Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Dichotomy of a good girl (Part One)

I've never really taken the time to totally listen to all the words to that infectious but kinda naughty Blurred Lines song.  For the longest time I thought it was called Good Girl since he says that line often.  Most people would consider me a good girl.  A tame girl.  Quiet even.  In school I was the quiet one, the one who made good grades.  I distinctly remember being a first grader though and chatting and joking with my friends and the sting of the teacher telling me/us to be quiet!  From then on I guess I was more conscious of staying calm in school.

I went on to make good grades and be that sort of "nerdy" girl all through high school.  I was lucky enough to go to a very small magnet school with other "nerdy" folks who accepted me though.  I had my group of friends with whom I could be myself and joke and play.  But part of me always wanted to shout out to the world that I wasn't really that quiet.  In my high school we could choose our own yearbook pose.  I chose one of me holding up a picture of a cute guy from a magazine next to my face.  I was trying to show my classmates I wasn't as shy as they thought.  But then again I was.

In high school and college I would often fall for boys who were not at all good for me.  I never went out with them (or anyone, for that matter), but boy, did I crush on them.  Looking back I can see they were all wrong for me.  But at the time, I was blind.

I went to grad school and my travelling bug made me apply for an international internship.  And for three months I lived in Holland, working in a greenhouse by day, sharing meals and conversations in broken English with other foreign students by night.  Suddenly I was surrounded by a motley crew of Russians, Ukranians, Swiss, French and Japanese people.  I was still probably the tamest of the bunch, not staying up too late or partying in any "coffee shops" (no siree, Bob, I didn't touch any space brownies!).  But I felt a bit of a thrill riding my bike back from the little dance club on a Saturday night with some of these new buddies.  And eating strange cucumber and potato salads with Eastern European students who seemed only to eat so they could continue to drink vodka (I only had a few sips, mom!). 

Meanwhile, love was blooming for some of my housemates, including a Swiss girl and a Latvian guy.  I was still the good girl though.  But the arrival of the French boy who I'd met at the foreign student weekend did make me a little giddy, though I probably wouldn't have admitted it at the time.  One evening I rode my bike over the rickety bridge that led to the other student house to pay a little visit to the new arrivals.  The French boys (for there were two) were settling in, and the one named Remi went upstairs with me to see his other housemate, a sweet Russian girl, to ask her how the Moby concert had been the night before.  I remember us going in her room where she was trying to sleep and sitting on her floor speaking in hushed tones to her...

Coming soon, Part Two...

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Great!!! I enjoy a good love story, please continue!

Jenenz said...

I can't wait for Part 2! I wonder how it turns out? :-)

Crystal said...

Hehe can't wait to read the rest as well!

And good girls are the best :)