#dilemna

Okay...

I don't know what trope I am writing.

This is what I have so far:

Sighing contently. Waking up before her husband is always a plus. The man she loves dearly is usually the one to enjoy a few candid minutes to observe her. Unlike the many times they forgot to shut the blackout shades. Felicity is unable to visibly watch Oliver peacefully sleeping by her side.

At least she can do one of her favorite things since being his girl… girl. Touch him. It is one of the seven senses she loves as her fingertips freely move from where they were rested to lightly feel the span of his pectoral muscles. The man she adores lowly grunts to her ministrations. Yet is fully asleep.

With barely any light flowing through the shut blinds Felicity can only feel what she has mapped a million times. Skimming the skin, she knows well.

Where an enemy left chard skin. A scar made when they weren’t together after the hard breakup for them both. It still irks her to this day. That a man like Chase could really inflict so much damage to Oliver’s psyche. It took a thousand assurances over and over through the years to make what is now her husband truly understand his worth.

Her fingertips move over to where the faded scar remains. A little hesitation occurs. Moving herself up from the laying position she was just in. She goes to feel for the scar. A small confused grumble leaves her lips. There is no way the raised skin like puckered braille where she has encoded into her memory since getting back with Oliver Queen. It seems to be gone. Impossible.

In the minutes since she moved to a sitting position. Her subject of affection grunts. He is awake.

<--------------------------->

Oliver’s eyes flutter open. In an alarmed state. Fully awake.

Surprised to feel someone feeling him up. Especially due to the notion that he went to bed alone. He doubts anyone in this household would be especially interested in caressing his most recent tattoo made by his time in the Bratva.

Grabbing the hand that is caressing his skin. He plops them quickly to an assertive embrace. Holding what seems to be a petite body under him. Her squeak has him frozen. It sounds like… her voice is of his recent dream. One where he wakes up from the medical table in the foundry.

His voice holding a certain unbelievability tone, “Felicity?”

“Oliver, as much as it always feels incredible to be under you can you please let go of my arms. I really don’t want to be bruised.”

He shifts as his hands let her go. No matter the confusion. Hurting her isn’t something he is willing to do.

Norm Alguy.

There is a party next weekend and two of my friends really want to go. I don’t know if I want to go because of a problem that I always seem to have.

When I go to a party with my friends (which admittedly is pretty rare) a microcosm of the world, how I understand it in the context of our friendships, plays out.

My friends and I may pregame and have a good time.

We get ready and I get all cute and they get all hot. They assure me that I look great, because I do, and I assure them that they look great, because of course they do… they’re my gorgeous friends. We dance around a little and excitedly head to our venue

At the Venue, we spend some time together.

We dance and drink some more and hang out and chat with others we know at the party and still congregate in our little groups. They’ll dance with me and I will enjoy myself. Then shit hits the fan.

The Boys come in

Now, as previously mentioned, my friends are gorgeous brilliant human beings. They are also hot. It should be noted that gorgeous, beautiful, and hot are very different things. I know because I am both gorgeous and beautiful, but not hot. Hot plays an important role in the “female picking at parties” process (at least as I understand it). One by one, the boys will take them away and chat them up, and dance with them until I am alone. None of the boys come up to me. I end up by myself. I dance by myself and I drink by myself, and I make sure no one makes any seriously bad decisions, but I am alone.

I feel like this is what happens in my world on a regular basis. My friends get the guys and I am alone. I’ve gotten pretty good at spending time by myself, but it still feels really bad when no one wants to dance with me at a party. No one of a suitable age asks me out. It seems like no one likes me in this particular context. I want to say I don’t understand it, but I do to some extent.

Possible solutions to my problem

Dress more provocatively — this is really out of my wheelhouse. I dress conservatively because I like it. It makes me feel comfortable. I am willing to try new fashions to expand my understanding of myself in the world, but I refuse to do so in an attempt to gain a boy’s attention. I refuse.

Keep my friends to myself — I feel this is problematic for a few reasons. A) just because I can’t find anyone doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t be able to. B) It is a violation of their autonomy. C) I wouldn’t enjoy myself if they were trapped with me, they have to want to stay with me.

Change my reputation — it occurs to me that I must have some sort of reputation that keeps people from coming up to me. Maybe… or maybe not. Maybe it is that I am a member of a certain family, or that I am notoriously smart, or that I’m seen as a book worm. I don’t know what it is… but it is so prevalent that people really don’t even think I could possibly be friends with the friends I have. I wouldn’t know how to change that reputation. I do believe it is entirely out of my control.

I don’t really have any other possible solutions. I figured maybe I needed to approach the boys myself… that never works. They always seem to have their eyes on one of my beautiful friends. I do not blame them. My friends are gorgeous and hot.

Whenever I try to explain my dilemma to anyone, I receive some iteration of the following three answers.

"Things will get better for people like you when you leave *Insert Location*”. Incorrect. It’s the same wherever I go, and I travel a lot.

“You should change X-Y-Z so that *insert type of person* will find you more *insert type of attractive*”

“People don’t like you because you’re *insert unchangeable (and usually positive) trait*"

The Conclusion 

The conclusion I always come to is that I can’t fault people for what they want, even if (and I would argue especially if) I am not what they want. I have to be willing to accept the people who will accept me and hopefully, one of them will be interesting and attractive and intelligent and I will get along with them well. Until then, I will be sad. I know who I am, I’m not going to change… and one day hopefully that will pay off.

Every once in awhile, I will get sad and try to explain this to one of my friends. I could say they don’t understand it, but they do. They completely understand the words and arguments coming out of my mouth. They, unfortunately, don’t know how to make it better. They tell me “no one deserves you” they tell me “one day someone will come along”. They try to make me feel better. I act like they’ve cheered me up, because I don’t want them to feel bad, but I am still sad. Yes maybe someday Mr Right will come along, but how nice it would be to get to interact with Mr Wrong, even for a little while.