Clarity

Freedom from indistinctness or ambiguity. 

That’s one of the definitions from dictionary.com. Listed synonyms include: Intelligibility, exactness, simplicity.

It’s also said that people can find a moment of clarity, like drug users.   They find some truth, some understanding.  Something comes into focus and their vision becomes unclouded.

Well, sometimes people need to find that moment of clarity in their life, but they are going to do incredibly stupid things prior to that light bulb going off in their heads.

Unfortunately, for me, as a teenager, that bulb never went off.  I would float from cloud to cloud, hoping and wishing, secretly pining for certain people.    They either knew and ignored it or dug in deep to get away from the major dork that resided in their class.

Looking back, it seems so 80s movie stereotypical.  It seems stupid.   It seems ridiculous.   It seems so familiar.

I usually followed two courses  I would hang back, hoping that something in my eyes, buried behind coke bottle glasses would connect with their gaze, attracting them to my undeniable charm and ability to burn ants with simply a nod of my head on a sunny day.  If that didn’t work, I would make these grandiose gestures of friendship, thinking that, by definition, I was laying some sort of groundwork with which I could build some castle for us to live happily ever after.

Yeah, in either case,  I was an idiot.   I was unclear.  I was ambiguous.   I didn’t have clarity.

As a teen, the forces of nature and biology are against you.     Your body rebels against you.  Hair grows.  Voice changes.  You become a freak of nature.  Your own feet attempt to kill you when you walk.  When you speak, birds screech and eardrums pierce.  Your brain forms words that aren’t in any intelligible nature.  You look like a stroke victim in a cartoon.

Social anxiety and class also thwarts your attempts to rise up and change your lot in life.  You can’t crash the cool table and expect to sit next to the King and Queen without anyone noticing the peasants in the room.  And don’t even think about trying to steal their hearts.   That just won’t happen.  Not unless you are in a John Hughes universe.  Not unless you are already pretty hot, disguised by some frumpy outfit that morphs you into a drop dead hottie in some four minute montage.

So, what?

What’s the worst that can happen?  You’ll get laughed at?  You’ll get shot down?  You’ll find out that are already dating some Greek God/Goddess equivalent that is on some other plane of existence than you? Yes, Yes, Yes.

DO IT ANYWAY!

Go down in some epic blaze of dorkish glory because you know what;  in ten years, you’ll be at some shit job, paying back student loans, driving a piece of crap that leaks fluid, and wonder where it all went.  They will probably be in suburbia with the other real housewives or country club guys and that doesn’t matter.   You’ll find each other on whatever social media platform exists at that moment in time and you will make the same mistakes all over again.

Don’t hang back.  Jump out in front of the love bus and at least do what so many wish they would do.

What will go wrong?

Facebook will document it, Likes for your misery will number in the millions.   Twitter will favorite it, retweeting it to the Huffington Post.  You’ll probably have to change planets to hide from the collateral damage but for Ducky’s Sake get in the game.

But listen to this 38 year old who has been there.  I’ve made that mistake time and time again in my youth.  I laid it all out on the line, two minutes too late.  “You’re a good friend.  You’re a great guy.  You’re funny.  I have a brain cloud.”  Wait, what?  I’m pretty sure you made up that last one. 

Look, that girl or guy is going to get hit on by much worse than you.  They’re also going to get hit on by much better.   Your heart is going to be broken 1000 times in your life and each one is going to be more devastating than the last.

So, be the Edison of broken hearts.   Don’t fail.  Just find 10000 ways to not succeed.  You only fail if you quit.   One time it will work.  Sometimes it might be someone with a whole underground garage full of crazy.  Just hide the sharp objects and breakables.

The best thing you can hope for is some experience.   You may even find confidence.  You may find yourself doing things better, coming off more suave in the future.   You may find yourself having to turn some people down.  

Fix yourself, first, though.  I’m not saying change.  Don’t ever change.  Well, unless you’re an asshole.  Then, by all means, napalm yourself and build it back up from the rubble.    But don’t change what’s good about yourself.    That’s the bottom line.  That’s the thing you need to get them to drive off the lot in you.  But you need to augment that.  Bring things to the forefront that not everyone knows about, or at least they don’t understand.  Make them see why it’s important to you and why it makes you better than the rest.  Everyone puts up a front with first impressions.   In reality, we all have a pair of underwear that have a hole the size of the grand canyon in them and we wear them every chance they come up in the rotation.  No one is perfect, no matter how much they sell it in the window.

You really think people buy cars based on how well they move?  No, they buy the bells and whistles or the right color or detailing.   That’s the superficial stuff that sells the car.  The car being able to make it from point A to B is the same on every version of that same car.     If it works, it works on every one of them.  What makes you stand out is the power steering or the moon roof.

Hell, screw it, be give yourself a plate that says “Fresh” and hang dice from the mirror. 

Do whatever it takes to realize that you are the person they need to notice.   Don’t hang back.  Don’t be vague with gestures or goodwill. 

 

Fail Big or Go Home.

Give them some clarity.