Just Another Disaster
December 4, 2012 § 2 Comments
When I was in high school, I thought guys didn’t want to date me because I was intimidating or too intense. When I got to college, I got a lot of conflicting accounts as to why guys didn’t want to date me.
“You’re probably the best I’ll ever get, but I still want to see what else is out there.”
“Your face is really humble. You’re no Angelina Jolie.”
“Maybe if you weren’t so pretentious I’d date you, but for now let’s just keep it casual.”
So I eventually learned that there are two types of girls: pretty girls and personality girls. Pretty girls don’t need much of a personality for guys to date them because they’re so pretty, and personality girls are so much fun to be with that it doesn’t matter that they’re not that pretty. I’m not that pretty *and* I have an abrasive personality. I could make more of an effort to be attractive. I could go to the gym, lose all the weight I’ve gained in the last year, actually invest in make-up that’s not from CVS and learn how to use it (youtube?). I just don’t have a lot of time for all that, plus it seems dishonest. Make-up and hairspray cover up what I really look like, who I really am. I don’t want some guy to wake up and roll over and say “What the hell?! Who are you?” when they see the real me for the first time.
If I went to the gym, I’d have to eat more and eat healthier to make sure I wasn’t damaging my body by burning too many calories and running only on cereal and applesauce. Make-up is so complicated. How do you know if you’re doing it right, or if it looks good? Once you put it on, how do you get it off? I usually wear mascara, but it’s waterproof so it lasts a few days before it eventually wears off. When I wear eyeliner, I just wear it on the top lid and when I take a shower, it usually ends up below my eyelids in a big greasy smudge. I don’t have money for healthy non-pop tart foods, nor do I have money for expensive make-up products. Oh right, and my hair… I’d have to do something with my hair, but it’s really unruly and thick. I could straighten it, but it takes forever (and I’m pretty sure that’s damaging to your hair anyway) and my hair would just fluff back up on humid days.
So I need to resolve to be humble-looking and slightly chubby, not to mention short.
But I’m not a personality girl either, and that’s something much harder to fix. I think I do a good job pretending to be a personality girl when I go on dates. I try to be charming and laugh at lame jokes and whatnot. I try to ask questions about topics that aren’t controversial or too personal, and I try to think of good, neutral answers for the same questions when I’m asked. But it’s absolutely exhausting. That’s not who I am.
I just feel exhausted. Overwhelmed. Bewildered. What a fucking year, am I right? 2012 has got to be one of the worst years of my life for so many reasons. I miss 2011. That was a good year, though a few bad things did happen. That was the first time in a long time that I actually felt happy, though, as much as I could anyway. I feel like I’ve been down for a long time, but I keep getting kicked, especially when I think I’m finally going to pull myself out of this gutter. Might be better to play dead or something, to get down and stay down, just accept that this is what life is. Hurt, unhappy, alone, and always behind.
In five years, Alec never said he loved me. He never knew if he loved me, even after all that time. That says something about him, but it also says a lot about me. He didn’t fight to keep us together, he didn’t fight for me to stay. I told him I was leaving him and he didn’t say anything, not a peep, not a shrug, not even a sigh.
I can’t and won’t apologize for the way I am. I can’t help it I’m not prettier; genetics, baby. I can’t help it I’m not sweeter or more open or more desirable; living life has made me this way, shaped me into who I am. I can’t undo those experiences, those lessons learned. Or at least I can’t undo them in a day, or even a month, or probably even a year. I try to warn people I don’t want to hurt. I try to tell them that they won’t be able to love me. If Alec couldn’t after five years, I don’t see who else ever could. You can’t love someone like me. I’m too volatile, too demanding, too guarded all the time. I have a hard time letting people close, and for good reason, because when they do get close they see what I’m really like, who I really am, and realize that I’ll never make them happy. Which is funny if not downright ironic, because the hurt I feel when I’m rejected once again only fuels the guardedness, only deepens the hurt that is already there.
I’m not a bad person. I know this. I am incredibly grateful to my family for giving me what they could and for loving me no matter what. My parents did the best they could and I’m learning to forgive my dad. I laugh at the stupidest things, I love animals more than words can express, and I really do appreciate the little things. I stop and smell the roses (literally). I try to do as little harm as possible to everyone, even bugs (with the exception of parasites who can fucking die). I understand that sometimes all you can do is hug someone when words fail. I love art more than anything in this world. I hold doors for people, I smile at cashiers and passersby on the street, I wave at babies. I try to be helpful.
But the good doesn’t outweigh the bad, or at least the good doesn’t seem to weigh enough to make me worth putting up with all the bad.
People don’t change. Unless something dramatic or traumatic happens, I don’t think I’ll change either. I’ll learn to be okay with being alone. At least I’ve learned that I’d rather be alone than be with someone who can’t love me, no matter how much I love them back. I’m still learning the lesson that I can’t be loved, and that it’s not a problem with them, it’s a problem with me. I used to be such a fast learner. Okay, I guess people do change a little.