Day: 17.
Mood: Surprised. Is that a good word? It’s the word I’m going to go with.
Online Interaction of the Day: I deeply offended a 21-year-old. Let me tell you about it.
I don’t even know his real name to make a fake name for him, so I’m going to call him The 21-Year-Old.
The 21-Year-Old messaged me. His message was simple: you’re pretty and I would like to get to know you.
What struck me as really funny was that he sent me a message at 11:30 a.m.and said that I was probably still asleep. I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t sleep past 9:00 a.m. I’m usually up by8:00 a.m. and it really depresses me. The fact that he thought that 11:30 a.m.was still time to be sleeping was a bigger red flag than his age.
As I have promised myself that I would reply to every message, I thanked him for the compliment and explained that I couldn’t sleep in.
His reply back: “Yeah, I know how you feel. Your schedule is not so different from mine. In fact, it’s quite similar. I generally work 9-5 on the weekdays and I’m off on the weekends.”
Even now, typing this, I’m feeling some grumpiness creeping up in my heart. I’m going to apologize in advance if the next paragraph savors of bitterness.
No, 9-5 is not my schedule. 6:30 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. is my schedule five days a week. I’m typically in bed by 9:00 p.m.so that I can wake up by 5:00 a.m. and be ready to take on the kiddos for another day. I’ve only had a handful of “weekends off” the in last few years (excluding summer time) because teachers bring home their work because there simply aren’t enough hours in the day. If you’re a teacher, you understand the bitterness. If you’re not, I beg you to never compare your life to that of a teacher’s. You will probably lose a friend.
Also, dear, if you have to try to convince someone that you’re in the same stage of life as they are, then you’re really not.
Okay. Rant over. I’m going to try to allow the grumpiness to seep out of my heart now.
A little fact about me: I’m a romantic. I love the candlelight and the moonlight and walks through the gardens and whatever else romance novelist can spin on a girl. I’m all about it. However, I believe as Elizabeth Bennett in Pride and Prejudice does: “Of a fine stout love, [poetry may be the food]. But if it is only a vague inclination I’m convinced one poor sonnet will kill it stone dead.” Well, friends, I only had but a vague inclination and his poor sonnet killed even that stone dead.
The 21-Year-Old tried to feed me some line about “my eyes sparkling in the moonlight” and how they’re “protruding my beauty for all to see.” Bless his heart, he couldn’t have known this, but the word “protruding” really freaks me out. However, these words would have made me happy if I had been attracted to him at all and if I didn’t think this was a play to get on my good side because of my “English teacher” status.
I wrote back to him that I appreciate his poetry, but it just wasn’t working for me. I told him that the world protruding freaks me out (I literally shudder every time I write it here) and that since none of my pictures were taken at night that I had a really hard time believing him about the whole moonlight thing.
His response: You may be a teacher, but you need a lesson on romance. My words were meant as a compliment, not for you to critique them.
My response: No offense, dear.
His response: I’m not one of your students; so please don’t try and give me a lecture. And it wasnt a poem . It was like 2 sentences. I can write poetry. I don’t need you to tell me how
No, dear, you don’t, but apparently you do need me to teach you how to use a semi-colon.
In my return email, I told him that no, he wasn’t one of my students, and I apologize if he felt treated like such, though I do have students older than him. I thanked him for his kindness and wished him a good day.
Reflection: Does this interlude make me sound snarky? Probably. There’s a whole lot of adjectives that it probably makes me sound. This guy was doomed from the very beginning: younger than me, a kiss up with the whole poetry thing, shorter than me. Baby couldn’t win.
I’m tired of not having a winner. It makes me sigh.
On Friday, I get to tell you about the 18-year-old who messaged me. I know you’re excited.
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