Campfyre Stories

But I”m not so pompous as to claim that “boys like, boys like, boys like me” (although it is often true).  No, this is something different.  I pay attention to the “types” of the boys I care about.

I came to the conclusions several years ago, that people have two types.  The type that turns their head and the type they actually wind up with and the two are not the same.  Ask anyone you’re close to what they go for.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a male or a female, they’ll give you a description of a type.  Compare that to the people they actually date, though, and you’ll often find that they are not the same.

I have this problem.  My “type” is tall, dark and skinny.  He’ll turn my head when he walks past me.  I’ll fantasize about him as I fall asleep.  His name may change, depending on who I know at the moment, but his look is always the same.  But he’s not the guy I date.  The guy I date tends to be shorter than me, or within an inch of my 5’7 (okay, okay, 5’6-and-a-half).  He may be dark, he may be light, but he tends to be stocky without any pudge.  He’s often jaw-droppingly handsome and people say “How could you not want to stay/be with him, he’s gorgeous!” when it ends.  But he’s not the guy who catches my eye.

Men have the same situation, but I know what boys like.  Even when my guy friends delude themselves into thinking that they know what they want, I can always tell what they go for vs. what they wind up with.  Any one of my boys, I can tell you their type or why this girlfriend will or won’t last.  I, honestly do, know what boys want.

They may scoff, but if I list out what my boys want in a group of boys, all the non-targets will nod and smile at each of my assessments, then scowl as I read them forward and back when they become my target.  I can tell which girlfriend is likely to last, which will break a heart and which we’ll be happy to see the back end of.  I can tell all these things within a 15 minute conversation, but I keep it to myself, because after 15 minutes, he might be in love, but he won’t believe that I can read her… no, THEM, like a book.  I’ll hold my judgment for a few weeks or months, depending on how serious it seems, then I’ll tell the rest what I honestly think.  I won’t tell him, and I won’t tell her, but I’ll temper my relationship with the girl, depending on how long I think she’ll be around.

and, here’s the thing, I’ll be right about how long she’ll be around and how badly he’ll be hurt when it ends.  And I’ll know when the girl is marriage material.  Few will believe me, but I’ll know it to be true.

The trick is, figuring out how to stop knowing what boys like and how to find what I am looking for.  Yeah… that’s the real problem.

One of my rules is that when the boss invites you to go out drinking, you go. I have had this conversation, both in an informative and in a scolding manner with numerous people.  When the boss invites you to dinner, you go. When the boss invites you anywhere at all, you go. It’s a smart career move.

So when my boss one of the VPs of my company invited me to dinner, I made sure that my expected plans had actually fallen through and I went.  Because, let’s be honest here, that’s what you do.  Also, because there’s something insanely gratifying about being able to order in a nice restaurant without having to bother with whether you can afford it.

Here’s the thing, my boss one of the VPs of my company, is a personal friend of mine, and he knows how to show people a damned good time, and one I can always enjoy.

But as my regular and long-time readers know, I’ve been feeling jaded about my job and career path and just my work in general.  I’ve come to the conclusion that, in order to get what I want, I may have to become a bit of a bitch and, in doing that, I’ve started to get what I need from my job.  Case in point?  I was recently told that *someone* in my company has been preventing me from going to the tradeshows that I love because I can’t be spared.  Not that anyone asked my [company I work at] manager if I can take a few days off from my regular duties, no, it’s just been assumed.  So I did what any fed up chick would do and asked my [company that I work at] manager to email the people above me in the company I work for and tell them what my availability actually is.  I’ll be attending the upcoming trade show in Boston in August.  The trick was that I had to make it happen.  And if I became known as a “bitch” in the process, so be it.

So when the Bossman came to town and invited me to dinner, maybe I had to be a bit of a bitch.  Maybe I had to explain what I want and need and what opportunities may present themselves.  Maybe I had to remind him of just how good a reputation I have within [company I work for] and how every person I have worked directly for has nothing but good things to say about me.  Maybe I had to push.  Maybe I had to be aggressive.  But maybe, just maybe, I had to act like a man to get the treatment that men get.

So I laid some foundations and I laid out the plans that I will be carrying out in the next few months.  Maybe the bossman isn’t the one to make the decisions that need to be made, but he knows what my decisions are and what my plan of attack is, and as long as he’s not going to stand in my way, I’m going to blaze that trail and attempt, at least, to do what’s right for me.  I have a clear vision of where I need to get and now, he knows what that is.

It may not be much, but it’s something, and it’s more than I had before.