Lesson 11: Break the Rules

Three short stories on how breaking the rules can make you feel lovable, loving, and loved. Get ready, this is a long post. But well worth the read, if you ask me.

1. Lovable

Every college kid has a fake ID. If they don't, they've either lost it, got it yanked by the cops, have no money, or are a huge nerd. I had one. Not a good one though. I literally found it on the floor of a burger joint in Madison. A homely girl from "Up North." Done and done! Most of the time, it worked, which makes one question if she, too, is possibly homely.

Once Nathan came along, I ventured into the less mainstream bars on campus and into the world of pubs, bar and grills, and sports bars. I never really felt comfortable in the uppity bars anyways. I did, however, go through a brief and never-again-to-be-seen semi-trampy-I-Love-Britney-Spears phase. Nevertheless, I didn't like the typical sorority girl things. Didn't like mixed drinks. Didn't like shots. Didn't like getting bombed four nights a week.

I liked beer. I liked to sit and smoke cigarettes and talk. Where the jukebox played "Dream On" by Aerosmith and you could order fried food. But I liked to look like a sorority girl doing it. Complete with my coordinating Gap bag and belt.

With Nathan, I felt automatically comfortable. I knew I could roll up in a pub sporting bitch boots and TBPs (tight black pants...a 1999-2002 sorority MUST) and he'd love it. To the other extreme, I knew I could roll up to the bar and grill in what basically amounts to a Mom Sweater. A creme, hand-knit gigantic Irish wool cardigan with shiny brown woven buttons.

Remember the ID with the homely girl from Up North? Integral prop in this story. Nathan invited me out with his boys for booze and buffalo wings. When I arrived at the bar and grill, the bouncer questioned my obviously bogus license. All I wanted to say was, "Dude, this is Madison. I just want a flippin' beer." Instead, Nathan calmly emerged proclaiming, "This is my girlfriend. She's twenty-four." (I was twenty.) The bouncer didn't bite. In a time of desperation, Nathan pleaded, "Come on, guy. Would someone any younger wear this grandma sweater?"

I got in. No joke.

I'm not gonna lie, the sweater diss stung for a sec. Again, the importance of reframing:

1.) He never mentioned the sweater again. Never has. I still wear it.

2.) He's willing to do what it takes, within reason, to get what he wants.

3.) He's convincing, persuasive, and assertive. Yum.

It felt good to know I had such a catch. It also felt good to know that we pulled a fast one on the bouncer that night. A rebel without a cause. Drinkin' in a bar underage like 30,000 other college kids in Madison. With my very of age Bad Boy who just sweet-talked me in. I was lovable, even in a Mom Sweater.

2.) Loving

I can remember I wanted to join a sorority so I could still go to formals. I saw college as a blank slate in formals. High school ones were anything but memorable. Let's quickly recap:

1.) Homecoming 1994 - boy I liked.

2.) Turnabout 1995 - boy who told me "maybe, because if someone, I dunno, better asks me..." and two days later, reluctantly, "yes."

3.) Homecoming 1995 - older brother's friend a week before the dance because no one had asked me. By the way, the friend is literally a rocket scientist now. No joke.

4.) Turnabout 1996 - some guy I thought could be cute if he wasn't a nerd from the mens' swim team with my eyes squinted. Who later called me and said, "I'm looking for a gorgeous girl to go out with this Saturday. Know any?" Sick. Okay, could NOT be cute, eyes squinted or not. I did what most fifteen-year-old girls would do. Told him I had to babysit and a few days later, in the hallway at school, passed him a note saying I had a boyfriend from another school. Little white lie.

5.) Homecoming 1996 - This one is the best. AND it's when I was fat which makes it even better. Older brother's friend's foreign exchange student from Columbia, South America. I am not kidding. He asked me four days before. He spoke very little English. Cute, though, in a Fez kind of way.

6.) Turnabout 1997 - Oh, wait. THIS may be the best. I wasn't fat anymore, though, so not quite as funny. My guy friend from the school musicals. Enough said.

7.) Homecoming 1997 - This one is pretty good, too. I asked someone. A week out. My mom was friends with his mom. He sat at the lunch table next to mine. He paid, so it turned out to be a good deal.

8.) Turnabout 1998 - I finally had a real, live boyfriend, but he couldn't go. So I didn't go either.

9.) Prom 1998 - Still had the boyfriend, but he couldn't go again. He was a jock and had a baseball game, but fuck it, it was prom and I was going! A couple weeks before, my other guy friend from musicals came to my locker with his hands in his pockets. I said yes. Not the same kind of musical guy. This one was the cool guy from band I used to smoke cigarettes with behind the dumpsters during rehearsals. We had fun.

Overall, wouldn't you want a second chance in the formal circuit? A second chance with the new and improved Maggie-with-a-Boyfriend? Formals, according to all teen movies, were supposed to be elegant, romantic, dreamy. And sorority formals would do.

And they did. I won't bore you with the good ones; where would the fun be in that? Instead, I will excite you with a funny one.

Senior year as an Alpha Chi Omega. Winter Formal, 2000. No one was going, but you bet I wasn't missing it. Went with two other couples we rolled with. It was in Milwaukee. Not too exciting. We were the oldest group there, lots of new members (aka pledges).

I hussied it up that night in a clingy, low-cut chocolate and gold little number. Nathan loved it. Think J-Lo (in my dreams). He himself was looking hot in his suit, a huge change from his baggy cargos and beard.

I hate to admit that formals lose their luster the older you get. But I will. So, Nathan and I got bored. So we needed something to do. Before we knew it, we were in a stall in the mens' room. TOTALLY serious this time. This formal, unlike the ones in all the teenie movies was trashy, seedy, and kind of a nightmare!

I sat on the toilet, surprisingly too into this to worry about all the germs. He loosened his belt. Dropped his drawls. And I went about my business. And by my business, I mean blowing him.

But not for long. As with any good story, something went awry! We heard the door swing open. We mimed to one another in the locked stall, "What do we do?" The Intruder shuffled about, gave a fake so-you-know-I'm-in-here cough, and left. Pulled up his pants, fixed my lipstick, and casually exited. As we giggled into the lobby, there she was. Big, black, and pissed. "I done know what you did in there," she scolded. "I done know what you did," The Intruder declared.

Busted! It still makes us laugh. I hope you learn two things here:

1.) B.J.s are not just for birthdays and anniversaries.

2.) Breaking the rules with my Bad Boy made me feel...daring, and in some odd way, loving.

3.) Loved

I remember being embarrassed, but not caring. Sometimes, it's important to reframe. Sure, I got busted while demonstrating my insatiable love for my boy-toy...but what a great story! You can never have enough good stories to tell. Especially funny ones.

And mushy ones. My favorite mushy one has to begin with an explanation. One of Nathan's most charming quirks is that he likes to stop random people where ever we are to say, "Excuse me. Doesn't she look beautful tonight?" or "Isn't she pretty?" I, humbly, of course, always shoo him away and roll my eyes...with a secret grin. Of confidence. There are much worse things that a boy could do other than insist that strangers agree that I am attractive.

That night of that Winter Formal, he used this charming quirk. Relentlessly. (I told you he loved my dress.) Nathan went so far as suggesting to such bothered strangers that I looked ready for the Academy Awards. Looking back, like literally in pictures, I've looked better. The dress was cheap. The jewelry was even cheaper. The shoes were all wrong. I tried some new make-up...never a good idea without a test run. Despite my fashion faux paus, Nathan could not get enough of me. He seemed very proud to have me on his arm. Proud, and still bored, which, we've discussed, comes with going to too many formals.

But, alas! He had a plan, inspired, in part, I'm sure, by Captain Morgan. Another party. A bunch of middle-aged folks were having some kind of winding down celebration, conveniently across the hall from the mens' room, aka our love nest. Nathan took my hand and led me toward its doors. I resisted. Why?

1.) Kind of involuntary reaction. I'm so used to Nathan wanting to do things I regularly wouldn't, I pulled back.

2.) It wasn't our party! We were not invited! That would be breaking a rule!

3.) And I knew he wouldn't be inconspicuous. He'd been asking people left and right if I was pretty. And Nathan's never shy on any dancing floor. He's my Dancing Queen.

And yet, I found myself swaying to songs in seconds. Swept away by those damn dimples and twinkling eyes. As I muttered, "What the hell, Nathan, this isn't our party!" he calmly reminded me, "No one cares. They're all drunk. Just relax!" And we danced. The old fashioned way. My hand across his upper back, his embracing my lower, holding hands while the sweet sounds of "Georgia on my Mind" surrounded us. I suggested it as our wedding song. He remembered the night, not the song. Typical man. Leave it to us women to know the details! (Our wedding song, by the way, was "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd. Random, huh?)

Back to my point. I am a lucky woman. I am lovable, even in Mom Sweater. I am loving, and by loving, I mean sexully explicit in mens' rooms. Above all, I am loved, and apparently, quite pretty. Again, I beg of you, Unknown Reader, do not dismiss seemingly insignificant male gestures as such.

I am not sure if I'd fully recognize my lovability, lovingness, and lovedness without breaking some rules. Part of love is keeping things new. Making memories. Sharing stories. And even though mushy stories are good, funny ones are the best. And funny things happen when you live a little. Lick a little. And laugh...A LOT!!!