Let's get this out of the way now.
You won't like me.
First of all, I'm weird. I do weird things that are irrational and inexplicable. I act weird, seemingly senselessly and ambiguously. I'm a cross between a romantic obsessive compulsive and a fatalistic wet blanket.
I don't believe that the glass is half full because I'm the one drinking out of the 12" tall glass cowboy boot.
I am moody, messy, and seamlessly emotional. I am a walking contradiction, a caster of stones and careful architect of my own glass houses. I own several and rent out the ones I don't live in.
I don't sleep. But when I do, you'll never understand how. I've calculated the exact temperature in my bedroom to quantify the perfect amount of sleep. I am addicted to white noise and reading in bed. I'm afraid I'll never find anyone who will put up with my odd sleep patterns and insane bedtime routine.
You won't like me because I don't mind little white lies. I discourage dishonesty, but only in certain situations.
You won't like me because I won't keep my politics to myself.
I will be overbearing when it comes to global warming, women's reproductive rights, immigration policy lenience and civil rights. You'll want me to shut up. You'll want me to stop forwarding you emails about the next big campaign. I'll hit send and send and send again and I'll do it shamelessly. You won't like this.
I can't imagine anyone does.
You won't like me because I live more on paper than I do in real life. Because I'll keep my most intimate moments for myself on my hard drive and in softcover journals. This will drive you crazy. It will make you jealous in a way you can't describe.
I'll know you better than you think in a shorter time than you think and this will unsettle you. It would unsettle me.
You won't like me because there will always be that one percent of you that doesn't trust me completely. I thrive in that one percent. It's not intentional, it's just where I feel the most comfortable keeping you.
Also, here's the thing, you will need to embrace my inability to give up without a fight and laugh with me at the same dirty jokes.
You'll wince when I tell you my guiltiest pleasure is eighties glam metal. You'll cringe when you hear me humming the chrous from Ratt's "Round and Round" while I text message.
And I text message. A lot. More than you can imagine. More than someone my age should.
And that doesn't just go for text messaging. I feel uneasy and anxious when I'm more than ten feet away from my computer. You'll hate that I'm this connected. That I have a desire to be this connected.
I'll check my emails at movie theaters and in your bathroom after our second glass of wine when I tell you, "I'll be right back."
I'll explain that I'm not a workaholic, I just don't want to miss anything.
Here's something else. You'll watch me believe in ghosts and not so much in religion. You'll look at me funny when I cry in theaters and during presidential debates.
Please don't also discount my quiet insecurities, my loud stubbornness, and that I'll withhold and disclose at arbitrary moments. Look past my penchant for arguing and my proclivity for wanting to beat you at your own games.
It is possible that you'll learn to love the fact that I always have one drink too many.
But probably not.
You won't be able to relate to my priorities. I don't want to own a house. I don't know if I want kids. I may never get married.
But I do believe in a home, a family, and true love.
All of this will puzzle and confuse you and just when you think you've got me figured out, I'll change.
And this is why you won't like me.
With all sincerity,
Monday, June 09, 2008
Let's get this out of the way now.