26 / by vanessa

Okay so my roommate, (who has requested that she now be referred to in this blog under a pseudonym), IM'd me today to tell me about a book her best friend is reading. Dr. Dre (that's my roomie, ya'll) is pushing Why Men Love Bitches on me. "Men love to be pushed around" she tells me. "Not the healthy ones" I tell her. Despite its title, I Amazon'd the book anyway.
Second things first: To all you reviewers out there, for real, you can't say something sucks w/out telling us *why* it sucks. And, WHEN YOU POST YOUR REVIEW IN ALL CAPS, IT'S LAME.
Back to firsts. So I look the book up and find out that it's another version of The Rules. I IM her back, "Dude you don't want the book. It's about playing games." She argues that sometimes you have to play games to get what you want. Who is this person and what happened to Renee Dr. Dre??? Three months together and she busts out this? Sigh.
She goes on: "Sometimes the person you're with doesn't know they're playing games." You're right, I tell her. Which is why it's your obligation to yourself to either call them on it or walk away. Games don't exist if there isn't a hoop, a court, 5 players on each side and a loaded bench. Err, I mean, games don't exist unless there's someone else to volley w/*.
"I know, but everyone's not as enlightened as you" Dre types back. Wait a minute. Did she just call me ENLIGHTENED? I read it again. Indeed, she did. Ignoring any possibility of sarcasm, I forgot all about the stupid book and contemplated whether a buddha would get that organic denim skirt at Anthropologie. What will my book be called? The one with all of my teachings where I talk about the importance of humility. I mean Siddharta has the Dhammapada and Jesus has the New Testament. What will I have? The Thoughtspot? Unfortunately the domain name is taken so all I'd be left w/ is a .us or a .biz and those are like sloppy seconds. An enlightened person definitely deserves a .com.
Annnnyyyywayyyy, I jest, but really I want to say that at some point you have to stop returning the serve. There's a way of being which is neither pretending like you don't really care nor losing your own identity. It's the way where you act without the fear of rejection and yet without neediness. It's the point when you're just being real and it's called truth.
* I employ selective grammar-ing (take that Webster). In order to avoid ending this sentence w/ a preposition I would have ended up sounding pretentious and everyone knows I'm way too good for that.