Nobody puts baillee in the corner

I’ve been turned down a lot over the years. In fact, I’ve been turned down more than I haven’t, but I’m still not afraid to make a move. Yeah, it sucks, and it results in me spending 48 hours curled up in bed watching the “Casino Night” and “Niagara” episodes of The Office and A Cinderella Story and eating breakfast tacos but then I’m fine. This might sound insane, but there is actually a formulaic rhythm to my rejections. I usually start liking someone, we get close, and I ask them out or tell them I like them about three months later. This also usually happens about twice a year, once in the fall and once in the spring. It’s been this way for about eight years, but I still keep putting myself out there. Why? You never know what will happen. Your person might feel the same, or you might spend the next three days watching Lifetime movies and eating Oreos (which doesn’t sound half bad), but you don’t know. I struggle with this myself, but you honestly can’t tell where someone else is until you talk to them, so don’t try to put yourself in that person’s head. I know it’s one of the hardest conversations to lead up to, but I have been rejected more times than Leo has for the Oscar, so I can guarantee you everything will be okay.

For someone who is an eternal optimist, my brain oddly jumps to the worst outcome in these situations. I’m talking someone throwing pig’s blood on me at the prom, bad. I have a process when debating whether or not to tell someone I like them, and it can be broken down into five parts: self-realization, self-sabotage, self-pity, self-confidence, and self-assurance. To give you a better idea, I’ll explain each part in chronological order, beginning with self-realization.

There is usually one defining moment that makes me realize I like the person. It feels like it happens in the style of a romantic comedy slow motion montage with me yelling “Oh” followed by an expletive. Think A Christmas Story. I then begin acting like a cyborg trying to pass for human. For some strange reason, I start to speak more eloquently but faster than you can say “chill out, dickwad,” I simultaneously lose control of all basic motor skills and continue this strange paradox until I get home.

A few days after the initial self-realization of liking someone, I revert to playground logic i.e. I start teasing or ignoring the person I like, leading to self-sabotage. It’s definitely not healthy to all but steal someone’s lunch money, but it’s what I do. This phases lasts for about two to three weeks. After I’m done with my Helga Pataki bit and the bubblegum for the shrine has hardened just right, I move into the third phase: self-pity.

This is not my proudest moment. My emotional neediness during this stage is very Marc Maron-esque. I am constantly analyzing every interaction between myself and the person…and I relentlessly ask all of my friends and family for their opinions. I know I can be emotionally draining, so I am thankful my friends REALLY love me. After a really long time of picking petals off flowers and repeatedly listening to my Amy Winehouse record, I decide to woman up and move to step four in my cycle: self-confidence.

I don’t want the phrase “self-confidence” to be misconstrued. I am in no way calm when I ask a guy out. I’ve had friends hit the send button for me, walked out of my own room, and even hidden letters in books on nightstands. My definition of the phrase “self-confidence” in this context is to reference all the support and strength to do something. I rarely go in thinking someone likes me. It’s usually the contrary, so I’m not confident in the outcome but rather in my ability to eventually make a move. Once I’m done dry-heaving out all of my feelings into a note, I enter the next phase: self-consciousness.

I again want to clarify my usage. Sure, I’m human, so I will initially try to blame the rejection on my appearance, but mainly, I get self-conscious about my actions. I think about how I could have better handled my daring confession and question why I put myself in these situations (and now I have that All Time Low song stuck in my head). This phase includes the aforementioned tacos and episodes of The Office. After 48-72 hours of self-pity, I emerge from my little heartbroken cocoon (as a poorly-groomed caterpillar in its pajamas) and complete my cycle with a little step I like to call self-assurance.

This is my Elle Woods phase, where I assure myself I’m awesome. This phase often includes a difference hair cut and/or color and the purchase of a new outfit. I watch both Legally Blonde (for Elle’s sassy law school montage) and Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion (for Romy’s telling off of Christie Masterson) to empower me. I think all about the amazing things I’ve seen and done in my brief life. I remember how I pay all my own bills. I recall how much I cherish my along time and freedom. Finally, I realize I’m a fierce and unique woman who can take on the world.

You’re probably asking why I continue to do this. It would be easier to give up and wait for my quirky Prince Charming to waltz in quoting The OC and expressing his love of podcasts and yogurt pretzels. But I’m not, and you shouldn’t either. Don’t be afraid to just go for it. As Karen Perkins often says, “The worst they can say is no.” Besides, rejection gives you a reason to shamelessly stay in your pjs and eat nothing but Taco Bell and Milanos and watch High School Musical for two or three whole days, and that ain’t too shabby. My biggest piece of advice is to keep falling head-first onto the pavement because you’ll get some cool scars and better stories that way, and eventually, you’ll find someone to help you up.