Self-Marketing: A Case Study with a Surprise

Everyone has different facets of their personality. At least, people are rarely two-dimensional, and there are lots of things that make you, well, you. However, I believe everyone has a facet that they put out there as their main USP for the world to judge them with. It's hard for me to determine what my own main USP is, but my general geekiness is definitely one that I don't bother to suppress.

This weekend I managed to bust out two almost contrasting sides of myself, one day after another: the Geeky Dorky Girl (GDG), and the slightly rarer Sophisticated City Gal (SCG) . Where GDG has a shy, slightly bashful smile, is hesitant to meet your eyes and will suddenly become comically animated when you talk to her about sci-fi, Super Mario or fantasy, SCG is confident and collected with an easy laugh.

On Friday night I was SCG, and Saturday and Sunday I was GDG.

My friend Siu Yen came to visit me in London over the weekend, and we began by going to a cocktail bar on the Friday night. We both styled ourselves with nice-but-not-too-OTT dresses, tamed and styled our hair to enhance our natural looks (sleek and straight for Siu Yen, boho waves for me), and made our faces up with careful precision (again to suit our natural looks, because neither of us likes the heavy makeup look). Still, we were pretty polished, and looking at our best for the evening.

Siu Yen and I are both slightly dorky and cute but very intelligent, and we share a very similar sense of humour and way of thinking- but Siu Yen is a little more used to dressing up and partying in the more traditional sense than I am- don't get me wrong, I love doing girly stuff, but my time is more often taken up by nerdy things like conventions and visiting places. She seemed pleasantly surprised to see me all dolled up when we met for cocktails with another friend (that's how often I go the extra mile to look nice), and off we went to hit the bar.

The first person to try to strike up a conversation with me at the bar was a man old enough to be my father. I politely chatted with him without encouraging further questions until he moved on to rejoin his group of friends, and I turned to Siu Yen and lamented at how I only ever seem to attract much older guys (it certainly seems to be true, sometimes). However to my personal quiet relief, another guy started chatting to me, and he was more my age. Thank goodness it's not only older men that like the look of me, after all! I mean I know I'm awesome on the inside, but let's face it: in this unjust world, first impressions are everything. In any case, I wasn't interested, and after a few good-natured digs at each other's choices of drinks I re-grouped with my friends.

I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if I was interested in the second guy, and I thought of how he'd probably run a mile as soon as he found out that beneath my charming, elegant exterior was hiding a slightly awkward supernerd who only properly styles her hair once every few months. I certainly found that the young professional guys during my social experiment pretty much eliminated me as a serious option the more they discovered how dorky I really am. On the other scale of things, when I'm 'off-duty' and just my normal slightly dorky self, there's still a professional,strong-willed and sharp person under that, too.

In any case, it gave me a bit of an always much-needed confidence boost. I often think that older men chat me up because they think I might be easier because I'm not as stunning as other girls in the room (I'm alright-looking, but I'm no classic Ten). It's nice once in a while when I get noticed by someone more my age in any case, even if on a selfish level because I'm not interested back. Anyway, at the end of the evening I took my SCG face off, brushed my immaculate SCG curls back into my hair's usual slightly fluffy shock of waves, and by the next day I'd morphed into GDG- my fallback facet.

I own quite a few nerdy T-shirts. A Big Bang Theory-themed one with the word 'BAZINGA' emblazoned on the front in large writing, a crossover one with some minions from Despicable Me carrying off the TARDIS, more than one My Neighbour Totoro T-shirt, one with the Thundercats logo, a pretty cool 3D effect from from Cyberdog... but my current favourite one is a picture of all the main characters of Marvel's The Avengers as cartoon cats. It's freaking adorable. This is what I wore on Saturday, with some cropped linen trousers and sandals. Not exactly 'hot girl material', but it was very me.

Ironically, I told Siu Yen about my theory about me getting more attention when I'm dressed up, but whenever I'm more like myself, no-one so much as glances in my direction. I noted how although I hate being the centre of attention and quite like vanishing into the crowd, I do feel kind of sad that the exterior of the 'real me' doesn't seem worth a bother. Does that mean that the interior that goes with it isn't worth a bother, too? That is of course ridiculous- but the problem of course is that you have to get to know me over time to realise there's more to me than that. It's the same for everybody- but alas, some people get a visual head start in life.

The irony of that conversation happened when Siu Yen and I went shopping, and I was paying for my stuff at the checkout of a semi-stylish high street store. The guy serving me at the counter glanced at my Avenger Cats T-shirt and quirked an eyebrow at me. I felt a little self-conscious, but stared back politely but defiantly. I assessed him quickly: gelled spiky hair, effortless smart-casual style, a slightly haughty stance- he probably didn't have a nerdy bone in his body.

"Nice shirt," he said, scanning the surprisingly) fashionable top I'd just bought.

"Thanks," I said, thinking he was being slightly sarcastic but deciding to play along as if he were being sincere. "Cats- awesome, Avengers- epic, can't go wrong!"

The guy grinned, and I suddenly felt slightly defensive.

"Sorry," I said, instantly mad at myself for apologising like I always do, "Super-geek."

He looked a little surprised, and then he said something that blew me away.

"Me, too. Marvel, games, Warcraft, love it."

Now I was the one judging a book by its cover. Great. Wait, Warcraft?

"World of Warcraft? I lost like, a good two years of my life to that game! I quit just before the Cataclysm expansion because I got bored of how long it took to get from level 75 to 80."

"Well I've lost eight years and counting, but I really got into it during the Wrath of the Litch King."

"That's when I started playing, but I got sick of waiting for the right gear to drop from bosses."

"I guess I got lucky, now I have three level 90 guys."

"Geeze that's dedication."

I was aware of Siu Yen grinning off to the side, a little non-plussed at the WoW talk having never played it. In the end I paid for my stuff, all the while chatting away about the nerdiest stuff ever, and left grinning like a lunatic. Finally, for once someone noticing the real (well, more genuine) me from the start! It felt amazing. Maybe I don't have to be SCG all the time to be taken seriously as a person. I spent the rest of the day in a great mood.

The next day, I came to the station with Siu Yen to see her off, wearing my BAZINGA top. When we were in the coffee shop, the girl behind the counter pointed to my T-shirt and said to me "amazing top, I LOVE that show! Where did you get it from?"

I was in a great mood that day, too.

So even I am guilty of judging people by the way they present themselves, and there are people out there that will notice me when I'm not all dolled up too. In which case, I should learn to look at people in a different way, and remember that there's more to people than what they put out there on the surface for the world to see. I know this. Everyone knows this. It's just hard to remember sometimes when you're wrapped up in your own world of facets.

Serious Business: A Quarter of a Century Old

((I was about to apologise for the more serious tone of this entry- but who am I kidding, I regret nothing!))

This weekend (Saturday to be exact), I turned 25 years old.

On Friday I travelled to Birmingham, the place of my studies, to stay the weekend at my very good friend's house. Lucia's birthday is always a day after mine, and since we were both turning 25 on the Saturday and Sunday one after another, we decided to celebrate this milestone by throwing a Halloween-themed murder mystery dinner party. We spent Friday preparing the base for the cake (check out this entry on my other blog for pics), decorating the dining area in preparation for a spooky game and three-course dinner, and chilling in general.

Lucia and I spent a bit of time joking about turning 25 and how so many people had been teasing us about becoming 'a quarter of a century old', and how overly dramatic it sounded. Lucia, Peter (Lucia's husband and also another uni friend of mine) and I were drinking tea, eating chocolate and generally chilling out late into the evening, when I glanced at the clock.

It was 23:50.

And suddenly, out of nowhere, I got a tremendous sense of Do Not Want.

Nearly twenty-five years of memories flickered through my mind like someone fast-forwarding a tape, and stopped as suddenly as it came on. I inwardly assessed myself as part of my social network rather than just as an individual, which is so much easier because you're only figuring yourself in the equation. Almost all of my friends and certainly my closest ones are married or attached and discussing marriage or Attached (with a capital A to portray the fact that although marriage isn't on the cards, they'll spend their lives together). Some are mentioning the prospect of children in the now increasingly near future. Hell, it even only took my dear old ex at very most three weeks after jumping our three-year relation-ship ((see what I did there?)) to find the love of his life (evident by the perhaps slightly shameless profile pictures on a certain popular social media site he published before I blocked his arse), which was a fair while ago now (long enough, thankfully, to only feel a twinge of annoyance about the whole thing- although it annoys me further that I still feel a little annoyed, which is inherently annoying).

Where was I now, though? In a stable (I hope) and decent job, but still living with my parents and in my soon-to-be (now current) mid-twenties, steadily but far too painfully slowly saving up for my own place, contentedly unattached- but watching those closest to me beginning to show signs of moving in the realm of having Their Own Life, and even Starting Families.

I suddenly realised what's been eating away at me for a while now: a time is coming when I'm going to be facing a lot of stuff on my own. I'm an only child and my parents, although in largely good health, aren't getting any younger, and whilst my friends will always be there for me and vice versa they will be getting on with their own lives, and dynamics will shift very drastically with children in the mix (which, don't get me wrong, I don't consider a bad thing at all- in fact, I'm quite looking forward to being Auntie Tash and I hope I turn out to be a really fun aunt). But what the fun things we have been doing in our youth and what were going to do on Saturday night- dressing up in ridiculous and cool costumes, painting out faces, drinking bright green appletinis and basically acting our shoe sizes- is soon going to become a thing of the past.

And because I'm contentedly unattached but at the root of things, when I think about it, slow to develop affection towards people even on a friendship-type level, there is every chance that I'll become fun and slightly wacky Auntie Tash who bakes a lot of cake and lives with a load of cats.

(('That's not true!' I hear my friends cry, 'You'll find someone very special to you one day.'))

I snapped out of it- this whole train of thought blinked past in about thirty seconds anyway- and mentioned my determination to do the best I could in life and get the most out of it, even if I never did find my partner in crime in life. Sure enough, my loyal friends told me not to worry, that I'd find Him eventually. I think my friends really do believe that, even if I'm genuinely quite a bit less convinced. We chatted and joked some more.

At the back of my mind I worried though, and I thought: 'Is that all that's important to me? Not being alone? Am I that cowardly?'

I glanced up at the clock again. 00:25. Saturday morning.

"I believe it's my birthday, now," I announced.

I felt the weird, slightly unfamiliar feeling of certainty flood through me.

'No.' I silently answered my own question as my friends and I decided if I should open my card and present now, or after sleeping. I'm not afraid of being alone- at least, not in the grand scheme of things. Yes, it's more than a little scary on a selfish level to see those closest to me levelling up in the game that is Life whilst I feel like I'm floundering far behind everyone else in the starting zone. Yes, the responsibility and duty of being an only child is quite scary, too. And yes, to be completely transparent, it is a tad lonely to not have that special someone who totally gets you to share your life with- I'm a human being, not a honey badger ((for some reason, the honey badger was the first solitary animal I could think of... don't ask, I don't know)). But rather than believing myself to be behind everyone, I began to realise in that instant that I'm not seeing everyone ahead of me- I'm just seeing everyone off to the side.

I'm on a different path- not lagging behind on a singular one. And I don't even want that many cats, anyway.

I suddenly felt a lot better.

The next day we ate chocolate for breakfast, had friends round and dressed up in ridiculous and cool costumes, we painted our faces, we drank appletinis and we ate a stupid amount of cake. I laughed so hard I nearly displaced my kidneys in my corseted Morticia outfit. There is Stuff that is going to be heading my way soon enough, a big chunk of that Stuff I can't even begin to try and predict- but for now, I'll just enjoy being young. After all, I'm still only in my mid-twenties.

~Fin~

A Missed Opportunity/ A Confidence Boost

Have you ever had the feeling that you might have been able to connect with someone, but you only realise when the chance has passed you by?

I was on the tube this evening on my way home from a day out in Camden Town and King's Cross with Anna, a friend who I haven't seen face-to-face in something like four years (which is unbelieveable and disgraceful and I promise I won't let it happen again) when I noticed a guy snoozing to my opposite right in the carriage. I smiled to myself- he was quite good-looking in my books, and I found the hunched, dishevelled way he was snoozing in (the same form most travellers take when they fall asleep on the tube, in fact), sweet. Not being one to be a Miss Stare-y Stare-ason though (and remembering one creepy incident on the train once when a lady watched me doze very intently for seemingly the entire journey), I turned my attention to the various posters in the carriage.

A few stops later, with my internal monologue asking when it's the appropriate time to wake someone up in case they miss their stop even if you don't know what their stop is (and I'll admit with my curiosity getting the better of me), I looked back at Mr Sleepy*.

He was wide awake and staring right at me.

I looked away quickly, trying not to laugh- it's always awkward when you catch someone's eye on public transport, because this is London and you're supposed to avoid any interaction with your fellow commuter at all costs. All the same though I acknowledge that this is quite a tragic social state to be in, and I find it quite entertaining. I quickly put it out of my mind.

A little down the line though I got the heebie-jeebie feeling out of the corner of my eyes that I was being watched again. I quite firmly chose to ignore it; it's really easy to get into a glance-towards-glance-away match with someone on public transport, where one person wonders why the other is staring at them, whilst the other is thinking the exact same thing.

I forgot about it for a bit, but happened to look in Mr Sleepy's direction again (this time by accident- I promise). He was looking in my direction again, but quickly diverted his gaze as mine crossed his.

What was it this time? Did I have something in my teeth? Fluff in my hair? Had I smeared something on my face but not realised it or had my eyeliner melted halfway down my face in the humidity? (All of these have happened to me on the tube before, of course). I surreptitiouly flicked my phone out to check my reflection on the blank screen (because I didn't want to appear vain and actually get my compact mirror out). Nope, nothing. What was this guy's problem?

A bit later on in the journey after a bit more ignoring I cautiously, suspiciously looked around in his direction again, to find him almost pointedly staring at the door to the next carriage, away from me. Good, I thought, now I can continue my personal journey in peace.

Finally Mr Sleepy's stop came and it was time for him to step off. Instead of just getting up and exiting the door right next to him though, he crossed the carriage to go through the doors just past me. I didn't think much of it as he did- I do stupid things like that all the time- but I avoided looking up because I was feeling a little bit embarrassed by now (like a real Londoner, rather than the social semi-freak that I am).

As the doors closed behind him I allowed myself to look up one last time at Mr Sleepy- who I still conceded was good-looking- and found him watching me right back as he headed up the stairs and my train pulled away.

The penny dropped. Oh. Damn. If only I'd just smiled.

At least I can add this to the growing list of incidents involving the Y chromosome (since my ex knocking the confidence-stuffing out of me four times over, that is) that assure me that I'm not an utter troll. And to Mr Sleepy- in the unlikely event that you're reading this- I was the girl on the Northern Line to Edgware in the Totoro T-shirt with the long brown hair. Sorry I didn't twig- I'm smiling now to make up for it.

~Fin~

*Sometimes to pass the time I temporarily name my fellow passengers- the guy next to Mr Sleepy was Brighteyes because he had really striking eyes, the girl next to him Wondergirl Assassin because she was stunning, had really sleek black hair and looked like she could be a glamorous assassin, and the guy next to me was Mr I-Got-No-Strings because he'd fallen asleep in a completely slumped position also popular with train snoozers, like a puppet with all the strings cut.

Weight Loss: Battling with Yourself and the People Around You

'You've put on weight', said mum, circling me like a trader sizing up a horse at market. 'Your dress looks tigher on you than before.'

Indeed, I had put on two pounds recently, from a lapse in my exercise routine, lack of sleep from insomnia (which every so often I'm plagued by) and, more depressingly, a recent lack of self-control when it comes to grapes and strawberries (which are cruel and sneaky and masquerade as healthy fruit when in fact they pack a load of natural sugar). In fact, I've already lost one of those pounds since laying off those tricksy strawberries and buying a skipping rope to force myself to exercise at home when I'm unable to go to classes after work, and I'm on track to being at the weight I was when I got the dress altered by the end of the week- but of course that's not the sort of thing mums notice. My mum being a Chinese mum (and here I may sound a little controversial), few things I do are ever quite satisfactory. Also, when you're a lot slimmer than you used to be, an extra pound or two can be noticable.

Today, I was making some last-minute alterations to my bridemaid's dress, as one of my best friends (the same one who witnessed the whole incident with the chocolate shop guy in my previous entry) is getting married next week (and I'm the maid of honour, woot! But that's not really part of the story, I'm just bragging). I've lost two stone in a year (which is a lot), and had the dress altered recently to fit my new less wobbly and less chunky figure. It was perfect except the shoulder covers were a bit long, so I tucked and sewed them shorter today. I made the mistake of modelling the finished article in front of my mum (who I thought would be pleased, as she was pleased with how well the dress had been altered to fit my size when I had it done).

'You went to all that trouble to get your dress done, and now you aren't even bothering to watch your weight!' She exclaimed, with the inexplicable glimmer of triumph that my mum always gets when discovering something I've been trying to hide and then ticking me off for it.

Well, that's not really fair- I have been watching my weight. I watch it like a hawk all the time. It's just that recently I've watched it go up a little.

Anyone who's ever loved food and successfully been on a diet will know that losing weight's only one battle: the real war is with maintaining it. I've been very diligent (well, mostly- I underestimated fruit and, alright, maybe stumbled upon a few more cakes than usual). So diligent in fact, that some of my friends have expressed a bit of concern that I might be on a dodgy track: but it's okay, I know my brain works in slightly obsessive ways when it comes to calorie counting and nutrition percentages sometimes, but I can also recognise when I'm being a bit too crazy. However my parents didn't seem to trust me, and of course mum was quite vocal about it.

Flash forward to a couple of months ago.

'Only a small bowl?' Frowned my mum at dinner time, glancing alternately between me and my bowl of stew.

'I bought an extra banana at lunch at work today,' I said, knowing it did sound a bit mad but trying to explain, 'so I have to sacrifice a few calories this evening to balance it out.'

'You have to eat more,' scolded mum, 'you're becoming anorexic!'

There. That word was finally mentioned.

I was not, have never been and will never be anorexic. I simply love food too much, and believe you or me, when I'm calorie counting I get the most out of every single calorie. However quite a few times I've been ticked off for not eating enough, despite the fact by this stage I was reaching my optimal weight and was now losing weight more and more slowly.

Flash forward to this afternoon.

'You haven't been eating the right things,' continued mum, whilst I seethed about how someone could tell me off at one moment for turning into an anorexic, and at the next moment for not watching my weight enough. 'Like those three puddings you bought for yourself two weeks ago.'

'What, the WeightWatchers ones?' I exclaimed incredulously.

She's right of course, just not in the way she thinks. It's not always what you eat, but how and when and of course, how much of it you eat. I thought I was being healthy and appeasing my parents at the same time by increasing my food intake a bit, but in the end I misjudged and I wasn't doing anyone any favours: especially not me.

So now I'm back on the straight in narrow, and just in time for my friend's wedding!

Romantically Challenged: Rejector and Rejectee in One Day

I swear, this sort of crazy stuff can only happen to me. This happened only a few days ago.

I've been on jury service for a couple of weeks now (my last day this coming Monday, in fact), and I got asked out by a guy I'd been talking to for while that I'd been sort of hoping that he wouldn't (I liked him well enough, but not in that way, and was dreading having to hurt his feelings). It was difficult trying to be friendly but not too friendly since I'd loathe to be one of these girls that just leads people on. Anyway I felt a bit cruddy because he's a nice guy overall and I admired his courage to ask, and I know well enough the sting of rejection myself- but it'd be crueller to say yes when you already know you have no intention of anything going further, I think.

In any case, this guy's courage gave me the courage to ask after another guy who'd caught my eye, working in a chocolate shop in London a few days earlier (I know I know, I sound terrible- I'm not what this sounds like, honest!) If the guy at court had the guts to ask me, I thought, then I shouldn't let myself down by being a wimp and I should go and ask after chocolate shop guy. Although going around fancying random people I've only seen once before and then asking after them right away isn't something I'm used to, it wouldn't have been the first time I'd expressed my interest in someone to their faces (it was only one time, and I ended up with them for three years, so it was worth something at least!) So that's where I went when court was adjourned that day.

A bit of background: I had gone to this chocolate shop with one of my best friends the day before and noticed this guy when he brought out some samples for us to try. I mortified myself by trying to open conversation by asking him 'so... are you much of a chocolate guy then?' (What a question to ask someone who works in a chocolate shop...) I decided I liked him even more when he didn't poke fun at me for that.

To continue the story, I met up with my friend/ partner in crime in town first (who happened to be visiting from Birmingham for a few days and who's sharp eyes had noticed my interest in this guy when we'd visited the shop together the day before), along with another of her friends she was meeting up with, and they came with me for moral support. I was a little glad that the guy wasn't actually there so I could just ask one of his colleagues, but I was about to be even more glad of his absence.

After walking around looking at chocolate and plucking up as much courage as possible, and telling myself I wouldn't be struck down dead on the spot for asking, I finally went to the counter and asked, bashfully, if she knew the tall guy with blue eyes who was working there the other day, because I thought I quite liked the look of him (or something silly like that- I was having a hard enough time getting the words out from sheer embarrassment to focus on what I was actually saying). The lady grinned playfully.

'Aah,' she said, 'are we on the pull, then?'

I think I must have gone beetroot red by then and laughed near hysterically whilst saying something like, 'I guess, when you put it that way, I sort of am!?' It had never really occurred to me to think about it like that, and although I'm no pure shrinking violet and and pretty much unshockable, all I knew was I was hoping to get to know someone better (through talking!!) and was suddenly getting a concept that I hadn't bargained for. I think it was mainly the extreme sheepishness I was feeling about the whole thing that made me less than my usual eloquent self.

'Let's see...' The lady went into the little staff room thing and looked up who I might have been talking about on the staff rota. She came back and sighed, smiling sympathetically.

'He's got a girlfriend.'

Bugger.

We chatted a little and and I did buy some stuff (cocoa nibs for making truffles- expect a recipe to go up on my other blog Tashcakes! soon). I told the lady how glad I was he wasn't there in the end to endure this awful embarrassing moment- because I quite like that chocolate shop, and I'd like to visit it again without dreading if he'd be there or not.

'Well I'll let you know if he ever becomes available', the lady laughed. 'And don't worry!' She winked at me. 'I won't tell him!'

Of course she will, it's bloody hilarious- I don't mind though, I would too if I were her! At least he probably won't rememeber me, so I can continue to buy chocolate there in peace.

And that's the story of how I got asked out and declined the offer, and a few hours later got indirectly shot down upon plucking up the courage to ask after someone else.

Romantically challenged!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Read out this entry for another story about that same chocolate shop.