Featured Image: A postcard I bought from an antique shop. The back reads “Well by this time you know we’re back– but it’s not because we weren’t tempted. Love and Kisses, Eva and Pat” Postmarked July 4th, 1951.
Also, I don’t know if I should be explaining my titles but it’s from Crazy by Gnarls Barkley.
Monday night, I was in a pretty depressed mood. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first; things are going fairly well for me. I got a new job, which means I’ll be moving out soon, which means I’ll finally be able to get my rats, which means I’ll finally be able to become the crazy rat lady that I’ve always dreamt of being.
So why was I so bummed? Well, I got “dumped” last week (using that term lightly). I’ve already gone through all the stages of grief about it, just in a different order. At first, it was bargaining, then anger, then acceptance with a splash of denial, and now it’s depression.
It’s not that I am depressed about this guy in particular, I can always do better, of course. In fact, I was trying to get a backup before the inevitable had happened; it just happened faster than I could secure one. And now I’m boyless– and that’s why I’m depressed.
I googled this, of course, as I google everything that’s wrong with me. Some of the reasons were things like daddy issues (nope), fear of being alone (see this post to confirm that’s not true), or because I have low self-esteem or don’t “love myself”, and that’s definitely not the case either, I’m borderline narcissistic. A lot of the suggestions on the forums suggested having more hobbies (I’ve got too many), spending more time alone (I already go to the movies, museums, and restaurants alone), and even going to therapy (do you think I could just hand them my diaries instead?)
But I genuinely think it’s just boredom. I love the drama.
And I’ve always been this way; I was always constantly seeking a relationship. When I was a young girl, I fell in love with anyone who accidentally made too long of eye contact, or pushed me in a pool, or sat next to me on the bus. My immediate assumption was: “so there’s a chance?”
But at age ten to twelve, boys are not exactly on the same wavelength as girls. I had read one too many books and had already become a hopeless romantic whereas the boys my age were still playing video games and making homemade Jackass videos.
I wanted to be in love before I even knew what dating was (the following excerpts are directly copied from my first diary):
June 2nd, 2007 (end of fifth grade, age 10) – “5th grade made my life so different. In the begging I didn’t know what “going out” ment. I thought a girl and a boy went somewhere together. Now I know it means to be BF, GF. I wonder if anybody thinks I’m hot.”
After this obviously pivotal and eye-opening moment, I became obsessed with the idea of dating. I wanted people to think I was attractive. I wanted to be liked. I wanted to be kissed. I even fantasized about boys coming to my window and expressing their undying love for me.
I was constantly on the prowl and would make lists of potential mates (names have been redacted):
June 2nd 2007 – “I like: J1, C1, M1, A1, N1″
Sept 6th, 2007 (start of 6th grade, age 11) – “Well this year is going great. Theres this total hottie hot hottie that’s like J1 and K1 put together […] Should I ask that combo guy out? His name is L1 but IDK.”
October 1st, 2007 “Ok no im not asking L1 out beacuz:
- He talks weird
- Hes weird
- I’m asking out E1
E1 is the hottie now. He’s so cute but IDK his last name. I’m gonna ask him out by sending Annika to send a note to him stating my locker # and what im asking of him.”
October 21st, 2007 “Hotties list:
September 17th, 2008 (start of 7th grade, age 12) – “7th grade definitely has changed my outlook on life. I have many new friends, new guy friends, and some crushes, such as 😉
October 11th, 2008 – “Well I’m mad because V1 is now dating [girl] and he was like the top person on “the list”:
- V1 (taken)
- J2 and J3 (I think he likes Victoria)
- E1 (I think is dating [girl])
- S1 (unknown social status)”
December 14th, 2008 – “I know I’m weird for just changing who I like all the time. But I just lose interest in people or I figure out they probably don’t like me”
As you can see, I was constantly thinking about boys and how they were ranking on my list, but each crush was fairly short-lived. And that last excerpt could have been written by me last week. I go through guys at such a rapid pace that my friends no longer keep track of their names. They instead made codenames to remember who they were like: “Texas boy”, “Quidditch boy”, “Baldie”, “British guy”, and “Gare-bear”.
I also had very high expectations of these boys who barely knew me. As I’ve spoken about before in this post, I’m a daydreamer and always have been. I use it as a coping mechanism. I fantasize about what could happen without considering that I’ll be terribly disappointed when it doesn’t:
February 27th, 2009 – “I’ve set my expectations WAYYYYY too high. I like him too much to let it go like any other person.”
March 8th, 2009 – “I miss dreaming about him. I miss the possibility.”
I didn’t even know these boys well enough to like them. I was in love with the idea of them, the idea of them that I fabricated in my head. I set expectations for boys that they are completely unaware of, and will most certainly never, ever meet. So I can’t exactly blame guys for always disappointing me.
Thankfully, I always have my moments of clarity:
December 12, 2008 – “Because one day, I will forget all these people I’ve loved and I will move on, hopefully finding a husband and hopefully having children. As much as I wish, try, and hope, this is a big thing to just happen out of no where. I cannot make M3 like me or love me.”
Despite everything I just said (remember, I’m no longer twelve), I am not “boy crazy”. I don’t let my perpetual singlehood get to me. I pack my day with hobbies and activities and other emotionally fulfilling things to prove that I don’t need anyone to be happy. But it’s that hour at night, between putting my phone or book down and falling asleep, that I’m like damn, would be nice to have someone.
I wrote this at my local library. To my right was a whole shelf of my town’s high school yearbooks. I found the guy who just “dumped” me and had myself a good giggle.
I obviously checked out my own senior yearbook as well. I looked great (see 90-pound me with purple hair below). A few people on the aforementioned lists were still cute by senior year, and some are even still pretty cute now.
Oh, and, as a note, please remind me to stop dating guys from my town of 30,000 people.