Growing up I read a lot of novels from the magical genre of young adult fiction.. okay, even now I still read young adult novels.. I have a life, kind of.
To this day there are an overwhelming number of young adult novels that tell girls if they are klutzy, mousy, maybe a little weird looking, you can land a gorgeous smarmy Ryan Gosling type man.
Look at Twilight (yes, I read all the books *twice* and have watched the movies). There is this introverted pale chick, who has an annoying habit of hurting herself – and she’s just moved to a new town with her (kinda hot) dad. No one noticed her at her old high school, but for some reason every boy has fallen in love with her, especially a sparkly-possessive vampire who drives a sweet ride. The relationship seems sort of unhealthy and this babe has literally no personality, but hey, who can fight love?
And for my sisters of the 90’s – the epitome of Young Adult Fiction is Daughters of Darkness by LJ Smith. Ash Redfern – swoon-worthy, am I right ladies? He’s drawn to the brainy, mousy, sarcastic Mary-Lynette – and get this, they’re soul mates. Togethes foreves. (*Edit, My BFF Krista has scolded me. She says that Mary-Lynette wasn’t mousy, she just liked science.)
As a round, big haired teenager, who was, honestly a complete weirdo, these all comforted me. There’s people like me out there – hurrah! And all of these young heroines were able to make a hard-bodied, model type dude fall in love with them. These girl’s would literally fall into a guy’s arms, usually after tripping over a rock or something.
Alright gals, it’s time to dole out the harsh truths… this doesn’t actually happen. If this were the case, I’m pretty sure I WOULD be dating Ryan Gosling and he would be all like “Hey girl, let’s eat some of soy ice cream and watch Degrassi High re-runs.” And obviously he would be referring to the original series. Unfortunately this isn’t my life, because I live in the real world and not magical Young Adult Novel Land.
If life were actually like young adult novels where the weird-looking klutzy chick lands the hottie – here are some real life scenarios where I would have found true love.
Exhibit A) I am walking along Richmond Street with a bag full of parcels and taking a phone call with my other hand. Gust of wind blows my skirt up. No free hands to hold down said skirt. And it’s laundry day – so I’m rocking the granny panties. Oh, and a hot Zac Efron type boy is across the street with his sexy aviators and he saw the whole catastrophe go down.
Teen Novel: He runs over to help me. He tells me I’m cute when I blush and then we go drink milk shakes and end up married with ten babies.
Real Life: He doesn’t run over to help me, he isn’t bewitched by my cute klutzy ways. Guess what? He’s laughing at me. I drop my parcels, adjust my skirt and walk home as quickly as possible.
Exhibit B) I’m at the market picking up some fruits and veggies. The cute veggie stand boy is working. I don’t think I need a basket , but then get too overwhelmed by the shiny delicious looking food and I want to buy it all to stuff in my pie-hole. I try to juggle said food and fish out my wallet while I wait in line - I drop an apple. Instead of picking it up like a normal person I try to kick it under the stand so no one sees it. CVB (Cute Veggie Boy) catches me in the act.
Teen Novel: CVB makes a smarmy comment, like “you better pay for that – by buying me a drink. *winky face* How convenient, I’m off now.” We both end up studying journalism at Columbia, I write a bestselling novel called “The Boy at The Vegetable Stand”, we get married and have ten babies.
Real Life: CVB sees me, but doesn’t think my act is cute or endearing, I have obviously offended him and his veggie loving lifestyle. He avoids eye contact and doesn’t even tell me to have a nice day. We don’t have a sultry romance.
Exhibit C) I’m walking home and listening to a Kevin Smith podcast (aka Smodcast) on my iPod. I have a problem, when I listen to Smodcasts I literally cannot stop giggling. A nice looking gent is walking in front of me. He glances back and gives me a weird look as I giggle to myself. I slip on ice and fall into a snow bank and crumple into hysterical laughter while rolling on my back like a flipped turtle.
Teen Novel: The dapper gentleman runs back to help me and tells me my laugh is enchanting. I embarrassingly explain my love for Kevin Smith. His favourite movie is Dogma! We grab a hot cup of coffee and realize we are soul-mates. We get married and have ten babies.
Real Life: The dapper gent in front of me doesn’t see me as the hilarious free-spirit I am, he instead runs away in fear. Looking back, I probably looked like a downtown crazy that’s prone to shanking. This does not result in intense make-out sessions that ignite our souls and/or pants on fire.
There have been many other incidents of tripping, falling and closing doors on my limbs, yet none of this has made hunky-dory men fall in love with me. I guess I will never land a sparkly vampire. I also realized all of these dream scenarios involve food and beverages, so we all can conclude what my true loves are. And I really don’t want to have ten babies, so I suppose it’s good that my life isn’t a teen novel.
But you know what? There are people out there who appreciate weirdoes, so there’s hope for us. But if not, I have started a crazy spinster club – Membership: 1 and growing. We meet weekly and eat cheesecake – it also shadows as my Golden Girls fan club.
And, hey- maybe, one day, Ryan Gosling will notice how beautifully unique we all really are.
Printer-friendly version
Comments
I adore awkwardness and eccentricity in all its many forms. But I'm not Ryan Gosling, so attempts at expressing that are less "hey girl," more adding to the awkwardness. In an ideal world that would spark mutual awkwardness admiration, but, well, this post says it all.