"i'll be the last to help you understand/are you strong enough to be my man?" --Sheryl Crow
Which got me thinking about my theory that all women are crazy and that it's only the manifestations and degrees of craziness that vary. As an unattached woman, I can never call the kettle black without glimpsing in a mirror. So I began to wonder: When it comes to my own personal craziness, is it all pretty innocuous or is there a bit of scary there? Why, yes, I realized, there most certainly is.
There are some pretty amazing things about me as a woman. I'm very smart, I like to think I'm funny, I'm fun, I'm attractive, I can cook my arse off, I'm deeply spiritual, generally chill, loyal, charismatic,and I love God, people, and kids (most of them at least). So what lies underneath, you ask? Why, let's see.
The Top Nine Scariest Things About Me As A Woman
9. I'm a writer. And I'm a pretty serious writer, seeing as how it's my actual career and not a hobby, and therefore I spend a lot of time in solitude, digging pretty deep, and the stuff that's excavated isn't always cute. Because of this--
8. I'm attracted to films like Crazy/Beautiful, When A Man Loves A Woman, and basically any film where a man deeply loves a woman who's a hot crispy mess of emotions and startlingly poor errors in judgment. Most terrifying is that I profoundly identify with these characters.
7. I'm a daddy's girl. Not in an obnoxious way, but I pretty much adore my father which might turn off a lesser man. Good thing I don’t deal with lesser men.
6. I suffer from terrifyingly real PMS. Not just PMS of the cramps-fatigue-can't-button-my-jeans variety, but like, PMDD. My hormones are totally whacked. I get hot as hell, crampy as hell, exhausted as hell, and worst of all, I get mad as hell. It truly is hell, and honestly, I really avoid just about everybody the first day and sometimes clear up until Day 3.
5. I love Mariah Carey. And that should scare every man. Not that men listen to her lyrics, but if they did, they would get a whiff of the creepiness that wafts from that obsessive, morbid vulnerability all women quietly pray doesn't bust out Spaceballs-style at the wrong moment. Mariah leaves blood on the floor with her heartbreak ballads; you can genuinely feel the gaping open wound that was her pride and semblance of dignity through the speakers. Chillingly, I admire this and can play her stuff on repeat for hours.
4. Deep down, I'm a drag queen. Not really, but kind of. I am in a long-term, serious relationship with hair and makeup and anything else related to beauty--and there's not a lot I won't sacrifice to make sure both are on point 99.99% of the time.
3. I'm OCD. Once I start something or set my mind to a task, I have an epic, autistic level of determination to get it completely done before I can eat, sleep, or use the bathroom. True story.
2. I'm a clean freak and get grossed out super easily. I struggle with this, because I realize I have largely unrealistic ideas about how clean other people should be, and when they aren't up to code I'm totally disgusted. I am particularly anal about feet and cannot get into a bed or any other enclosed space with someone who has not washed theirs. I can't tell you the silent screams deep within my soul when I behold an unkempt bedroom or bathroom. I think I may have missed my calling as a hotel maid. I get great satisfaction from making the unsanitary immaculate.
1. I talk to myself. A lot. Every day. I can't even tell you half of the conversations I have with me, but the dialogue (monologue?) is ongoing. In fact, this is one of my greatest fears about getting back into a relationship--I've doubted for years that anyone else but my ex could ever deal with the mild-to-moderate psychosis that is evident from my self-talk of homeless proportions.
And there you have it, all my crazy, encapsulated. At least I'm good in bed.