The girl has always been far more popular, much prettier, and much luckier in the romance department than I, so I was a little surprised when she walked in my room and asked for help.
Sister: Should I just confront him and ask him what the deal is?
Me: I'm not a guy, but I'm sure over 80 percent HATE being considered mind-readers. Their clueless-ness is not an act... more than half the time they really don't know what the fuck is going on.
Sister: So I'm not being clingy/needy by letting him know that I like him more than a friend and that I want to know where we stand.
Me: No. Trust me... tell the guy. And if he tells you what you don't want to hear, be cordial about it. You don't have to stay friends... that hurts, and based on our personality, we can't really handle that shit. But always be nice to the dude when you see him. After all, he's part of your circle of friends, no need to make shit awkward.
Am I sure I gave her the best advice? Hell no. I have no clue. I only said what I've tried.
In my life, I have always told the guy I like how I feel. Well, I can't say always, because I have kept my trap shut with one or two (oddly enough, dudes I've really, really liked. I've opted to spare them the awkward "I'm flattered, but..." conversation), but the majority of guys, yeah, I have.
Every single time, it has ended in disaster (HA! The stories I've collected! I'm going to write a book on it some time. Heartbreaking, weird, and funny. Never heart-warming, but we can't have it all. I'm fine once I can laugh about it... which takes a few years, but it comes eventually)... but, I guess you can say I've been glad to get it off my chest.
I'm the kind of idiot who needs someone to grab me by the face and spell shit out for me.
AnoMALIE! IT. IS. NOT. GONNA. WORK.. MOVE ON!
^That kind of shit. Once that happens, I shake the dirt off my freshly-skidded knees, shake hands, and walk away... then I spend months writing dark poetry in my diary and doodling eyes all over the place. Ok, not really with the dark poetry... I just put Muse's "Falling Away With You" on loop until I no longer cry at any point during the song... but the eyes, yes, I do that (I'm clueless as to why I do it, but I find it sort of alleviating). Guess how I got over the whole MGH fiasco?
Anyway, I hope the kid gets her issues sorted. While I wouldn't mind having help in raising all my cats when I get old, I'd be devastated if the aid comes in the form of my equally-single baby sister.
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