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Today, I was
reflecting on the past year while in the car on my way to school. I have come
to the conclusion that somewhere in the span of 365 days, I grew up. I can
easily say that I am no longer the young, naïve girl I was when the year
started.
Events throughout the
year have changed my perspective, views, and most importantly myself. One key
event in particular was spending a month in France for summer school. It caused
me to step out of my sheltered, private school bubble and to experience the
real world. I was thrust into the world of over privileged, under parented private
school brats which was filled with clubbing, smoking, sex, drugs, and alcohol. Ever
watch Gossip Girl? It was not that
much different. I have never
experienced any of the like. Sure we had school during the days, but it was all
about what went down at night. Making the switch from PCA to summer school,
required maturing very, very fast.
At the same time, I
grew so much during this trip. I learned independence, which I would not have
been able to learn otherwise. There was no one to do the grocery shopping or my
laundry. No one to tell me when to sleep, to do my homework. They were only 3
basic rules one had to obey: go to class, sign in for dinner, come home before
curfew in a moderately sober state. I learned to be responsible, and to take
responsibility for my actions. I came back a changed person, and I no longer
look at things the say way.
And there was you, my
summer love. Just because I finally got over you, doesn't mean there aren't
days when it all comes rushing back. Sometimes it just hits me out of nowhere,
all of a sudden this overwhelming sadness rushes over me and I get discouraged
and I get upset and I feel hopeless, sad, and hurt and once again I become numb
to the world. But then, I look at all I have now and I realize that in the
direction that we were going, maybe it isn’t so bad that you’re not so much
apart of my right now.
I realized the value
of friends. People can leave, just as quickly as they have come. I learned that
maybe friendships aren’t meant to be saved, maybe we're meant to spend a
certain part of our lives with certain people then move on. Something can’t and
shouldn’t be fixed. I can’t live in the past. When all else fails, I know that
I can take comfort in the fact that the bestest will be there for me to lean
on. As like every year, I am able to meet new people, and this year was no
different. I mean, just look at my top friends. 7 out of the 20 were people I became
friends with just this past year. I am very thankful for them, and for all my
other friends.
Somewhere in the span
of 365 days, I grew up.
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| This is a tribute to
the nice girls. To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become
friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and
their personalities and their actions because it must be they that are
doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don't give it up on
the first date, who don't want to play mind games, who provide a
comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they've heard a
thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren't
perfect and that the guys they're interested in aren't either, for the
girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest
glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive
that hope that maybe... maybe this time he'll have understood. This is
a homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in
skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for
guys who don't deserve their attention. This is for those girls who
have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time
again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without
saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the
beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are
plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds." This is to
honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are,
who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it.
This
is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it's an
experience that they don't want to miss out on. For the girls who have
sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling,
rude comments and explicit invitations that they'd rather not have
experienced. This is for the girls who have spent their weekends
sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or
playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose
crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from
someone who doesn't care enough to invite them over but is still
willing to pass out in their bed. This is for the girls who have left
sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone
understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and
time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to
watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. This is for the
girls who have been told that they're too good or too smart or too
pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a
relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend.
This one's for the girls who you can take home to mom, but
won't because it's easier to sleep with a whore than foster a
relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and
kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment,
or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a
guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he's just
not ready, he's just not over her, he's just not looking to be tied
down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it's easier
to believe that it's not that they don't want you, it's that they don't
want anyone. This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and
their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first
place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable
and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you've returned home
alone, for the nights when you've seen from across the room him leaning
a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little
too softly for the girl he's with to be a random hookup. This is for
the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally
having realized that it wasn't that he didn't want a relationship: it
was that he didn't want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or
his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held
him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the
right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he'd
realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you
realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next
morning after failing to sleep.
This is for the "I really like
you, so let's still be friends" comment after you read more into a
situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when
you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself
to sleep. This is for the hugs you've received from your female
friends, for the nights they've reassured you that you are beautiful
and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy;
this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of
your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you'd have
was with a pillow and your teddy bear. This is for the girls who have
been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at
least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights
we've believed that something was better than nothing, though his
something was nothing we'd have ever wanted. This is for the girls who
have been satisified with too little and who have learned never to
expect anything more: for the girls who don't think that they deserve
more, because they've been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps
thrown to them by guys.
This is what I don't understand. Men
sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean
guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don't appreciate
them and don't want them; who use them for sex and think of little else
than where their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they
never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and
compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men
despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls
play mindgames, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask
you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly
compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and
smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to
call... and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and
she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl
fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive
and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she
could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call
your friends to tell them of the "stalker chick" you'd met the night
prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the
truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her,
speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club
or party scene and search once more for this "nice girl" who you just
cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice
girls are everywhere. But you're not looking for a nice girl. You're
not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intermural
basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you
keep having with your father; you're looking for a quick fix, a night
when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being
which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it.
So
don't say you're on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us
up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go
in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too
tight miniskirt won't answer your catcalls, sometimes you're looking at
a nice girl in whore's clothing - - we might say we like the attention,
we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we're all
thinking the same thing: "This isn't me. Tomorrow morning, I'll be
wearing a teeshirt and flannel shorts, I'll have slept alone and I'll
be making my hungover best friend breakfast. See through the disguise.
See me." You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only
see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don't want the
nice girl.. so don't say you're looking for a relationship:
relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we're
willing to extend - - but in return, we're looking for compassion and
loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express.
Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they're running they're
chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets... the nice
girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a
congradulatory hug (and yes, if she's a nice girl and she likes you,
the sweatiness probably won't matter), hoping against hope that maybe
you'll realize that they're the ones that you want at the end of that
silly race.
So maybe it won't last forever. Maybe some of
those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their
way to the concession stand where we're waiting; however, until that
happens, we still have each other. | | |
| as much as i thought i was mostly over you
i saw you today and i realized i wasn't
in fact i was a long way from getting over you
i thought'd it be easy to move on, forget you
but boy you make it hard
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life isn't
about having a size 0. it's not about how many boys you've made out with or how
many boys have asked you out. it's not about how many clothes you have from
Abercrombie or Hollister or AE. it's about living the best life you can. it's
about being the best person you can be. it's about having people love you for
you. it's about being 100% you in front of people you love. it's about being on
the phone at 3 in the morning talking about the boy you love. it's about going
prom shopping when your 14. it's about getting your nails done, your hair done
and getting a new outfit to walk around the street. it's about stringing
together a bunch of little things and making everything count but life is
mostly about living it up
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