Turns out, I’m still THAT intimidating. I’m still not worth it. I’m still not the kind of woman guys would do the impossible for. I’m still not doing it, I’m still that high, or that big. I’m turning 24 soon, and I still feel like I’m fresh out of college, and it’s not helping I’m choosing to be a bum for now.
I’ve said my piece about Paolo, yes, but of course, there are times when I still think about him. I wonder about the way he looks at me, like he’s waiting for me to say something else other than what I’m supposed to say. I think about the way he didn’t show up that single day we were supposed to see each other, him ‘spying’ on me indirectly. But I don’t think about the possibility of ‘us’ anymore. Perhaps, in that area, I’m probably moving on.
He was just, if anything, an eye candy distraction. He was there to entertain me, keep me sane that hell month I went through with work. I don’t know why God thought that Tom wasn’t enough to do that, or why His timing was that way, but it seems that it’s just how Paolo is in my life. Something passing. He was temporary. He doesn’t belong in my world anymore, as much as I didn’t belong in his.
I don’t feel sad whenever I think about the greatness of us. Admitting to myself that I miss him on random days was therapeutic, I suppose. For instance, listening to Taylor Swift’s ‘Story of Us’ eased much of the tension that I felt in my heart, defined that vague feeling I couldn’t seem to put a finger on. I’m not her fan, but I have to say, the lyrics to her song killed it.
I still don’t feel rejected, as stupid as that sounds. Though my insecurities threaten to rear its ugly head once in a while, I find myself unable to respond to that notion. It’s as simple as that -it’s not really the reason why you and Paolo didn’t happen. Who knows, maybe the guy had someone else, and you, too, were a distraction for him. Another part of me suggests that he also probably needs to know my God first. Shit like that. The reasons are endless, and I believe them, but the pain doesn’t go away. The feeling of loneliness is still apparent, though I have to admit, I’m getting used to it, and longing for him has definitely dampened this past month.
This day marks the entire month I haven’t seen him, I just realized. It’s been a month of not seeing him, his smiles, hearing his voice, getting poked by him, not receiving a message from him… I miss him. I’m not admitting it to anyone other than my two girlfriends, and that’s saying much. I can only think about it now and hope that he misses me too.
I’m getting this nagging feeling as of late though -the guy wants me to make the first move. He’s a spoiled rich kid, that’s what I’m leaning on to, probably used to having girls throw themselves at his feet. Well, sad to say, I don’t want to do this now. I’m not going to offer myself to him on a silver platter. I’m not a piece of meat, and if this was the reason, I guess I can say God knows timing at its best. The only time I tell myself that I shouldn’t do anything, and manipulate the situation, this is what the guy calls for me to do. But I’m following what God is inspiring me to do -and that is to be still.
God has been pounding it on my brains this past month. Don’t fucking do anything. Ok, maybe not that crass, but it’s always been wait, be still, don’t be anxious, wait, wait, be patient. There isn’t any other message for me now but that. It’s great that God is speaking to me in this manner, honestly, but the WHY factor is really doing me in. Because I still don’t understand a lot of things.
I’ve been dreaming about Chris nonstop. And there’s this slight chance I might see him on Friday. A little part of me is hopeful, stupid me, but a huge chunk of me screams NO -you shouldn’t see him. I would be feeding my subconscious with fantasies if ever I get more real time action with him. The guy has a girlfriend already, and though they aren’t married yet, that’s supposed to be the standard when you’re single. I guess that makes Chris a good guy then, because he’s already taken.
Sometimes I think that I’m not surprised God is delaying this romance thing too much for my taste, not that it matters. But most of the time, I think that I should take it easy on God, considering I’m not exactly low-maintenance. I’m a whole level of something that I can’t begin to comprehend just what is the right kind of guy for me. When I think about the ‘right guy’ in detail, I’ve got all sorts of wants and needs, but realistically speaking, I doubt it’ll be easy.
Maybe that’s why I’ve been dwelling on Hey Arnold! fandom as of late. I’ve been reading the fiction nonstop. And I could never stop my heart clenching with bittersweet ache whenever I feel myself relating to Helga Pataki’s character. Because I like to put guys up on pedestals. If not, I’m that rough on the outside, soft on the inside girl. I’m a bitch. I’m a mess. I try to be good, and I’m always trying, but in the end, I always end up failing. I’m hopelessly in love with a guy I’ve created in my mind, and I may choose to end up alone because I know no one could ever live up to that sort of expectations.
I just want to be surprised, too, I guess. Slowly, I’m losing all my hopes and dreams for what the perfect guy should be. I’m really placing myself in the neutral mode, ready to welcome whatever, or whoever God should give or throw my way. I’m reseting standards, I suppose. Because if I have this perfect guy image in my head, I wouldn’t be able to find contentment with the imperfect but right for me guy that He has in store for me. That’s the optimistic side to it.
But the pessimistic side? Maybe God is just trying to talk some sense into me. Trying to remind me that ‘hey, look at all your past flings and relationships. Remember how much you fail at them? That’s your biggest clue to just give up and shut the fuck up.’ Well, my God couldn’t be that mean, but on a lighter note, maybe he’s readying me for singlehood, suffering with my easily stoked loins. Because that’s the only problem to the single for life equation. I’m a fucking horny woman. I’m a nympho. I love sex. I love to give and receive physical pleasure. My body is programmed for fucking. The smallest touch, caress, can make me leak like an open faucet. My core literally aches with need with the slightest thought of fucking. It’s been 2 years since I’ve slept with someone. You can only imagine the need my body is sending me.
And so I’m here, dying from abstinence. There are times when I think that maybe I should just give up on life in general and do it. End it all. But when I think about hope and surprises and God giving me something that could make me say ‘boy this was worth the long wait’, I stick it out for another day.