Iconoclastic

A feeling of surreal this-kind-of-drama-only-happens-in-the-movies sensation has just passed over my alcohol warmed body. I boldly look at the man that, had circumstances been different, I very easily could have fallen in love with, and ask, “Can we just pretend we didn’t have that conversation?”

In a drunken, last ditch effort to not be alone I give him a great blow job and we have sex. Then we walk back to my place in the early morning hour drunken stagger that so effortlessly defined our dilapidated relationship and watch Ryan Seacrest bring in the New Year. Hell, I even got a kiss.

And as we slip out of our clothes and into each others arms for a night of deep drunken slumber and the synchronized sleep we often maneuvered together I thought to myself I must have changed his mind.

The morning brought more than just light into my hung over eyes; it also shed its harsh rays on my life. The hardest being when he climbed into my car, looked at me as he had so many times before, and asked, “So are we going to be friends, or are you going to hate me?”

Man it’s time to rethink my life!

Fast-forward to today, and not much has changed. I am now a 26 year old college grad with 3 million ideas of what she wants in life, and zero motivation to do any of it. I live in Chico, CA – a college town I was born in – and the only reason I’m still here is because I have a 15 year old brother I’m devoted too, and I can’t leave him. My degree in gender studies, and my ability to speak my mind with hard-biting fast wit, gives me the reputation of a hard-core feminist who doesn’t take nonsense from anyone. Unless, that is, I’m dating you, and then for some reason, it’s ok to treat me like crap, because apparently I’ve lost all respect for myself.

I guess the world of academia has enabled me to separate my mind from my body, a neat compartmentalization of my being. My dating behavior is a montage of bad decisions and hilarious mishaps that none of my friends believe could actually happen to me. It’s as if there are two people living my life. The Meagan who has intellectual conversations and hangs with her wonderful friends and the Meagan who dates… dun dun dunnnnn!

Iconoclastic is about trying to get these two people to meet. It’s my journey through life, love and relationships. The questions I’m faced with, the answers I find, and the road I traveled to find them. Because if I wasn’t me, who would I be?