Therapy costs too much and blogging is free so I'm going to muddle through some things here. If for some reason you find yourself going "I think she's talking about me, and she's got that wrong" I'm sorry. It may not be exactly factual but it's as true as I remember it.
There was this guy in high school who asked me if I'd have sex with him. I declined, obviously, but he said he thought I'd jump at the chance. He thought I'd be easy because no one liked me. Quote. So fat = not wanted in my 16-year-old mind.
Later on in high school I'm at a party in a garage. There are several kids I don't know and 2 I do. They decide to play spin-the-bottle and the last person I kissed was another girl when we were 9. Surprised? Here I am in a room of mostly strangers, 1 friend who's the birthday boy but too young for me, and the guy I have a crush on. He probably knew it. I didn't want to kiss anyone because I'd always been told you shouldn't kiss until you're married and even if I didn't believe that completely, I didn't want the first time to be in a garage in front of strangers. Too much pressure. The bottle never landed on me anyway, but I watched the boy I like kiss at least one girl. Later in the street he offered to kiss me. I think he really wouldn't have minded, but something in me wouldn't accept a kiss willingly but meaninglessly given. I think I cried most of the way home.
I went on a crappy date with a new crush in college, and cried when he gave me candy and not flowers. It wasn't even good candy- fudge and Chiclets ferfuckssake.
Next semester, and after that guy started dating someone else I found someone new who was nice to me. We went to a play the night before school ended and he gave me a huge bag of peanut M&Ms. I'd have taken wilted carnations with joy. Mum and Kathy ate them on the drive, drowning out my sobs with the crunchy candy shells.
I had a party a few weeks later, and still invited that guy. He didn't come, but my friend did. We tried spin-the-bottle again and while no one kissed on the lips (we were all good Christian kids you know), I remember kissing that spot just under his ear and thinking I could like this. He didn't seem to mind either. My best friend asked him later that night why he wouldn't go out with me and he said he respected me too much.
Which I heard as "I don't think she's pretty." That might be wrong, but that's how it felt.
This was reinforced all through school. I did manage to have one boyfriend- but my mum says he doesn't count since we never did anything. That's not true. He did hold my hand for grace before dinner twice.
I know. Pathetic. I even asked him to kiss me once. It was dark, and we were hidden by columns. No one would have seen. I was wearing my best dress. He had given me beautiful roses and I thought I loved him.
"It's not worth it."
I think I nodded meekly in agreement as I tried not to cry. There's a picture of me taken later that night; I'm clutching my bouquet and grinning. I told myself that he shut me down because he wanted to wait until the moment was right. Now I think about it he may have said something like that. Or maybe I wished he had. Anyway, I wanted it so much but I knew waiting was the right thing to do and I should follow his lead. It hit me later- years later- he said "it's" not worth it but I understood it as "you're not worth it." I've lived like this most of my life, thinking I'm not worth it but then feeling that yes, yes I am worth it and feeling guilty over being prideful so I'm back to self-loathing.
Anyway, two weeks later we'd broken up because his parents wanted to save me a broken heart if we kept dating and decided not to get married. They wanted us to decide, 2 months into a relationship, if we were going to marry. If not, well, best end things now shouldn't you children? So he dumped me. He was probably nice about it but I just remember running back to my room and begging to come home for Thanksgiving after all. He dumped me- this boy I'd loved since 3rd grade. I had diaries with pages full of him. This was the worst rejection yet.
I kept it inside, mostly. But I started to harden myself- I gained weight thinking that if a man wouldn't get close I wouldn't be hurt again. But silly me, I still developed crushes.
The popular boy with the silver voice who listened to me, gave me advice, and managed to make me feel like I was special while holding me at arms' length.
The darkly brooding would-be novelist who amused and infuriated me in equal turns.
The poet always pining for another. He was the one I loved best. I spent hours talking to him, educating myself in literature and music he liked (thankfully I turned out to have similar natural taste so I enjoy these things still). I tried to impress and flatter, to make him see how good I was for him. Never worked. When he wooed and won another I withdrew, angry and sad. People knew and maybe thought less of me but I couldn't face them. Someone asked me why I couldn't be happy for them and I remember with shame shouting that I found it difficult to be happy when someone else has the pleasure I do not. I regret seeing him as a trophy (although I suspect he might like that) instead of a person to be loved in that moment. Later I had to leave him, and leaving him was one of the hardest things I've ever done. I cried the whole way home that night, and halfway to Charleston the next day.
Midway through senior year, a teacher said I should stay on for grad school, since four years wasn't enough for me to catch a man. Maybe I could wear one down over another year or two, he thought. A man said that to me. Again I wasn't good enough. That didn't work, nor did staying on for one more year. But I don't need one. I've nearly 29 years' worth of experience being alone and I've got it worked out. There have been a few dates in the intervening years but nothing serious. I swooned inwardly when this one guy said he would not abandon me. He was probably joking, and he did. I lived. And I will live. Cynically and sentimentally. After all, I am a woman and can be as contrary as I choose.
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