Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Learning the Ways of an "Ohhh THAT Guy" Guy
"Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy, "than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an indirect boast." - Jane Austen
Yes, I'm starting this next post out with a quote from Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice. Oh hush hush. You know you've read it. In fact, you know you probably LOVED it so seriously, stop any little voice in your head going "really? Austen? ALREADY?" Just silence that squeaky, little objection for the sake of a few more minutes of (what I hope you consider) pleasure reading. It's far more rewarding to just appreciate the truth in the statement above.
I'm sure we've all liked/loved someone who's suffered from the self-inflicted curse of false humility. And don't get me wrong, women are just as guilty of possessing this horrible curse as men are. I have to say, though, that I know part of the reason I only endured a mere three years of dating (well, trying to date) in the heavily actor-populated Los Angeles was my strong aversion to this "type" of dude. In college, I had dated someone who shared only the dream of achieving fame in common with the rest of these Hollywood men. His eyes were on the prize. Bullied and tortured as a kid (and, for that matter, as a young, college-aged adult as well) for being someone he never felt he was, he believed that achieving what seemed like the impossible would silence all opposition. He saw the achievement of celebrity fame as the only way others would ever take him seriously in a world that was obviously not quite ready for who he actually was. There's a lot more to his story - that's for sure - but his is not a story I feel I can tell. Not yet. He will tell that story some day, perhaps to the world in detailed day-by-day notes or perhaps only to his future kids - but his is a story of such determination and belief in one's true self against all odds. I hope he finds happiness. I think of him often and again, well...it's just not my place to speak his truths now.
These Hollywood men on the other hand? *flails arms helplessly* *looks around for a gosh darn save* WELL DANG. They all seemed to be on the hunt for recognition and you, you courteous, unassuming, noticeably attractive and yet un-intimidating and almost too easily approachable young female, well you, depending on where you were in life, were either a stepping stone for them, perhaps a confidence booster or a suddenly necessary distraction that they felt they neeeeeeeeded. If you've ever felt you filled the role, through no choice of your own, of "confidence booster" then my heart goes out to you but just make sure that next time, you find a way to be their distraction. Every once in awhile, it feels good to be the girl who knows she's being used so you can accept the challenge at hand and find a way to USE HIM RIGHT BACK.
I spent a great deal of time writing while I lived in LA and almost all of my journal entries from 2008 to early 2011 paint a detailed picture of these tan Patrick Bateman types, which I think we can all agree is perhaps the scariest of all types. You know the type and if you don't, may I suggest a 2 to 3 week trip to LA for research purposes. This is "that guy" (or for the purposes of this blog post - the "ohhh THAT guy" that guy)...
He is the absurdly handsome type who strangely enough compares his looks to those of a troll. He's dashingly charming and old school clever but insists, while in the presence of women, not men, that he can barely send a reply email let alone conjure up a witty remark. He will ask you how you're doing, only to quickly follow up with a reminder that he can't talk for long. He always has an important rehearsal soon (feel free to replace 'rehearsal' with 'meeting' or 'appointment' if such substitutions make for a more accurate representation in your eyes. Last thing I'd like to do is leave you feeling limited here). He's that guy who says he likes a strong woman who knows what she wants but always insists on ordering one extra of whatever he's drinking so you can try "a real drink".
Ah-hem, not that these traits are now being recollected from the memories of one specific male specimen...or anything.
(By the way, I pretended to love straight Jack Daniels (no ice, no soda, no nothing) when around this man. For a girl like me who has always preferred dark rum cocktails with a jolt of something killer sweet? That's sacrifice.)
(That's also what you should consider stupid.) And that was obviously not the worst of it. I pretended to be ok with SO MUCH. And what's funny to me now is how I bet he would say he also tried to be ok with so much...for me. But in the beginning, he sought me out. He needed to talk. He, hilariously enough, needed to see me. He needed to kiss me. He needed to see me again. Need need need. He made it feel like such a neeeeeeed. I couldn't tell which would have seemed more alarming at the time - his feelings as necessities or his feelings as pure desires. And then there's the bigger question: He needed to do all of this...to find out...what???
I wasn't sure then. I know now.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Finding My Voice
Hello and welcome to what I hope will be a long journey together.
Nothing about my blog could possibly seem at all genuine if I don't start by revealing a bit about myself. First of all, my name is actually Kelsey, not Felicity. I am an actress and a writer. This blog is me - writing. This blog is NOT me - acting. I am not playing a character or dreaming up some issues for you all to relate to. Anything I write about here actually happened to me. If I'm sharing something with you that a friend of mine went through instead of me? Well then I will let you know that upfront. Obviously, no real names will be used. But I will tell you this much right away - my boyfriend's name is Sam and he is wonderful. That's no secret though. If you ever find me on Facebook, you'll see my relationship status right there. Plain and simple. His unparalleled patience and rare ability to love unconditionally is part of the reason I am in the right mind to sit here and start writing all of this for you now.
Let's continue with this full disclosure but this time with a few promises, for better or for worse. You will not learn how to find an agent in this blog. I will not be discussing talent workshops or auditions. (Let's get some free advice out of the way though: Background work is usually horrible and you should never do it unless you're a) really - reallllllly - poor and hungry b) trying to earn your insurance through the union or c) just need to stay busy. Try to take featured parts though. There's at least some acting involved in that. Agents should never ask for money upfront. Not even to pay some new photographer they're "dying for you to work with." They only take their percentage when you work. Anyone else is a scam artist. And don't ever, ever give another actor acting advice while in rehearsal or ON A SET. They will probably strangle you. I might strangle you. I might find you and strangle you. #kidding #notreally)
Despite anything else you may have read, I will not be discussing "girl parts" here and you will not learn how to insert a tampon. We all know that very first one is tough though, little lady gals. Deep breaths. I will not be critiquing any make-up products, salon visits, wedding stationery, gel manicures or manicured gels here so if that's your bag, no judgment is being passed. Those just aren't topics that would ever compel me to write. I will NEVER be able to add my two cents to that crafty thing you just favorited on Pinterest. Nothing against the site. I honestly have nothing to add. I'm crafty in other ways. Hopefully that still makes me talented. Oh please god, say I'm still talented. (Actress joke. See: Validation (defined).)
This blog is my way of paying things forward. This is for everyone who's ever been told "You'll see for yourself one day" or "You never know until you know" or "Maybe when you're older, you'll understand." Well let's fast-forward (or skip scenes, as you young people say).
I want you to know one thing:
There will come a day when a man will hurt you.
GASP. SHOCK. AWE. WHAT?! Yes. A man will always hurt you. His action could be as delicate as his "jujjing" of a dress shirt sleeve to reveal his full forearm and a clearer view of his new wrist watch. I don't know. For some reason on some particular day, this could set you off and you'll feel...well, hurt. Or his action could be as strategized (and as awful) as seeking out another woman to take to bed and even expressing the intention to give her children all while you are, as far as you're concerned, actively and happily married. If you're really lucky, and I don't mean that sarcastically, you could wind up with a really creative type who may actually try to simply love you and then leave you. The hit-it-and-quit-it con man. But trust me, these men will only make you the STRONGEST version of yourself. It may sound ridiculous and cliche but believe me, it's true. How do I know?
I went from a girl who never dated to a girl who dated everyone.
Highschool: never dated.
College: sorta dated (one person).
Post-college (and, ah-hem, post college boyfriend): dated everyone.
Once that got old, I went from a girl who dated everyone to a girl who dated her date's best friends. That seemed to be my pattern. Had you caught me on a double date anytime between 2004 and 2011, I'd be that girl trying desperately to keep her eyes on her date seated next to her when all I wanted to do was stare at the boy across from me. You know, the one with his arm around another pretty young thing. Because THAT seems logical. But what's funny is that actually: it does, from a dreamer's point-of-view. Think about it. You're seated next to a guy who rrrrrreally likes you and you already know he does. He's sitting next to you. He may even try to put his arm around you - any second. But that guy across from you who's equally cute, if not cuter, he's staring at you just as intently but he's ACROSS from you (read: Just out of reach. READ: Challenge.) This was how I thought. And in an ironic turn of events, the girl who never dated anyone was suddenly dating up a storm and according to her friends, thinking like a man. It was that "pretty lights syndrome" that got me. Someone great was inviting me out on a Friday and by Saturday I was hoping that the cute guy I had just passed in the produce aisle would be asking for my number in 3...2...1... Hey, it wasn't always fool-proof but I had some good years. I wouldn't say I'm proud of my wishy-washy dating patterns but I certainly wouldn't say I have any regrets either.
But then, suddenly there was: the one. The one man who resurfaced.
We had met several times through an ex-boyfriend. We sang on a friend's musical soundtrack together. We drank together. This ex of mine took me to see plays that "the one" was starring in. But the two of us had never dated. One day, he messaged me out of the blue when we had not spoken for three years and over those next few weeks, he managed to confirm all of my fears about the person I was trying to be. He allowed me to fantasize about something SO seemingly unreachable. He let me envision a meaningful connection with him - a fulfilling relationship with a man I had first known as a friend of a friend - someone who, popular vote had decided, was always living purely for himself. With just his simple, continual requests to see me, he may not have known it at first, but he was permitting me to dream up the stage direction for what would eventually become the most frustrating and dissatisfying chase scene of my entire life. This "one" - he got me. He not only beat me at my own game but he began a whole new game...a game I never even realized we were playing until it was all over. Thank goodness I did the necessary work after he checked out & went completely MIA. That's where anyone who tells you differently is just wrong. If you let a man like this into your life, readers, there will always be work to do afterwards. Repairs necessary. No exceptions (unless of course, you find, one day, that this blog just scared you away from tricky men completely, and if that proves to be the case, then I'm so sorry I made you play it safe. Safe is usually quite boring.).
He was "the one" - not "my one", that's for sure, but "THE one." He didn't get away. He didn't leave me at the altar. He didn't date my sister. He didn't even bang my best friend. He just had everything I thought I wanted and then right when I knew I wanted it (soooo badly) he took it all away.
More about him next time...
Thank you for reading this far. I promise to reveal more as we move along.
Nothing about my blog could possibly seem at all genuine if I don't start by revealing a bit about myself. First of all, my name is actually Kelsey, not Felicity. I am an actress and a writer. This blog is me - writing. This blog is NOT me - acting. I am not playing a character or dreaming up some issues for you all to relate to. Anything I write about here actually happened to me. If I'm sharing something with you that a friend of mine went through instead of me? Well then I will let you know that upfront. Obviously, no real names will be used. But I will tell you this much right away - my boyfriend's name is Sam and he is wonderful. That's no secret though. If you ever find me on Facebook, you'll see my relationship status right there. Plain and simple. His unparalleled patience and rare ability to love unconditionally is part of the reason I am in the right mind to sit here and start writing all of this for you now.
Let's continue with this full disclosure but this time with a few promises, for better or for worse. You will not learn how to find an agent in this blog. I will not be discussing talent workshops or auditions. (Let's get some free advice out of the way though: Background work is usually horrible and you should never do it unless you're a) really - reallllllly - poor and hungry b) trying to earn your insurance through the union or c) just need to stay busy. Try to take featured parts though. There's at least some acting involved in that. Agents should never ask for money upfront. Not even to pay some new photographer they're "dying for you to work with." They only take their percentage when you work. Anyone else is a scam artist. And don't ever, ever give another actor acting advice while in rehearsal or ON A SET. They will probably strangle you. I might strangle you. I might find you and strangle you. #kidding #notreally)
Despite anything else you may have read, I will not be discussing "girl parts" here and you will not learn how to insert a tampon. We all know that very first one is tough though, little lady gals. Deep breaths. I will not be critiquing any make-up products, salon visits, wedding stationery, gel manicures or manicured gels here so if that's your bag, no judgment is being passed. Those just aren't topics that would ever compel me to write. I will NEVER be able to add my two cents to that crafty thing you just favorited on Pinterest. Nothing against the site. I honestly have nothing to add. I'm crafty in other ways. Hopefully that still makes me talented. Oh please god, say I'm still talented. (Actress joke. See: Validation (defined).)
This blog is my way of paying things forward. This is for everyone who's ever been told "You'll see for yourself one day" or "You never know until you know" or "Maybe when you're older, you'll understand." Well let's fast-forward (or skip scenes, as you young people say).
I want you to know one thing:
There will come a day when a man will hurt you.
GASP. SHOCK. AWE. WHAT?! Yes. A man will always hurt you. His action could be as delicate as his "jujjing" of a dress shirt sleeve to reveal his full forearm and a clearer view of his new wrist watch. I don't know. For some reason on some particular day, this could set you off and you'll feel...well, hurt. Or his action could be as strategized (and as awful) as seeking out another woman to take to bed and even expressing the intention to give her children all while you are, as far as you're concerned, actively and happily married. If you're really lucky, and I don't mean that sarcastically, you could wind up with a really creative type who may actually try to simply love you and then leave you. The hit-it-and-quit-it con man. But trust me, these men will only make you the STRONGEST version of yourself. It may sound ridiculous and cliche but believe me, it's true. How do I know?
I went from a girl who never dated to a girl who dated everyone.
Highschool: never dated.
College: sorta dated (one person).
Post-college (and, ah-hem, post college boyfriend): dated everyone.
Once that got old, I went from a girl who dated everyone to a girl who dated her date's best friends. That seemed to be my pattern. Had you caught me on a double date anytime between 2004 and 2011, I'd be that girl trying desperately to keep her eyes on her date seated next to her when all I wanted to do was stare at the boy across from me. You know, the one with his arm around another pretty young thing. Because THAT seems logical. But what's funny is that actually: it does, from a dreamer's point-of-view. Think about it. You're seated next to a guy who rrrrrreally likes you and you already know he does. He's sitting next to you. He may even try to put his arm around you - any second. But that guy across from you who's equally cute, if not cuter, he's staring at you just as intently but he's ACROSS from you (read: Just out of reach. READ: Challenge.) This was how I thought. And in an ironic turn of events, the girl who never dated anyone was suddenly dating up a storm and according to her friends, thinking like a man. It was that "pretty lights syndrome" that got me. Someone great was inviting me out on a Friday and by Saturday I was hoping that the cute guy I had just passed in the produce aisle would be asking for my number in 3...2...1... Hey, it wasn't always fool-proof but I had some good years. I wouldn't say I'm proud of my wishy-washy dating patterns but I certainly wouldn't say I have any regrets either.
But then, suddenly there was: the one. The one man who resurfaced.
We had met several times through an ex-boyfriend. We sang on a friend's musical soundtrack together. We drank together. This ex of mine took me to see plays that "the one" was starring in. But the two of us had never dated. One day, he messaged me out of the blue when we had not spoken for three years and over those next few weeks, he managed to confirm all of my fears about the person I was trying to be. He allowed me to fantasize about something SO seemingly unreachable. He let me envision a meaningful connection with him - a fulfilling relationship with a man I had first known as a friend of a friend - someone who, popular vote had decided, was always living purely for himself. With just his simple, continual requests to see me, he may not have known it at first, but he was permitting me to dream up the stage direction for what would eventually become the most frustrating and dissatisfying chase scene of my entire life. This "one" - he got me. He not only beat me at my own game but he began a whole new game...a game I never even realized we were playing until it was all over. Thank goodness I did the necessary work after he checked out & went completely MIA. That's where anyone who tells you differently is just wrong. If you let a man like this into your life, readers, there will always be work to do afterwards. Repairs necessary. No exceptions (unless of course, you find, one day, that this blog just scared you away from tricky men completely, and if that proves to be the case, then I'm so sorry I made you play it safe. Safe is usually quite boring.).
He was "the one" - not "my one", that's for sure, but "THE one." He didn't get away. He didn't leave me at the altar. He didn't date my sister. He didn't even bang my best friend. He just had everything I thought I wanted and then right when I knew I wanted it (soooo badly) he took it all away.
More about him next time...
Thank you for reading this far. I promise to reveal more as we move along.
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