Janis Ian sang that love was meant for Beauty Queens but what about the rest of us?
Nothing makes sense when everything you thought you learned about love at 17 was possibly just plain wrong. No matter how false it was in reality it's a perception that is 100% true in your own mind. What is your identity is so tightly wound up with the ideas of youth that it's made you an expert at pushing love away? Then your unconscious mind has a problem that requires the double talents of Jung and Freud (as long as they don't start feuding) but they are both long gone. Is there any hope?
Brody boys were the ones who never talked to me when I was 17. The term Brody boys comes from Brody Jenner of The Hills fame. You know the type. I was invisible to them as a person. Not on purpose. It's just the way it is or was or is, I don't know really. They only had eyes for the girls next door (think Hugh Hefner and his three girlfriends plus wife young enough to be his great grandkid). On the odd chance Brody boys talked to me it was not nice. They would gush over Carrie Underwood doppelgangers. To the ones who resembled the polar opposite of a Country and Western beauty queen, they spoke so cruelly to her that it proved the lines in a Cher song true.... words are like weapons they wound sometimes.
Throughout my life it was the Bond boys who understood and accepted me. No surprise there since brothers generally like their sisters as is. This term is based on young Sean Connery (the original and only Bond) who is an example of a man strong enough to handle an Athena woman (see my other article on Jungian archetypes on unabashed strong females).
Bond boys were Old World men in teenage form. They were often raised in families with Old World values, often immigrant or first generation sons, and began acting like the man of the house the day they turned 16. These were the ones who would give me the high-five for being direct and determined. Bond boys were my protective older brothers who never stopped encouraging me to demonstrate my intellect. It was they who pointed out my strengths and told me how to put a dumb jock who teased me in their place ... fast. Athena's myth does include a razor sharp wit. Most of all, Bond boys understood what it was like to grow up in two vastly cultures while living in the same place.
The juxtaposition of Bond vs. Brody boys, and how they treated me, were the ideal conditions for an environment that yielded an attitude that was assertive. I stopped caring whether it was lady like or not. My interactions with the opposite gender did not operate from a goal to generate male-to-female favor from them. When push came to shove I had no hesitation to use verbal self-defense if a dark stranger hassled me on the streets. The last guy who followed me into a convenience store to heckle didn't find himself facing a scared skittish female.
I barked at him to back off. Then I told him that I had just taken a photo of his license plate and sent it to my friend. Then I hollered, "Don't follow me. I don't know you. You are harassing me." After snapping back at the fool, I looked into the store's security camera to make sure it was recording. He backed off and didn't dare follow me afterwards. I guess having my keys between my knuckles and making sure he saw that, helped.
As for the Brody buddies, the jocks who all thought alike in classic group think style, they were the guys who sent the Valentines. The recipients looked like a mixture of Audrina Patridge and Lauren Conrad xerox copies. Every Valentine's Day the roses and cards and Swiss chocolate candies were passed out in class. This practice began among my schoolmates when I was in grade six. By the time I was 15 I would watch this annual romantic ritual as an observer. The event became a curiosity to me. Looking back it felt like I was watching a stage play in person. Why? Usually I was the only one or part of a handful of kids who never got a thing. No surprise that my identity is now repelled at the thought of being given romantic gifts.
What were the Bond boys doing on February 14? Bond boys took their dates out to dinner at a European restaurant and gave them their Valentine's presents over candlelight. The single ones were home studying for the International Baccalaureate Diploma exams administered from Switzerland.
Another thing I learned at 17 was that Brody boys liked Southern Belles, Damsels in Distress, Ballet Dancers, Homecoming Queens, Prom Queens, Head Cheerleaders, the resident "It Girls" and any female that was "Ultra Femme" instead of "Alpha Girl". While I admire the softness and womanly charms of Sofia Vergara and Sophia Loren, females loved by Brody types, my heroines have always been the likes of Cameron Diaz. Diaz has described herself as a tomboy growing up and how her dad wanted sons. I know the feeling.
If I tried to be Sofia/Sophia I would experience an extreme discomfort in my own skin. Being a Cameron makes me feel like a natural woman. People who are deeply comfortable in their own skin appeal the most to themselves and others. Case in point: Michael Fassbender (an Old World man who speaks English and German) dancing in his early film Wedding Belles.
When I asked BodyTalk practitioner Heather Strang aka "Healing Heather" if it was possible to see the real truth as an adult, she said it was much simpler. She seemed to suggest that it was more a strong bias than a full-on truth that my unconscious mind had locked in. Heather did remind me of one truth that I had accepted, which was based on the words of Antoine de Saint-Exupery. The heart sees what is invsible to the eye.
The heart knows what the mind cannot grasp or can back-up with hard evidence. So in those moments when Brody/Colin Farrell Doppelganger not Bond has their heart warming effect on me ... the fight between my head and heart turns into a battle that Alexander the Great (an Ancient World man) would dive right into. Who will conquer? That is a mystery I really need Sherlock Holmes for. Holmes, also an Old World man, may know the clues to deduce from to get to the truth.
Maybe I'll do Merry Wise's workbook on soulmates to play my own sleuth on this one. I have a feeling that when this mystery is solved, it will fundamentally alter my sense of identity in regards to partnership and romance.
In the meantime I am going shopping for some golden apples hoping to bump into a young Sean Connery. Connery, after all, married an Athena woman over 40 years ago. When he met his wife nothing could stop him. Not even the fact that, at the time, they didn't speak a common language between. Then again, love is a universal language.
So if not young Connery then I'll be pleased to meet someone like Theo James, the Golden Boy.
No matter how many birthdays have passed since the day I left home, I am still 17. And no, I don't have body dysmorphic disorder.