For once, I want to do all the things that you’re not supposed to do. You know, be the girl. THE GIRL. The "crazy" girl that says all of those things that is on her mind, leaving the boy standing there, flabbergasted, shaking is head and thinking: "That bitch is CUH-RAAZZY".
Yeah. I’m kind of wanting to be that girl.
Now, should this come as a shock to you males, all girls have the potential to be That Girl. We just have this filter that prevents us from crossing the line into crazydom (or at least, you HOPE we do; not all girls possess this naturally) and we have lovely lady friends that take us by the arm (metaphorically or, at times, in actuality) and stop us from descending into the depths of hormonal hell.
But every now and again (read: once every few years) I just want to give a big middle finger to society and tradition and propriety and let it all hang out, at least in terms of my emotional baggage. I want to call up those guys I no longer date and ask them what they found to be wrong with me. I want to post an on-going list in a public place on what my thoughts on THEM are, letting the universe know about that one time? Remember, that one time when we…or the other time when he…and don’t forget about that shocking occasion when…yeah. I feel like offering full disclosure about everything and getting it in return.
Specifically, today I’d like to know ‘why’ about a whole number of things that just don’t make sense. I’d like to know what happened to you. I’d like everyone to know that I’m not ok about it, that it’s just not fair, that I think I’ve gotten the raw end of the deal. I’d love to scream from rooftops about the hypocrisy of it all and the triteness and the injustice and the fact that I’m sick and tired of feeling like my hands are tied by how I’m supposed to act and what I’m supposed to say and, more appropriately, what I’m NOT supposed to say. In college, I instituted a "Brutally Honest Aubrey Day" where I gave myself free reign to say what I felt (within reason); today, I’d like to take away that caveat and be forthright with my incomprehension, my shock, my anger, my false sense of entitlement.
In short, I’d like to be that girl.
It sounds so easy. Sounds like it would be so cathartic, so freeing.
But I know better, I know NOT to be that girl, I know the repercussions of it all.
So instead, I’m going to spend a quiet evening with those whom I love, have a great day tomorrow getting some of this frustration out by taking a hike, and return to the societally-acceptable land of propriety, and just keep my mouth shut.
Happy Fourth of July, everyone.