoid exposing those parts of the body covered with cream to the direct stream of water within the first 3 minutes in the shower."

Okay, so I've already had this cream on for ten plus minutes. Out of the three minutes, is the timing essential? Or the fact that you're in the shower with it on? Does the steam activate some chemical reaction or something? I'm stumped. So I get into the shower, then realize a problem. I have both of my legs and armpits covered in this thing, and I'm not supposed to expose them to running water. What the hell am I supposed to do for 3 "carefully-timed" minutes? The result was an absurd backbend-like thing so that I could wet my hair under the shower. And who the hell brings a timer into the shower with them? I'm so far off this track that it isn't funny. But I truck onward after what I think is three minutes.

"4. Gently use the white side of the sponge to test a small area. If hair comes away easily, remove the rest of the remaining traces of cream with the white side of the sponge by massaging in circular motion. If needed, leave the cream on for a bit longer WITHOUT EXCEEDING 10 MINUTES of total application time. The soft, colored side can be used for sensitive areas."

Oops. Shit. I've WAY exceeded 10 minutes at this point. Like, way way. Also, the white side of my sponge had, like, corroded since the last time I used it, and it was flaking off all over the place. Not an extremely comforting feeling or result. There was nothing relaxing about massaging it all over my leg. Especially with the 15-minute-old cream on it. I don't even understand how that 10 minute thing is possible. Either the person that these instructions has extremely low leg surface area, or these are just completely unachievable. Now I'm feeling like a failure because I can't even apply hair removal cream correctly.

"5. RINSE YOUR SKIN thoroughly under the shower after use. Make sure the bottle is snapped closed and replace the cap onto the bottle. Rinse the sponge and dry it before replacing it back inside the cap. Store in an upright position."

At this point, I rinse my legs off and such. Then, I just throw that gross-ass sponge back into the cap, relatively dry.

Now I have to blowout my hair.

As per my stylists request, I had to dry my hair with a hairdryer (something I haven't done since 2009, at least) and a brush so that it's straighter than natural. I've never done this before, and so attempt to begin.

Ten minutes and no progress later, I give up. If my hair dries relatively straight, she can work with it tomorrow at the salon. My attempt with my hairdryer was even less successful than my attempt with the Veet. Overall, my evening preparation has neither been easy nor a big win. Oh boy.

Weight

I feel like there's something that I have to say but I don't know how to say it, what to say it, or even if I need to say it at all. I'm just burned out. And the people that are supposedly there for me- the people that I've helped through the worst- seem to be deserting me. I don't know who to turn to, what to do, what to say, what I'm thinking at all. It's awful.

I can't walk around much longer with this heavy heart. It's killing me.

PostSecret Round 2

For the longest time, I've selfishly wished that I had some extreme illness so I had an excuse for being down all the time.

There is nothing more empowering than calmly asking for change and seeing it performed.


The thing that annoys me the most about people is when they aren't upfront with you. You were fine with me last week, so why are you pissed as hell at me this week?

I just need Justin Bieber to be my boyfriend. That's all.

My chances of dating you decrease exponentially when you tell me that all the other guys I've dated aren't good enough for me.

Feeling that I'm desired is part of my concept of self-worth.

I want to date all the boy bands from the nineties to now.

....Really?

Yep, mom, thank you. Thank you for telling my school counselor, my neighbor who is a college counselor, and our neighbor who knows something about the school to all talk to me regarding my decision. This is getting insane. We have four days. You're crazy. My mind isn't going to change, and if it is, then it'll take a lot of work. And you, if you had any sanity, would not put that stress upon your daughter the day of Prom and the week before the opening of the musical.

Method Acting

Two disclaimers before I begin this post:
1. I don't have ANYTHING against autistic people. I merely use it as a descriptor.
2. I'm pretty attractive, generally speaking.

Okay. So I'm in a musical production right now, and my friend K and I are suspected of being a couple. We absolutely are not. However, if anyone asks, we always tell them we are. It's fun to mess with people, and O is the most gullible. He's bought the deal, hook line and sinker.

Now, this show is Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. I play Potipher's wife, which is a sexed-up role that involves seducing the main character, cheating on my husband, etc. Basically, I'm the hot slut of the cast, on stage. In this show is also several males, most distinctly the 11 brothers (the actor playing Potipher and I had a thing four years ago that no one discusses).  These brothers are as follows: J, H, K, Y, D, O, T, E, C, M, and B.

B has a girlfriend.
H is gay.
E and J are currently crushing on me.
T crushed on me a little bit ago, and then ended up dating the girl I consider my sister.
K is the one pretending to be my boyfriend.
Y wants to make out with me, real bad.
D is probably asexual. Kidding. But not really...
M is too young for me, but he's a cutie.
C is way too young for me, and not a cutie.
O is super awkward, and also young. But not a cutie either. And doesn't think of girls in a degrading way. Or so I thought.
The romantic ties with me to these boys are a bit insane.

Now, out of these 11, seven know me well enough to joke about me being a whore, dating K, flirting with everyone, etc. Those seven know me well enough to make sexual jokes at my expense and have me not mind. Three are either disinterested in me, or too young to joke about me in that capacity. I thought the remaining one, O, was in that boat. I was wrong.

Today, backstage, we were preparing for a scene in which we had to look like prisoners- downtrodden and decrepit and such. This involves huddling under blankets together, and things of the like. I share a blanket, coincidentally, with K. K was in the dressing room, flaunting this fact to Y (the two share a friendly rivalry over me- it proves for interesting discussion and such). K mentioned a comment such as "Oh, yeah, I'm gonna go have sex backstage with A under this blanket."

O, who is fifteen years old, says "Lucky! I'm so jealous." K's reply? "Having sex with A?" "Yeah, K. It's every man's dream, and you're actually living it."

...

It is an incredibly uncomfortable moment when you realize that fifteen-year-olds want to sleep with you. That they categorize sleeping with you as "every man's dream."

I knew that the guys enjoyed the aesthetics of my seduction scene, many of them have told me before. They're on stage, being guards during this scene, and have been reprimanded for not looking at the audience (as they should be) because they're too busy watching me slink around the stage. But I didn't know that some of them took it a bit too seriously.

Who am I kidding? It's a compliment.

The Decision

This has been weighing on me for quite some time. The decision that will put me, locationally, in a different place for the next four years of my life. A decision that I can't seem to make for fear of those around me not approving of my choice.

Hello, A. Wake the fuck up. This is your life, your decision, and you can do this.

But what if I can't? Or worse, what if I really can? I believe that that's the bigger question here. I think that my mind's been made up for about a week now. But, I've had conversations on end with people, claiming that I don't know what to do, or what to choose. One occurred at 5:00 in the morning, and it was with debateably the one person that takes the time to listen to what I'm saying. Three separate ones occurred with my parents, all of which led to tears. The moment of realization came this afternoon, when my dad asked me "you've made up your mind, haven't you?" I couldn't say no, because the answer was yes. I have made up my mind.

I have made my decision.

I can't tell my mom, because just today she suggested that I commit to two places and wait until the summer to make a decision. I told her, quite frankly and honestly, that I'd rather punch myself in the face repeatedly than prolong this any longer than May 1.

I can't tell most of my friends, because whenever I so much as mention California, they talk about how expensive it is, how they would never go there, and the conversation no longer involves me. I'm an outsider, watching them shoot down my possible plans and ambitions. And it hurts like hell.

I can't admit it to myself. I'm so afraid of losing control and of change that it terrifies me to make such a big choice, even though I know what's better for me.

All I want is for someone to look me in the eyes and tell me that they think I can do it. That they're proud of me. That they want me to follow my dreams. That they want what I want. Someone to stick up for me and confirm my thoughts that this is what's good for me, that this is what I need. I want someone to hear the news, and not get disappointed, or talk about how it's a bad move, but to tell me that they're happy for me, that they think I'll succeed, and that they're proud of me.

I want someone on my side in the me vs. the world battle.

Knowing all of this means that once I leave, I cannot fail. I cannot even think about the possibility of failure, because the last thing I want to hear is "I told you so." There's no way that I can fail. No cop-out, no easy way out. I have to succeed.

Yes, it's a risk. I know that. But my heart's in it, and there's no changing that.

I'm going to Berkeley.

I'm pretty sure I can do it. I just want someone else to believe in me.

A New Thing?

Let's try something. Being inspired by PostSecret, but never being struck at the right moment, I'm going to attempt to post my secrets here and hope you all enjoy them. I'll try to do a few at a time, so posts aren't simply one statement.


Looking back on pictures from the time I felt most suicidal, I appear happier then than I do now. I'm either better at coping than I was, or worse at faking happiness to myself.

I feel like I have never been good enough for my mother's standards, and now I may make an extremely important life decision simply to prove to her that I can handle things.

I'm supposed to be working on a project. A page on Eugene Delacroix on Tumblr. I don't know how to use Tumblr, and have been YouTube-ing baby sloths for the past two hours.

Insecurities

I only achieve happiness when I’m distracted.

This is a fundamental problem, then for me. Because if I’m only happy when I’m not thinking about my feelings and my thoughts, then does that mean I dislike myself? Or does it mean that I do like myself, just hate when I can’t express them? Nobody understands me, either way. There’s nobody that I can talk to about my feelings, including those that I call my best friends. Every person that I wish I could call my best friend has or had feelings for me, so talking things out with them is sometimes a struggle. Either that, or they're shallow, condescending bitches. To the rest of them, I support my friends through anything and everything that they need supporting through. They see me as the strong one, and have stopped asking whether or not I’m okay. This is unfortunate because, most of the time lately, the real answer has been no.

I just cannot believe how confused that I am. There’s never been a time in my life when I’ve been more unsure about what to do or what I’m doing with my life. A lot of choices have to be made very very soon, and I don’t think that I’m ready or qualified to let go of what I have going for me. I miss the person that I was when I was dating my boyfriend. Because he wasn’t involved directly in all aspects of my life, I was able to forget about everything while talking to him, if only for an hour. It was nice. What he didn’t know, we didn’t talk about, and what he did know, he supported me through. I laughed. I was happy.

Then reality had to suck and life had to get complicated. Now I’m just so incredibly upset all the time, because I have decisions looming over me. What to do this summer. Who to reconnect with before I leave in the fall. Where to go in the fall. My mother, of course, prefers that I stay in Wisconsin or Michigan, but California holds some excellent prospects for me and, let’s face it, how upset would I be if I didn’t take the opportunity and go to California? But right now, I can’t imagine leaving anything behind and going anywhere. It scares the living shit out of me to think of losing all of my friends next year. Terrifies me. And if I can’t conjure up a strong support system for myself soon, I’m going to be so lost. I don’t have someone I can call on a bad day that understands me, and so going through times of transition has always sucked a lot for me. But now that it’s so new and different, and I’m uprooting my entire life, its going to be harder than ever before. I don’t know how I’m going to make it, and what I’m going to do when I leave. When I only have myself.

When there’s nothing left to distract me. How will I react? Will I finally be able to achieve a point of happiness and contentedness with myself? I’m terrified. I graduate in 28 days. And every time I think about it, a lump comes to my throat and I start to tear up.

Manipulation

I can't tell what I'm dealing with.

That's incredibly rare to me, because I'm incredibly good at reading people. This individual is manipulative. However, I can see through the facade, or so I think. The question becomes then, to what extent. One of my best friends was manipulated into being in love, and she's still struggling with that implication. Recently, some think that I fell victim to the same trap. I still don't know. The right words and the ability to ask the right questions goes a long way, especially for me. I felt like I was matched, like I was finally understood.

After the fact, we had to cut contact because of a girlfriend being in the picture, and because one of my best friends was romantically involved in the past. My friends got involved, it was incredibly nasty. Now, I'm being asked if I still have feelings. If I'm still in love. It's getting abrasive. And I don't know what to do.

Random Compliments

This weekend, I got some pretty awesome compliments. These ranged from the standard: "Your eyes are gorgeous" to the more descriptive. I'll just list them out for you right now.
"Your eyes do have a hypnotizing effect!"
"You're dangerous"
"I raised four good sons. But if I were ever to have a daughter, I would want her to be just like you."
"I love you like a daughter."
"I'm so proud of you."
"This may sound really weird, but you have the most gorgeous hips!" (This one is my personal favorite because the one part of my body that I'm most insecure about is my hips. This girl made my entire life with just that one comment. Thank you.)
"I think I'm in love with you. Don't tell my wife."

And a compliment I gave to someone close to me:
"I just realized I never told you how incredibly amazing I think you are, how much I look up to you, and how I want to be you. So that's that!"

Bitches Will Be Bitches

Apparently, the definition if privacy is no longer existent. This girl who claimed she was my friend has, it turns out, absolutely no regard for my feelings at all. At all. She's just trying to cause drama and I'm the next victim. Seven weeks, and we're all out of here and I don't have to deal with her shit anymore. She pisses me off to no extent and I don't even know why I'm letting her dictate my life and the choices that I make. She's insane. I can't handle this. She knows too much.