This past Monday, the season finale of How I Met Your Mother aired. While it had about nothing to do with the actual plot, there was one scene I found very telling- when Lily, Marshall, and Robin have a telepathic conversation in the bar about convincing Ted that dyeing his hair blond is a good idea. As Marshall says:
"The best way to get Ted to do something is to tell him he shouldn't do it."
So of course they all tell him it would look bad, which prompts Ted to go ahead and do it. And naturally he looks ridiculous, prompting Marshall to utter the incredible line: "What is Ellen DeGeneres doing in our bedroom?!"
But anyway.
It occurred to me that I resemble that remark, a LOT, especially when it comes to guys. A surefire way to get me to chase after you is to verbally declare the futility of my advances. It's like throwing your glove on the table and challenging me to a sword fight.
Yes, I understand how lame that sounds. Just go with it.
Seriously, this one time, about four years ago, a guy I'd hooked up with previously told me that I probably THOUGHT he was going home with me, but that he wouldn't do so even if I asked. Naturally there was booze involved and he was kidding, but that statement drove tipsy me to grab him by his belt loops and say, "Oh, you THINK so?" Or something to that effect.
Now, I'll tell you a little story that will illustrate my latest foray into doing something just because I was told I couldn't. It's a classic tale, really.
Boy meets girl in graduate school. They discover that they grew up about twenty minutes from one another, and that boy's mother was actually one of girl's teachers in sixth grade (and it goes without saying that she remembers girl as a very sweet child, OF COURSE). They graduate and don't see one another really, except at the occasional
work-sponsored boozefest professional conference.
Many moons later, boy and girl run into one another again and it turns out they live and work within blocks of one another. So occasionally they hang out. And of course this one time things get kind of interesting- but are forestalled by the boy's assertion that while girl is attractive and all, he just doesn't see himself being interested in her like that. Ever.
And then there was last week. When things got interesting again. But this time they got REALLY interesting.
And I'll admit it, I knew it probably wasn't the greatest idea I've ever had. But I wanted to be RIGHT, damnit. Because I LOVE BEING RIGHT. Love it. Especially when I get to be right in the, "I told you so. You cannot possibly resist me, buddy," kind of way. Hearing him admit he'd been thinking about this very situation for a while felt all kinds of vindicating.
But the problem is that I didn't just get to be right. I mean, I did for a few days, and then all this other stuff started creeping into my head. Like maybe it wasn't about being right. And maybe it actually was pretty great and fun. And maybe I wish it meant something different than what it actually means.
I'm not sorry for the decision I made...I just wish the consequences weren't so confusing.
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