#NerdsUnite: Dating, Depression, & Hope (Personal Enlightenment from a Vintage Read)
<editorsnote> Nerds, meet my buddy Fran. She's currently living the island life after giving up 15 years spent in the corporate world. WOW! What an adjustment. She is here to talk about her life, love, and all things nerd. I only have one more thing left to say ... HIT IT FRAN!!! </editorsnote>
#TalkNerdyToMeLover's Fran Dingle
One of the nerdy things I like to do is peruse used book stores and yard sales specifically looking for old books. At most yard sales there is always the token book box or table. I devour these. It kills me that people discard books. Discard a book? I could never. Burn a book? Don’t get me started.
I have always cherished my books. Since early childhood books have been a huge part of my world. My grandmother and the person I am named after (thanks Nanny, for passing along the Frances AND the Gertrude) taught me how to read at age 3. It was ON from day one. I vividly remember the excitement of looking at street signs in my neighborhood and knowing what they said, Anthony Ave, Bigger Circle, Salem Street, I was even more excited when I figured out directions and could write them down. Words, books and stories became something I could not get enough of. After all of the amazing Dr. Seuss and the plethora of nursery rhymes and fairytales I was often found reading the set of World Book Encyclopedias my family owned. I cherished this set of books like no other. Even in high school I used this set for research. The set was bought in 1972 from a door to door sales man. My family paid for them over 3 months. To me these books were precious and sacred. They were leather bound heavy and important. I read every single one of them MANY times.
I collect books. I would never and could never give away a book I read. I even keep books I dislike. They are MY BOOKs and I know every single one of them. Last weekend I ventured to one of the only thrift type stores on the island, The Animal Shelter Flea Market – 100% of the proceeds go directly to the animal shelter. I LOVE THIS PLACE. Steals galore - lots of people leave island at 3 am, discarding entire households full of every item you could imagine. Good Samaritans truck the discarded items to the Flea Market. The book selection is HUGE and every time I visit I always walk out with 5-10 books, as usual I ended up with 6 new books at my last visit (4 of which I have already finished cover to cover). I love old books, especially first and second editions of what I consider to be GEMS. I would like to share what I consider to be my latest gem as it pertains to dating. Not the dating world of today – the dating world which no longer exists – I give you Emily Post’s Etiquette The Blue Book of Social Usage, copyright 1945:
You would think a book published by a company with FUNK in their Company name would include some spicy information or at least a section on how to correctly bring on the funk. Apparently there was no funk to be brought in 1945 or they purposefully forget to include a section about bringing it.
This here book contains some serious hard core RULES about life love and the pursuit of 2.75 children a 4 bedroom 3 bath house with a pool and picket fence life on a lovely safe and quiet culdesac with lots of vibrant popping flowers and shiny clean streets. There are sections for parlor maids and butlers detailing what the help must be doing at all times (never turn your back to the lady of the house or her guests!) and how the uppers should be speaking to them. Oh and Chapter 13 is all about balls, I kid you not. This chapter had me giggling out loud every other sentence.
I could not stop laughing as I read my latest gem. The world described in this book doesn’t exist anymore. Where the folks of 1945 left calling cards with the butler at the door if the hostess wasn’t available, we have Facebook walls. When this book was written a FWB was considered a big taboo. Today it’s the only way to get laid at some points in one’s life. Scandalous! There is an entire section relating to the chaperone – every time I read the word chaperone I thought of a Bluth family member yelling “NO TOUCHING!!!”. My grandmother, Mrs. Frances Gertrude Dec, would have been happier than a pig in shit if she had been able to accompany me on dates as a chaperone and yell NO TOUCHING!! from the back seat. Miss Post doesn’t take long in responding with a resounding loud and clear NO when covering the answer to the question guys often ask towards the end of a date, “Wanna go to my place for a drink?”
If I had adhered to Miss Post’s strong belief in NEVER venturing alone to a man’s apartment, I definitely would not have woke up in some of the strange ass places I’ve drunkenly woke up in. One that stands out quite vividly was opening my eyes around 5 am – I was in an apartment I did not remember coming to several towns outside of Boston proper where I lived at the time. I awoke on a scratchy futon under a thick dirty blanket smelling like cat pee. Next to a sweaty hairy beast of a man. I tiptoed out so not to wake the slippery monster snoring under a ripped sheet. No breakfast, just a very awkward ride home on the T in ripped tights and a teeny tiny skirt while teetering on 4 inch Steve Madden platform club shoes. Crack hair in full effect at 8:30 am on a Tuesday. Old men peered at me over the tops of their newspapers. Maybe Miss Post wasn’t off the mark with this one, because that memory is the opposite of classy, more like Klassy with a capital K.
In 1945 there was no online dating, nothing even remotely close to it, you were introduced face to face at dances by family members or close friends of your family. The day to day life chronicled in this book is a way of life the youngsters of today will never know. While I laughed my ass for the most part while reading and referencing Emily Post’s Etiquette, a little part of me did get wistful. For the day and age of wooing, courting and hand written love letters – in cursive. A time when manners, inner worthiness and integrity mattered much more to society as a whole.
My fingers are still crossed OKC will throw something my way. All I want is a date, a simple meet and greet first date. The odds are supposed to be significantly in my favor – they say the island ratio is 10 guys to every 1 girl. I’m also putting myself out there by volunteering and attending community events. One of the super cool benefits of living here, there are always tons of community events – art shows, music at sunset, road races, non-profit fundraisers. So far online dating has led to naught, but I am still hopeful. I’m slowly making friends and definitely have a good amount of acquaintances. Most importantly I am not rushing.
My latest vintage book has reopened my eyes back to an important focus. I insist on worthy. My standards of today appear rigid and old fashioned compared to my penchant for one night stands and bad boys who couldn’t read or spell. For a long time I picked the most unworthy of men. In my next blog I plan to write about being the master of my own destruction, so many unworthy men I really didn’t like and definitely didn’t love. How I threw worthy out the door and picked the worst of the lot over and over. And how I insist on not doing any of that ever again. I’ve learned you cannot live with shame of yourself or others even if you hide it deep and swear you have forgotten and I look forward to releasing these inner demons.
Today and for the past two weeks I have fought hard to not wallow in the depression. The blog, getting out of the house and interacting with others socially is definitely aiding in keeping my mind from eating itself. 3 solid weeks of consistency in life, love and the pursuit of happiness. Holy shit I must be doing something right, thanks for reading and reaching out! Cheers.
"The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved, loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves." Victor Hugo
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