"Being a girl ain't easy"

May 13, the day I submitted my final Literary Theory paper I’ve been agonizing over for months. How did I celebrate this triumphant day?

With my annual visit to the OB-GYN

Awesome.

(What? I’m really in a cartoon mood these days …)

I mean, who wouldn’t want to celebrate the end of the hardest semester of life to date by lying back on a table, legs spread with someone feeling around down there? Wait, don’t answer that.

I truly wish guys could experience anything remotely close to these infamous “girl-doctor” visits, but hey “being a girl ain’t easy.” Since I’ve read Tucker Max’s I hope they Serve Beer in Hell, I’m familiar with how the guy STD testing works. Insert large rod into penis hole; sounds horrible. But guys, if you’re careful, you only have to experience this gut-wrenching experience a few times in life. As for girls, we’re not that lucky.

We get to live this exhilarating episode on a yearly basis. So in my book the score:
Guys- 1 Girls- 0

And because my mother is still more active with the scheduling of doctor visits; she’s been hard at work for over a month making appointments for both my sister and I. This is no easy feat for two reasons: 1. Jen and I both lead hectic lives, and 2. we both live in Charlotte … and our OB GYN is back in Winston-Salem. This is unfortunate, since I’ve lived in Charlotte for over four years now, but stick with what you know; and my gynecologist, Dr. R, is great.

Oh, and by the way, Dr. R … is playing for the guy’s team.

Some may think the fact that I’ve chosen a guy gynecologist is slightly unorthodox. I beg to differ. What is unorthodox; however, is that this is the same man who delivered me to my mom and dad (almost) twenty-four years ago.

Being sisters, Jen and I do things as a pair. Even when we don’t mean to, we like to do things together. Like the time we were roommates, or the time we bought our first pairs of TOMS at the same time. Or like this week when we each picked up nasty speeding tickets within forty-eight hours of each other. Add girl-doctor visits to this list, and since she had the more fortunate - or unfortunate - exam schedule, she made her way up I-85 two days earlier than me.

So this morning I geared up for this awkward experience. After changing into the distorted sheet disguised as a gown, they ask you to sit your bare ass onto a freezing table. There is a sheet there, but who are they kidding? There is no escaping this brutal coldness.

This charming affair is then followed up with a series of questions:

Nurse- “Do you smoke?”

Jordan- “Nope”

Nurse- (Eyebrows raised, accusatory voice) … “You don’t smoke, at all?”

Awesome, pegged me for a smoker. I’m in my freaking work clothes lady, do I smell like smoke?

Jordan- “Nope”

Nurse- “Ok then, what about drinking? Do you drink?”

Jordan- “Yes”

Nurse- “How often do you drink?”

What an awful question, can I pass?

Jordan- “Ummmm”

Nurse- (Slightly annoyed) “How many times a week?”

Jordan- “Maybe a few times”

Nurse- “So, three times a week?”

Jordan- “Yeah, let’s go with three”

Nurse- “How many drinks each time?”

Jordan- “umm … maybe 2 or 3?”

Nurse- “So around 10 drinks a week?”

Jordan- my math says 6 to 9, but what do I know –English major … “Sure”

Nurse- “And are you sexually active?”

This question, not my favorite; she was looking for the one word answer. Instead she got my quick and blurted out response of …

Jordan- “I have a boyfriend!”

Nurse- (Slightly more annoyed …) “So, is that a yes?”

Really this should be a questionnaire I fill out and hand back so we can avoid this lovely conversation in the future. Not that I don’t love conversing with the nurse and all that, since we all know in the case of the guy gynecologist the nurse’s real role: the buffer. There’s no fooling this girl. It would be nice though if next to the “Are you sexually active?” question there was room for comments. This way I could write things like: “I have been dating him for X amount of time” or “… And I’ve known him forever.” Can I motion for this? Anybody second it?

So basically I thought my experience was less than enjoyable, but as I was bitching about this to my sister on my drive back to Charlotte she revealed her experiences two days prior, and as it happens, I got off easy.

My mom had asked if I wanted her to meet me today, but I declined. This morning I almost called and asked her to meet me anyway because it would be really nice to see her, I miss my mom every day. But last minute decided I’d already let her off the hook, why mess up her morning. If I had considered exactly what this visit would entail, the idea never would have crossed my mind.

My sister, not as lucky; while the nurse quizzed my sister on her various habits … my mother was posted up one seat over hanging on her every word.

You can imagine how embarrassing this must be for my (almost) twenty year old sister. Did I also mention that our birthdays are five days apart? See, everything together.

And when the nurse turned to my sister and posed the sexually active question it was my mother who beat her to the chase.

Nurse- “Are you sexually active?”

(Jennah opens mouth to answer, Mother interjects …)

Mom- “Yes, yes she is”

(Jennah looks mortified, turns to our mother …)

Mom- “What? Your father and me, we’re not stupid, you know”

(Jennah still looks mortified)

Mom- (to nurse) “She’s been dating her boyfriend for four years”

Looks like we’re not the only ones who need justification …

Mom- (to Jennah) “If you’re anything like your dad and me …”

This is the point my sister stopped the conversation in its tracks. This makes sense, no wonder the nurse didn’t seem overly joyful this morning. More than likely she was disappointed that I showed up solo today. No one entertains like my mother.

In synopsis, or to reiterate, being a girl ain’t easy. The yearly OB GYN visit equates to filing and paying taxes – both equally dreaded and unpleasant; but at least you can pack twelve months of breathing room in between.

"No, I don't need to watch Obama on CSPAN ... I follow him on Twitter."

I have to pick on my friend for a minute … or well, for a blog

The identity of this ambitious friend of mine, of course, can’t be revealed. Henceforth we’ll call him Smart Guy, which is self-explanatory, right? I will, however, expose the meeting place of said friend and myself, our initial encounter: Twitter.

No need to re-read that last sentence, Smart Guy and I really did first become acquainted via Social Media. You see, we’re both Charlotte residents, both follow and are followed by the same people. We even throw up hashtags and trend similar topics; seems inevitable that we would become tweeting cohorts, right?

Somewhere people (mom) are reading this and they’re pondering, “What exactly is a hashtag?” … and to them I say, google it – which is precisely what I did, by the way. Anyway, back to my smart friend and our more recent conversation which naturally landed him here. My smart friend keeps me in the loop with his dating endeavors, which is fascinating. I love to listen to guys discuss the girls they’re into. Girls, guys are absolutely just as nervous, excited, petrified, and sappy as we are – they just conceal it a hell of a lot better.

Just the other day, Smart Guy messages me (yes, via Twitter) to update me on his more recent love affair. He and this new girl of his have already gone down the path of the drunken make-out session, and like any budding romance, flirtatious texts/tweets have been exchanged.

However, soon after, love interest must have lost interest. Twice plans were made, and twice plans were broken. And since the pilot of the last-minute cancellations was a text message and since this is my smart friend we’re talking about – he shrugged his shoulders, and he let it go.

Post this short-lived romance Smart Guy’s love interest threw him what we’ll call a curve ball. And by the time this friend of mine communicated his recent bungled romance, he was already terribly concerned. His pressing concern: the second night she cancelled she “Liked” his Facebook status, and Smart Guy wants to know, “How do I respond to that?”

When I read this, I laughed out loud. Smart Guy – if you’re reading this, I absolutely couldn’t help myself. He followed this up: “Do I unfollow her?” and also, “She’s my Facebook friend” … “Do we stay Facebook friends?”

Being a terrible friend, I honestly didn’t know how to answer this. My first response: extreme laughter. My second response: what a ridiculous question. Who cares about Social Media?

I am so wrong.

And the more I pondered my guy friend’s dilemma, the more I realized this. I thought back to the day my facebook status changed … and with it the world as I knew it. Then I thought about how I religiously check my Facebook/Twitter at work, or in class. Just to see, I conducted my own experiment. Having drinks with a few of my friends the other night I made mental notes (and napkin notes) on our references to Social Media. Below are just a few of the statements that made it into our two hour session:

“Yeah, they’re dating. I saw it on Facebook today”

“She’s disgusting, do you read her tweets?”

“He tweeted they were hanging out tonight”

“Please put that on Facebook!”

“Please don’t put that on Facebook!”

“Oh my God, I’m tweeting what you just said”

“He follows me; I wonder why he doesn’t follow you?”

“Oh, his tweets are the best!”

“I had to stop following her, she tweets non-stop”

“I can’t believe you untagged me”

And finally … this one was directed at me:

“Jordan, why did you take down your relationship status with Ben, his is still up … I checked.”

I don’t know that in our two hour conversation we discussed anything else even remotely close to how often we covered Social Media. We literally stumbled into a Facebook or Twitter comment with every topic. It is no secret these social mediums have revolutionized everything. Social Media is our new book, our new magazine, our new paper. It’s our new CNN and our new ESPN, our new chat room, our new scrapbook; Social Media is our new reality.

When we’re not communicating through it, we’re communicating about it. So of course Smart Guy is confused about what he’s supposed to do now. If you have a fight with someone or you break up, or if your friendship ends - is it only appropriate to de-friend on Facebook?

Sadly I admit I have been both the de-friender, and the de-friended. And when it occurs, is it because we’re trying to prove a point or are we just desperately attempting to avoid any information we’d rather not know? Do we feel as if our de-friending action is appropriate, or is it just spiteful?

And more importantly, how did we get here? To this place where in order to be in a legit relationship I have to confirm the Facebook relationship status request, or to let someone know they’ve hurt my feelings in some way I have to click the “Unfriend” icon? Is this modern advancement the culprit behind the demise of face to face problem solving.

In this Social Media world are we marketing ourselves, or are we just marketing our social circles?

And because this idea is stuck in my mind, I did research i.e. I googled Social Media cartoons. What? They’re a good time …

Bathroom Banter

I must have a face that reads:

“Yes, tell me everything you’ve got … no really, what’s on your mind?”

For as far back as I can remember, which is pretty far (those of you who were members of my first grade class at Westfield Elementary know this to be fact), people have felt compelled to divulge even their more personal thoughts and affairs when the only dialogue we’ve exchanged is the simple “hello.”

I’m not sure why people feel the need to do this, or why I’m the candidate deemed worthy of their private notions, but for some reason I’m the dart board for random chitchat. Like the maintenance guy who, when performing his routine maintenance check in my apartment, exposed his boss’ current affair with the “cougar in building 9.” Turns out, the head maintenance guy for my apartment complex is getting more action than I am. Good for him. Not good, however, for the husband of said “cougar.”

I’ve even found that sometimes the “hello” isn’t even a necessary prerequisite for a unique conversation to launch. Take for example the conversation I had three weeks ago while in line to use the bathroom in the downtown area of Disney World. The line stretched for what seemed like miles, and I was close to the end of it. This is about the time the woman directly in front of me in line turned to me and informed me that “all Florida is anymore is immigrants who can’t speak a word of English.”

Apparently this woman had already sized me up enough to know that I wasn’t A. from Florida, and B. an immigrant. More than likely my pasty complexion gave me away. Now if it were my sister standing in my place, I bet this exchange would never have taken place.

Anyway, back to bathroom banter … To this statement I just smiled because really – what do you say to that? But not to worry, my new lady friend was armed with the follow up: “you’re not from around here are you?”

I informed her that no, I was a North Carolina girl born and bred, to which she responded with: “North Carolina, huh? You sure don’t sound like it.”

Now the bathroom line was rather lengthy, but by the time we reached the front of it I now knew the following about my new acquaintance:

1. Her name is Gloria

2. She liked my dress, bought one like it last week at the Dress Barn but her “idiot husband” left it at the table in the mall food court after they had lunch.

3. Lunch that day was Sbarro, by the way.

4. Sbarro is husband’s favorite, although Gloria is not sure why.

5. This place closes at midnight but teenage kids run around ‘til 2 am most nights.

6. Gloria thinks parents that let their kids stay out this late are “morons;” and this is because really “the only thing open past midnight are legs.”

7. The lady currently in the family bathroom has now been in there with her two kids for over 8 minutes.

8. This pisses Gloria off. She was first in line for the family bathroom.

Eventually we make it to the head of this line and a stall opens up. Gloria, as she is in front of me in line, vanishes behind stall door. When the next stall opens up I make moves, and take one guess who’s stall I’ve landed next to … lucky me.

Gloria shouts over the thunderous sounds of flushing toilets all around us: “Jordan? I thought so, recognized your shoes.”

And yes our conversation continued; no bathroom stall wall barrier could hinder this essential chat. And when I was washing my hands directly after, Gloria was washing one sink over declaring that this bathroom “stinks to high heaven,” and the Disney people should really do a better job cleaning this bathroom. Gloria bets the family bathroom is much cleaner.

In synopsis, people I’ve never met always feel comfortable revealing their personal thoughts with me. Maybe that’s why as a writer I feel little apprehension and I tend to “bare all,” as my roommate put it this morning. I keep a journal of these random instances of dialogue, and in 80+ years when I’m long gone I hope that my young-Chase Utley look alike- husband discovers them and publishes them.

They will be great stories for the kids someday.



The Crier

• The Meeting: I am -in no way- a sappy, emotional, lovey-dovey kinda girl. So when I met “The Crier,” I didn’t know what I was getting into. This guy approached me while I was enjoying a Guinness. He was sipping on a Woodchuck. This should have been a red flag. Attempting to be smooth he offered to buy me a drink; a Snake Bite, a Guinness/Woodchuck version of a Black and Tan. I found his symbolic gesture both clever and nauseating, but he was cute, so in the end-he won me over.

• Memorable Moments: It was the “The Crier,” who first introduced me to Soul-still one of my favorite Charlotte restaurants.

• Pros: He was a late night meal genius, and a girl’s gotta eat.

• Cons: The night he dropped the “I love you,”…I was in no way ready for it, and when I couldn’t return the sentiment “The Crier,” earned his name. From there on, every instance in which I didn’t say “I love you” back, I was subject to a flood. And as time went on if I was having a bad day and didn’t want to talk about it, he cried. If I didn’t call him back immediately, he pouted and followed it up with a good cry. But our drenched battles weren’t the only emotional annihilation to our relationship. This guy’s reoccurring dialogue: “What’s wrong?” or “I’m just sort of down today, can we talk about it?” and “what are you thinking about right now?” I’m thinking the next time I buy tampons-I’ll buy extra. Some girls love the emotional guys-but not this one, and this brutal breakup resulted in one storm I needed an umbrella to weather.

• Raw Score: 3/10. With my friends, this guy has been “The Crier” so long most of them have forgotten his real name.  And they aren't the only ones.

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The Frat Guy

• The Meeting: Freshman year. I was young, I was naïve-but lucky for me so was “The Frat Guy.” I met this Mountain Khakis wearing, Wallabee donning, bow-tie loving pledge through mutual friends. He was standing in a group of his collar shirted brothers, but you couldn’t miss this guy if you tried thanks to his absurd height, lanky build, and one big goofy grin--he was too adorable for words.

• Memorable Moments: Our first fraternity date function-allow me to paint the picture of boxed wine and solo cups. “The Frat Guy” was still in the infamous pledging period: horror for a pledge, entertainment for the rest of us. The wine was to be served to the guests and who better for the job than the pledges themselves…in their underwear. Wait, it gets better. Not only was my date dressed in only boxers, but the brothers were armed with Sharpies and my cute little date became a cute little canvas. The graffiti process left him bearing the words “tool bag” and “douche,” among others. A lot of Franzia later, I nodded off (passed out) in “The Frat Guy’s” arms. Sweet, right? Wrong. The romance died fast in the morning when I discovered Sharpie does in fact rub off, and I had the remains of a drawn penis on my face to prove it.

Oh, freshman year.

• Pros: I was dating the pledge. Therefore this relationship came with my own personal Designated Driver.

• Cons: I was dating the pledge. This meant you could throw self-respect and dignity right out the window.

• Raw Score: 7.5/10. This guy had two big things going for him. One, the fraternity’s formal meant a rather nice beach vacation; and two, he lived in a house with 15+ guys. What are the odds?

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The Clinger

• The Meeting: In the aftermath of “The Old Guy,” my friends did what they always do post-breakup: become matchmakers. To be fair, if repairing a love life is your calling in life, consider me your ultimate project. If I had a dime for every time my girl friends said to me, “I know just the guy for you,” well let’s just say my student loans would be non-existent. It is a proven fact that all couples really want one thing: another couple to hang with; and my friends are the ultimate double dating schemers. Thus my life has become the poster child for the infamous blind dating saga. Meet the recent product of this: “The Clinger.”

• Memorable Moments: Ironically the most memorable moment was also the deal-breaker. After driving past a pumpkin patch I mentioned wanting to carve one, and he remembered. Days later he was helping me move and asked if he could borrow $20. I handed him cash and he was pumpkin patch bound seeking one, round housewarming gift…that I bought myself?

• Pros: Good memory?

• Cons: This guy was head over heels, in a matter of weeks. He went above and beyond showing his mother my picture on Facebook. He showed his co-workers, his brother, his brother’s wife, aunts, uncles, cousins, his boss etc. etc. What first seemed harmless, almost endearing-turned full circle. So I ended this budding relationship and went back to living my life sans boyfriend; only “The Clinger,” wasn’t having it. Not only did he post up in the parking lot and refuse to leave until I agreed to a conversation, but he was also a regular commenter on any and all of my Facebook photos. And when my sappy ex’s dedicated attempts came up short, he was quick to inform me that I was cold-hearted and evil…on facebook.

• Raw Score: 1/10. “The Old Guy” was actually starting to look pretty good.

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The Old Guy

• The Meeting: After countless failed relationships with guys my own age, when I met “The Old Guy,” I thought- hey, why not? I was approaching the end of my undergrad years when I met this guy at the bar, where he held regular status. On a side note, meeting guys at places I work under no circumstances ever works out; one would think I would have learned my lesson by now-oh, well.

• Memorable Moments: This guy shared my love of baseball, and for my birthday he flew me first class to Philadelphia to see my Phillies defeat the Cincinnati Reds in a 4-game sweep.

• Pros: Aside from baseball, “old guy” also shared my deep fervor for books, Quentin Tarantino films, organic food, and Guinness by the pint.

• Cons: Think about it-old guy falls for 23 year old girl. How cliché can we go here? I may have landed an older guy complete with interesting conversation and his undivided attention but I had done so by means of walking into the crosshairs of a mid-life crisis. When he wasn’t pounding protein shakes and participating in two-a-days at the gym, he was practicing his new hobby of Tae Kwon Do. This meant two things: 1. Every time we went out he wanted to demonstrate his TKD skills with high kicks aimed at his guy friends, over and over again. His idea of flexibility=my idea of humiliation. 2. There was no chance of walking by a mirror/window without this guy checking himself out: flexing, turning from side to side…you get the picture.

• Raw Score: 3/10. Got to give this guy some credit. He did spoil me in unimaginable ways, so why the low score? Did I mention the relationship ended post one interesting evening involving my walking in on “The Old Guy” in bed with one former friend? Former friend who happened to be 24. Imagine that.

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