just being honest

“would you date a doctor?”
“i would date anyone who wants to date me.”
“oh come on shun, don’t be desperate.”
“i’m not desperate…just being honest.”

and i was. just being honest, that is.

i’m not my mother. my mother had 20 guys falling for her at the same time, sending her postcards, flowers, photographs with inscriptions like “let’s be friends!” on them (it was the 50s). they cycled past her house to say hello. they came flaunting their wealth and good looks, hoping she’d be impressed. no one expected her to marry my father, an average-looking guy from a poor family and nothing but diligence and honesty to his name.

my mother had the privilege, or burden, to choose.

i have never had that luxury. i’ve been asked out a grand total of ONE time, danced with two guys (causing grievous injury to their toes in the process), and that’s all.

at one immature point not too long ago, i thought the problem was me – that i’m fat, boring, unfeminine. but even at my thinnest (which wasn’t very thin…i have accepted that i can choose to be healthy but i’ll never be thin), no one asked me out. so that’s that. or perhaps i haven’t tried hard enough. maybe making sandwiches and sending cards, text messages, remembering birthdays and making an effort to meet up with people isn’t enough to get out of the friendzone.

it’s taken awhile, and it’s really cliche, but it’s not sensible, or possible, to be anything but myself. it’s better to be comfortable and have some savings than awkwardly stylish and perpetually making minimum payments on my credit card bill. it’s also better to be happy with who i am, where i am than to think things will be different if i were everything i’m not. i think i put enough thought into the way i look, i’m clear about what i like and what i don’t…

it’d be a lie to add the inevitable, straight out of a self-help book slash episode of the oprah winfrey show slash some women’s rights radio program slash black lady neck hand action gif animation line and say “…so screw whatever everyone else thinks, i don’t care; i am awesome” at the end of the previous paragraph. i’m a human being with feelings, of course i care.

when no one asks me out with the intention of getting to know me better because i do seem awesome to him and he thinks i may be worth his time, and not because he’s desperate or i’m in his “what the hell” category, that little voice (which sometimes appears in the form of my FATHER) comes back and says, “see? you’re not good enough.”

which brings me back to being honest. i’m old enough to be at peace with myself. if no one’s available to watch rafael nadal beat “the greatest of all time” over a girly beer at a bar with me, i’m good with going alone and exchanging friendly words with a bartender named jamie, whom i suspect is from the philippines.

but that doesn’t mean i’m some hardcore feminist who wouldn’t date a doctor, or would only date doctors, or someone who earns more money than me so i can call medicine quits and be a kindergarten teacher, or whatever. it just means i’ve already done whatever i could possibly do. i’m maxed out.

so yeah. i’m maxed out. that’s about it, really.

oh and on a completely unrelated note…happy year of the dragon everyone!

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