Rejection is terrifying, which is why I procrastinated interviewing a stranger for this blog. Instead of approaching new people, I walked towards the Reitz and sat on a bench, looking for possible girls that I could interview. Out of the seven girls in close proximity to me, none were the right fit.
It was necessary to move somewhere different, somewhere with other girls who would just have that I’m-willing-to-interview look to them. I walked around the Hub. Nothing. I walked into the Hub. Nothing, except for a lot of people eating. No people eating, I told myself. I didn’t want to be answered with half-chewed Chick-fil-A.
I ventured to Weimer, but they would all be too eager. This led me to the area, just before the Reitz, where students
attack you invite you to join their clubs. Perfect, I thought. They know rejection, so they would welcome me as one of their own. Heck, I might even make some new friends. So I went a little bit past them, sat on a bench and checked Twitter for the 411 attended to some pressing emails.
Unfortunately, my housemate was in the Reitz, immediately saw me, sat down on my bench and made me feel terrible for procrastinating. It was hard for my bench to see me go, but it was for the greater good of Gals of Gainesville (and alliterations everywhere). I put my phone in my purse and headed for the two girls asking for donations for breast cancer research.
I wish that they had accepted me with open arms and that we became Facebook friends, but we’re not because they didn’t want to do the interview at all.
Boys have it so hard, I thought. How can they handle this? I’d only asked for a 15-minute interview, not a lengthy dinner date and a shared milkshake.
But do boys really have it that hard? Wasn’t I going to do my interviews on feminism, the dreaded “F” word that few want to be associated with? Why didn’t I have enough Girl Power to just ask out a few women on a Gals of Gainesville interview date?