Facebook is really fucking with me right now. There was a time when I could peacefully peruse the internet without worrying about who’s on there but, goddammit, they’ve found me. Two of my ex’s I’d rather not speak to have found me (while my account was deactivated, which is never too long) and it’s bizarre because if I were any other girl, they’d be the two loved most. One was my first. Like… my first first. But… it wasn’t a fairytale the way some girls had it, yet I made him think I loved him. He also gave me my first diamond ring. I was 16 and engaged, y’all. And at that age, I could confuse the common cold with love so I took for what it was.
The problem with me is that I can make boys think I love them more than I do. The real issue, is that I’ll believe it, too. It’s unfortunate because I cause myself a significant amount of grief worrying about what will go where and with whom. I never know how I truly feel about a guy until it’s all over. Jarrod went to jail one summer when I was 15(?) and just got out like a week ago (lmfao.. and No, I didn’t write. He had someone else accepting those collect calls.) Rob and I “separated” when I went off to college. I didn’t cry or anything, though. I just left as if he hadn’t existed, which was funny because I had practically moved in with him that one fated summer –which practically destroyed Nuno. We’d be “in love” for about two years but I was tired of the monotonous mothering I had to do. With my ex, Mr. FamousDJ, it was all a game for me until he left me. & CinderELLA doesn’t like to be left. Most recently with D, I thought I’d be sad but… I’m just sad I didn’t like him more.
So when guys ask me if I’ve been in love before, it’s a tough question for me to answer. Have I said I loved a guy before? Of course. But because that’s the natural course of things, I thought. It was rarely something out of this world. There were rarely fireworks. Nuno was my first “love” –a neighborhood crush of mine that I somehow made fall in love with me, too. The thing is, I think these guys did love me. And maybe I did love them back (in my own way). I mean… I did right by them. I cared. I was there. I played the girlfriend role well. I’m not sure how not to. When I involve myself with a guy, we go together. Secretly, I take it seriously. Sometimes too seriously. I just want them to love me. I love love. Who doesn’t? It’s better to have loved and lost right? But now I’m trying to separate my emotions, from my actions, from reality.
I lose reality a little bit sometimes. I jump into things. I think every new guy I meet is fuckin awesome. I build and build with him and find myself pushing to his girlfriend until, 3 days later, I realize I don’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend. And I get a phone call later talking about what he “thought” we had. Idk why but I do that a lot. I think it’s just that I don’t like to be the side chick. I can’t do it. I can’t be okay with that. So I make them be serious with me. I prove why I deserve to be treated that way and… they agree. That’s really not my fault –they agreed. At the end, I pick up and leave figuring that if I can forget about them easily, they should be able to do that same. It’s a little cold, but that’s the way life is isn’t it? I can’t be stuck on some boy and all the drama that comes with it, all in the name of love. I’ve got to keep on moooovin. Lol.. I’m grateful for each of them though, I’ve had fantastic times, but I might have told them I was in for more than I really was.
I might’ve been wrong. I mean… not wrong, just a bit unclear. Maybe they should know that I thrive off affection. I work for it. All I’ve ever aimed to do in this life was win shit. I have to be the best –the curse of the perfectionist. I want to be better than the ex and the next and the next. I want to be the best. And I can surely do it. Even guys who have never dated me know exactly why a man would want to make me his own. Rob was a ummm… “bad boy” on the block, meaning he thought he was tough and few challenged it. Had him lovin me in a week. I didn’t have to do a thing. I went to work because I felt like it, but I stayed with him. He paid for everything. We did what we wanted. I was his girl. I mean… to the point where I cleaned a 3 bedroom apartment that housed 3 filthy men, their various whores and their respective pitbulls (the actual dog, not all the girls looked like pitbulls. But there were plenty bitches in the house.) So, given the situation, I played my role. And Rob was jealous. I didn’t really hang out with my friends that summer. Didn’t go to the club either. I spent it with him and his friends. Cooking. Cleaning. Fighting.
For the most part, I detached myself from these guys (even in the thickest instances of love) because I knew it’d never go anywhere. I’ve dated many an unqualified man because they’re… good people. And part of me –as evil I was–was still kind. Nuno never graduated from high school. He once tried to explain how it was more likely that he’d hit it big selling insurance (for the latest pyramid scheme he fell victim to) than it was for me to make it by going to college. It was when I finally opened my eyes and saw the end of the road. I t was the exact it all went downhill. I knew he wouldn’t be where I needed him to be when I needed him to be there. I was already buying him socks and underwear, I couldn’t take care of him for the rest of my life. It was the first time I told him you’re stupid” and meant it (he was always sensitive about names like “stupid” and “dummy”).
Rob may have graduated from high school. Who knows. All I know is that he had enough dollars in his pocket to take care of me for a summer. He was a real man, I must say. I didn’t have to do a thing. Didn’t have togo to work if I didn’t want to. Didn’t have to ask him to fill up the tank. When I told him we needed groceries, he asked me how much money I needed. He didn’t ask too many questions. He just wanted me by his said at all times. I didn’t notice how controlling he was until I left for college. At first, it was cool. He drove down with a car load of groceries and puppies. He really did try to keep me happy. But later on,when I started making friends and partying till 6am, he would call my dorm phone cursing me out and making death threats. Like… serious ones. He went insane. I tried to file a restraining order online but you gotta do the shit in person. Decided I’d sit my ass right in Maryland.
I think everyone deserves love –indeed my achilles heel. I’m not as judgmental as I pretend to be. If I involve myself with a guy, who is in fact a good guy, I try to give him a fair chance. I’m currently trying to figure out where this stems from: It could be partial naivety. It could be lonliness. I could be my idealist views. Or it could be that I’m right. It could be that I was meant to experience these men and they’re love. I deserve love don’t I? Doesn’t everyone. So I felt bad holding something like a diploma against these guys. I figured they’d had it tough. And they were still good people. And all of that is true. They are good people, but certainly not my equals in terms of intellect or social status.
I feel fucked up when I say things like that but, in a relationship, the shit matters, don’t you think? You need to be with someone who is as capable as you are. You differ in what you bring to the table, but no one is that far behind the other. If you are, where will the conversation go? It’s, my mind decided, she knew less because she’d been through less. That was how I saw it. We could only speak about so much. The lives of our conversations, in turn, were short-lived. It’s not necessarily a feeling I’m ashamed of having. It’s not even that it’s hard to explain. It’s just that I sometimes feel like a brut telling the truth about my feelings of things. I think we all feel this way, we’re just afraid to admit it because it makes us “bad” people. Well, I’m a bad person.
Welcome to the real me.