Competency + Romantic History
I was iMessaging with a homie and we were talking about boys. Weāre similar in that we both are clueless deer when it comes to that topic in life. Iād like to think that Iām competent in most things, except for 1) speaking up for myself, and 2) romantic relationships. Reading that out loud makes me realize how incompetent that makes me...
On a ~ tangent, ~ I can speak up for myself...when Iām asked to speak. If Iām comfortable enough, I have no issues putting on the charm and speaking in front of a crowd. People consider me adventurous and bold (Iāve traveled alone to different countries before and I do things like attend concerts by myself) but what they donāt know is that while I can put myself in a new environment easily, what allows me to do so is the extensive amount of self-restraint and planning that goes on before-hand. Sure, Iāll let myself get lost in a city...from 2pm - 4pm, and then Iāll need to buy some food. I am baffled at how accurate the INFJ label hits me: my Se (Extraverted Sensing, inferior function) game is not strong. It took me 20 years and traveling alone in a different country to realize, holy crap, I get tired, I need food, and I canāt do it all in one day. ANYWAY. Iāll go visit and see these new places, but I am also silent and donāt talk to others when Iām alone. I wait for people to notice my stealthy cat-like presence rather than announce where I am or where Iām going or ask stupid questions. I am constantly reminding myself that speaking up for myself is necessary because sometimes I need help and donāt ask for it and it all goes unnoticed as my heart pounds sayingĀ āqurl, you donāt know how to do this go ask someoneā but my Ti (Introverted Thinking, tertiary function) says no dude you can figure it out by yourself. Struggles, man. /endtangent.
Romantic relationships. I have many fun, childish stories of boys liking me and me liking boys and nothing much really happening. Itād be like an episode of Seinfeld where stuff happens but nothing actuallyĀ happens. I fall pretty hard and it scares me because I am nervous about the depths of my feelings and emotions. Only recently (maybe in the past year or so) have I slowly learned that I am a very emotionally affected person, and that it is okay and actually very important that I find outlets to express all emotions that I have in order for me to process them and move on. I suppose it might be all that HSP (highly sensitive person) empathetic shiznits, but I drown out a lot of things because I just feel too much. Also Iām generally a gullible person.
So when it comes to romantic relationships, or even the notion of one, my mind goes into overdrive and imagines 113584x scenarios and does this thing where I donāt take action. There have only been three (maybe four) times so far that I can recount feeling so deeply.Ā
The first is my guy friend from middle school. We stayed on the phone all night with our new cellphones until we were tired and gossiped with each other on AIM constantly. He even had a girlfriend once and Iād give him girl advice. I let him ride on the handlebars of my bike to take him home. One time, I donāt take him all the way home--I say no, itās too hot and I donāt want to bike that far. He gets mad at me, doesnāt speak to me for two weeks, then at some school event, he throws a water balloon at me, and then we are talking again. But itās a little bit off, because he has other friends (girls) who he hangs out with who are not my friends. At one point he teases me, saying I should ask him to the Girlās Choice Dance. I scoff and laugh in his face. We graduate middle school. He doesnāt tell me that heās moving to a new high school, I find out and get super super hurt. Our phone calls get a little weird because Iām crying all the time. Eventually, he says something likeĀ āI wanted to move to another high school anyway.ā I am crushed. Things are never the same between us, I donāt really get over it for a long time.
Then I had a boyfriend in high school. We lasted two months during my junior year. I didnāt let him kiss me, and he didnāt even get to hold hands with me at school. I held him at armās length the entire time, telling him that I was afraid he wouldnāt want to be with me if he got to know theĀ āreal me.ā He promised me he wouldnāt get tired of trying. We exchanged hand-written notes, deleted our Facebooks together, and gave each other CDās. Weād sit in his car in the parking lot during lunch and talk about music. He introduced me to a lot of new music. We sometimes ran together after school (he was on the track team). We go to winter formal together, I donāt let anything happen. Finally, he stops trying, itās kind of near Valentineās Day to boot. I am utterly crushed. Thought he really actually wouldnāt get tired of trying. I tried to make him one last CD of āhow I felt about him,ā and also wrote him a long letter that I cringe when I think about. I told him I loved him, but I didnāt love-love him. He gets with another girl almost instantly--and I start to resent him. How dare he move on so easily when I am crying my eyes out every single day. I spend my senior year sort of avoiding him and trying to show how much fun Iām having (I do have fun) but it is in vain because he had basically already forgotten me. He did already have a sort ofĀ āplayerā status before meeting me, anyway.
The next real fancy I had was sophomore year in college. I whined in my journal about how I was the literal girl next door, as his dorm room was next to mine. Again, he was a musician who introduced me to new music. Together with a couple of friends we rented a Zipcar and drove 2 hours away to see a band that I hadnāt heard of. Together we longboarded in parking lots and empty streets until 3am. I helped him a lot with his homework because we had so many of the same classes (oh God, it was torture) and he has ADHD. We attend hipster living room concerts and drink PBRs, he introduces me to Reddit, he had such a bubbly energy and was indeed a talented musician. I never made any moves. Sometimes weād smoke weed together. I didnāt even want to smoke. I just wanted to be with him. We watched a couple movies together and cuddled. At one point him and his roommate were arguing over what cuddling meant, saying thatĀ ādonāt cuddle with a girl unless you like herā vs.Ā ācuddling doesnāt mean anything.ā You can guess which side he was on. Anywho, as much as we clicked, I always knew that he didnāt see me anything more than a friend.
Fast forward to senior year of college. I study abroad in Madrid. I lose my virginity to a French boy the same age as me that I had met earlier that week when I was out with some friends outside of a club, already kind of drunk and annoyed because I just wanted to get inside and dance. These French boys were super casual cool and offered us weed. Yes. I end up making out with one of them. All I can say is they call it French kissing for a reason. They know their stuff. I meet up with him later that week, we lose our clothes and as he reaches in a drawer to get a condom, I say wait, I donāt want to. Why not? I just donāt want to. Well, I am not keeping you here like a jail. You can leave, as you like. I do, awkwardly. He is leaving back to Paris the next day, so I program my going out with friends that night to coincide meeting him where his flat is. I get him alone, and we play the what do you want to do? no, what do you want to do? game until finally I say, I want to kiss you. We kiss. I kind of want to go back to his flat, he says his roommates are there, the only place weād have to ourselves is the bathroom. I say okay, I guess. We get naked in the bathroom. A second time, he asks me if I want to do it. He finds out I am a virgin, he says Iāll be gentle. I argue back and forth with him, reassuring him and myself that Iām doing this because I want to, and not because heās asking me to, despite the fact that he keeps sayingĀ āwhy not.ā He knows nothing of the years of conservative Christian parenting and family and environment and everything that Iāve lived through, the millions of thoughts that are racing through my mind. We lock eyes. Iām trusting you, okay. A pause. Finally I say okay, go get a condom.
I see him once more in Paris on a layover to a music festival in Amsterdam. He takes me to his momās house, we fuck, but I am on my period, and I didnāt tell him about the one-night stand I had in Budapest a week earlier. I apologize for being on my period, and he says,Ā āitās not your fault, thatās nature.ā We end up going for it anyway, neither of us turned on by what is happening. Later we sit outside and I smoke hash for the first time. Do you want to come back? he says. My heart stops for a second and I freeze up. Back to France? Uh, no...how you say. It is cold. To come back to my room and sleep, I am tired. Oh. You mean do you want to goĀ back. Annoyed, I lecture him: in English those have two different meanings. We go to sleep, and he is not a cuddler. I wake him up to take me to the train station that eventually takes me to the airport. On the train ride, I stare at him. You have so much going on in your mind, you think too much, he tells me, with a tired and nonchalant look on his face. If you ever come to the USA, let me know, I tell him. Yes, he says with a sly smile. I sprint my way through directions and ticket booths and somehow barely make it on my flight.
Fast forward to few weeks ago, I got really high and sent him a snapchat of France competing in the Olympics. He responds back with a whatās up ;) and I say not much :P. The exchange is mutual.
Europe was a whirlwind. I spew European art history facts to my mom, telling her all the things I learned and experienced, but what I donāt tell her is the amount of European pretty boys and late night adventures I had which completes the other half of my study abroad experience. The most fleeting encounters linger on my mind and are engrained in my memory forever as the time when I let go, and everything was still okay, if not better.Ā
I did fine my second semester back on campus as a college senior until right before graduation: Big school concert. Boy. Dancing. Molly. I go home with him that night and walk home through the park the next morning wearing his hoodie and my sunglasses. He is local to my college and takes me to meet his family and his dog.Ā We start talking less and less, one morning I wake up at his place before going to work and we have theĀ āwhat are we talk,ā to which he saysĀ āyouāre awesome and I would have dated you but youāre graduating, Iām not, and I donāt want to hold you back from your life, we should keep in touch.ā I get silent. He is uncannily perceptive (it always throws me off) and says, ānow youāre sad.ā I say, āI agree with you, we have our own lives to live, but Iāve just never done this before.ā Some bullshit like that. I believe his invitation to ākeep in touchā enough to end up begging to meet with him one more time before I leave our college town, and itās him and his bros drinking beers, smoking bongs, and watching worldstar. I sit with them, get very high, and very silent. I take in the moment for what it is, so incredibly hurt for trying to believe something that wasnāt believable. I leave at 4am, he gives me a really shitty goodbye hug, and we part ways. He still watches my snap stories, and when I donāt have the willpower I watch his snapchats of him galavanting around my alma mater.
Backtrack. Currently, I am afraid of the possible depths of feelings I have for the man I made out with on New Yearās Eve at a mutual friendās party back in the USA. After our second chance encounter a month later that led to a fun night of making out in the snow, he says āhave fun with the boys at your school :)ā. Oh, I did alright. Look where that shit got me: back to doubting myself and feeling heartbroken over a normal, āAmerican-college-styleā hookup. Anywho, with this guy, I am acting and thinking like a kid having a school crush on the cool boy.Ā Except heās not cool (Iām the cool one, letās be real here) -- he just happens to be extremely intelligent and inspiring, which is probably better than being cool. At one point in the future heās going to take a break from his work and just go to South America and build a road. Our conversations are on a different intellectual level, but when Iām not talking to him, Iām thinking about how to be as intellectual as he is, because Iām kind of crass and āmillennialā as he calls me. He makes me feel nervous, and I always wonder where the hell all my confidence from studying abroad went. Iām meeting with him toĀ ācatch upā in a couple of days, which is wild because I always perceive him to be too busy to interact with me.
As you can see, everything has happened in the last 8 years, yet nothing has happened in the last 8 years. Young adult female loses her virginity. Gets involved with boys and kind of continues to do so. Not sure where here life is going or what it means to actually hold onto a relationship.
Basically Iām just another millennial who fits the demographic.