I read Sophie Martin’s post, 22 Signs You’re a Crazy Girl, and realized that I am the girl in many of those bullets. I definitely did not see myself in all of them, but many. I really do enjoy being alone compared to with someone in many situations lately. I rather do things by myself like go for a walk or even just sit at happy hour and quietly think about things that I wouldn’t have the opportunity to do if I was with someone. Also, I’m usually always the first of my friends to go up to guys and introduce ourselves. Not even a week ago this was me, prancing over to the hottest guys in the bar and then ending up dragging one on stage with me to dance. Overall, it was one of the best nights I’ve had so far this year.
I’m not going to mention the other points in the article which accurately or inaccurately describes my behavior and thought processes. However, what I did want to mention was how I felt after reading through it. For some reason, I felt proud.
I felt proud of myself that I have transformed into a confident enough young women to go up to guys at a bar rather than stand in the corner, nesting with my drink and saying absolutely nothing like many other girls do. I’m proud that my friends choose to come to me for advice rather than hold something inside because they are too afraid to ask anyone else. I’m proud that I can be content being alone and not sulk in misery even though all my other friends are in relationships. I like these characteristics about me. I don’t want them to fade away.
When I was younger, I was potentially the opposite of the “crazy girl.” I was the follower. I was in the popular group of girls throughout both elementary and high school, and was classified as the Cady Heron of the group so-to-say. I was always kind of awkward and just did what the few main “leaders” said to do, say, wear, etc. I always questioned, “Do they ever get nervous talking to boys?” I was envious of their poise and ability to converse with boys so fearlessly. I felt like I had to lie—make up things just for a boy to talk to me. I look back and get irritated, and even a bit disappointed in myself for believing a lie was any appropriate way of getting a boy to like me. However, I think it’s still something girls around the world are consistently abusing.
If this list is what justifies someone as being “crazy,” then I’m not going to fight it. I am self-doubting in many aspects of my life, but all of these points that exemplify me I will remain proud of. I don’t ever want to go back to being the follower in the group, questioning every single thought that hung over her head. It’s a waste of time and money to go to a bar just to stand in the corner alone with your cranberry vodka. Go up, go get ‘em and talk to the cute guy. What’s the WORST that could happen? He doesn’t like you? He calls you a “weirdo?” Big fucking deal. We can all sit with the mortification and/or self-loathing feeling saying, “Why the fuck did I just do that?” for 30 seconds. It goes away and so will you—you will go on your way and find someone else who will appreciate the “crazy” girl in you.