Posted on by shirindawna · 2 Comments

some things never change.

when i was about 3 or 4 i told my mom i wanted curly hair (which of course i have now and curse). i had lovely long hair and she took me to her friend who was a hair stylist. she CHOPPED off all my hair. it was short and curly. i hated it. i never said anything about losing the length. i just wanted beautiful, bouncy curls. she failed to deliver.

when we pulled up to our house i asked my mom if my hair would ever grow back. she said ‘of course!’
so, i told her i’d wait in the car till it did.

obviously, i didn’t quite have a grasp on how time worked…

in fact, my mom was telling me the other day that i used to ask her when i could see various family members and so she would show me on a calendar. she would count the days and at the end of the day she would X that day out to show that it had passed. well, i’m crafty. and impatient. so, i thought i could speed things along by Xing out subsequent days. she tried to explain to me that it wasn’t possible to do that, but i would just look at her absurdly and pull out my trusty (permanent) marker to prove to her that it could be done. she just didn’t know!

i’ve always been impatient. i want what i want and i want it N-O-W. my mom said i destroyed every calendar in our home with my markers and colorful X’s.

this makes me laugh because i’m still a fan of paper calendars and scribbling all over them. yes, i have a smart phone and i keep my digital calendar updated, but i insist on having a paper version as well…

i like that some things never change.

Posted on by shirindawna

i guess he was right.

way back when, i dated this guy that said if i ever cut my hair, he’d break up with me. i thought this was stupid so i chopped off my ass length hair (to chin length – i was dumb & young) and never called him again.

well, i took my dog to a new groomer over the weekend. the groomer decided to take her liberties with my pup’s adorable mane and turned him into something i can’t even bear to look at.

when i went to go pick him up, there was a creepy little rat looking thing nuzzling my ankles. i wanted to nudge him away until the lady working said ‘aww, you’re excited to see mama!’ ummmmm, WHAT?! i did a double-take. this is MY dog?! no way. couldn’t be. but then upon closer inspection i realized the big puppy dog eyes looking up at me where, in fact, my little pirate’s. i quickly looked away and told myself i wouldn’t have a breakdown at the groomer’s. i slipped the leash on him and briskly walked out to my car with the new and NOT improved pirate trying to keep up. i called my best friend in a panic and tried to get her to agree to adopt him.

she asked for a photo.

i was too embarrassed to send her one…but figured maybe she liked rats and would take this one off my hands.

it was then that it clicked. if i have an ugly child, i won’t love it. i told her this. she insisted that i wouldn’t think my child was ugly.

i disagree.

i sent my bestie a photo of the damage. i haven’t heard from her since.

i finally get what that guy was talking about…i’ve had pirate for 5 years. and i love him like he was my own child…but during this hideous hair stage, i cringe each time he trots his happy little butt up to me.

my advice? think twice when your man doesn’t want you to chop off your hair. i have kept mine long ever since. although, that guy was junk and i’m glad to be rid of him, now that i’ve walked (from the groomer to my car) in his shoes, i finally understand his point of view.

i’m traumatized.

UPDATE: my friend has since called me back.
her: ooooh, poor pirate!
me: poor pirate?! poor ME! i’m the one who has to look at him.

he’s still prancing around thinking he’s the cutest thing on the planet because that’s what he’s been hearing for 5 years. it is no longer true.

at least temporarily.

Posted on by shirindawna

i’m old-fashioned.

i think people are often surprised to discover just how old-fashioned i am. it might be because i’m mouthy, outgoing, and a probably a little too sassy.

my friends recently pointed out that i would’ve been better off dating in the 1800s. that might be true.

i’m a sucker for love letters and flowers. in a pinch, i’ll take long emails and champagne truffles, but the former is preferred.

i don’t think it’s appropriate (or necessary) for girls to pursue boys.
i don’t like the thought of having to make the initial form of communication – i think a man should act as such.
if a guy gives me his card, i’ll either give it back to him or throw it away.

…even if i’m interested.

i know it seems extreme, but any guy that isn’t able to pursue me appropriately (MY version of appropriate) probably isn’t going to be able to deal with me long-term. so, it weeds out potential suitors that wouldn’t work out in the end anyway.

i don’t believe in playing hard to get. i am always real. and always honest. i just think that if a guy is truly interested, he’ll make that effort. and if he isn’t, someone else will be.

though my old-fashioned ideals have led me to a conundrum.

there’s a fine line between expressing interest and taking the reins (at least for an alpha like me).

as i explained to my pal yesterday: i think he’s just friendly.

i mean, i obviously want to express interest without pursuing. i’d like to let him know i’m receptive to him.

and his genitalia.

Posted on by shirindawna

impulsive.

restless.

i’ve been this way for as long as i can remember and it’s gotten me into some interesting situations. mostly involving last minute travel to random locations.

many moons ago, i had recently become single and was back in touch with a suitor that i had been entertaining prior to my relationship. he lived in nyc and invited me to visit for the weekend to watch the world cup with him. i had a brief conversation with him about how it sounded fun & by the time i got home his secretary had sent me an email with my itinerary – leaving the next morning. my flirting skills are en pointe.

it happened too quickly for me to think too much about it or the implications of spending a weekend with someone.  i packed up my bag and the next morning, i hopped on a plane.

some background: i met this guy on a trip to nyc a few years prior and we went out several times during my visit and stayed in touch over the years. i may have even seen him on subsequent visits to nyc – the details are hazy now. i do remember one particular dinner with a group of his friends where his gorgeous, indian, beauty pageant, ex-girlfriend was present. that was fun. (it actually really was. but that’s because i had a run-in with usher that night and so i couldn’t be bothered with the ex-girlfriend nonsense. also, i didn’t really care, which caused me to ignore red flags that would send me running now. oh, hindsight.)

i digress. we definitely hadn’t moved past first base (because if you know me at all, you know – i’m pretty prudish). after i arrived, he took me out for a nice dinner. i chose to overlook the fact that he was wearing a cuff bracelet and had his shirt unbuttoned about one button too low. we had a nice time and when we got back to his place we were both pretty tired so we decided to go to sleep. i went into the bathroom to change (prude style) and when i emerged in my tank top and sweats i found him sprawled on the bed covered by a blanket the size of a napkin. he was clearly topless, but i couldn’t tell if he was wearing anything under the napkin/blanket. and i wasn’t curious enough to really look. i hopped into bed as far on the opposite side as i could and tried to stick a corner of the napkin/blanket on me since i was FREEZING. he had the a/c on iceland mode. clever.

i curled up in a little ball with my back to him and eventually fell asleep only to be woken up at various points in the night from his arm draped on me. dead weight draped. it felt horrible. i was horrified that i got myself into this situation. he continued trying to touch/grope me throughout the night and i continued pretending to be asleep and scoot dangerously close to the edge of the bed. all that kept running in my head was 3 more nights of this! THREE MORE NIGHTS of fighting him off.

the next morning he woke me up at a ridiculously early time and started BLARING techno. now, i’m not a big techno fan in general (i like it for things like running, but generally NOT a fan), so you can imagine my amusement in being woken up to some hard hitting beats. i tried to disappear by covering my face with my pillow. it didn’t work. and the movement on my part prompted him to speak.

him: wake up!

me: i’m tired. need more sleep.

him: but it’s 9!

me: NOT in san diego. in san diego, it’s 6! turn this music off, it’s giving me a headache.

him: ok, i’ll put on some enya.

and he did.

it was obvious that sleep was outta the question so i agreed to get up.  i immediately jumped in the shower. while i was in there i took some deep calming breaths. they failed.

i got dressed and he went into the shower.

while he was in there, i packed up my bag. by the time he got out of the shower, i was completely ready to leave.

and i did.

i didn’t provide much of an explanation. i was young and uncomfortable and just wanted to get the h-e-l-l away from him.

i called my brother to discuss my travel options.

nerd: how much is a ticket?

me: i have no idea.

nerd: if it’s a lot, just stay there & have sex with him.

typical nerd comment.

i called up the airline and discovered that all flights to san diego were sold out for the next 2 days. i explained my situation to the woman on the phone. i told her all about the techno and the napkin/blanket. and she had me on a flight to la that evening. it cost me $5.

a little bit of my sanity.

and a lot of my naïveté.

i made my brother drive to la to pick me up and let him make fun of me the entire way home without sassing him too much in return.

i still can’t listen to enya.

i still find myself overly annoyed about indian ex-girlfriends, in particular. (especially since i’m often asked if i’m indian, i am not. i’m olive, not brown)

and that guy still wants to hang out with me.