For me or not for me, that is the question?

My ankle is really sore. I have no idea why, maybe walking around Manhattan with my hard ass cowboy boots on all day on Monday was not the smartest. But I love my cowboy boots. I bought these cowboy boots when I was 22, from Rags a go go on 14th street. I was all my lonesome and in search of the perfect pair. Vintage was cool to me then, as it is now, as it was in college, but I got it, for real around 22, when I was no longer in college, influenced by the people around me, artists or Jews or otherwise. When I was beginning to form my own. And I decided cowboy boots were the way forward. Plus, they matched my newly shaping rock star image. From self proclaimed orthodox Jw to musical theater wiz to aspiring rock and roll star, my images, my personalities, my goals changed like you change your underwear.

But I was 22.

It was all about self discovery then, wasn't it?

So I began my road to definition, I guess ultimately a definition does form, no matter how you fight it, and my goal then was to be the OPPOSITE of defiitio, OPPOSITE of what I had been and from whence I came. It worked. My hair got cut the right way, my clothes improved drastically, my moral values disintegrated and to top it off I lived downtown, throwing massive parties while singing my own music at dirty rock clubs around Manhattan. Living the dream, really.

And here I live, closer to college then ever, closer to where I used to be and where I changed the most, and I am just the same as I was when I changed. And now, being different is what defines me, no matter how far i reached for UNdefinition.

He joked tonight over sushi,"you are an east village hipster, definitely not the typical Jewish girl." I knew he was half kidding, no matter how I have tried, I have never fully escaped my prepster make up to refurbish myself as ultimate hipster, not even close. But I do associate with those often termed as hipsters and so I get lumped into the category, mostly by my Jewish friends, who would not know a hipster from my grandma. And neither would I, because essentially the word hipster means nothing....a hair cut, a jean style, a chosen profession, a very expensive hair cut that looks cheap. I mean really. Why want to be one of those?

Yet oddly, this association for me, this difference between me and the regular Jewish girl, is my selling point when out on a date with certain Jewish guys, like this one, tonight.

Now come on, do not deny it, all girls know, when dating, what her selling point is. Beauty, intellect, talent, hipness. Well since beauty is not my strong suit, not fishing for compliments here, just the truth, I usually hone in on my outspoken intellectual capacity, or at least my ability to formulate somewhat complex sounding sentences about worthy topics and then there is the fact that I am different. Different from the regular Jew girl, different from the regular anyone. It is what has kept me interesting enough to people to keep my friends, date the men I have dated and so on.

So I use it, it sells for the most part. Though now it is feeling a bit trite. Because the truth is my "regular" friends, the not so screamingly different ones are the happy ones and I am still searching. And not only that, my attempt to escape my definition has now become my definition and while I think it is exciting, I am not sure it is becoming on me.

Tonight I did have fun though I know my eccentricity is attractive to this man. And maybe not a bad thing. He is very comfortable, smart, outspoken, thoughtful a tad overanalytical, but that is ok. He is a Jewish boy I met when I went on JDATE after I broke up with Dean when I decided I would just have to pick a Jewish husband, went on about3 dates off that site, this was one, he has been flaky ever since. Maybe it weirds him out that we met on line, when with the amount of friends we have in common, we probably could have met some time in person, yet here we are. He is cool. He is against the grain, I mean, he lives in the East Village, for gosh sake! Rare for a nice Jewish boy, formerly Orthodox who went to Yeshova, just like me. And I am attracted to him. We have the same background and the same desire for escape. He thinks I am different. Cool. Bohemian. I just sure hope he is not misled, because I am thinking normal is what I am going for, normal is what I will find.

We are going to the dog park together this weekend with the love of my life, Charlotte (my pit bull) and we shall see how it all goes, one thing for certain, first date of my new system and its working.

G night!

ROL