The Games We Play... or censor ourselves against

There's a new game going around DC called, "Let's Try to Figure Out Why Alli is Single."

Here are a few places it has occurred in the last month:

1. Adams Morgan. Row House.
Boy introduces himself to me as "Joe, YouHaveThePrettiestEyesI'veEverSeen." I laugh. Boy proceeds to lightly try to figure out if I'm single. He asks what my boyfriend does. I say, I have no boyfriend. He nearly falls off the stoop on which we are sitting. "Why?!" he asks.

I'm SO over this question. Why? Everyone asks me why. I should start coming up with all kinds of crazy answers:
-I'm gay.
-I hate myself.
-I'm scared of human contact.
-I'm actually a man.
-I've been saving myself for you, thank god I found you, please, let's get married and have lots of babies right here and now.

Whatever. So Boy then goes on and on about why I should have a boyfriend, but here's the kicker: does the Boy ask me out? NO.

Interesting... How "meta" of him...

2. Madhatter. Dupont Circle. Old friend Julie.
"I think you've done the independent thing for a while now, Als." I agree. I'm kinda over it, I tell her. Not in a "let's get married tomorrow" way, or even a "let's be exclusive and rub each other's feet after work three days" kind of way. But like... seriously, dude, what is going on here?

which brings me to #3... the most recent and mind-blowing occurrence/analysis/game-playing

3. Reef. Last Thursday. Adams Morgan. Chloey.
Last Thursday I hit the bar with three girl friends, looked pretty cute, wanted to drink and have a great time... and flirt shamelessly. The night wasn't a total bust as my eyes were pretty much glued on a boy who was wearing a Fidel shirt and really cool hat on the roof of this bar. Yum. Anyway, Chloey and I were chatting and drinking and she asked me if I've seen anyone since I've been home. No, I answer. This confuses her. What about in LA, she asks. No, I say. (I mean some stuff here and there, but no) So I tell her I haven't been in a relationship in three years. Not like I'm asking for one, I add. But WHY, she asks.

I don't freakin' know why. Maybe I'm not a human being at all. Who knows.

So Chlo turns to one of my other friends and they engage in the game, try to figure out what is going on, and my friend says, "Well, you do project an aura of wholesomeness."

Wholesomeness???

This blew my mind.

Wholesome.

Like a bread or farm girl in pig tails. Or perhaps a breakfast of some sort.

Wholesome.

I stepped outside myself and looked at my self: drink in hand (4th or 5th for the night), shirt slipping off shoulder so bra strap showed, tight-ish pants, little heels...

wholesome??

Seriously???

So this made me think...

How often do we project images of ourselves that aren't entirely true? How much trouble can we get in for projecting the wrong image? Should we change our image in order to get what we want?

"Maybe you should just try to look like a slut," my friend suggested.
"Yeah, that'll work," I said.

***

This made me think a little about everything I do to censor myself. I don't talk about myself, I don't gloat or share information with people unless they ask.

So... what exactly is wrong with putting it all out there... physically, emotionally, intellectually... because clearly, this tactic isn't working to my benefit...

The night after the last time we played the "Guess Why Alli is Single" game, I got to talking with someone about this blog.

"I don't even write the good stories in there,"I told her.
"You should," she said.
"My grandma reads my blog. I can't write that stuff!"
"Why not?" she asked.
"Because my grandma reads my blog. And my dad. And grownups and strangers."
"So?" she asked again.
I paused. "I dunno," I said. "I guess I just don't feel comfortable with being 110% honest in there... not yet."
"You shouldn't censor yourself, Als. Isn't that what artists do, put it all out there?"
"Maybe."
"So just do it," she pressed.
"I'm saving it for my book."

She laughed and I winked at her.

I guess right now, at the end of the day, what really stays true to me is the idea that if you're really that interested, you'll ask. You'll ask about the real good stories, you'll ask about my life, you'll freakin' ask me out on a date.

Until then I'll be out and about in bars here and there just generally looking wholesome and jotting down the good stories on receipts, and shoving them in my pockets for a time that really counts.