I'm not sure how this started, but somewhere along the way, I started confiding in boys who were virtually strangers. Every time I started a "texting relationship" with a guy I matched with, it didn't take much for me to start pouring out my deepest secrets and feelings. I think, in my innocent young mind, I thought that the more open I was with them, the higher the likelihood that they'd fall in love with me. Maybe, if I try to psychoanalyse myself, this is a result of all the media that I consumed as an impressionable girl that fed me the narrative (that I consumed without resistance): pretty girls get the guys, fat girls were fun sidekicks at best.
I sincerely thought, I needed to lose weight in order for anyone to fall in love with me.
Something else has been happening these days. It's a bit more ambiguous, a bit more insidious, I'm not sure if its as "bad". I've gotten into the habit of assessing my male friends, assessing whether they can be something more, more than friendship. Friendship and more-than-friendship suddenly become permeable spaces. Maybe this only happens with a few guys right? That wouldn't be so bad? Not like EVERY male friend. Whatever it is, it's fucking irritating!
The last time this happened, I acted on the instinct that the boy must like me (he said my earrings were nice, he said he can see why guys would like me more when they're older, he said its unusual that he talks so much around me because he usually doesn't). Why do I value these comments more when I interpret them as romantic statements? What does it mean to receive validation, care or support from a platonic male friend? I don't know A evaded this process - I guess because he was attached when we met or because there was just an instant sibling-like connection.
Getting closer to R happened in admittedly romantic settings - long walks at night, swinging in a park. The setting doesn't help. At first I was just happy I had a neighbourhood pal to walk with. Now I'm looking at his tagged photos going, "aww he looks so cute", thinking about him before I go to sleep sometimes, itching to text him.
What is the value of a platonic male friend to me? Do men just have a romantic expiry date for me? Am I in a bit to prove to my young self that I am worthy of love? Does that discount the love that R had for me? Is it reciprocal love I'm looking for?
I'm afraid that I'm getting in the way of organic things - of the natural growth and decay. I disrupt these processes with my questions, asked in earnest, in search of clarification. Maybe it's not always good to be clear. When you ask someone to be clear, you put the pressure on them to have an answer, to wade amongst the weeds of uncertainty and emerge with a substantial answer. It could be a premature no, or a premature yes. I have to learn to bite my tongue, especially on the words, "are you attracted to me?".
This used to be my favourite question. If I were.a character in a video game, the answer "yeah I'm attracted to you" was what made my life bar full, filled to the brim.
When did I make these synaptic connections?
Boy nice to me = Boy like me
Boy say nice thing to me = Boy want to have sex with me
Boy nice to me = I want to have sex with Boy
Boy and I vibe = Boy and I should have sex
Who snuck into my brain and embedded this into it? Un-embed it please, I am tired of wondering, I am tired of shooting myself down, I am tired of having mind sex with these boys. These nice boys, who just want to be my friend. For reasons. These nice boys who make the effort to get to know me, something my 15-year old self thought was impossible. Boys who laugh at my jokes. Boys whose jokes I laugh at. To whom I can admit openly when I don't understand an economics terms, or with whom I can candidly admit I know jack shit about stocks.
Now when one of these boys gets in a relationship, I develop a relationship too, with a pit in my stomach. But they were never mine to begin with. And they aren't mine to end with.
