THOUGHT IS FREE.I’ve gotten several messages to post more “Words”, so here you go. I kind of delve into this with no idea of how it’d go, but now that I know it’s caught people’s attention and you enjoy reading them, I will for sure post more frequently.
June 12th, 2011.
WARNING: This story may include some “TMI” moments.
I lay wide awake in my bed, staring at the ceiling, and took long, heavy breaths while I delved deep into my own thoughts. Thoughts that were extremely reoccurring; ever since I was old enough to really “like” a boy. About three years ago I came to the realization that loneliness was all I’d ever know. Some people have soul mates, some have several. But some, like myself, were just destined to roam the earth alone. The moment I realized this was the moment I told myself to not wallow in it and wait for prince charming but, rather, to accept it and utilize it. I think this is where my independence came into the picture.
I never had much luck with boys. I had a few boyfriends here and there, but I’m sure the number of crushes and love interests greatly outnumbered the number of actual boyfriends. I was awkward in junior high. However, I believe mostly everyone was. At least, I’d like to think so. I had no sense of style. I was just beginning to enter the foreign lands of “makeup” and “hair products”. I was small and underdeveloped. I had no clue who I was. I thought at this age, the key to a boyfriend was appearance and being “good buddies”. At such a young age, that was true. But I knew damn well I had nothing to offer in the appearance region. I got my first “real” boyfriend freshman year. The second things ended was the second I figured out boys cared more about touching my boobs and trying to get me to sneak out of class to make out in the girl’s bathroom. The second I didn’t allow this to happen, and I was dropped like a hot potato, was the second I decided boys were meaningless.
I believe the older I became, the more I realized how important sex was to the male gender at age 14+. However, no one ever wanted it from me; the small, quiet, 8-year-old-bodytype girl. Even though I would never give up my “sacred gift”, nor go past locking lips with a boy for more than two seconds, the fact that I wasn’t desired like plenty of the other girls that surrounded me in various classes actually bothered me.
It wasn’t until mid-sophomore year did things change. I developed a style. I tossed old band t-shirts away and replaced them with short dresses and pretty blouses. I was a pro with liquid liner and knew how to apply mascara in a way that made my eyelashes reach my eyebrows. I grew taller, leaner. Developed curves, and boobs that could be grabbed and actually required support. And then I noticed more attention being drawn to me. I never took advantage of this, even after obtaining looks from boys was I as shy as a 3 year old boy getting asked how old he is by a stranger at the supermarket. I’ll admit, I was flattered. I even dated a few fellas. Alas, it never lasted much longer than a few weeks to a month. It wasn’t until the summer after sophomore year that I met a boy who actually seemed to like me for my personality as opposed to my face or body. We dated for about 8 months, more or less, until he randomly broke it off. The break up really broke me, no pun intended. I wondered how such a great relationship could randomly get flushed down the tubes. One night came when I realized the only thing keeping us together was the intimacy. The only time we weren’t arguing was when his tongue was down my throat, or his hand was sliding down the tops of my jeans. From that point, after connecting the dots, I came to the conclusion that maybe teenage boys aren’t capable of showing real love or compassion. Not as long as sex wasn’t in the equation.
I did talk to a few more boys, not boys I planned on falling in love with but, rather, boys that gave me a temporary feeling of being wanted.
I blinked several times, attempting to shake the memorable images out of my head, and wondered why these memories and thoughts constantly resurfaced. Then, I wondered, have I really come to terms with my loneliness, or do I really just long for a real relationship?
