True Hollywood Story of a Girl with a Broken Vagina and a Baseball Bat, Part I
Posted by Moose on November 12th, 2007. Filed under: Meat Suit.I was a late bloomer. Embarrassingly late. And I’m not talking about boobs. But since you bring it up…
Dear Boobs,
I’m almost 30 years old. Where ARE you?
Love, Moose
I could blame my lack of romance (much less something approaching a real relationship, which, as we all know, dumps romance into the whirling blades of the garbage disposal) on spending four formative years attending a women’s college, an institution curiously remiss in dating options. But I would be lying. The four years preceding college were full of boys, boys willing to risk their tongue on anyone with the requisite equipment. Come to think of it, that might explain a few things. Sixteen-year-old boys aren’t known for their depth – or their appreciation of a keenly honed literary mind and swan-like neck – so maybe my lack of romance can be pinned on my rudely delinquent chest. (I clung to the charming delusion that my chest would grow beyond concave until I turned 20. Maybe 21.) Or perhaps it was my decision to spend most of high school in the drama hall. Boys who sing “Hello, Dolly!” while swinging their spindly arms wildly in a matching tap dance aren’t prime candidates for anything other than lessons in lip liner.
Suffice it to say, I didn’t find a boyfriend until long after I’d begun paying off my college debt. My crippling lack of wiles and their origin remain in question. Was it my cunning impression of a shrinking violet? Attending my senior prom with a gay guy? Desire to get good grades and excel at extracurricular activities so that previous braces and forthcoming glasses wouldn’t be utterly wasted? Laziness?
I like to call it focus. Determination. Also, absolute terror. When I was in high school, I focused on getting into college. (And avoiding boys.) When in college, I focused on getting OUT of college. (And avoiding boys.) When I was out of college, only then did I decide that avoiding boys was not a solid life plan. I decided to focus on Figuring Out the Male Species and What, Exactly, To Do With Them.
So I bought some lip gloss and polished my wiles. And turned to the resource that had served me so well when searching for housing, employment, and a spare tire: Craigslist. Craig wouldn’t fail me. I held fast to my blushing optimism until Craig proffered a man claiming to be Indian royalty. Next was a Lothario who was seeing at least three other women. (For someone with a job, he had an awful lot of time to spend wooing the female sex at large.) Craig and his List were not holding up their end of the bargain. So I stopped scanning the personals and started going to bars. (I am a classy dame.) Where I met an English fellow who looked and sounded enough like the lead in this movie that I had to re-watch the trailer three times to make sure he hadn’t abandoned [whatever his job was] to become an actor. (Watch the trailer, eliminate the cloying storyline, and imagine looking and listening to that for months. Hot, yes? I’m shallow. Also, STUPID.) I went out with all of them for varying periods of time, ranging from one day to one year. But I didn’t sleep with any of them. (See, STUPID.) (Also could explain Mr. Lothario’s three extra girls.)
My last Craigslist find was a pen pal who didn’t want to meet me. Ever.
Door #1 contains a sinfully appealing English man (with accent!). Door #2 conceals someone with no interest in meeting me. Guess which one I preferred?
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November 12th, 2007 at 11:49 pm
I think I will come back later when I am not the first commenter. Because I am too shy to say what I want to say here all by myself. But it has something to do with late blooming and no boobs.
November 13th, 2007 at 12:35 am
I wasn’t a late bloomer so much as a “WTF? Bloomer.” Which mostly means I woke up one day and I didn’t understand why my mom was taking me to buy a bra. The bratty elementary school boys understood, but I was clueless.
(I once watched that movie three times, no lie. Not the trailer, the movie. Because that Prince of Denmark, he is indeed haht, and also, I have great cinematic taste.)
November 13th, 2007 at 1:35 am
At least you got a city full of boys search through, The small town full of 18 to 28 year old decoved with one or two children is what I call home. ugggg, and wife hunting… coughcough… I mean the bar sceen, if you dont show up in camo… people stare at you!
love northern VT!!!!!!!…… sigh…
November 13th, 2007 at 1:37 am
and I cant even spell devorced…
November 13th, 2007 at 1:38 am
divorced… sigh
November 13th, 2007 at 7:01 am
I did the all-girl college thing too (Lesley, which is now co-ed), but beforehand I made sure to lose my virginity right quick. And then after I got there I managed to search up some random boys and use them to further my (embarrassing, overdone) sexual exploits, to the extent where I am lucky my vagina never came after ME with a baseball bat. Seriously.
November 13th, 2007 at 8:46 pm
I STILL have no boobs, but somehow, I haven’t given up hope yet. [Taps foot, checks watch.]
November 13th, 2007 at 9:04 pm
I am approaching 40 and still hoping.
November 13th, 2007 at 9:20 pm
I’d totally go for Door #2. It is great to get beat up emotionally, no?
November 13th, 2007 at 10:09 pm
It’s so sad that I’m a sucker for an accent. Any accent. Basically, if I can’t understand a word that comes out of your mouth, I’m done for.
But I would be insatiably curious what’s behind Door #2, because, really, people who don’t want me are also strangely appealing. Hm. I think I’ve reached an epiphany about my dating problems.
November 15th, 2007 at 10:17 pm
Wow… I can relate – except from the guy side. (no suitable facial hair to speak of). And I didn’t have much of a serious relationship until about 25… at least one that was mutual.
November 17th, 2007 at 1:11 pm
I’m with Sunny. Give me an accent (from another country, not part of the states) from ….anywhere and I’m drooling. My husband knows this, and laughs at me regularly for my studious perusal of Clive Owen based films.
November 18th, 2007 at 1:13 pm
Moose? Dude, where’d you go?
November 20th, 2007 at 12:51 am
Note from your boobs: They migrated to my chest, along with mine. If I could send them back, I certainly would. Can’t wait to hear the rest!
November 20th, 2007 at 5:35 pm
So what you’re saying here is that it’s perfectly OK that I’m a late bloomer? I’m good on the boobs part. In fact I’m better than OK and there are several Flickr photos in various accounts that document that. But I’m waaaaaaay late with other things. Things that would be best discussed in email rather than in front of several hundred people.
November 20th, 2007 at 7:12 pm
I had no idea Craig and his friends could be such a letdown. Glad you’ve moved on!
August 30th, 2010 at 3:03 pm
[...] I is here, part II is [...]