Some More Romantic Crap
When I was twelve, thirteen, fourteen, and even fifteen I was plagued with this sort of problem. It was almost a horrid deformity in my eyes, or some kind of curse a wicked stepmother put on me on accident in the ho
spital, picking the wrong baby. (Because I don’t have a stepmother, and usually in these stories the wicked people just don’t pick some random person out of a crowd and be all, “It’s your lucky day! I’m going to curse you!”)
Anyway, right, my deformity curse thing. Well, in all that time of pining and dreaming and wishing I could not get what ever (straight) girl is supposed to get: a man. Dammit! It was that time in my life where I was supposed to have some dippy first boyfriend who was a bad kisser that I dumped after two weeks of holding his hand in the hallways! I was supposed to be securing the knowledge of what it is like to be “in like” with someone who was “in like” with me! However, something about me just reeked anti-girlfriend.
At the time, I hated being alone when I knew that some people were “together”. I felt as if I was missing out. But, within the first year or two of living with this problem I just tried my best to shrug it off and carry on with life. I never, EVER thought I would miss those days.
Now you see what I’m getting at.
Zoom forward in time and here I am, wishing I didn’t have to deal a different stupid problem. Now I have an ex-boyfriend who can’t leave me alone, an ex-boyfriend who is speculated to have just used me for sex, a guy I really like who liked me too and I slept with only to ignored by, and a one night stand who I can’t stop thinking about. WHAT. THE. HELL.
Now I’m tormented with insecurity about my sex life (mainly the fact that I have one) by having to see a guy in the halls holding hands with an oblivious sophomore who I almost had sex with at a party, having to hang out with a friend who I really like and actually did sleep with, having an ex-boyfriend who said “gross” at the idea of sleeping with me, having a coworker who took my virginity, and trying to have a guy on the side.
I sound like such a slut.
But in reality I can count the number of times I’ve done it on one hand, which is more than the number of guys I’ve done it with. I try to tell myself I’m not this awful person, but I can’t help thinking that everyone else somehow knows and thinks I’m a whore.
I miss the days when I read dumb romance novels and was ignorant to how relationships actually begin and end. To how boyfriends can actually treat you if you let them. To being used. Back when words like “love” didn’t make me suspicious, but happy.
Dating is easier once you’ve dated. You recognize the signs and have more confidence to challenge them. You know how to interact in a romantic way, and aren’t so shy to being affectionate.
But relationships with people are hard and messed up when feelings get involved. And knowing that comes with experience in the dating field. It seems so incredibly unfair that romance is built up to be so wonderful when you don’t have it, but when you do, you look back at when you weren’t distracted by love, when times were easier and begin to miss them.
See, when you “grow up”, you start thinking that your curse is screwing up with everyone you’ve ever cared about. Frankly, that hurts more to gain and lose than do without. The people who have never felt love have never lost it, and that sounds like such a luxury, because once you lose someone you loved you never forget.
However, being a dumb high school senior, I still have plenty of more relationships ahead of me to screw up. Life goes on. After this ruined chance with Landon, the plan for now is to get myself to believe I’m still a babe who is free to have fun, whenever, with whoever. I may really miss the more personal things like the handholding, weakness in the knees, and forehead kisses but I guess it is really true that the worthwhile things are the ones you have to wait for.