Tag Archives: too many dudes

Adrienne Got a Rat-Tail

May 2004: the beginning of the summer of “too many dudes” and a month where responsibility seemed a thing of the past while slowly creeping down on me. I was staring down the barrel of a move eight hours away and three years of law school. So I didn’t care.

And I also had my friends cut me a rat-tail.

My hair was, for me, luxurious. I was surprised at how shiny and how long and how perfect it was. It had even developed a bit of a natural wave. So of course I had to ruin it.

On the night of May 12th, 2004, I asked my friends not once, not twice, but thrice to cut me a rat-tail. And as promised/threatened, the third time I asked the scissors came out and they cut my hair in to a rat-tail that made me look somewhat like a lady George Washington. They tied a ribbon in a bow around the rat-tail and I skipped through the woods in a borrowed shirt (after all, hair covered mine) that said “PUSSY MASTER” in iron letters.

At 12:34 am on May 13th, 2004, I typed the following statement into my Livejournal: “i am drunk and just had my friends cut me a rat tail…OMG i have a fucking rat tail helllllo 1988.”

Amidst drama (I was accused of “coppin'” someone’s “steez”) and lack of rat-tail appropriate occasions, I planned to keep it for exactly one week. Then, I would cut it off and burn it surrounded by friends. However, a job interview was scheduled on the morning of the 20th and hampered that plan. For just under a week, the rat-tail lived and changed my world.

Oh my poor, poor hair.

However, the rat-rail had to die. I had to go on and spend my summer days as an administrative assistant and my summer nights drinking vodka and PBR while running from cicadas. I had to let it die and let that one last reckless summer spring from its ashes.

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A Repeating Cycle?

What if I’m never destined to “grow up”?  What if I never have the urge to “settle down”?  I’m really beginning to doubt either will ever happen.  I fear being boring, I fear being responsible for anyone other than myself.  Do I have to eventually cave?  Will I eventually cave on my own–part of a process?

Five years ago, I was about to graduate college.  I had a great group of friends I did not want to leave.  I wanted to stay in that state of arrested development FOREVER.  I got good grades, went to class, worked 40-60 hours a week, yet went out every night, didn’t seem to need any sleep, and every moment had the potential to be some sort of “great adventure.”

Then, I got rejected from every law school in the state I applied for (one lost my application–I applied online. WTF?!).  I did get in to a school in Iowa, Drake.  Suddenly, I was facing the inevitable–leaving behind everyone I knew to a state where I knew no one.

I reacted to this in two ways:

1) I tried to find/create a reason to stay. I jumped into a relationship with a guy I probably would not have otherwise.  I figured if I had someone there, I would have a reason to come back often, or maybe a reason to not even leave.  So I threw myself at him, made it more serious than it should be.  I got attached, and it backfired.  I felt like an idiot–a normal reaction when you let yourself get attached to someone you weren’t too crazy about in the first place and then have them end things.

2) Once I got that out of my system, I turned to making mistakes. I didn’t care.  I jumped into situations too quickly, thinking it would cause some drama that would make people miss me less or create awkward situations that I would want to be away from.  This also backfired–I found I enjoyed keeping things casual and apparently I handled such situations in humurous ways that made them not so awkward.  I jumped into friendships with new people and neglected the friends who had been there all along.  And still–nothing was so bad as to make it my desire to leave.  All it did was pack the restaurant for my goodbye breakfast.  I had my friends cut me a rat tail (see following picture).  The summer of Too Many Dudes became a summer of good memories, as opposed to the catalyst for rebirth I had hoped it would become.


I moved away, and for the first semester all I wanted to do was be back there.  I sent letters, made several phone calls, logged hours every day on AIM–all to stay apprised of what was going on.  Eventually, we all moved on.  That wasn’t my life anymore.  My life became school and going out too much for my own good.  Soon I had a newer, tighter group of friends here.

And then my last year of law school came.  This time, I was the one staying.  I went out more, but also kinda “settled.”  I was lazy–not making any new friends or mistakes.  I was playing it way too safe.  And I continued doing that for quite some time after school ended.

Now, I am facing a possible departure if I can’t find future employment around here.  Could this explain my desire to go out as much as possible?  The other things? I don’t know.  I really just think I am having fun, but the summer of ’04 I thought I was just having fun.  Maybe I am rebelling against all my friends that are falling victim to marriage, babies, and home buying?  (Okay, “falling victim” is a little harsh!)  I really do not know.  Will I change what I am doing?  Probably not.

For now, I’ll just keep looking for chances for personal development and focus on figuring out what I want.  I have every right to be selfish in that respect.

But this time I won’t have my friends cut me a rat tail.  That I do regret.

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Boy Crazy/Spring Fever

I have a confession to make:  I am boy crazy for the first time in a looong time.  Or, at least, that’s probably what it seems like to everyone lately.  I’ve been flirting like there’s no tomorrow, “hitting on” my friends, and talking a lot about “dudes” in my tweets.

But . . . there’s more to it.

It’s not so much that I am reverting in maturity to a boy crazy junior high schooler.  No, there’s more to it.  I do, however, admit to a bit of a reversion lately (drinking more on the weekends, staying up late, etc.).

Again, there’s more to it.

First, a little background.  I’ll cut straight to the more recent history.  In college, I was very confident in myself.  While I knew I was not the prettiest, or skinniest, girl, I knew that I could still go after whatever (or whoever) I wanted.  And so I did.  I’m not saying I would throw myself at men, or that I would approach anyone.  Rather, if I was interested in someone, I didn’t automatically discredit the idea–I would pursue the idea.  Sometimes I would be “succesful,” other times I would fail.  And of course there were the times where I would fail MISERABLY.  But the point?  I was trying, and I was putting myself out there.  Nothing was out of reach if I wanted it bad enough.

"Look at me! I'm a freshman in college and I exude confidence!"

"Look at me! I'm a freshman in college and I exude confidence!"

Some where along the line, this all changed.  I lost my confidence.  I began to focus more on my failures–or prospective failures–and as a result, stopped trying.  I no longer saw myself as desirable and if anyone expressed interest in me, I would assume they were either: a) joking, or b) a fetishist.  I stopped caring about how I looked, and as a result of not caring stopped making any effort to look “presentable.”  I still had friends and still had good times (some of the best, actually) but I didn’t have a single “crush” and didn’t have a single “prospect.”

I considered myself to be hopeless.

But that’s all beginning to change.

I’ve spoken of this already, but the main inspiration for my surgery was to get my confidence back.  I wanted to feel comfortable in my body again.  I wanted to feel like I could be desirable again.  And so I went to that doctor, after having worked on losing the excess weight I had gained during my “I’m not worthy” stage, and had the weight lifted off my chest.  Almost literally.

And now it’s all beginning to come back to me.

The first step was to start having crushes again.  For so long, I thought crushes were futile–they would never “go anywhere” and I would just get hurt.  Well, who cares about getting hurt?!  You’re not going to accomplish anything if you never even try.  So I got my back off the wall and decided to start “looking.”

Then, I jazzed up my wardrobe.  I bought clothes that actually fit and that I felt comfortable in.  I cut my hair, finally.  I started taking care of me for once.

It’s been almost three months since my surgery and there’s already a difference.  And not just the physical difference.  I am putting myself out there.  I am working on my goals.  I am flirting (albeit a little too much sometimes–sorry if you have been one of my “victims,” ha ha!).  I am viewing myself differently.

So, if you’ve noticed a change lately, you are right.  And if I get a little annoying, just let me know, okay?!

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Somedays I really, really miss the dirty summer of 2004.  Sparks, asphalt, sake, “TOO MANY DUDES.”  ‘Nuff said.

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