Category Archives: shame

Please excuse me while I stare at your perfect teeth

9d7ca41e6778bcceI am intimidated by gorgeous, clean-cut, successful men, especially ones with good teeth. I rarely date the aforementioned type, choosing, sadly, to date heavily tattooed guys who play Fugazi’s Waiting Room on loop and have cultivated a religion based around hop-y beer. 

I really don’t know what I would do if a George Clooney replica were to ever ask me out. I’d probably just stare reluctantly at his perfectly chiseled chin and and ask about his dentist. I don’t know what we would even talk about. Baking? The stock market? 

The truth is, I don’t think I’m the type to attract pretty boys. I have too many tattoos, I reek of dog (thanks to Brit, who seems to exude stink even if I wash her 3+ times a week), I can’t cook, and I’ve never had a manicure in my life. I think I might be too manly for that type of man. Which is a shame, because my dating habits are starting to go through some epic polar shift. I want to date a nice guy. I want a clean cut boy with a good job and a Honda that I can take home to my mother. I really, really want to date a George Clooney.

But how do I lore one in long enough to show him that I’m an intelligent, capable lady? How do I control my inability to act normal around beautiful people long enough for him to sense that I am not some psychotic shut-in? And, worst of all, where do I meet my potential George Clooney? In a bar? Online? At the dog park?

I have no idea. It’s like I’m an elk hunter and I’m trying to fish for trout except the trout all have Chicklet smiles and man-purses.


Flakiness and paranoia

3197935807_a846d72f5bI am an all or nothing kinda gal. If you’re my friend, I expect you to return my texts/phone calls in a timely manner. Of course, the real world does not always cater to Stephanie’s world, and, of course, sometimes, some people do not always get around to getting back to you.

I am a slightly paranoid person. If somebody does not get back to me immediately, I automatically assume that they hate me. I then start to comb every possible scenario that we were ever in that would make that person hate me sooo much that they would want to 86 me out of their life completely. Such scenarios rarely occur however, because I am a people pleaser, and thus, I go on to invent made-up scenarios or start critiquing my flaws and why I am a bad person and deserving of such unfair treatment. Eventually, the person does get back to me and I am at peace. This is, up until the next time a person does not return my message immediately. It is a vicious cycle.

Deep down, I know I have friends. But it is that little sliver of doubt in the back of my mind that causes me to act all blotto. My greatest fear is that one day nobody will like me anymore. Not even my mother. And so I have dedicated my life to saying yes to everyone, to agreeing to do everything because God forbid I ever upset someone, God forbid I ever say no.

This constant life as a yes man does get me into trouble. There have been many a weekend where I make plans with about 17 different people and then, at the last minute, I have to cancel on 16 of them. I have built a reputation for being flaky. I don’t have innate flakiness, it’s just that all of the ‘yeses’ I throw out during the week end up becoming all of these sudden cancelations on the weekends, thus making me look like a tool. 

And I don’t know how to grow a spine and just say no. It’s that paralyzing fear of loneliness and people being angry with me that causes me to be a human doormat. It is necessary for the entire world to love me. And it sucks…