Apple Picking

Good news--I am finally moving out of my parents' house. It's been roughly a year and a half since I left New York City and resolved to save money by living with my mom and stepdad and, in packing up, I am finding scraps of the past that continue to amuse/amaze me.

I love going through old notebooks (diaries are even better) and now that I am on a new path of self-discovery (new year's resolution, more on this to come later this week), I am patching together memories, past desires, and actions to understand where I am now, and why.

To digress, my writing is shifting to focus a great deal on this new chapter of my life, and I do apologize for the repetition, but besides wondering the next time I will get to eat guacamole or if Chuck and Blair will ever get together, how to navigate (survive) single life is really all I think about.

So, tonight I was going through a notebook from college I must have used during executive board sorority meetings ("Row etiquette: No making out/groping on dance floor, no flashing. ever."). Aside from the sorority stuff, it also contained some musings on my then sorta-single-completely-confusing relationship situation. I was generally obsessed with one guy in particular that year, who I admit I still sometimes think about, which is another issue I am sure will be part of my 2009 "finding myself" plan.

I found a piece of advice I'd jotted down, a "point to consider," as I called it: "Don't let one bad apple spoil your appetite forever--yet--don't allow your appetite to forget what a good apple tastes like." I elaborated that, "just because the next guy is better than the last jerk-off you dated, that doesn't mean he's good--he is just less bad."

Clearly, I was not only disappointed in the aforementioned guy I was infatuated with that year, but I worried that I only fell for the guy I "replaced" him with because he was less of a jerk, not because he was a good guy. (Considering the replacement was a dude I met in a club in Cancun, I think I was onto something.)

My attitude about men and dating was truly dysfunctional. I held on to a guy who was indifferent about me, thinking I could change him. Yet, instead of being mad at myself for being an idiot and not moving on, I labeled the guy a jerk. The problem wasn't all him, it was also my presumption that the guy should change for me. That he even could.

To be completely honest, I didn't even know what I wanted him to change into. I had no idea what I wanted in a man. Except that I wanted to feel butterflies every time I saw him. And given that I didn't meet any men in college--just boys--this was expected I guess. But how could I expect a guy to meet my expectations when I didn't have any? The problem thickens...

Now I've got lists going of the "yes" qualities and "no" qualities of what I want in a man. They range from superficial (Yes: has control over body hair, likes dogs, boxer briefs preferable; No: mandarin collars, man-purses, nose-picking), to more serious (Yes: supportive of writing career, pays own rent, stands up for himself and others; No: criticizing me in public, obsession with celebrity, unpredictable anger). Overall, the lists represent the best (and worst) of the men I have encountered in my life.

They're my lists and I'm sticking to 'em--realistically. I'll take my scrawled advice as a reminder to really recognize when I am taking a bite of a good apple and have the common sense to toss away the rotten ones. Or at least not expect the rotten ones to suddenly regenerate.

I'm doing pretty well so far. I don't expect perfect. Just a good apple.