Tuesday, September 7, 2010

I thought you understood.

I guess what bothers me most is that, as long as we've known each other, I think you still don't understand me. Oh, you think you do. You tell me things about myself that you think you know... that I'm X, Y, and Z. All it shows me is that you haven't been paying attention, and I've really started to doubt that you care to know who I am. I doubt that you care enough about me to even make the effort to understand. You'd rather just throw out your idea of who I am, about what makes up the girl I am, and not listen to anything that might interfere with your preconceived ideas. The difference between the two of us is that I've never claimed to understand you, yet I still try desperately to. But I'm beginning to doubt there's any reason to even try. I don't think you want me to understand you.

So here it is-- I'm not perfect. I'm not physically perfect, I'm not intellectually perfect, and I'm not emotionally perfect. I may at some point be in a smaller size pants than I'm in right now, but I'm never going to be a size 2 with perfect 36D breasts, no stretchmarks, no scars, no roots where my hair's grown out from the last time I've bleached it. And you know what? I've made my peace with that. I don't have to weigh 110 pounds and have huge tits. I don't care if it's a little obvious I color my hair, or bleach it, depending upon the time of year. I want to be healthier than I am right now, and I do want to be a smaller size, because there are things I want to do that would be easier to do if I was smaller. I want to be able to do those things for me, not because I want to fit someone else's definition of perfect.

I know I'm smart, but I also know that sometimes I just don't care to be. I don't care to put forth the effort, and I know there are times I haven't lived up to my potential. Sometimes I want to be the smartest girl in the room, and sometimes I'd prefer people just not expect so much of me so I don't have to worry about letting them down if I fail.

I'm a girl. And I'm emotional. I have a graphic saved on my computer that says "I don't think, I feel." and a lot of the time, that's accurate. Are there reasons I'm so emotional? I'm sure there are. When I talk about how I'm scared of something, intimidated by someone, you have no problem recognizing that a lot of that fear and insecurity comes from my life experiences.  Why, then, do you expect it to just go away? Why do you expect me to just get over it? (And yeah, you might not come right out and say that, but it's what you want) It's not going to just go away overnight, or in a month, or even in a year. Those parts of me... well, they're a part of me. And I'm not looking for someone to tell me to just get over it. I've had enough of that in 28 years to last the rest of a very long lifetime. I'm looking for someone who cares enough to hold my hand and be there with me when I'm scared. I'm looking for someone who'll meet me halfway and help me through the fear and insecurity, not make it worse with thinly veiled (and sometimes not veiled at all) manipulative and hurtful comments. And don't give me bullshit about I'm the one breaking my own heart, free will, etc. You're not an idiot. You know you said and did things that would hurt me. And you keep doing it. And when I tell you you're hurting me, you just go right on doing it and tell me it's my fault, because I have free will and can choose to not be hurt. But for that matter, if you know the things you're saying are going to hurt me, and you claim to love me, don't you have the free will to not say those things to me? 

I tell you my fears... and you laugh at me and call me a liar, and ask me just how stupid I think you are. You still think the reason I took us back to the hotel room every day I was down there was because I wanted sex. You honestly can't understand that for all the jokes I may make, for all the flirting and innuendo... that's all it is. Talk. You asked how stupid I thought you were when I said what I was talking about with one of my girlfriends was that I was too chickenshit to even hold your hand. Do you even realize that I haven't ever had a guy just hold my hand? I'm not exaggerating. Never. The whole two weeks that I "dated" Josh, he never held my hand. Never cuddled with me. Didn't even really speak to me if other people were around. Made out with me in the parking lot after band practice, and then got a blow job from me on an in-service day. That was it for affection. Then called me the next day to say "I think we should break up." That's it. That's as close as I've had to affection from a boy. So do you think you can understand now why it was such a big deal to me? Why I'd be so scared to just reach out and take your hand? Knowing that, can you understand why I was so eager to spend the weekend in the hotel room just laying there together watching cartoons? It was a huge thing to me to just cuddle and have you play with my hair.

I think that may be what hurt the most-- that something that meant so much to me, was so special to me, meant absolutely nothing to you. And it will always be like that, won't it?

You say you gave a lot, but you neglect to notice that I did too. I let my guard down. I let myself be vulnerable in front of you. I openly shared with you my deepest fears and insecurities, and trusted that they wouldn't get used against me.