Suzanne Belcourt's Marshmallow Girl
May 22nd, 2006

Say What You Want

With all of the recent hash of crushes I’ve had lately you’d either think that I’m still a teenager, or a girl just coming of age, or old and partially senile. You would never think that I am a woman in her late thirties.

The thing is, I really don’t know how to flirt. I’ve never been good at parties—chatting up guys—even when I was young and schizophrenia-free. So I guess this is my way of flirting:

1. Talk to a guy and then run away in the middle of a conversation; OR
2. Give a guy googly-eyes across a crowded room—daydreaming that I am going out with him already—and probably scare the shit out of him; OR
3. Completely ignore a guy that I like because I am too scared to talk to him and thus reversing my intentions completely.

There is one guy out there who I am completely zoned out for. Whenever I see him I can’t take my eyes off of him. Unfortunately I only talked to him once but I’ve seen him on TV and in person a couple of times. Unfortunately he probably doesn’t remember me. I can’t, no matter how much I would like to, say his name in this article. Why? Because using my Marshmallow Girl for selfish, dating service-like means may result in all future articles never to be taken seriously again. (Funny some of you may say, “They never have to begin with.”) OK, I can say this: his name is Marty and he’s a lead singer in a band who may now be defunct. OK, I’ve said too much. He has dark hair and dark eyes and is taller than me. Also, in all likelihood he has a million and one girls or women after him, or he is settled down already, which means that saying his name has no purpose to it whatsoever and I knew that I’ve said too much already.

I guess using this article as a matchmaking service for my own purposes means that my brother is right when he says that I should use the Internet to hook myself up. I won’t go onto the LavaLife website because that is just too embarrassing, but I will say this:

1. I don’t smoke, drink, or take recreational drugs (Like I used to when I was younger);
2. I hate any sort of violence. I even hate killing bugs: there was this one time when my mom and I were sitting outside of a restaurant in the first of Spring and we couldn’t eat our bagels because a wasp came to our table, checking out our food for the longest time, but still we refused to kill it. So. A guy who overheard us came over and squashed the wasp with his fist in front of us and said, “Enjoy your lunch ladies.” Whereupon I immediately said in a loud voice, “Why did you kill it?! ” (OK, I yelled it as he walked away.) I guess I should have been more diplomatic and said quietly to him instead, “Thanks.” Because after all he did call me a lady.
3. I have three cats but do not think of myself as a cat lady (knowing full well that maybe I should).
4. I am a graphic designer who desperately wants to be an artist but likes the pay of a graphic designer more, so I’ll stick with that.
5. I am a partial vegetarian: I only eat salmon and steak (which in reality doesn’t really make me a partial vegetarian at all).
6. I like to laugh at my own jokes.
7. I just like the number 7. So there is really no promotional sentence here.

SO. I guess that is it. I really don’t know what else to say. If you don’t mind someone who has a little bit of schizophrenia and likes to laugh at her own jokes, then I guess she is someone whom you should contact. Via e-mail of course. The loud ring of the phone scares my cats.

Take care,
suzanne@thebreath.com

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