Monday, August 21, 2006
Never a Swan
I have a lot on my mind today.
I've been an ugly duckling my whole life. I watched as all my friends had boyfriend after boyfriend and I was The Queen of Unrequited Crushes. My best friend was one of "Those Girls" that seemed to have that magical quality that drew men to her like hipsters to ill-fitting pants. I lost count of all the men that I lost to her indefinable magnetism. When I was in high school, I got lots of attention because I was loud, funny and smart, but I was still a dating pariah. I was said 'No' to by 2 different boys for one of the girl-ask-guy dances. One of them, I will hate for my entire life.
College was no different. I can count ON ONE HAND the number of dates that I went on during my collegiate years. Nobody wanted to date the girl with strong opinions and a big ass. No one. Do you know how many people went to my college? 28,000. That's a fuck-load of rejection there, kids.
During my college years, on an I've-been-an-ass-most-of-your-life-so-now-I-feel-guilty trip to Italy with my largely indifferent father, I learned that for a majority of my childhood he had seen fathering as an obligation, a duty, not as something that he took delight in or even enjoyed doing. My own father didn't really want me.
And so, now that men have started showing interest in me for what feels like the first time in my life, I read too much into it. I get too excited. I keep hoping that its that feeling, that in-love scenario that I've believed in my entire life, but never actually experienced.
I just want someone to LIKE ME, to genuinely want to be with me, to fight for me and to appreciate the depth with which I am capable of loving another person.
So, after a weekend, where I devoted HOURS and HOURS to making his birthday memorable and great, I get text messages from Marc that essentially blow me off, my heart crumbles into a million pieces.
I call Karen and don't really need to talk to her, I'm fine just listening to her talk to other people, knowing that she's there at the other end of the phone, while I silently cry on my end.
So many men. None of them real. None of them genuine.
None of them really want ME.
I've been an ugly duckling my whole life. I watched as all my friends had boyfriend after boyfriend and I was The Queen of Unrequited Crushes. My best friend was one of "Those Girls" that seemed to have that magical quality that drew men to her like hipsters to ill-fitting pants. I lost count of all the men that I lost to her indefinable magnetism. When I was in high school, I got lots of attention because I was loud, funny and smart, but I was still a dating pariah. I was said 'No' to by 2 different boys for one of the girl-ask-guy dances. One of them, I will hate for my entire life.
College was no different. I can count ON ONE HAND the number of dates that I went on during my collegiate years. Nobody wanted to date the girl with strong opinions and a big ass. No one. Do you know how many people went to my college? 28,000. That's a fuck-load of rejection there, kids.
During my college years, on an I've-been-an-ass-most-of-your-life-so-now-I-feel-guilty trip to Italy with my largely indifferent father, I learned that for a majority of my childhood he had seen fathering as an obligation, a duty, not as something that he took delight in or even enjoyed doing. My own father didn't really want me.
And so, now that men have started showing interest in me for what feels like the first time in my life, I read too much into it. I get too excited. I keep hoping that its that feeling, that in-love scenario that I've believed in my entire life, but never actually experienced.
I just want someone to LIKE ME, to genuinely want to be with me, to fight for me and to appreciate the depth with which I am capable of loving another person.
So, after a weekend, where I devoted HOURS and HOURS to making his birthday memorable and great, I get text messages from Marc that essentially blow me off, my heart crumbles into a million pieces.
I call Karen and don't really need to talk to her, I'm fine just listening to her talk to other people, knowing that she's there at the other end of the phone, while I silently cry on my end.
So many men. None of them real. None of them genuine.
None of them really want ME.
