The Dreaded Friend Zone : The Sbarros Heisman

  I remember the first time I was put in the friend zone. It was at Sbarros, I had dough in my hair, an apron on, and a confused look on my face. And, thus began my adolescence living in the friend zone. For most of my high school days more guys would view me as a sister than sexy. I always heard things like, "Lauren you're like one of the guys." I got used to being the friend, and not the girlfriend. But, no matter how often it happens it still sucks. And, like the Heisman trophy being placed in the friend zone is like some football player straight taking off with the ball without you. But, before he jets off to score that touchdown he pushes you down, deep into the friend zone with his Heisman hands, and then poses. And, when you get pushed down to the friend zone sometimes it's hard to get up.

   The Sbarro's Heisman
  It was my first high school job. It was not glamorous, but I loved making my own money. I spent my evenings after school getting pizza from a huge hot oven, and serving it to many ungrateful mall customers. White spots of dough were stuck on apron, sweat beating down my face, and my feet ached from standing. The jobs had its perks though. We got free pizza, and pasta every night. And, some nights we'd trade pizza for sweets at the cookie stand. Then there was Paul.

Paul was the goofiest, silliest, guy that worked at Sbarro's. He had black charcoal skin, a giant afro, and glasses. In between pizza orders we talked about our dreams, and troubles. He picked on me, and I picked on him. He gave me the kind of laughs that made your belly ache. And, as a tomboy struggling to find her femininity he always made me feel beautiful with a simple smile or compliment. When girls came to the pizza counter they saw a goofy looking black guy with a fro, but they didn't see what I saw. I saw a cool, funny, ambitious boy, a guy any girl would be lucky to have. One night after shutting down the pizza shop, Paul finally asked me out. My face felt warm, and I could hear my heart beating. I said, yes.

   The date was simple perfection. We ate at the pizza shop for the discount. And, Paul loudly boasted to everyone that we were indeed on a date. I felt so special. We walked through the mall, darting in and out of stores. We had this quirky humor that only we understood. We played in the toy store, and tried on clothes just for fun. On one occasion he even held my hand. I looked up at him, and he smiled. It was so sweet, and I hoped this meant I was on the path to being his girlfriend.

The next few days were a blur. In what seemed like days, Paul had transformed into something else, someone foreign, someone not dorky. The next time I saw Paul his Afro was gone, his glasses were gone, and he didn't want to joke around anymore. I couldn't understand what was happening. It was like Steve Urkel turning into Stefan. I admit, it was like Paul got sexy over night. But, I didn't need all that.. I loved dorky, Afro, glasses Paul. This new look was icing on the cake. During our shift I tried to talk to him, but he was short. I turned around, and threw a piece of pizza dough at Paul to get him to lighten up. He didn't laugh at all. He even asked me to get serious. Where was my Paul?  Had some alien stole him overnight, and inhabited his body ? It sure seemed like it. For the next few days Paul was kind of distant, not mean, but definitely not the same sweet guy I went out with.

Had I done something wrong? Did he notice I farted in the toy store? Oh God maybe he thinks I'm ugly. Why won't he just tell me what's going on?

This is the part I hate. The wondering, waiting, and wishing. What I didn't realize at the time was that Paul was giving me the old Heisman. He just didn't have the balls to say it to my face.

I pulled back as well, and work became a lot less exciting. When the girls came to the counter, more of them watched, and lingered waiting for Paul to look their way. They would wave, and giggle. Then more of them started coming to the counter asking for Paul. I despised these girls. But, the worst day was on one of Paul's days off. He came to the counter with a girl around his arm. I stood there swallowing the hurt, as he asked me to get them pizza. Finally I had to say something.

"Paul what is going on? You have been acting really different lately? I thought that you and I....."

Before I could even finish Paul looked back at his new skinny, feminine girl toy, and said, "You know L, I realized I can't do this one girl thing. It was cool kicking it with you, but I'm going to play the field for a while. But, we're still cool right?"

My heart shattered in a dozen pieces. We were most certainly not cool. My first taste of the friend zone cut deep. I started looking for jobs the next week. I couldn't stand it. I felt like I had egg on my face, and everyone could see it.  I was played, by this new suave Paul. And, something in me felt like I wasn't good enough. I think that's part of why the friend zone hurts, it's almost like saying, "I like you, but you're not good enough to be my lover."

It's been more than 10 years since that first friend zone experience, and it still hurts the same.

My Recent Heisman
After an intense revelation that me and my new suitor indeed wanted to be together, I thought I had sailed out of the friend zone. And, somewhere between reconciling and forgiveness I was sure romance would follow. I was so wrong. In fact, apparently I'm also deaf. My suitor said he said nothing about reconciling, and I heard his words all wrong. He was tired, confused, and just trying to make me feel better. Buddy spare me that kind of friendliness next time. How is that for a Heisman shove? But, we could still be friends, right. I think I'll pass. Turns out I was a rebound love that gave him the strength he needed to propose to his ex-girlfriend. Figures.

Here I am, my heart in a dozen little pieces like the little girl I was before. And, I know there is no turning back from this friend zone. As I look up from the grass being kicked in my face from the force of this Heisman player, I am left wondering when will the game stop. And, when will the next player, pick me up, dust me off, and say, "Let's do this together. Be my girlfriend." Because, this friend zone can be a lonely place if you linger too long.
      

Are You a Facebook Fame Monster ?

Facebook is the perfect food for hungry, and thirsty fame wannabes. And, I think all of us could admit the little social networking site has tapped into our secret desires to be popular, desired and adored. This is why I think Facebook is so genius. It feeds something most of craved in high school, popularity.

Most of you know this feeling, the little tinge of excitement you get when people like your latest clever facebook status. Because that means somewhere out there in the world wide web 10 people took time to click and "like" your status. That required a little thought, and a click of the mouse, but it does wonders for our social egos. It's hard not to get intoxicated off that feeling.

I post, I tag, I like and comment. But what I am really doing is reaching, calling, asking-- doing you really like me? Do you really care about me?

I have to admit I was a little apprehensive about joining Facebook during its infancy. In the good ole days it was just a website for college students, our own exclusive Internet society. Now the folks at Facebook opened the Pandora's box to every, Tom, Dick, and Harry to have a facebook page.

At first I thought going on Facebook was like being socially naked, letting any and everyone have a peak at my inner life. Sure I decide what goes up but each time you're giving a piece of yourself. Reluctantly I took the plunge, diving into a new world of networking where the rules were not exactly clear and the opportunity to be loved and liked was so much better than the real world.

Friend requests came pouring in. From the old high school flames to my arch nemesis everyone wanted to be in my social world. As I watched my friend count climb from one to 601 .. My ego bolstered with every request. But who are these 601 people ? Would they speak if I saw them on the street ? Would they every pick up the phone to call me? Probably not.

Although, they may not speak to me on the street or remember my face ..thanks to facebook they remember my birthday, send congrats on my weight loss, and send comforts on my breakups. This is the status of facebook friends... And with every add something in me feels more desired than the request before. Don't pretend you don't know this feeling. Why else would we add every person who takes a liking to our photo or quirky comments ?

Its like the fame and notoriety  I always wanted in high school but never attained. And like celebrities I think we can all appreciate how  Facebook gives us the chance to reinvent or reintroduce ourselves. No more am I the chubby, boyish black girl who hid behind her chunky braids. I have shed that young persona, and Facebook helps me flaunt. All my former chunky, last chosen at the dance girls can feel what I am saying on this. Who doesn't want to show the people of your past how far you have grown? Hell that is basically what High School Reunions are. Facebook has given the world a glimpse into the real me... The quirky, silly girl who loves her dog, and The Rock... I can show all of that off - ... I think we all can appreciate facebook for showing the world the real us or at least the us we want to share

To Facebook or Not to Facebook
.
I honestly thought about shutting my page all together after a recent rift....  Considering what Facebook does for my social life and swagger... I think I'll keep it around for a while.

 Considering that most of us will never reach Kardashian or Bieber fame I say relish in your facebook celebrity. Drink up the facebook love ..the support on the bad days, and the smiley faces on the great days. I think we all deserve to feel a little famous and fabulous even if its only on facebook.

To my facebook fam love you : )

Loving with No Armor

   When I was growing up love was never short in abundance. My mom showered us with kisses, hugs, compliments, and approval. It's why sometimes I still ache for her bear hugs. In her arms I feel unconditional love, and acceptance. We don't earn love in my family. It is given freely. My mother and I have this love that is unparalleled in my life. She is the kind of woman who gives with every fiber in her being. I've watched her give up sleep, or comfort to help a friend. On countless occasions she has made huge sacrifices for someone who in need. From the bank teller, to the employee at work with a bad attitude my mother always tries to help people. When we go to the bank people know her, and they get these excited smiles to see her, and dish about their lives. Every week she drops lots of dollars buying treats for her employees who are not always grateful. She even has a way of making strangers feel special. With her larger than life smile, and big laugh, she has this way of making people feel at home. And, while my mother is tough she is also very genuine and tender. I've heard her share with people little pieces of her life in hopes maybe they will understand everyone goes through struggles.

This is how I learned to love.

As a woman of faith my mother taught us little Comptons that love is one of the best, most precious things you can give. And, our Father is not selective about who He loves. From the prostitute to the wealthiest of Kings, our mighty God loves everyone.

This is how I learned to love. I don't know any other way.

But, somewhere in watching my mom give love so freely, I tossed to the wind the lessons she tried to teach me about wearing my armor. My mom loves with an intensity that ignites fire in some people. It's the kind of love that motivates you to be better, do better, and try harder.
My mom would always tell me, "Baby, you got to save something for yourself. You can't give people everything."

It seems the only lessons I retained well, where the ones about loving intensely. Somehow I disregarded the lectures about protecting your heart. And, in the process of trying to love so hard I've been hurt, cut deep, and I wonder if I am the only person to blame.

I am a walking open book. There is little about myself I won't share, especially if I know it can make someone else feel better. My humor is self-deprecating. I'll offer up jokes, and punch lines about myself to make someone else smile. It doesn't hurt me one bit. I am not a defensive person. I will welcome you into my world, my heart, and my space with little provocation. Some people find this refreshing. There are no walls to jump over to know me, no game to spit, I love sharing with people. Sometimes when I'm falling in love, I'll give so much of myself I feel overexposed, naked even. And, somehow I hope stripping down to the bare essentials of myself will prompt others to do the same. I'm learning now not everyone handles hearts with care.

I've opened to so-called friends, only to have them use that information against me. I let my guard down with potential loves, only to have them push me away, and then trample on my tender feelings.  I have confided in friendly faces only to have them gossip, and slander my good name. And, in all of this I am not angry, I am not defensive... I am hurt, wounded, and confused. Why would anyone use something so innocent to be so cruel ?

My friends tell me, my heart is too big,  but I really think they are calling me soft. They say I need to be more careful, I really think they are telling me I'm a not smart with my feelings. I know they mean well, and many are tired of seeing me give so much and recieve so little in return. Trust me, I am too. I agree I do need to revisit those lessons mama gave about protecting my heart.

"Don't let people trample on you baby girl. You don't have to put up with that."

"You teach people how to treat you every day Mena."

"Stand up for yourself baby. Remember your peace of mind is more important than any friend, lover, or circumstance. Don't put up with just anything. And, remember we love you no matter what."

This is the kind of love that reminds you no matter how many people mismanage your heart, mama and the family will always be there.

I hear you mama. I will try to build the protective gates around my heart you told me about. And, my gatekeeper will pay extra close attention to who gets to come on the inside. As I am sitting here overexposed again, with little to show for it, I know that this kind of defense system is ok. It's doesn't mean I won't continue to love hard.. .. I just need to love smarter.

Possible: When A Good Girl is Smitten

Is it possible to fall in love after one kiss?
When your lips met mine a fire awakened inside of me.
Something lying dormant in me started burning.
When we paused for air, I exhaled, and felt peace.

Is it possible to want to give you my heart  after just one first date ?
Our discussion was so free flowing.
Your green, brown eyes gazing into my brown eyes.
You hung onto my words, and savored my thoughts.

Is it possible to need you after just a few late nights speaking with you ?
You opened your heart to me, even though it was hard.
You trusted me to protect those sacred secrets, those sensitive memories.
You broke down my walls with your tenderness, and I let you in.

10 days, 240 hours, a week and some change....
Time so short but feels so long.
Is it possible  to fall so hard, and still make the love last ?
Can I hold you, embrace you, and comfort you?
Is it possible you could let me love you ?
Let me care and protect you.
Let me show how a real woman loves.
Let me be your everything.
Is it possible to fall in love after one kiss ?

Beauty & The Cute Girl Prt 2

Lately I've been hanging with some very beautiful women. The kind of women that walk into the room, and all the men straighten up and pay attention. When these women walk into a place for a few seconds it seems like everything is in slow motion. It's like when the James Bond girl came out of the ocean, water dripping down her perfectly sculpted body, hair swishing. Men nearby instantly feel their temperature rising, and their courage trying to pump itself up to approach her. While all of this is happening I am standing there wondering how the hell I got so close to this much hotness. And, I wonder if somehow I'll get lost in the undertow.

Jade and I started hanging out a few weeks ago. Her reputation had preceded her. One of my guy friends gushed about her like a little smitten school girl one night.

"Don't get me wrong LC you're cute, but Jade....Jade is freaking HOT."

As he said this I could actually see beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Indeed, hot was the word for Jade.  When people describe bed tossed sexy, they were thinking of Jade. I've been in her presence when she has no makeup on and her hair is a mess, Guys still lose their minds over her.This is what I mean by "Beautiful People."

Jade has long straight hair, this milky skin tone, and these adorable eyes. They are slightly green, almost blue, and piercing when she is commanding attention. It may seem I have a girl crush, but I want you understand, visualize this beauty so you get why men go so crazy. I've heard a lot of people say beauty doesn't mean anything. It's what's on the inside is that counts...  I live by that mantra, but after rolling with Jade it is clear it MATTERS.  Because, I've seem people drop everything, fall short of bowing to be in her presence as a I saw one evening.

Jade invited me to a little dinner party one night. I am pretty sure I was her parachute, a way to escape if things got boring or awkward. Considering that most of my evenings are spent barking commands at my nine pound dog to move while I'm watching Law & Order, I decided to take her up on the offer.

When we walked into the restaurant I was not feeling like the best parachute, since I was ready to escape myself. Turns out Jade and I have a different definition of the phrase little dinner party. In the very middle of the calm restaurant was a rowdy group of 20 local firefighters, cheering, and drinking.

We paused in the doorway of the restaurant, and I set my eyes on a table of, mostly men. Jade smiled, and approached the men.  Like an ocean breeze she rolled up to the friend who invited us and gave him a hug. I watched, and saw a dozen eyes giving Jade the look over. And, Jade's suitor seemed to be taking notice of the effect she had on the crowd. I could actually see his chest rise as if he was puffing it out to assert his masculinity. And, like a tribal warrior it was clear he was marking his territory, letting everyone know that Jade was with him.  Jade was wearing these hip hugging jeans, a simple red shirt that clung to her and a leather jacket.

My default mode in situations like this is silly, self-deprecating humor. I started picking on the other firefighters, finding small jokes that showed I could hang. This is classic cute girl behavior.

I think by nature cute girls often feel they have to over compensate for their lack of hotness with an amazing personality. ...this is me. I smile, I laugh big, and I make fun of myself. Even if you don't find me hot, I am grateful we'll share some good laughs That night was no different. I was in full "cute girl" mode. I spent the better part of 20 minutes laughing it up with the firefighters I knew. (as a reporter in a small town you get very close to some firefighters and police officers)

.  I paused for a moment in my comedy act to watch Jade.  I realized not only was she beautiful she was magnetic, and her power boosted others. I could tell her guy felt more powerful, handsome, and dominant with Jade on his arm. The whole label of a "trophy wife" was starting to make sense. Being with a beautiful person is like winning a prize for a lot of people. And, somehow they are more attractive because they nabbed a beautiful person.

After a few drinks, and rounds of observation Jade and I headed out. She hugged me goodbye, and we went our separate ways.  I slowly walked to my car, replaying some of the scenes from our evening. I wondered if a cute girl like me could ever get men to drool they way they did around Jade. I tried to imagine what that would feel like. Would feel vulnerable, naked, exposed? Would I feel powerful to know my looks made people crazy? Would I feel liberated to try on sexy for a night?  That night I decided I would find out.

To be continued........