Love Story – That Bad Habit.
Photo credit: veggiegretz from morguefile.com
Ever wondered how you could get ballzy enough to tell a friend that you’re quite in love with him?
I think I did that but I did it by accident and it pushed him away.
As usual, there’s this boy. I’ve said this over a billion times and like atleast twice among those billion times, I’ve said this about the same boy. This is the longest I’ve ever felt this way about anyone since that ridiculous 6th grade crush I had on a boy who lived downstairs. He totally knew why I would wait at the balcony for him to see me act stupid every single one of those days I spent as a frustrated convent-goer tending to find every random guy cute due to the lack of testosterone in her life.
That little unfair love story lasted about 2 and a half sad long years of my then meaningless life where even a glance at his not so good-looking hair was more than enough to make my day. I could say, I still function the same way but unfortunately for us, social media sort of ruined it. I come across as a messed up and confused 20-year old child in a well preserved 7th grader’s body that outgrew the hormonal phases. Sadly, this boy I’m so in love with, believes I need help, the shrink kind of help.
I am quite amazed by him. Everytime I talk to him, I feel so insecure. He makes me feel insecure and I’m usually not. Actually, I’m everything else but insecure. The fact that he makes me question myself and I feel the need to like, watch out? That is such a turn-on factor. I believe, with all my heart, that I am absolutely unworthy of him. But, I want him. I want him so bad. It kills me inside, everyday, that I ruined my chance at being with him. It was so silly of me to not know that this would be the future of a favour so unfavorable.
I still don’t understand how it went so wrong. I blame it on the habit, for which I blame myself and nobody else. I am one with poor choices. I am one with that huge ego. I am the anti social loser who has a very hard time trying to make any real friends that if I do end up falling in love with one of them, it’s twice the loss when I fail and I’m quite confident about messing up in that department. This impatience is not helping me either.
I’m 20, I get to be hormonal, don’t I? It’s only natural. Why’d he have to ask me how I take care of myself about it? I’m single and I have been for quite a long time now and I’m very stable, outwardly. I seem to go about just fine with a lot of things on my plate. Isn’t that enough information about the methods I take to in order to please my lonely self at night? I guess, I must have hinted it to him. It’s not like him to ever give two sh**s about me and ask me such questions, we were never that close.
Well, I’m not going to lie to him. I’m not afraid to admit that we girls also need our solo time to keep us steady. No, not all of us lay in bed crying ourselves to sleep over last year’s break up. Some of us are quite ambitious. We need to keep our head in the game. And if it’s not, we shouldn’t allow any display of such character. It causes way too much damage to come across as petite and orthodoxily feminine. So dear judgies, here’s your queue to exit.
I took to pleasing myself when I was younger. At first, I did it out of spite. I did it aiming at some kind of unexplained revenge, I guess I was a lot more messed up than I am now. I felt betrayed when my then boyfriend who was away from me (approximately 4852 miles away) was having second thoughts about us. He, who had promised me alot of things that the romantic in me thought to be quite important in life, had decided to leave me only because he went away. We tried hard, we tried to keep things alive but it was too much to handle with the distance in the equation. My mother still think we’re going to end up together. Clearly she is unaware of my interests.
Anyway, without him, I needed to be alright. I needed him to know that I didn’t depend on him as much as he thought I did so I took to pleasing myself in a less emotional way. I didn’t realize the way it would change me as a person, it did, It changed me alot. I would never go back to being that clingy emotional mess. I have learned that people fail to be there for us. I have learned that when they do so, we must detach and depend on things that don’t have expectations or boundaries. Some people take to a hobby that is compared to mine and is tagged as a more healthy and a more productive way to utilize time and help oneself. I don’t care, frankly.
It used to give me comfort in a way that I felt less pathetic about myself. It’s not easy to grow up in a place where it’s considered normal only when you have someone to deal with your bullshit irrespective of how shitty you can get. Like, you can’t afford to be single without a valid excuse like some form of depression due to an unimaginable loss that you’ve had to deal with in your past or something like that. If that excuse doesn’t exist, oh boy are you in trouble. You can go hours and days and months with people writing apologetic songs and verses in your name and telling you to hang in there and be strong because it’s just so hard to breathe without someone there with you all the time try kiss your sorry ass and please you till they tap some of that and leave while they still can or worse, marry it.
Yes, I qualify for the class of women who hate committing to someone who is certain about the marriage deal. I don’t believe in marriage, it’s not natural. I love the tradition and the ceremony but I hate the concept or rather, what has become of it. Marriage is meant to be something soulful. We need not publish the marriage of two souls. It’s not supposed to be a trend. As for weddings, love them! Would love to have alot of them too. Partyyy! Haha! Okay, I guess hate is a strong word. I hate that most relationships are defaulted at marriage.
Marriage is not a competition and it is, most certainly, not for everyone. It is meant to happen if and only if the partners connect on that magical level that I don’t understand yet. It’s frustrating that I don’t understand how that feels and it worries me that I will probably be dead and gone before I get to. So, I could say it’s a form of envious hate. How does that work? Can I enviously hate something for probably not happening to me? If yes, how can I be envious about it?
It feels like I’m having a conversation with him but turns out I’m talking to myself and my text editor. I doubt he’d want to hear me out so loud. I doubt anybody would. Sometimes though, he does. I guess it’s out of some form of sympathy he has for me. He is aware of the fact that I don’t have too many people to open up to so I notice how he gives me his time. This is recent and it gives me alot of happiness when I think of it. He is usually one to not care much. It really excites me to think that I am someone who he would actually hold a conversation with for more than just a few minutes.
On the contrary, it absolutely frightens me to think that someday he might realize what a waste of time I was for him and I fear that that day will be the end of our not-so-short-not-so-long conversations. I am addicted to the very little that I get from him. There is a sense of deep concern here. I am usually not someone to worry about the future of my relationship with alot of people but with him? I don’t know what went wrong I just can’t seem to get a hold of myself. I’m scared that he will leave me. I am scared that he will leave me if he knew how I feel.
And so it shall be hidden.
I don’t want him to regret making love to me. I have tried so hard to pretend like it was just as meaningless to me as it was to him. I know I told him that I was quite in love with him that night. I know how he asked me if I was being real. I know I cried to him after we were done. I know he knew I was in love with him. I know I blamed it all on the alcohol.
I will never forget the way we kissed. I treasure every single minute I shared with him alone, in my skin, finding no need to hide or shy away. It may have been casual to him but it wasn’t for me, at all. I may have said that I was only looking for some fun but I lied. I love him and I lied.
But, I will never admit it. I hate defeat. I would hate being overthrown by this boy who made me weak at my knees. He can make me lose my mind if he wanted to and I would never be comfortable letting him know how powerful he is over this tiny person. It’s not about strength in weights and measure, if that was the case, he’d have won a long time ago.
He’s my big secret and my best friend all in one. The worst of it all, he unintentionally got me addicted. Now, he’s my bad habit and I don’t want to get away.
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