I figure that constitutes a good enough reason to blog a bit.
So...I'm currently wrestling with several emotions, and very few of them are positive. I may have mentioned something about it earlier, but I don't remember what gets posted and what doesn't.
Regardless, business as usual in my neck of the woods.
I think I've scared my parents recently. I tend to have a very self deprecating sense of humor. This can sometimes come off as being really down on myself, because I forget to add in the awkward laughter that makes it all okay. I'm worried that they're worried, which makes me more worried because they might catch on to my worry and worry more, which will just exacerbate my worry. It's one big ol' worry-spiral that doesn't really end.
But I'm really okay. Nothing's all that different. I'm just not...This is going to be a little harsh, but know I don't...I'm not...
Ugh, DISCLAIMER: I'm not nice, I'm shallow, and I have a horrible sense of humor. Please bear this in mind when reading the rest of my blog, ever.
I have a type. Unfortunately, it's a type that never really leads to anything but me sitting in my room alone, wondering if the kind of guy I'm attracted to will ever be attracted to me back.
It hasn't worked out so well so far.
Oddly enough, I've never gone out with the kind of guy I'm most attracted to. Okay, I haven't gone out with the kind of guy I'm most attracted to with him knowing it was a date as well. He thinks we were just hanging out as friends, and honestly, so do I, but to avoid further embarrassment in front of my family, I never deny that it was a date when they say it was.
And everyone else, well...I'll be honest again (Because I lie on here? that phrase doesn't make much sense), I'm just not attracted to them. I try, I do. I just can't make myself like someone physically who doesn't already spark a little "yoo-hoo" attraction button already. That was the technical term, by the way.
I can learn to accept someone's personality, I can be moderately attracted to their mind, but to put it simply, if the physical side isn't there, it's not going anywhere.
And I feel bad about that, because I don't like being that way. It makes me feel shallow and unappreciative, and like a heel, and a lot of other things that aren't exactly nice feelings.
But it's who I am, it's who I've always been. I tried to like Beast. But I'm not Belle. I'm not Ariel, either. I'm not Jasmine, I'm not Aurora, I'm not Snow White, I'm not Cinderella. I end up falling overnight, and being broken two days later, by my own self-doubt and checking.
I'm human. There has yet to be a fictional character written that is like I am. I constantly am watching my thoughts, and if I find myself getting too day-dreamy, I cut it off and cauterize the wound with a "it's not going to happen, you know this. Get over it, move on."
And I do.
And I'm still a romantic. I still want that "can't-eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over-the-fence, World Series kind of stuff" feeling. I still want to be taken in by a pair of fine eyes and sharp wit. I want someone who can dance beneath the silver moon sparkling. I want these things.
But I deny myself at every turn because there is no way, NO WAY, anyone who can give me those things will ever be attracted to me.
And I do wonder if I'm just so unattractive, that all I can get are guys with low standards on beauty because they themselves have low-self-esteem. I've been told I'm not standardly pretty. It was meant as a compliment, but you don't even mention that to a girl, because you know what it does to her? It just shoots her straight down.
She'll never be enough. She'll never be pretty enough, or smart enough, or funny enough or any of that, because you have just told her she doesn't measure up to the ruler she's been striving to measure up to her whole life.
Even if she knows better. Lie. Tell her she is more beautiful than that. Don't tell her she's not society's definition of pretty. Because she might look up to society's definition of pretty.
Don't tell her she's odd, quirky or awkward, no matter how much she tells you she is. Because she doesn't want to know that (unless she's PROUD of it, beyond a shadow of a doubt, and even then, don't tell her she's not normal. Say she's interesting). It might be her way of covering up her self-consciousness of it. DON'T YOU DARE TAKE THAT AWAY FROM HER.
It's her safety. Her security blanket. She keeps it wrapped tightly around her so no one can see how unhappy she is with herself.
The only way you can even begin to unwrap her from it is to reassure her that she is beautiful, but you have to tell her explicitly. (oh good, now I can never show a potential boyfriend this blog, or I'll forever distrust his words...and that might happen anyway, crap). You have to use your descriptors. I know it's hard, it's something I myself struggle with.
BUT YOU HAVE TO. Her self-confidence depends on it.
I've been knocked down a lot. I was never enough. I was never pretty enough, or old enough, or young enough, or funny enough, or smart enough, or clever enough, or handy enough, or strong enough for anyone.
My family keeps me around because they've been there and they're the only ones who know how pretty, old/young, funny, smart, clever, handy, and strong I really am. But no one else does, and it seems like if I don't have the right wrapping, no one else ever will.
And that's what makes me sad.
I put on make up occasionally. And I do feel quite pretty in it (on good days, but it has to be a good day). I like wearing make up, I do.
What I dislike is the immediate change in my family's (and everyone else's) behavior towards me when I wear it.
Suddenly I'm being told I'm pretty three times as much as when I don't. I'm being noticed by people twice as often as usual. People who normally wouldn't even give me a first glance suddenly look twice.
Why does there have to be a change? What's the deal? I admit, I do look quite pretty in makeup, I said that already. But just because I'm wearing make up does not mean that Mom and Dad have to tell me three times more than usual that I am.
That's not why I put it on.
I put it on so I could feel better about myself. Being told more often that I'm pretty with it on just makes me feel worse when I don't wear it.
It emphasizes the thoughts in my head that go "you're not pretty enough, you've got weird spots everywhere, your eyes are too dark, you need more sleep, you're so shallow you need make up to feel better about yourself". Those aren't the thoughts I really want to be listening to.
What about if I don't wear make up? Can't I be told equally as often that I'm pretty then, too? Or perhaps it would be easier to just cut back on the compliments when I am wearing make up. Seriously. My sister wears make up very often, and when she doesn't no one notices, and when she puts it back on, no one suddenly starts over-praising her for it.
Why me?
Am I really that unattractive?
I don't think so, but maybe I am.
And it sucks worse because right now the only reason I even am thinking of considering a relationship at this point in time is for physical validation. Which I wouldn't get because I wouldn't want to trade in my v-card until after the wedding day, and honestly I doubt that's going to happen with a boyfriend who came from insecurity.
Which is why I still am single. And I do enjoy it, don't worry about that. I'm not currently able to keep track of myself, let alone a whole extra person. I have a hard enough time scheduling in my family and the few friends I have. Being in a relationship would just make that a whole lot more complicated.
Sneaky hate spiral, I believe I have found your romantic equivalent. When I think up a name, I'll let you know.
Until Next Time, Dear Readers,
Me.
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