Recently on Twitter a person made a comment that my posts on this blog were so personal he felt like a stalker. Well, it’s funny to me because I honestly don’t know what else to be other than personal. As a matter of fact, I think that’s one of the problems in this day and age is that people can no longer be personal. I’m not saying walk up to someone and grab them in awkward places.
But we sue each other over the silliest little things. We keep our head down and thoughts to ourselves. And I honestly think men are scared to death to give a woman a genuine compliment because he’s afraid he’ll get smacked across the kisser.
But I’m to the age now, where I no longer have any pretense. “I yam what I yam.” Which is not only okay, it’s freaking awesome and if someone doesn’t like it they are free to go away. I’m also to that age where I’m okay with that too.
I use that as a precursor to what I’m about to say because it’s another yet incredibly bone-headed move on my part and I actually hate admit being this stupid. This is where I go back to the “I yam what I yam” thing. But it’s also imperative to the story. And another disclaimer, this isn’t about pity, it’s about growing from things, even bad things.
Calvin, of Calvin and Hobbes fame, once said, “How can something be so plausible in the moment and so idiotic in retrospect.” And boy is that true.
So a year ago that guy I’m always whining over came to town and asked me to spend time with him. I picked him up at the airport and he came to my house and that night he said he was having dinner with some high school friends who had asked him to do a favor for them. Details here are not important. So he left and we met back up late and had drinks with his sister.
But just before he came back to pick me up, the little wheels in my head kept turning. That odd feeling you get in your gut when something just doesn’t add up, a.k.a. spidey senses, kept nagging at me.
And then it hit me. He had taken another girl to dinner. I say “girl” because she was almost half my age. Can we all say “ouch” please?
I confirmed my suspicions with his sister, unbeknownst to her. And the rest of the evening went off exactly as planned. He showed up. We all had drinks and he spent the weekend at my house.
I kept my mouth shut.
A couple of months later I went to a baseball game. I drank too much beer. And I started to drunk text. Oh please, we’ve all done it. But it was a good thing. Why I didn’t think I was worth that much venting sober still remains a mystery to me. But I said my peace and he called me and we talked. By this time the “girl” was driving him flipping nuts. Which I must say I quite enjoyed. I called him out on that night, yes, two months too late. Then he told me something I won’t soon forget.
He said he may have taken her to dinner, but asked whose arms was in all night? Like I had won the prize. Now, on the surface don’t you think, well, yeah. I’d rather have that than the other way around. And at the time I think I did.
Now let me interject one more thing before I tie all this in together.
I started a website called Dirty Sex & Politics one year and 8 months ago. After suffering years of abuse and utter horror, it was a sort of coming out party for me. It was solid in your face opinion. It was sexy and hot and every other word was an f-bomb. Why? Because for the first time in my entire life, I could.
I could be brash and politically incorrect and say all the wrong things and it didn’t matter. It was one of the best things I’ve ever done. It was creative and funny and in the beginning very, very sexual. But I was in love and having the time of my life and it fit.
But then something surprising happened. I started being accepted into some political circles. I had opportunities pop up that I never in my lifetime would have thought I could have. But the site was a double edged sword. On the one hand it got me noticed. But on the other hand it was very controversial. I toned it down a bit after I began interviewing political figures and they came under scrutiny for being on my site. I wasn’t going to let anyone use my site against them. I changed the name to DS&P Magazine and made it more like a Maxim for men instead of Playboy.
The innuendo was always funny to me. But now I can’t even post an innocent George Washington quote on Twitter without men manipulating it into something unseemly.
Somewhere along the way, I changed. Somewhere along the way I began taking this fight for my country very seriously.
Somewhere along the way, I no longer wanted to be the girl you just give the time of day to in the middle of the night, but the one you find special enough to take to dinner because you care what she has to say.
For several months now in my heart I’ve moved away from DS&P, even though I still believe it is a great site with a bunch of great writers now. Over the weekend, I put my website, www.DonlynTurnbull.com, back up. I’ve been working on it. There’s nothing flashy about it. There’s no great gimmick. There’s just this girl, who I like to think is a talented writer, who for the first time in her entire life is standing up saying she wants more. She wants respect.
Over the weekend I watched a teen angst movie with my daughter called, The Perks of Being a Wallflower. It turned out to be quite a good movie. But one part stood out in particular. They said, “We accept the love we think we deserve.”
For a little too long now I’ve accepted things that deep down inside of me I thought I deserved.
Now, I don’t mean to write yet another melancholy post. This site was more about girl power. But is there anything more powerful or beautiful than someone who learns to believe she is worthy of something good? Be it in a relationship or in her career.
I’m just not “that” girl anymore. And some may view it as a bait and switch, but it’s that little thing called change.
And I like to think it’s for the better.