i'm secretly upset when celebs i adore get married.

I have for a while been an admirer of Brandy’s The Secret Project (and all things Brandy, if we’re being honest, because who else can make me feel in good company with my love of overindulging and Meg Ryan?). I have, to tell the truth, so many times intended to send Brandy a secret of my very own. But then I’d get to reading it and think OH GOD. SOMEBODY SENT IN MY SECRET FOR ME. HOLY MACKEREL. And then I realize that really, whew!, it wasn’t exactly my own secret. It was someone else’s. And OMG I AM NOT ALONE.

And it’s awesome. Truly awesome, I tell you.

Then reading yesterday got me thinking. I have some secrets I wouldn’t mind owning up to. Some secrets some people might get. Some secrets some people might judge, but who says there’s something wrong with weeding out the judgy folk?

1. I made my high school’s versity tennis team in 7th grade. But in the 6 years I lettered I was never the best. I was a pretty good figure skater but I never could beat my best friend in competition. I swam on the swim team but I was never what you’d call fast. I made all the magnet programs but I was never the smartest. I’ve let the feeling that I’ve never been and I’ll never be good enough hold me back my entire life.

2. Some days, like this past Friday, I’m pretty sure that I know who I’ll end up spending the rest of my life with. The kicker is that I’m going to have to be the one making the grand gesture. And part of that means laying off the tequila and the vodka and the curse words.

3. I really really really like Bojangles chicken supreme combos. Like, really. It’s my feel good (get fat) meal. And I eat it and dispose of it in private.

4. Writing number 3 actually made me feel good. Like, regular m&ms and a Diet Dr. Pepper good.

5. I am worried that my mother won’t be here next year. Or the year after that. And I’m worried that I don’t show her enough love and respect while she is.

6. I hide from people I know in public. They could be a good friend, a high school enemy, or a stranger I know and think doesn’t know me. No matter who, I hide. And go out of my way to avoid being seen.

7. There’s a part of me that has never touched drugs just so that I can try and be half the person my father is.

8. I think THE ENTIRE WORLD is talking about me behind my back. And no, nobody is an exception. I prefer to refer to it as social hypochondria.

9. Sometimes I pretend I really don’t like Britney Spears. (But I sort of do.) Sometimes I take what the roommate says about the shows I watch on tv being stupid and simple minded to heart. (But oh how I LOVE Two and a Half Men.) Sometimes I’m embarassed by the fact that I was an English major but I count every book by Sophie Kinsella in my top 50 list. (And many more chick lit publications.)

10. I hate talking politics because I fear that if I’m not well enough versed in a subject such as health care (but fully educated on immigration reform and abortion rights and gun control) someone will take what I say with a grain of salt and the field I work in with less than that.

sometimes i don't exactly know how to start these stories.

On Saturday night I ran into a guy I went to high school with. Now, the last time we had hung out, exchanged numbers, yada yada, he called me about 15 times during the course of one Gamecock football game. And I found it odd. Wonder.

He really is a nice guy. Good guy. And I enjoy his company. (Just not his emphatic tendencies.) And so on Saturday night I thought pish posh, it’s been a couple of years. He’s so fun!

Sitting on a stool at one of my favorite places talking to him, one of his friends came to meet up with us. “I really like her!” the friend started saying to ye olde friend as I sat right there, sipping on my PBR. For the next hour the “I really like hers” faded in and out with the “He’s such a great guy, the greatest guy evers” and the “Y’all would be so great togethers!”

Um, hi, we just met, right?

When the lights flickered on and my yawns began I called the roommate to pick me up. (I didn’t want to have another moment like I did when walking home last week and a guy called after me with a “what are you doing walking by yourself?” that I really couldn’t tell if was out of concern or was a pick up line.)

And, oh wait, I think it bears mentioning that I don’t always go out by myself. Often. I mean I had been out. With people. And then stayed out. Okay I am also not a drunk. And I’m not desperate. And I’m not lonely.

And okay maybe I need to book a therapist appointment.

I think I’m internalizing a little here.

Ahem, Dawson’s Creek called and they want to cast me.

MOVING ON.

So my old high school chum, Dawson (that makes me laugh a little now, particularly seeing as though he appears to be rocking some sort of James Van Der Beek hair style that I find rather disappointing), was very nice about my need to leave. He even offered to walk me home. To which I responded with something heavy about not really having a good track record with that. A bit much? A little awkward? Yea, that’s pretty much me.

Monday night he text messaged me about checking out some bands for Tuesday night. I told him I had plans but I’d work on convincing them to go in that direction.

And that was that.

And then last night happened. And I decided to potentially make my editor mad and miss YET ANOTHER meeting for which I was supposed to write an article on, and instead meet bossman and coworkers for a “very productive work session” at – cough – Flying Saucer.

When I left there hours later I headed to meet my friends. Low and behold, where I landed I found Pal and Dawson. Can I tell you how much fun having two guys try to buy you drinks is?

I know, it sounds fun. But really it is not.

Because when one says, “Kristin, what do you want to drink?” and I politely say, “Oh! A Mich Ultra would be great!” and he goes in to procure and at the same time the other comes out and says, “Here, I figured this was what you wanted,” it can get a bit uncomfortable. Because any minute the other guy’s going to come out and be all, “Um, I see you already got one…” about it. So, you know, I did what I did in college when I went from one fine establishment to the next before having finished one drink, I stuck a beer in my purse when one guy had turned around and when the other guy walked out with one I thanked him, escorted one of my girl friends back inside, and presented her with a free beer.

Because I’m nothing if not giving.

hitting my politics related quota for 2009.

Tuesday night I was outside at a bar talking to a guy who was trying to sell me tires. I kid you not. And while I very well need tires, I found his enthusiasm slightly entertaining. I also found it amusing that he told me exactly what set he would sell me without even knowing the make and model of my car. But I digress.

Sitting beside me was a guy named Jeb who turned to me while Tire Boy was not looking and said, “I’m not trying to sell you anything. Except me.”

Well that was bold.

From there, the following conversation ensued:

Jeb: “So what’s your name?”

Me: “Kristin.”

Jeb: “Hi, Kristin. I’m Jeb.”

Me: “Jeb? As in Jeb Bush? Sorry. I bet you get that all the time.”

Jeb: “Who is Jeb Bush?”

Me: “Former Governor of Florida?”

Jeb: “Oh, are you from Florida?”

Me: “Um, no. I’m from here.”

Jeb: “Why do you know the name of a Florida Governor?”

Me: “Well, because his brother is George Bush.”

Jeb: [[blank stare]]

Me: “Former President?”

Jeb: [[blank stare]]

Me: “Former President of the United States?”

Jeb: [[blank stare]]

Me: “So, um, I’m gonna go! Nice meeting you!”

owwwww.

I broke my own rule last night. In all fairness, I didn’t mean to. I was sitting on my bed surrounded by piles of paper. Some to be filed, some to be tossed out. I was trying to get my personal papers organized. (And that stack of EOBs out of my car and into the proper file.) Amongst the articles and blogs I’d printed with the goal of reading and re-reading, I found them. Some I’d written, some written to me, and some merely about me. Like fire ants they snuck up on me. Behind a 10-K training plan was one. Amongst my 101 things to do in 1001 days list-in-progress was another.

I tried not to read them. The emails. I did a little skimming. I considered saving. (Okay, maybe a couple I did. But I just want to read about the awful person I am just ONE LAST TIME. And then that one before the fire? I like the “Oh Cookie” way it starts.) But the rest? The rest I threw away. Because I get it. Really, I do. I can be a disappointment to some people. I get it.

But you know what? Some people can really be a disappointment to me too.

the girl's "don't" guide.

• Forget where you came from.
• Have rules about what date to kiss on.
• Think you don’t still need your girlfriends when in a relationship.
• Listen to your girlfriends when they’re unnecessarily harsh.
• Believe everything a guy tells you.
• Stay with the guy who repeatedly tells you things you can’t believe.
• Skip the pizza in favor of the salad.
• Create facebook albums titled “Me and [insert manfriend's name here].”
• Wink on his facebook wall.
• Be his stepping stone. Or his belt notch. Or the one who made him realize what he wants and that that’s not you.
• Forget to obey the rules of linen, seersucker, and white when with a guy. Just because he doesn’t know them doesn’t mean that’s true for everyone else.
• Lose your dignity. Too soon, anyway.
• Out drink your date. Duh.
• Go for too short or too low or too high.
• Think that just because he loves you with no makeup means you shouldn’t be wearing it.
• Trash talk his exes. Because a good guy won’t join you in it and that’s the only kind you should be around anyway.
• Take advantage of him. Or his family.
• Be at his beck and call.
• Respond so quickly to texts. RESIST THE URGE. Trust.
• Talk to people [about a guy] that have loose lips when indulging.
• Always wear a dress so he can take it off real easy. You need to be difficult at times.
• Forget your underwear. Alla Britney. And Paris. And Lindsay.
• Second guess your music taste.
• Sit back and watch him talk shit about your brother.
• Re-read old emails. PROMISE.
• Think every female friend of his is more than a friend. That is just dumb, anyway.
• Ignore every impulse. Or follow every impulse.
• Be overly dramatic in the end. Seriously, that ain’t classy. Just don’t be dramatic. Ever. The end.
• Expect closure.
• Settle.
• Start ring shopping or dress shopping after date one. That’s just frightening.
• Require him to sit next to you everywhere. Or remain attached to his side always. Talk about annoying.
• Give up your dream for his.
• Be a bitch to his people. (I’m aware this should say “be a bitch to anyone” but some people do deserve bitchiness, matter of fact.)
• Make all of his interests become all of your interests.
• Stop believing in the fairytale.