My Shitty Relationship

When I Made Him Cry

I’m pretty sure it’s like this for every highschool girl, but back when I was a senior…prom was a BIG DEAL. Days that would normally be passed by in complete ennui would instead be happily spent…finding that perfect prom dress. Not only was that damn dress especially important-along with your accessories, hairdo, and makeup-so was your date.

That introduction was a bit misleading since this little anecdote has nothing to do with finding “that dream date”. No…sadly, this is not that kind of story kids. BUT! It does involve prom…kind of.

Honestly, I bought my prom dress for $50 because it was on sale. I didn’t do anything special with my hair…left it down and combed it…and I think I might have put some eyeliner on. I didn’t really care about that perfect prom picture moment like my classmates. I actually had a ridiculously nagging obsession with something else. Although showing up to my prom in style didn’t really matter to me, what did matter to me was who people were bringing as their dates. Why? I have no idea. I was a weird ass kid.

I kept a list…of all my friends and who they were going to prom with. It was crazy. I knew who most people were bringing! All except for my one friend. Let’s call him *Mike.

Mike was one of my really good friends at the time, and he happened to be in several of my classes. Not only did we share homework assignments, we’d gossip, talk, play four square, whatever…you get the drift. We were buddies.

I heard from mutual friends that Mike wanted to ask my friend *Stella to the prom, and I immediately got super excited. Remember, in high school, I literally got off on this crap (OK, maybe not literally). Stella was the type of girl who was quiet, shy, smart, and kept to herself…she was so perfect for Mike; I totally approved.

One night, a bunch of classmates threw a hotel party. Everyone was invited. If you’ve ever been to one of these little soirees (keepin’ it classy, yo), you’ll understand when I say that hotel parties suck. Not only are you constantly worrying about the noise level, you’re also freaking out about whether or not the security will come up and bust you for underaged drinking (I didn’t take part in this). Sometimes, people get away with their night of drunken debauchery in their hotel room. Other nights, the hotel police come in raiding the place looking for unwanted guests and illegal substances. Unfortunately, that night fell into the latter category.

When the security dudes were angrily thumping on the door, everyone scrambled to hide! My hiding place of choice? Of course it was the damn closet. Oh, and guess who joined me? Mike and our friend *Fred. Both of them had a bit to drink, and were struggling to keep quiet. What happened in that closet was one of the most awkward moments of my life.

Of course, I had to ask who these guys were bringing to prom. I was glad to find out that Fred already had a date. I remember being worried because I saw him being shut down several times by this one chick…it was quite sad. After a little chit chat, I asked Mike if he had asked Stella already. I had talked to her, and she didn’t seem opposed to the idea.

Mike: Stella actually said no…
Me: WHAT?! WHY?! Are you sad?
Mike: Not really.
Me: Stop lying.
Mike: Seriously, I didn’t really want to go with her anyways.
Me: Then why did you ask her?
Mike: It was a safer choice. I was too scared to ask this other girl. 

OK, at this point…I felt really uncomfortable because I pretty much figured out that this “other girl” was me from the way this conversation was heading. OH HELLS NO, I was definitely not going to ask who this other chick was. So instead, I blurted out:

Me: I wanna go to the prom with *Arnold.
Mike: ARNOLD?! WHY?
Me: He’s just so smart and sweet and nice. Isn’t he such a sweetheart?! He’s too cool.
Mike: I think he’s a loser.
Me: Well, I don’t care. I wouldn’t mind going to prom with him.

All of the sudden, I didn’t really want to know who was going with who to prom…I just wanted to get away as fast as I could. Any normal guy would have taken the hint and changed the subject. Unfortunately for me, Mike was a bit tipsy and feeling reckless.

Mike: Sandra, will you go to the prom with me?
Me: ……

Man. It seemed like ages before I actually answered him.

Me: I’m sorry Mike, I just don’t see you like that…

…and that’s when he starts bawling his eyes out. He began going on a depressing rant about how his life was awful, and how things never work out for him. I’ll spare you the painful details.

Now…if you thought that was an awkward moment for me. Imagine how FRED felt. Did you forget he was stuck in that closet too? Fred didn’t say a word throughout our whole conversation; he just witnessed all the heartbreak. After a few more minutes of excruciating silence (and some sobbing), our hosts gave us the green light to get out of the closet.

I was out of there in a flash. Fred too. I really didn’t know how to act around Mike from then on, and we were never as close as we were before.

Rejecting a guy is never a pleasant thing to do. If someone were to ask me for advice on how to avoid situations like these, I would say…don’t get yourself in them in the first place. Of course, that’s better said than done. My lesson that I took from this? Nothing really. I didn’t lead him on and I didn’t mince words. I was honest with myself and with him. If anything, I should learn a bit or two from this story.

Trust Issues

I used to be the type of person who’d be all about the “girl power” when it came to relationships. You know what I’m talking about? I was that girl who said she would never change her habits, lifestyle, or beliefs for a single guy. My thought process was this: if I enjoyed doing something, and I’ve been living that life for awhile (didn’t matter if it was negative or positive)…why should I change because some guy tells me that he doesn’t like it? I simply didn’t understand.

The Nice Guy

Although I’ve gone out with many assholes, I can safely say that I’ve also dated some genuinely good people. This is my story with a guy named George*. I will go out on a limb and say right now…he was way too good for me. I didn’t go out with George for his looks—not saying he was ugly, but I went out with him because he had a personality of gold.

Do Looks Really Matter? Part 2

In my previous post, I talked about my relationship with a guy who made it a point not to care about my physical appearance. Now, it’s time to talk about a guy who thought the exact opposite—that looks were everything.

Let me make this clear from the beginning…I don’t actively go out and search for these mentally unstable guys. Or maybe I do, who knows? Maybe I’m just attracted to men who are completely detrimental to my wellbeing. But on with the story.

I’m going to call him Dickhead. Because I can, and I think it’s funny. A part of me feels like I shouldn’t even change his name because he played such a huge part in my growth (or lack thereof) as an individual. But I don’t care…Dickhead is an awesome name. Oh and before you read on, just know that I still hold a strong grudge towards him…so if I sound angry, well—I probably am.

Anyways, Dickhead was notorious for being a lady’s man, but you see…he wasn’t a typical d-bag…he had style, charisma, and charm. He came off as one of the good ones. Guys wanted to befriend him and girls wanted to get in bed with him. He was humble…a rare quality you find in players. He didn’t really acknowledge his good looks or his uncanny talent to win over the chicks.

Unfortunately, it sounds as if I’m trying to make him sound really great. To be honest, he was not great at all. Overrated. While my ex DIDN’T want me to look good, Dickhead wanted me to flaunt what I had…but only when he was with me. First of all—and sorry for the language but…what the fuck? There was something wrong if I wasn’t working out. I looked like a nerd when I didn’t have my contacts in. Was I really going to wear that? At some point he even introduced me to others as his “pretty girlfriend” instead of my name. Not only was this a bit demeaning, but it was completely unacceptable. There were red lights flashing everywhere!

I concentrated in Women’s Studies before graduating college…so the big question is: Why didn’t I dump him? Or an even better question: WHY DID I GO OUT WITH THIS GUY? OH! And the million dollar question: Why did I listen to him?

If you asked me this a couple years ago, I would have said something like…love is blind or some other bullshit. Here’s my answer now after mulling it over for a few minutes.

I was insecure. I was aware of the fact that he was very attracted to my looks. I continued caking on the makeup, working out like a madwoman, and dressing up like a high-maintenance poodle just so I could look the part of his girlfriend. In my head…if my physical appearance started lacking, I would lose him. Maybe I was right…actually—I’m pretty sure I was right. But what does that say about the quality of our relationship? It was nothing. All shallow and fluffy and fake. Oh and fyi? My looks didn’t save me from losing him anyways.

Lust. Consult any dictionary, they’re all going to say the same thing…lust is uncontrollable, intense, overmastering sexual desire. Meaning…I could not contain myself around Dickhead. Back then, I thought I was in love. Wrong. Love, Lust, Hate. All very close feelings…if you haven’t experienced real love. But I’ll save the Love/Lust discussion for another Tumblr entry. Just know that while Dickhead mostly cared about my looks, I think the feeling was mutual. If he had gained 50 pounds and stayed the same person…I highly doubt I’d be writing this right now.

Denial. OH MY GOSH. I gave myself and my friends every single excuse in the book for Dickhead. How many times have I said to my friends that he was changing? That he’d see me for who I really am…which was a good person. Key mistake most girls make. Guys won’t change for you. Men will. And Dickhead was not a man yet.

Well…frankly, this topic exasperates me…so I’m going to wrap it up. I wish I had recognized the signs earlier on. Most of our conversations lacked substance; we were both so stuck on our appearances that we never stopped to simply know each other on an emotional level. Keep in mind that physical attraction…passion…lust…chemistry…it all fades.

In the end, if you’re ever going to make a relationship work—you go to the core and actually get to know the person to see if you genuinely like them. Sure, it’s good to have excitement for a bit, but once that’s gone…how do you expect to grow and move forward? So that concludes my story concerning the paradigm that is physical attraction. While it sucks to have a boyfriend who doesn’t care about how you look to an extreme, being with one who cares way too much is even worse.

Sorry about the abrupt ending, but I’m sleepy. Goodnight.

Do Looks Really Matter? Part 1

In highschool, I was about 5’4” and pushing 150 pounds. Needless to say…I was a bit tubby. At the time, I was dating my psycho ex boyfriend who thought it was very necessary for me to indulge in a Big Mac everyday. According to him, if I wore makeup or dressed up nicely…it wouldn’t be to impress him because he already thought I was beautiful. In his mind, he would see it as me trying to impress other guys. SHEESH. Talk about insecure!

Anyways, this guy liked it best when I wore no makeup, a hoodie, sweatpants, sneakers, and a hat. Very sexy, I know. This sounds like a pretty good person to date, but it was actually a nightmare. He took not caring about my looks to the extreme. Whenever I mentioned that I needed to exercise more so I could be healthier, he would drive me to McDonald’s and order me a Big Mac. If I dressed up nicely for an event, he’d get all pissy and we’d end up in an argument about how I wanted to look good for other guys. BAH!

Although it felt lovely putting my appearance in the backseat while scarfing down 1000-calorie sandwiches everyday, it also took a toll on my self-esteem. I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin at all. I also didn’t feel like I was taking care of myself…and what can I say? I wasn’t. I didn’t begin tackling this insecurity issue until after me and Mr. Big Mac broke up. I instantly dropped 25 pounds (in four months) from eating normally. Afterwards, I also didn’t touch a Big Mac until years later. Along with the weight loss, my skin also cleared up dramatically.

Within a couple a months, I went from being practically invisible in school to someone guys actually asked to go on dates. When a girl loses 25 pounds in less than a year…it does something to her psyche. While a part of me was growing more confident and satisfied in my looks and body, another part was more conscious about how others viewed my appearance. It all started mattering a shit load more…when it shouldn’t have mattered that much.

The world is indeed a very superficial place. People tend to be nicer to you when you’re not fat, have clear skin, and you look good. Time Magazine recently did a study among interviewees with better skin/appearances…and discovered that those who looked better were generally more favored for the job. That’s just how society is apparently…shallow. Sometimes, I wonder. Does your personality really do anything? What does it matter if you have the best heart in the world, when your looks simply aren’t up to par?

So, how exactly did I become more insecure?

After I realized that people began treating me a lot better, I was determined never to go back to that fat girl phase. To me…the skinnier, the better. Of course, everyone goes through this phase around highschool where they care intensely about their looks, but there was never a healthy balance for me. I went from being forced not to care…to caring entirely too much in less than a year! Eventually, I found my way (many years later), which I will write about in my next post. But just know that the road to healthiness and self-empowerment was not an easy one.

Now, my rule of thumb for how I look?

As long as you are clean, healthy, and presentable, you’re good to go. I don’t slab makeup on my face (though I used to), I put a bit of eyeliner and concealer to cover up small scars. Everything in moderation while being appropriate for the occasion. When it comes to diet, don’t starve yourself just so you can be Victoria’s Secret Model skinny…keep in mind those girls have crazy workout regimens as well. At the same time, don’t neglect your body. If you find yourself binge eating…feeling guilty about the crap you consume…then practice some restraint and self control! Learn to enjoy fruits, veggies, and an active life instead! You’ll thank yourself later.

My Two Week Fling

Who said it was impossible to have a short fling without someone eventually catching feelings? I say bullocks! If you approach it right, everyone can leave happy. Well…as happy as you can be when you’re in a meaningless “thing” with someone. But that’s not my point in writing this story at all, SORRY TO DISAPPOINT YOU!

Anyways, I genuinely do not remember this guy’s name. I think it might have been Tyler. When I met him, he was leaving the country to work in Singapore…in two weeks. It was clearly established from the getgo that nothing was going to develop between us. I had just gotten out of a tumultuous relationship (per usual), and I didn’t really care much for men…but hey, a girl’s got needs. A little fun didn’t seem that bad to me at the time.

Tyler was older. If you want a mental image of how he looks like, I can tell you now…he looks like a younger Aaron Eckhart. He had the personality of gold…really, he was a great guy…really sweet. I told him way in the beginning that I wanted nothing serious, and he said he just wanted to get to know me. It was agreed that we wouldn’t be anything more…just two people going on a string of dates before one of them has to leave. We were both fine with that.

Tyler lavished me with delicious food, a good time, and enjoyable makeout sessions—not to mention he was great company…he knew how to make a girl laugh. Any normal girl would have fell for this guy, and tried to work things out long distance. But no, no, no…that girl was not me. On the day that he left, he called and texted me to hang out, but I ignored him because….well, I just didn’t feel like it. Who would have known I was so stone-cold? I didn’t develop deep feelings for this guy at all. C’mon now, I can barely remember his name!

I would like to say that I won in this “relationship”, but in reality…I lost. I had just gotten out of an unhealthy relationship only to fully launch myself (vagina-first) into something even more meaningless. What was wrong with me? While I managed to have a successful fling with a guy that didn’t end in tears and pain, I found myself ashamed…for underestimating my own value.

Back then, I would probably say…if you want to have a fling, go out and do it without getting your feelings involved. But now, after all these years of actually following through on that and feeling like shit…I say wait. Give yourself time to fully heal. Let yourself be emotionally ready. Maybe one day, you can end up meeting that guy who will be more than just a pointless fling. You only have one vagina. Treat it right, bitches.

When You’re Last On His List

You know when you first begin a relationship? Your man is the sweetest…he’s on time for dates, he pays for everything, he goes out of his way to hang out with you…etc. For some guys, almost out of nowhere (actually, around the three month period), everything changes. I once read somewhere that when you’re first dating a guy…you’re actually dating his representative—not the real person. I’ve found this statement to be true in most cases…afterall, they’re trying to impress you in the beginning. But then they get comfortable, and their true selves are revealed. Sometimes it’s good and sometimes it’s…not so good. Unfortunately for me (of course), I got stuck with the guy who fit into the latter.

I remember one story in particular. Well…a couple, but I’ll save those for another time. A couple years ago, I dated a guy in college named Scott*. He was a popular guy around campus (I didn’t date him for this purpose I swear), and he was extremely dedicated to hip-hop dancing. Well…to be honest, Scott was pretty dedicated to everything—dance team, friends, family, schoolwork, extracurriculars. I wasn’t the type to get upset if he was too busy to hang out…it’s not like he was seeing another girl; he was busy furthering his life, making something of himself. How could I be mad at that?

In the beginning, Scott would occasionally skip class to hang out with me, he would write me sweet cards, and get me those little couple gifts for our monthiversaries (which I personally don’t do anymore). He would cancel plans with his friends to hang out with me. He pretty much did all that good stuff that made a girl feel special in the beginning of a relationship. When he stopped doing these things, it was no big deal to me…afterall, he was focusing more on his life.

But I started noticing some things. Instead of canceling on his meetings or his friends…he began canceling on me. He would start going to school events, dance practices, networking parties…etc., and instead of inviting me…he decided that exclusion was the better choice.

Scott was also a very headstrong guy. He was not the type to want his girlfriend dictating his life, which is understandable, because I wouldn’t want a boyfriend like that either (been there, done that). He didn’t want to be with someone who would make him choose between their relationship or his goals.

I guess I was fed up with all our cancelled dates because I lectured him one day…my birthday. He had just told me that he wouldn’t be able to make it because he had dance practice. All day. Unable to keep my composure, I argued that although it’s great to have priorities…on occasion, there are some that weigh more than others. For example…your girlfriend’s birthday over a dance practice. It is OK to be selfish on your birthday; there is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting your boyfriend to be there on your day when he told you he could make it.

After Scott huffed off post-argument, he called to say that he needed to tell me something later and that he was on his way to my place. When he showed up, he sat me down and broke up with me.

Man, my heart broke. I was devastated…so devastated that I actually canceled my own birthday and pulled a Houdini and disappeared. When I finally came back to school, still a mess, Scott messaged me. He missed me. He made a mistake. Also, he hooked up with a girl at a party. Hmm.

A smart girl would have forced herself to move on, but I was not the type of girl who followed her head. I took him back…even though I knew that he was never going to value me more than he valued a college dance team, his frat, his friends. I took him back even though I knew I was never going to be his top priority. We broke up a few months later when I finally cleared my head and realized this. We didn’t really speak again afterwards.

Lesson? I should have given myself more credit. If I couldn’t value my time, how could he?

Booty Call Fail

Since Thanksgiving is tomorrow, I figured I’d share an incident that happened four years ago while I was still in college…Thanksgiving Eve!

Alias: Swim Team Captain
Type: Clean cut, preppy
Height: 5’9”
Highlights: Captain of my high school swim team, matching build, very charming

Let’s call him Gary. Ever since high school, I’ve always had a weak spot for him. For goodness sake, he was voted “Best Body” for his class! How could I not admire the guy? I was extremely confused when he began talking to me. Gary had messaged me previously on Facebook and asked for my phone number. We talked for hours on the phone, and always planned to hang out for lunch…but he’d ALWAYS cancel last minute. I began to hold a grudge because he was so full of shit when it came to dates—what a flake!

I was in my dorm packing my clothes to go home for the holidays when Gary calls to hang out. He wants to watch a movie…at his house…and it’s midnight already. Keep in mind, I’ve never ever had a booty call prior to this; all the guys I had dated were either long term relationships or brief flings but we’d actually hang out! I didn’t really know how to recognize THE BOOTY CALL. Now that I look back on that event, I think it’s pretty safe to assume that this was a prime example of a man trying to get into my panties.

This was also the first time I had seen Gary for two and a half years. I can’t stress this any more, but when you haven’t seen someone in that amount of time…going to his house at midnight is not a good way to rekindle your lost feelings. Seriously.

Anyways, I agreed to hang out at his house that night. Silly, naive, 18-year-old girl who genuinely believed that was all he wanted…to stay up on Wednesday after a night of drinking to watch “The Fight Club” with a girl. To this day, that movie is not the same for me.

When I came over, I was looking forward to watching the movie. Afterall, people raved about it all the time! Gary and I were lounging on the couch, and he gave me a blanket so I’d be comfortable and warm during the movie. How sweet (cough, cough). Gary sat next to me and put his arm around me…I let him. About halfway through the movie, he started slobbering all over my ear…ahem.

CMON, BUDDY. I’m trying to watch a movie here…how the hell can I concentrate with some guy (who reeks of alcohol and cigarettes) harassing my ear like it’s his job? So I scooted further away from him, but he continued to hold me. He was actually starting to give me some space, but then the movie FROZE! So much for those bootlegged DVDs my roommate loved so much.

After realizing that we weren’t going to finish the movie, I asked Gary if he could drive me home. This was when he started TRYING SO HARD to coax me into staying. Excuse #1: I’m too tired to drive. I’ll take you in the morning. I say no thanks, I have to move out of my dorm in the morning. Excuse #2: Why don’t we move on over to the bed? UM, WHAT? I don’t want to go to your bed, thank you. At this point, he knew he wasn’t gonna get any. I’m not sure what was running through his head at this point, but he proceeded to STICK HIS TONGUE DOWN MY THROAT. He tasted like a wet ashtray. At this point, I promptly said…hey dude, stop it and drive me home.

Eventually, he gave up and drove me back to my dorm. He never talked to me again after that night. I’m not sure if he was too embarrassed or if he just figured he was never gonna get into my pants.

Now that I think about it in retrospect, I was not in a position of power at all. He could have easily taken advantage of me, and that booty call failure could have turned into a rape victory. Yeah…I’m not sure why I just wrote that down, but I’m gonna put it out there because it’s a valid point. I’m actually very surprised at my actions, and I’m proud of 18-year-old me for once. Of course, I shouldn’t have responded to him in the first place—especially since he had stood me up at least 3x previous to that night.

My advice to the ladies is to value yourself. It’s taken quite awhile for me to figure out this simple message for myself. I’ve made many many mistakes throughout college (even after), but I wanted to share this anecdote because I want to feel good and empowered for Thanksgiving this year. You should too.

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Toronto Guy

Sometimes, my friends like to make fun of me about my Toronto guy. Oh man…he was hot fire. I’m trying to tell this story in a way that doesn’t make me look ridiculous, but unfortunately I don’t think that’s possible.

I used to play in a nationwide volleyball league every summer since I was 14, and the tournament locations would change every year. That year, it was in San Francisco! I had previously dropped 25 pounds and ditched my controlling bf, so I was feeling extra confident and smexy. I believe the tournament was right before I started my freshman year in college when I saw this smokin’ hot hot man meat and his gorgeous friends. This team was from Toronto, and somehow I randomly started up a conversation with one of the guys on the team. His name is Sam. I don’t remember how I did it but the next thing I know…

The tournament’s over and everyone goes home.

I keep in touch with Sam (whom I’m NOT attracted to by the way), and he tells me that one of his teammates, Todd* thinks I’m cute. That’s what sold me. I know what you’re thinking…I’m pretty hard to get (yup, that’s what I’ll call it). Todd wasn’t even the guy I was checking out, but my thought process was…OK hot guy…I’ll take it. I’m shaking my head so much right now from pure SHAME. Anyways, Todd and I start talking online.

Alias: Toronto Guy
Type: Rough and rugged, all man, muscles
Height: 6’2”
Highlights: Very very built, mixed, awesome volleyball player, nice tan

BAM three months later, we’re webcamming most nights, we text, we chat via MSN Messenger…and so…I think it’s safe to buy a ticket to go to Toronto to visit my online beau.

Boy, was I completely wrong. For future reference, if you’re going to blow $600 on a round trip ticket to another country to visit a guy you’ve never met in person before…just….don’t do it. It’s impulsive and just plain dumb. Make sure you know the guy really well and that HE’S the one going to you; not the other way around. Gotta let the man woo you, and you should realize your own worth instead of just offering yourself like that. Shame on me!

When I actually went to Toronto, Todd picked me up from the airport like a gentleman, and he drove me to his family house…where we watched a movie and slept. In separate bedrooms. I don’t think he was interested at all because afterwards, he literally dropped me off at his friends’ apartment for the weekend and bizounced. His friends were the ones who showed me around Toronto, and they drove me back to the airport.

Yeah. I was a little insane. But I’ve learned to NEVER DO THAT AGAIN…because it was just plain embarrassing.

EDIT: I left out some very important parts to this story. I was pretty unclear about what we did from the first night I stayed at his place…til when he dropped me off at his friends’ apartment. Now this is where my story escalates to an even more embarrassing level. I actually submitted this entry without these important details, but I feel dishonest now, so I’m going to add the unabridged version.

Don’t judge me…I have already judged myself plenty, but I’m writing this shit down anyways.

I couldn’t sleep in my room alone…so slutty and horny Sandra came out to play and went into Todd’s bedroom. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t throw myself at him…really I didn’t. I was fully clothed, I didn’t want to rip off his clothes or anything…I just…JUMPED ON HIS BED AND WOULDN’T LET HIM SLEEP. It was way too early to go to bed!! I wanted some adventure…some fun and getting to know you time! I guess the Canadians aren’t used to forward American girls, because he seemed pretty scared. But don’t worry, I got the hint and went back to bed and had a restless sleep.

The next day, he took me to watch a movie at a theater…I have no idea what the movie was, but I think I may have tried to hold his hand and failed. Rejected. So my feelings got hurt and I stopped trying to make the first move. I mean…I didn’t really know what to do. Like I said, we were talking for months and months…shouldn’t we have DONE SOMETHING?

The answer is no. It was still the first time we were meeting in person, and you kind of have to take things slow. Honestly, I think a part of me wanted to get my money’s worth. Todd TRIED though. He tried his best to hang out, but that weekend was Thanksgiving in Canada, and there was only so much he could do. I was just super sensitive, and crazy, and overstepped a boundary that first night. Honestly, I think he was a bit freaked out that I bought a ticket in the first place.

Let’s face it. Even though I’ve dated a bunch of nutcases…I’m also guilty of being a crazy stalker bitch. Lesson learned!

My First Heartbreak

I was 13 years old, extremely boy crazy, a bit of a slacker in school, and in that awkward period when I hadn’t quite grown into my bra yet. He was 15…a bit cocky, crazy intelligent, musically talented, and athletic. Oh, and I forget to mention that he tutored me after school…and I was crushing on him hard. Whenever I saw him and talked to him…I felt like my heart began doing backflips, and there were definitely some intense butterflies swirling around in my tummy. It was puppy love to the max.

But this isn’t a story about how happy I was with the guy. It’s about someone who changed me…and influenced me to become the person I am today…by breaking my heart.

—

I remember it was raining. Yes. It just had to be raining…and we were waiting for the bus to arrive.

Him: I think we need to talk, but let’s wait until I take you home.
Me: [laughing] Are you going to break up with me?
Him: No, I’ll tell you when you’re home.

The bus comes, and I’m still thinking he has something stupid to tell me. He seems OK. I dunno, it was a long time ago. All I remember from that bus ride was this conversation:

Me: Hey.
Him: Yeah?
Me: If you’re going to break up with me, you should say “cornbread”
Him: Alright, I’ll say “cornbread”

The word wasn’t actually CORNBREAD, I actually forgot what the word was, but it was something trivial and along those lines. Let’s pretend I said cornbread. Anyways, we arrive home and he tells me to sit down on a chair in my room.

Him: I think it’s best if we break up.

AND THEN DUN DUN DUN. My 13-year-old utopia came crashing down. I couldn’t look him in the eye, and I was silent for what seemed like eons. I didn’t know how to react! My poor eyeballs were welling up with tears, and I remember I thought it was so embarrassing because I never cry in front of people. Finally I opened my mouth and mumbled:

Me: You didn’t say cornbread…

That’s when I ran and locked myself in the bathroom. He tried to make me open the door, but I was too busy crying in the corner curled up against the door in a pitiful ball. I was literally in there sobbing for two hours. Somewhere in between those 120 minutes, I heard him walk out the door. Out of my life.

—

That’s my story. Obviously, I’m doing okay now…it’s been almost 10 years.  But now that I think about it, that guy became one of the greatest impacts on my life.

After the break up, we barely talked about what happened. I assumed I wasn’t good enough for him, and worked really hard to impress him for years. I remember my Cs and Ds suddenly turned into As and Bs…I joined the volleyball team to be more athletic…I joined show choir and even sang in the school sing-off to get his attention.

What I didn’t realized then was this: I should have been doing all those things for MYSELF. Not for some guy who dumped me…Meh.

Nevertheless, I was lucky to meet him, because he shaped my life…my ambition…my personality. He broke up with me in a healthy way showing he cared, but as Usher says…I had to let it burn. 9 years later…we still keep in touch!

Oh. I also found out…that he’s gay now. Yup. Surprise, surprise. Boy, I sure do know how to pick ‘em.