(“Truthsome”. Yes, I know that’s not a real word.) I have this certain quirk. When I discover something or someone new or interesting to me, I got into this phase I call the “gathering” phase. I learn everything I can about it/them and gather as much information about it/them. Some people just call it “Bane being a creeper”. Whatever. Tomato, tomahto…
I am (of late) obsessed with the writing and personalty of Mandy Stadtmiller, a writer in NYC. Not in a “Single White Female” kind of way, nor in a “here’s-the-head-of-my-cat-aren’t-you-proud-of-me” kind of way.
Is she beautiful? Yeah. Let’s not mince words, I’d sacrifice a puppy to Satan in a fully populated church to sleep with this woman. I’m a male whore. If I thought a mud puddle would wriggle, I’d have a hard on throughout rainy season. We all know this, let’s move on…
But, that’s not why I’m obsessed with her. I’m obsessed with her because of her writing and her personality. The woman is a fucking open book, which this day and age, is a marvel to me. Every single thing I have read of hers lays things out about her life in a very “this is the way shit is” kind of way. And yet, there is this vulnerability that is always present in her writing which completely disarms me and makes it so that whenever I read something of hers (especially on xojane.com) I get emotionally invested in the shit she talks about.
For example, she ended up posting her latest, and in it she said how she got stood up by some dude, ON HER FUCKING BIRTHDAY. The only thought going through my head was, “I’ll deliver that motherfuck’s head to you in a goddamned McDonald’s burger wrapper.” Then she went on about how she sobbed at a dinner with a friend, and my fucking heart broke.
(Just to put this out there, this has nothing to do with her being as gorgeous as she is, I’d feel the same way and be just as engaged if she had a stubbed left arm, a hump and a stroke induced lisp. If anything that would probably turn me on more. Add some burn scars on her face and I’d end up ripping my dick off I’d be jerking off so much…)
I wish I could do that. Not the being stood up and sobbing thing. I’ve been stood up a million times and cry like a bitch with a skinned knee every time the ending to Legend comes on, and fuck you for judging.
I’m talking about just laying it all out there. This idea that for all the success she has enjoyed, that she is still exactly what she was in the beginning. A human, frail and flawed, just like the rest of us. But unlike, most of us, she acknowledges it (even at times seems to revel in it).
I mean, I talk about a lot of things in my life, on my blog and everywhere else in my life, and I do it through the eyes of an asshole with a deathwish, but these days it’s too fashionable to be an asshole. Some have made careers off of it. I don’t have it in me to be completely open with anyone, let alone my audience for no other reason than my own little shithead insecurities.
I have to respectfully disagree with Mandy’s friend that she may not be a good person. In my opinion, it’s the sharing of her whole self through her writing that makes her better than all of us, and at the same time makes us all better people for sharing in her experiences. I’m convinced that’s “goodness” defined. (I’m one John Lennon lyric away from singing Kumbaya and eating granola, I realize that…)
When people read my blog, they have a laugh or two (depending on my subject matter), but they rarely leave my website changed. I have not read an article by her where I haven’t had to re-examine shit in my life just to feel like I was being intellectually honest with myself. I doubt that’s her intention, but it happens nonetheless.
Maybe someday I’ll be able to be that open with the limited audience I have, but until then dick jokes work for me… Happy Birthday Mandy. 🙂