The Twelves.

[offbalance]

So I seem to have this problem.

It's an odd phenomenon. It doesn't happen often, but when it does hit, it hits hard. And usually? It involves someone I like in that special way.


See, when I'm around friends or people who I don't give a flying crap what they think of me, I'm fine. I'm me. I'm my usual snarky, doofy, weird, off-the-cuff, irreverent, strident, passionate, loudmouthed self.

Throw someone I like in the mix?

I freeze up. Not just a little bit, either. I stiffen so much I look like I need an oil can to sort me out. I am unable to speak. To move. To do anything except panic about doing anything.

I've started calling this phenomenon "the Twelves." Named for what it's like to have a crush when you're 12 - everything is so utterly and completely mortifying that it's paralyzing - especially if a crush object is somewhere in your purview. Or was mentioned. Or thought about. And when I say everything, I mean everything. Singing, dancing, silly behavior, the wrong words, anything not deemed absolutely normal are occurrences too horrific to bear. Which, incidentally, is where the paralysis comes in. Shocking, I know.

The grand and terribly irony of all of this is that all of this statue-imitating isn't generally good for making sparks fly. The part of me that is aching for the attraction to be mutual goes into panic mode. I can feel the steel doors clanging down, hiding all of the quirky, goofy personality-related things that are part in parcel about what makes me attractive (at least according to those who care about me). So, therein lies the dilemma. I can recognize the problem; I've been aware of it for a few weeks now. However, I haven't the faintest idea of what to do about it. I know that playing freeze tag is counterproductive of my desired results. I know it boils down to a matter of self-confidence (or relative lack thereof).

I think it's a matter of self-preservation. When one gets singled out so often for being other than the so-called norm, it makes a body get self-conscious. When the novelty wears off and the moments where the "fuck off!" piss and vinegar attitude fades away, you just want to be liked. Especially by the boys you think are cute. You don't want to be seen as a weirdo, you want to be seen as someone likeable. So it gets all tumbled up upstairs - I have to strip away anything that I think is unique or odd in order to be likeable. You worry that what you want wants beige. And you are not beige. Never really have been, and probably never will be.

I know that in the end I have to convince myself that what I am is not only enough, but awesome to show to the world. That all that stuff about how the right person liking all of you no matter how dorky or whatever else isn't total bullshit, and that the right thing to be is not Stepford.

I read this comment thread on Jezebel today, and there was something that stood out to me. This girl was quoting the birthday card she got from her boyfriend, and it said this:

"i am so happy that i found you. you think jackass is funny. you watched me wipe my butt on a public street and laughed. you basically laugh at things that anyone with their teeth thinks is deplorable, and i feel so lucky to have you in my life."

I feel like this says a lot. Now, while I may not daydream about these exact words, what they say beneath mean a lot to me. This is someone declaring, "Hey, you get me. And I really like that fact." It's Lily and Marshall on How I Met Your Mother. The point is, the reason these relationships work and are happy is that they're based on reality. That the kind of person I really want to end up will think me snorting when I laugh hard is cute, that tolerates my dearly beloved puns, and looks on all other moments of my dorkdom with either bemused affection or the desire to join in. And I have to remember that when I'm around a guy I like or I am attracted to. But it's haaard. There's still that nasty little voice in the back of my head that tells me that I'll scare them off. That they don't want me. That they want an invention I call Pefect Girl, someone who is essentially Stepford. The type who always says and does the right thing at the right time, is never a spaz, is always appropriate and sensible; never embarrassing, silly, stupid, weird, or the like. You know. Completely Normal. In other words, boring.

*sigh* For a smart person, I'm powerful stupid sometimes. At least I've figured out my problem. With guys I'm not into, I'm relaxed and totally not worried, so I'm more myself. And I usually wind up in a lot of right words/wrong mouth situations for that reasons. I'm so worried about being Perfect Girl around the guys I like that I'm not me. I'm a statue of me. And we all know how much fun statues are, don't we kids?

I guess the only way to fix this is to keep an eye on it and to not let it happen anymore. Which may or may not be as easy as it sounds. Stay tuned.

Comments

[offbalance.livejournal.com]

Exactly. And somehow in wanting to put my best self forward, I forgot that the rest of what's there isn't so bad. You know?