Little Miss 4.0 Fails a Test

I remember in elementary school the teacher's having to stop putting the assignments for the week on the blackboard because I would complete all of them in one evening. I remember in middle school being told to "stop taking school so seriously" because I was making the other kids uncomfortable. That was also the time I was told that I couldn't bring a book onto the playground anymore because it made me stand out as anti-social. I remember registering for classes in high school and only "accelerated" and "AP" were allowed on my schedule. College and Graduate school were no different. If there was an assignment I was going to complete it on time. And I was going to complete it with the highest grade I could get because failure wasn't an option. If extra studying, tutoring, sacrifices to the educational gods, or moving into the campus library were necessary measures then that was what I was going to have to do. Grab the candles and the robes and let the ritual begin. Anything below an "A" was unacceptable. Not to my parents or my teachers. But to myself. I was the fat kid in class with head gear, glasses and a haircut that was anything but "The Rachel" which I distinctly remember asking for at the salon. (I walked out with an uneven mullet.) I didn't have many things that I was confident in but being "the smart kid" in the class was something I could always push myself towards. And just pray the hair grew back and the teeth somehow got their act together or at least that gap together. 

As I grew up I took this mentality with me into other areas of my life. Work? I was the hardest working dishwasher the summer of 2001 at that little lake's diner (first job) and then continued throughout all the jobs that came afterwards whether a nanny, a political speech writer, a receptionist, an archivist or a sleep deprived disaster responder. I wanted to make sure that I was fully prepared, fully knowledgeable, and fully dedicated to giving the best I had. And when it came to relationships, I couldn't see any other way to approach one. Study. Prepare. Study. Present. Make corrections based on feedback and peer critique. Study. Prepare. And take the test. It's a tried and true (and rather well-tested) formula that has always served me well. Until now.

When it comes to relationships there are no assigned books to read, no papers to draft, no cram sessions with a study group to hold and no mid-term progress assessment. The studying belongs solely to the person entering the relationship. The preparation is their personal responsibility. It's a lot of work... and work that is not always easy to complete. But when you do complete it then you know you're ready for the test. And if you studied hard enough and put the work in then you should pass it without a problem.

That is... until you fail. Without comments in the margin, a breakdown of what went wrong, or even a "thanks for trying." You just fail. 

After the Summer of 2016 I knew that I was in no position to date again for a long time. I needed to take the time and energy necessary to heal. As I began a new career and made new friends I began to piece together the broken parts of myself. And it wasn't just sitting behind this computer screen writing these entries. I learned how to be okay with being alone again. I learned how to fall asleep without feeling heartbroken that the other side of the bed was empty. It took a few tries but I practiced enough to be able to sit in a coffee shop without being hidden behind a stack of books and just drank coffee with myself- no barriers or buffers. I took road trips to Nashville to remind me of who I have grown to be and how much I have changed since I was 18. I cried to sad country songs and I laughed with best friends on the phone. I started over and studied myself: who I was and what I wanted. My heart was tired and it needed rest. So while it rested I took the time to do whatever I could to make myself stronger. Because, if and when the time allowed for it, I wanted to be prepared and ready to love again. It wouldn't be fair to whomever was to come along that I didn't do my part to be the best me.

I remember being surprised when he asked for a second date because the first one had ended with me handing a complete stranger at the table next to us my business card and walking out of the restaurant because I didn't want to hear about a Hurricane. I remember the second and third date went well. This was gaining momentum and I was excited. I reminded myself with each date to ask before getting out of my car, "Are you ready for this? Are you prepared? Because if you're not then this isn't fair to him. Have you done what you need to do to be okay?" And each time I shut the car door I said, "I'm okay. But..." And there was that "but" at the end of each heart to heart I had with myself and I knew what I had to do.

I needed to close the book I still had open and I needed to stop taking notes in the margins of what I could have done better or where I went wrong. That book was my ex. So I met him for dinner and we talked for a really long time. So many questions were answered and misconceptions clarified. I walked away from that dinner feeling stronger and more ready then ever to move forward in this new situation I had found myself in. I had done all my homework. I had studied. I had taken the time to rest and reset. I put in the extra work and did everything and more to ensure that I could take the next step. My studying was complete. My hard work had paid off. I was ready.

But then I was sitting on the couch next to him, my head turned to the side in confusion as I asked, "If you don't want to be with me then why are you with me?" And his answer, without making any eye contact, was simply, "It was a test." And it was a test I could not pass. 

That's not to say I didn't try to pass. I truly did. I probably tried too many times and put in too much effort but it's the only way I know. Giving 100% and then some is the only way I approach things. And no matter what I did and no matter how hard I tried the test was impossible. It wasn't my past that was holding me back from moving on. It was his. And that hurt because it was as if I was paying the price in a group project where only one person had come prepared and had done all the work.

It didn't matter how much time I had taken to heal. It didn't matter how much effort I put into being a better person and a stronger person. It didn't matter what measures I took to prepare myself for a relationship with another person. He had set out to date me "as a test." A test that would determine whether or not he was over his previous relationship. A test that would show him whether or not he was ready to be with someone else. I thought the test of a relationship would be whether or not we could make it work together. I didn't know there was a prerequisite assessment that determined if I was even eligible to participate. It didn't matter how much time I had spent studying and preparing. I was going to fail an impossible test that was never meant for me to pass.

And I think that's the hardest part of the finality of this exam's grade: there is no retake and there is no comment section. It was simply a pass or fail. No well worded essay, no well defended data based question, and no extra credit would improve my grade enough for me to change that "F" to a "P." And the over-achiever in me... the girl that was the teacher's pet throughout school... the girl who never met a pop quiz she wasn't ready to take... struggled to understand how she could fail a test she didn't even know she had to take.

So last week I stood with my toes in the sand looking out at the Pacific Ocean. Behind me was my best friend of 20 years. In front of me were miles of blue waves and Malibu mountains. I wanted to think about anything other than the test I had failed a couple of days prior. I wanted to focus on the beauty of the moment or the tranquility of my surroundings. Instead I wondered where I could have tried harder or what I could have done better. I wanted to know what I had done wrong.

And then I was hit by a huge wave. A wave I didn't think would reach as far as it did or crash into me as hard as it did. And who knew the ocean was that cold? I was so unprepared for the freezing snap back to reality that all I could do was laugh. Really, really laugh. And in laughing find the irony in the fact that I was trying so hard again to study/analyze the past that I was oblivious to present. Until it basically knocked me over.


It doesn't always matter how prepared you are for something. You are only responsible for your part. You can only do so much on your own. The other person needs to put in their time and their effort. They may not approach it the same way you did but at least you can walk away knowing you held up your end of the deal. You did your best and in any other situation would have walked away with a passing grade.

Little Miss 4.0 may have failed a test but in taking it she learned was no longer Little Miss Afraid or Little Miss Independent. And perhaps in failing she learned more than she could have by continuing to study and never pulling up a seat to take the exam. And it must be noted that it was his test she failed... not her own. In the test of "learning to live again," Little Miss 4.0 gave everything she had... and she laughed her way through the extra credit.