I wasn’t expecting to have a post today. I’ve been suffering from “shift work sleep disorder – eating ice cream daily – sleeping every moment I haven’t been at work” syndrome.
So, I woke up this morning at my new get up time of 4am and there were obnoxious messages on my dating app. Wow.
I’m going to admit that I have some issues. I don’t trust. Trust issues have origins in very obvious places. I have a bad history of best friends and I have social awkwardness. That last one doesn’t sound like a disorder but I assure you it is. I’ve had it since birth. I was a non-cuddly baby (I may or may not explain this later on). I moved when I was 12. This is not the age where you want to move to a new city and a new school where everyone is reliant on the previous year’s cliques because they all came from different schools and merged into one. Nor do you want to be the brown-skinned girl who looks Mexican (as in from Mexico recently) and not only does not speak Spanish but sounds a lot more like Reba McEntire for comfort. Those kids taught me to get rid of my Texas twang inside of a year for preservation’s sake. (Don’t worry, I got it back, kind of.)
My first best friend in the new city had friends who didn’t like me just because. I hadn’t done anything except move in across the street from a cool kid. It was convenient for me as a socially awkward person. I didn’t understand all the dirty jokes. I didn’t comprehend how observations on my changing body immediately translated into dirty jokes. I didn’t comprehend why girls would pee in front of one another or didn’t pay attention in health class enough to know that a pregnancy test does not go inside your body. Logic, social awkwardness and the propensity to say weird shit just make for a very awkward adolescent experience. We’ll call this group the Vs. V1, V2 and V3.
This group of girls began to fall apart in high school. V3 wizened up and drifted away all on her own. She was sporty and dated boys who liked sporty girls. I loved her, she was awesome and I lost track of her as she knew where she was going and went. V2 hated me for no other reason than our mutual best friend, V1, liked me pretty well. I was the alibi for the group. If they snuck out to meet their boyfriends, they all said they were with me and like magic, they were alibi’d til dawn. It sucked. They introduced me to my first boyfriend, J1, who was the worst possible fellow a shy girl could have gotten hooked up with. He was older and moved fast and my saving grace was that I was knowledgeable of myself enough that I could put a stop to fastness when it came. I was 14 and not ready to have sex and I knew that for an immoveable fact.
I unfortunately also had low self esteem due to the awkward way I dealt with people in general, forget boys, that I allowed him to waltz in and out of my life for 8 years. I never slept with him. I never wholly forgave him for cheating on me. I never forgave him for making me the other woman. I never stopped needing to have him as my friend until after my mother died. Then when I moved across the state to get away from everything; depression, mourning, and J1; he kept trying to keep me in his life and interrupting my ability to move on by just being his friend and answering his phone calls when they came. Luckily, I needed to get a local number in order to work and I shut off the phone and my access to him. I’ve been better of, even if I am mistrusting. Due to my ex-roommate RCB and her unhealthy and destructive patterns of relationship coping, I did discover a couple of years ago that he finally married the girl he’d been dating off and on since before he met me. They have kids now. I’m disgusted but glad in a way. It worked out for someone. I’m not opposed to my exes having found happiness. I just want some for myself as well.
The Vs were bad girls disguised as good girls. I know it’s a judgey thing to say and doesn’t sit will with my inner-feminist but as a good girl with a potty mouth, the distinction is important to me. I was left holding the bag more often than was my share. I was led into behavior I normally wouldn’t have engaged in. I smarted off to adults. That wasn’t my thing, still isn’t. It wasn’t the person my mother had raised me to be. So, I cut off all ties. I left our shared locker. I left behind V1, who slept with my both my boyfriend and my not-boyfriend because I needed to learn to a) recognize when a boy wanted to date me even if he never had the guts to ask, b) fight for things I wanted for myself in a timely manner and c) stand up to my parents rigid rules about dating (I wasn’t allowed to have boys call the house or wear makeup until I was 16). I left behind V2 who tried, in the 8th grade, to rip open my hand with her fingernails because she was in danger, she felt, of losing her best friend to me (she wasn’t, they are still friends to this day). These two young women proceeded to engage in all sorts of destructive behavior that led V1 to drop out of high school and run away to God knows where and V2 to call me a couple of years later to bail her out of a situation she’d gotten herself into without any help from me (despite she and I not talking for a year and a half).
They aren’t bad people. They just made bad decisions and almost dragged me down with them. I was desperate for company so I allowed it until I couldn’t anymore. They were the ones who told me to stand up for myself and the things I wanted. When I did, and when those things were about things they said and did to me, they didn’t like it. They didn’t accept the things I wanted for myself, so I left them to their destruction. I’m not saying I’m better off, exactly. I just felt and still feel like it was the thing to do. I still didn’t get out unscathed.
So, my formative dating years were spent not dating, exactly. I was fighting with girls. I was sneaking out to meet boys who couldn’t call my house. I spent that time explaining to boys that I wasn’t going to have sex with them and getting repeatedly dumped because of it. When I did get J1 to enjoy our time together, there was no wooing. It was making out in the park, under the baseball stands, hiding from teachers, friends and parents. We couldn’t go to the mall together because a) I hated the mall, b) he was banned from the mall for theft and c) appearing in public led to fights. Yeah, I was under the mistaken impression that I was shy. I wasn’t. I’m timid to a point. I’m soft-spoken. I’m not shy but I choose my words carefully and I don’t like to make a scene. Even PDA ones. Our second longest running fight was about my aversion to holding hands in public. Public places make me nervous. Holding hands or having arms around me feels too much like restraint. I’m still pretty much like that today. I can take an elbow or walk close together now but arms wrapping causes the fight or flight response. If that kind of behavior is needed, I prefer dark movie theaters, a person’s home or a car.
I do have a lot going on upstairs. I’m working on it. I haven’t even touched 17 or 18, yet. We’ll get there. I do now have a best friend that I love and I know isn’t out to fuck me over. I’ve ditched the guy friends who just think it’s neat to have a girl around that likes comic books or watching action movies or will engage in a conversation about porny things because I feel like men need to hear what women really think from time to time. Now!
Dating App Mayhem!
Okay, this first one is one I heard at work. My two trainers in my area believe this to be the best pick up line. I tried to argue but they are convinced that it works. I just wonder on who.
“You must be from Tennessee because you are the only 10 I see.”
“Lets tejano to some freddy!” I’m still puzzling this one out. Maybe because I’ve mentioned I like Freddy Fender but… still doesn’t make sense in a way that makes sense.
“Dsbsb” —- Yeah… no clue.
“Me gustaría ser aviador, para volar en tus sueños (I’d like to be an aviator, to fly in your dreams.)” – This is my favorite, this week. I didn’t even know I had it until I did my check this morning. I’m dying. I am dying laughing.
“You must have lasers in your eyes because you’ve stunned me.” – And I’ve snorfled so hard I’ve hurt my tiny nose.
“I’m not a photographer, but I can picture us together.” – that happened.
“Hello, I’m a thief, and I’m here to steal your heart.” – and my stomach hurts from laughing.
I am actually getting a couple of nice guys who aren’t trying to woo me with lines and aren’t trying to show me pictures of their junk. I’ve just been asleep when they message me or out to run errands or… yeah, sleeping. I was gonna run out to do laundry but now it’s raining. I think I have to work on that roommate ad now. This sucks.