From the surface, it most likely appears that I have very little in common with most guys. I’ve been aware of this reality since 7th grade.

I first decided it was vital for me to change my interests to appeal more to boys when I was 12 years old. Such an alteration in my life wouldn’t be too challenging as I had few priorities other than landing a boyfriend and photoshopping my Myspace pictures. On the topic of Myspace, there was a “put put” game you could add to your profile. A crush of mine had this particular game on his page, so I decided to become a master of it.

Advice from 12-year-old Mackenzie: beat him at golf and he’ll ask you out via AIM. Works like a freaking charm.

Even as a pre-teen I was smart enough to know that online gaming skills were not seductive enough to make a boy fall in love with you. I needed to find a common passion. So, I checked out his music section on Myspace and headed over to Project Playlist to give a listen. On the list was Motion City Soundtrack, and Taking Back Sunday (among others.) Both of those were easy to conquer as my own favorite bands, because who doesn’t like a song that starts with “Let’s get fucked up and die” (LG FUAD.) What I didn’t understand at the time was his love for Death Cab for Cutie. I listed to “Soul Meets Body” on repeat for weeks, trying to convince myself that I enjoyed the song. I didn’t get it. I was 12. Was I really supposed to understand the lyrical brilliance? But I didn’t give up. I decided that it was absolutely vital for me to fabricate a love for Death Cab.

Then I heard “Summer Skin”, and I got it. Afterwards I listened to “I will follow you into the dark”, and I have never turned back. I forced myself into lyrical analysis before my 13th birthday to impress a boy. Ten years later I am anxiously awaiting the release of their newest album, with nearly every Death Cab song to date memorized.

At 19, I had a similar experience. I did not have Myspace, nor did I have to convince anyone to make out with me. Worse– I met a boy who was smarter than me. The more time I spent with Frank, the more I had to to prove my intelligence. For a long time, I believed my insecurities towards this person were based on hopeless romanticism, as opposed to intimidation (I was wrong.)

The two of us would get drunk and he’d proceed to read novel excerpts to me while I laid on his mattress. He told me that he knew of an author I would love and lent me When You Are Engulfed In Flames by David Sedaris. I finished in a matter of days. A novel suggested to me by anyone else would have gathered dust on my nightstand.

Years have past and I’ve read a number of Sedaris’s books, never again for the purpose of impressing Frank. Maybe it isn’t always a good idea to “change yourself”, but it is important to know the difference between abandoning your own interests and being receptive to new and potentially amazing things.