I am the first to joke about my life; put a finger and thumb in the shape of an L to my forehead and call myself a loser; to laugh at my inability to find and keep a boyfriend. Humor tends to lessen the sting felt when others ask me about my love life. It also makes it palatable when there are those who look at me and I can see the wheels turning in their heads, thinking, “What’s wrong with her?, She’s too needy., What does she do that makes the guy run?”
Yep, I am that girl. The one who laughs at my own failures, finding jokes where there really aren’t any to be found. I do that because if I don’t, I will lose it. I will tear up and start crying. And that makes people uncomfortable when you start showing those crazy, sad emotions. I smile and congratulate friends when they get engaged, get married and have babies.
I offer help, support or even some type of labor when the are preparing for these milestones. All the while I am fighting with myself to hide how I really feel. Yes, I am happy for them, but what about me? When can I say, “Hey guys, Guy proposed and we are getting married! or “I’m having a baby!”
It takes me back to college when everyone was pairing up and those guys were pinning their girlfriends, a big deal to every girl. It meant you got to where his letters. It was a commitment. My then boyfriend refused to pin me. Why? Tradition in his fraternity was to paddle the living shit out of the guy after he does it. It was probably more like a few hits and then teasing but I was never good enough for my ex to risk the paddling. He refused. Says a lot about how he felt about me then. Good enough but not quite. He even ruined my one sorority formal. Good times.
I still have a hang up about that but what gets my goat more than anything is that while others commend me for not settling, I see females around me hopping from man to man. Proposal to next proposal, babies and everything else in between.
When a friend’s husband verbalized (in more of a humorous way, not really intending to cause me any sadness) what it was that I did to drive men away, I couldn’t answer. I really didn’t know how to answer it. I would ask my exs but more than likely I would never get an answer, so why bother. Instead I just giggled and changed the subject.
My coworkers always tease me about being single but I always answer it with a laugh, stating I am just a dork, loser, dweeb, who would want to be with me? Or when a coworker got flowers from her ex (seriously, the boy would have rather been forced to wear jhorts than to ever send me flowers or a card and that was while we were dating). They have been apart for a couple months now and he still sends her flowers! I told her to tell Collin that the next time he wants to waste money then have him please send some to frumpy, dorky, full of cellulite me please!
Luckily, I have fooled my coworkers and even some friends. They might know that I get sad from time to time but none of them actually know just how painfully said it is to see myself as a failure. Someone that is incapable of finding the right man and him seeing me as a worthy partner. When I joke saying that I am a loser, I really do mean it. All those hopes and dreams that I had when I was younger, gone, dead and buried.
I still question what is was that made the boy not want to fight for me, not want to love me. Did he just say those words because it was the right thing to do? Was he turned off because I got so fat? The fact that he didn’t want to marry me or introduce me to his parents, was it because that he just didn’t think I was good enough?
I hate these voices in my head, I hate that I have such a hard time focusing on the positive. I hate that after all of this time, the only person I want to be by me is him and again, he would rather wear jhorts than to get within 100 feet of me.
So I will take my cellulite riddled butt and park it on the couch. At work and in public, I will smile, joke and pretend that nothing bothers me. In private, I can allow myself to fall apart and at least show myself that I am not as strong as I think I am.
Stumbling Through Life 