(February 11, 2018 at 8:19 pm)J a c k Wrote: CIJSAIJBH...
I remember a conversation between us about five years ago. Our friendship was barely starting and we felt we could talk about anything. I was joking about Mexicanism, and you mentioned something about the guy at the bar and how you could tell he was about to get laid by the way he stretched as he waited for the tab. You were telling me about your ex and I was talking about my current trust issues as our friends chugged down tequila and I tried not to gag at the smell of it, because as you learned that day, I hate tequila.
You then said something that I haven’t forgotten. You said it’s ideal to date a girl who has slight self esteem issues, because this way they won’t feel they’re above you. You said it’s ideal for there to be just a tad of insecurity and for them not to know just how hot they really are. You seemed to be joking.
Years went by and you were there through everything. You helped me move my shit from that house to my tiny studio. You helped me feel safe when I thought I’d end up being one of those murdered women found at the end of a ditch, killed by her hateful ex. You and I became the best of friends and we shared everything. Our compatibility was so satisfying. You dated and told me the stories. My heart shattered once, and you saw me soak the pieces in whiskey and stouts. You broke a few hearts, I kissed a few frogs, and we told out stories over football, poetry nights, craft hunts, and political debates.
You met me when I was in a toxic relationship. I was being called names, I felt hideous, and I was accustomed to abuse. When I broke free, you watched me grow taller and you heard my voice thicken. By the time I was stronger, I had learned that you wanted more than just to be friends.
Why am I still driving around as if I haven’t found “it”? Why am I not convinced? Many reasons, but listen...
You tell me I’m a “ten”, then you follow by mentioning one of my flaws and how you don’t mind it, because you’re 40 and old enough to know what things really matter. You tell me your friends can’t wait to meet me in your home state, then you warn me that the short guy is into -taller and skinnier- so he won’t be attracted to me. Did I ask? What makes you think it ever crossed my mind that your friend could like me that way? When I’m worried about my flaws (the usual one that make me unhappy) you notice and bring them up, followed by “you’re perfect for me”. And I can’t tell what this is. Do you want to remind me how hideous I am, so I stay insecure and need you to be strong, or do you really like me, flaws and all? Am I judging you unfairly as if you were comparable to my hellish past? Are you maybe really actually amazing, but I have a filter of bad experience that makes it difficult to appreciate your greatness? Are you a dick? Are you a bully?
I don’t know. I really don’t. I’m in the middle.
Here’s the thing. I’m going to get to the bottom of this and there’s something you should know. If it’s what I think it is, you’re at a loss. I have learned to love myself. I like my walk. I like my voice. I like my mannerisms. I like my accent. No, I won’t change the way I pronounce “chef”, “Chevron”, Charlotte”, or “caramel”. Fuck that. This is a part of me. I won’t get jealous of other women, because I’m not the jealous type. I won’t stop playing my music, because you gave me a lesson on what “real, actually good music” is like. I won’t stop going just to play it safe. I’m free and freedom has been tasting amazing to me. I’m feeling strong and strength has been tasting amazing to me.
So, what’s up? What’s this about? Am I being paranoid based on my past experience? Am I being unfair? Or... am I onto something? Have I caught you trying to remind me that I’m not fire?
I will figure this out and whatever it is will determine what happens next. Here goes nothin’.
You're right to love yourself. You are a kind, beautiful, wonderful person. It kind of seems like this guy is making some subtle and not so subtle digs. It does kind of seem like negging as I have heard it described. But I'm not one to give advice with my history or lack of history.