I hate, hate, hate not being in control of my own situation. Not that I seem to have any power to avoid it, mind you. Being incredibly awkward and remarkably unlucky can do a lot to mess up one's plans of an ordered life. I, for example, would much prefer it if I could manage to make coherent conversation when I'm around people whom I want to impress. This, however, is rarely the case. I suppose I should be grateful for so many lessons in humility. Frankly, I can't count the amount of times I've walked away from one of those experiences with the strong desire to shoot myself in the face.
Really, I feel like for me, any endeavor to not look like an idiot is mostly pointless. I'm not sure why I keep trying.
And sometimes it's not even my fault. Sometimes, the world is just dead set against me having any dignity.
Take my car, for example. His name is Hugo, and he likes to break down in the middle of the night while I'm taking important guests to important destinations. He also likes to automatically lock himself when the keys are inside and I am not.
And when something like that happens, I really would prefer to just be swallowed up into the depths of the ocean than to ask for help. Because whether I could control it or not, being in trouble like that means that I have failed somehow. It makes me look stupid and incapable, and that's not how I want the world to see me.
It occurs to me that traditionally, that's not how it's supposed to be. As a woman, I'm supposed to play the part of the damsel in distress, awaiting a knight in shining armor who will swoop in and save the day.
And it's not that there aren't enough knights out there. I just make an awful damsel.
Being in distress, for instance, is not something I like discussing until long after it's passed. It's a lot more comfortable to hide behind a mask of indifference and make discreet inquiries until I can figure out how to solve my own problems. Then, once the moment has passed and the problem has been solved, I'll enjoy telling you about my harrowing journey.
But in the moment, when everything is falling apart and I'm at my wit's end, the last thing I want to do is make people aware of the trouble I'm in.
Partly, it's because I really hate bothering people. I have this instinctual idea that in general, most people are better off with as little contact with me as possible. Especially when I'm a wreck.
Partly, it's because of that look people give me, and the way it makes me feel. It's that look that a parent gives to an idiot child. And I'm neither an idiot nor a child. I'm just a dork.
And partly, it's because when someone helps you out of a jam, like sliding a slim jim through the crevices of your car door to get Hugo's darn locks unlocked, you automatically owe them something. And while I hate being in debt, I really hate debts when the method of repayment is not clear. Is it enough just to be friendly and use this to start a neighborly relationship? Or am I obligated to repay the kindness with a plate of cookies? And what kind of cookies are the most appropriate? Or should I bake a cake? Or a pie? Or maybe a whole meal? Or maybe, I will do all of these things and still never feel like I've done enough.
Really, the process of being rescued is often more disconcerting than being in distress in the first place.
I realize, though, that there are plenty of women who are experts at damsel-try. They can make knights appear out of thin air. If there's a guy they like, they can invent a catastrophe just to get attention. They can even pull it off so that the whole thing actually makes them seem desirable.
And really, why is helplessness so desirable? Why can't tardiness make a girl desirable? Because I've got that one in the bag. I also have an unlimited supply of useless-but-interesting trivia and I know when to use "who" and "whom."
It's a shame, really, that these skills aren't in higher demand.
But in the moment, when everything is falling apart and I'm at my wit's end, the last thing I want to do is make people aware of the trouble I'm in.
Partly, it's because I really hate bothering people. I have this instinctual idea that in general, most people are better off with as little contact with me as possible. Especially when I'm a wreck.
Partly, it's because of that look people give me, and the way it makes me feel. It's that look that a parent gives to an idiot child. And I'm neither an idiot nor a child. I'm just a dork.
And partly, it's because when someone helps you out of a jam, like sliding a slim jim through the crevices of your car door to get Hugo's darn locks unlocked, you automatically owe them something. And while I hate being in debt, I really hate debts when the method of repayment is not clear. Is it enough just to be friendly and use this to start a neighborly relationship? Or am I obligated to repay the kindness with a plate of cookies? And what kind of cookies are the most appropriate? Or should I bake a cake? Or a pie? Or maybe a whole meal? Or maybe, I will do all of these things and still never feel like I've done enough.
Really, the process of being rescued is often more disconcerting than being in distress in the first place.
I realize, though, that there are plenty of women who are experts at damsel-try. They can make knights appear out of thin air. If there's a guy they like, they can invent a catastrophe just to get attention. They can even pull it off so that the whole thing actually makes them seem desirable.
And really, why is helplessness so desirable? Why can't tardiness make a girl desirable? Because I've got that one in the bag. I also have an unlimited supply of useless-but-interesting trivia and I know when to use "who" and "whom."
It's a shame, really, that these skills aren't in higher demand.
I suppose that at this point, I should concede to the fact that people need to be needed, and that knights are no exception. I definitely get that. And I definitely do need people, despite my efforts to obtain total independence. Some days, I can be helpless on an almost hourly basis. And it's not that I don't appreciate being saved from catastrophe. I just don't want you to see me when I'm not at my best.
So, Dear Reader, if you happen to be the knight-in-shining-armor type, I would hope you would give a girl a chance and be open to the possibility that a girl can still need you, even if she's too much of a dork to show it properly. Even if it takes her hours and hours of fearing that asking for your help will cross some kind of line.
Even if she's afraid that she isn't good enough to be helped.
I would hope that you would be patient and kind enough to let a girl see you as a knight long, long before she feels secure enough to let you see her as a damsel. Because if you want to find a girl who will go out of her way to not manipulate you, you would be off to a pretty good start.
And when the inevitable day comes when I manage to make a complete fool of myself in front of you, I hope you will, at the very least, understand that I am very often a very competent and capable human being.
You will, won't you?
Regards, best wishes, and here's hoping that I didn't do it again,
-Cecily Jane
So, Dear Reader, if you happen to be the knight-in-shining-armor type, I would hope you would give a girl a chance and be open to the possibility that a girl can still need you, even if she's too much of a dork to show it properly. Even if it takes her hours and hours of fearing that asking for your help will cross some kind of line.
Even if she's afraid that she isn't good enough to be helped.
I would hope that you would be patient and kind enough to let a girl see you as a knight long, long before she feels secure enough to let you see her as a damsel. Because if you want to find a girl who will go out of her way to not manipulate you, you would be off to a pretty good start.
And when the inevitable day comes when I manage to make a complete fool of myself in front of you, I hope you will, at the very least, understand that I am very often a very competent and capable human being.
You will, won't you?
Regards, best wishes, and here's hoping that I didn't do it again,
-Cecily Jane
No comments:
Post a Comment