Love. It’s a nice word isn’t it? I wouldn’t know what it feels like. I’ve thought that I loved a few people but some were infatuations of a girl who didn’t know better. Love shouldn’t hurt. Love shouldn’t leave you broken and bloody at the bottom of a flight of stairs.
If someone tells you no one will ever love you the way you are, run as fast as you can from that person. I’m here to tell you that someday someone will.
I didn’t run. I listened to the men that told me I wasn’t enough. After a while you start to believe it. After years you believe nothing else.
When I did finally run I didn’t have the skills most people learn in their younger years to form “normal” relationships. I still picked the worse guy for me in the room. He might have dressed better, had a job, talked intelligently, but there was always something off.
I thought because of my weight the only men that would want me would have to be as damaged as I am. I don’t think that’s true now. I am skinny now and still alone. I don’t put myself out there. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore. The thought of trying to make small talk sober frightens me. So I just don’t do it. My choice.
I still think about one of them. He was charming, flirted like crazy, and never told the truth if you asked him if he had a girlfriend. I worked for years with him. I still talk to him sometimes. Even though he hurt me emotionally he knew me best. He’s still the person I want to run to when something good or bad happens. I don’t. He’s married now with children. He will still send me the occasional message on Facebook but I try not to engage with him too much. It still hurts. He doesn’t even realize how much. He doesn’t realize he was the first man to call me “pretty” and the first man I would speak to sober. He would also be the last. After we stopped speaking I set out to try to prove myself. I did this by picking up the cutest guy in the bar. It never lasted for more than a day. I didn’t care.
Now that I’m 43 and alone with no children I sometimes want to try again but can’t. There’s always an excuse. I don’t think I have it in me anymore. No one will ever understand what I’ve been through. I don’t expect them to.
There is one difference now. I NEVER let anyone disrespect me anymore. I matter. I’m visible. I deserve the same respect everyone else gets. Even if that means staying alone.