Born and raised in Europe, I grew up thinking “you Americans” are crazy for a number of reasons; mostly things I read (3,000 serial killers on the loose in Florida and people still moved there?!) or saw in movies (the contradiction between your obsession with virginity and giving the car keys to someone ruled by their raging hormones, girls getting plastic surgeries as a graduation gift, treating your pets like kids…) Ok, I’ll admit it: Jerry Springer’s reruns had a lot to do with it.
I think it’s funny that now I find myself gravitating towards the very same things that made you “crazy”. Things like…
1. Talking to people – let me rephrase that: talking to strangers. I’m a city girl through and through. Back home I knew the people in my building but I didn’t talk to them much and I certainly didn’t talk to random strangers in the street even though we had lived in the same street for years. Here I find myself chitchatting with the postman, the store owners up my street, the folks living down my street when they walk their dogs, and even buying 25c lemonade from the kid next door without fearing he has spiked my drink with roofies for his father to rape me.
2. Pampering myself – when I first came to the US I was convinced that only lazy women, bad mothers, and whores had enough free time to get their nails done. Ten years later I do not get a manicure or pedicure every week, but I do enjoy some pampering every now and then. Waxing is my favorite pick-me-up after an especially rough week at work or a bad breakup.
3. Going to the gym – I can’t believe I’m getting up at the crack of dawn to work out before work. I can’t believe I’m looking into gradually adding zumba, spinning, yoga, abdominals, and boxing classes to my workout routine throughout the summer. I can’t believe I’ve turned into one of those people who say “I can’t is not in my dictionary”.
4. Dating – I have always said that dating in NYC is a waste of time because everyone is seeing at least 3 women and I’d rather be home writing or playing with myself than “auditioning” to end up with a douche bag that 90% of the time can’t even remember who you are because she was too busy juggling you and two other femmes. Well… that was until recently. I’ve started dating. Slow dating if you will, but I am dating and I’m loving it!
5. Adopting – as much as my skin crawls when I see pictures of ready-for-adoption cats uploaded to Facebook by proud lesbians who hoard cats in their filthy apartments with the excuse of being foster parents, I think I’m going to jump on the archetypical lesbian bandwagon and adopt a cat before the end of the year.
At this rate I’ll soon eat my French fries with ketchup instead of mayo (I know a butch in Connecticut that just threw up in her mouth a little bit), change my Facebook relationship status to keep my butch happy (when I have one), or go to lesbian bars alone a la Cubby Hole’s bar fly. What the heck? I may even start buying drinks for 2×4 butches who either don’t see me or think I’m not into them. When in Rome…