Since everybody's on the topic...
Was watching Something's Gotta Give on cable with friends to nurse painful heartache and deflated ego when it dawned on me: I miss spending the day like this, lounging around with people who would laugh and cry with you, no matter how dumb or cheesy things may seem to be. You didn't have anything to cover up, nothing to expect, nothing to live up to. They love you for who you are, with no comparison to anyone. Nothing else mattered except the thought of having fun and caring about nothing else in the world.
I was feeling particularly crappy after Friday's episode when friends decided that I was moping too much and needed to be taken care of, since they say that "nobody else is doing it." Tried to defy by saying "I could take care of myself," but friends insisted, or else they "will be forced to lock me in my own room and make me listen to Britney Spears' songs for the rest of the weekend." Amply frightened, I acquiesced. Armed with a gallon of strawberry ice cream (my wallow food) and tons of jokes and stories to tell, they barged into my house, settled comfortably in my couch, turned on the tv, found Something's Gotta Give, and tried to keep my mind occupied for the next two hours of what could have been an oncoming bitch mode in full swing.
And so the drama begins: we would ooh and ah on the right scenes; when there was a particularly lovey-dovey scene I tried to get away, but friends made me stay put and watch the whole thing. Every shoulder was a perfect place to put my head on. By the time the movie was over, the strawberry ice cream was gone, our stomachs were full, eyes were red and puffy, but in the end, we all had an amazing time.
And of course they had to make me talk. I was feeling a little bit vindictive and so I poured it all out. I got so mad the tears just started leaking out by themselves. In the end I asked them if I was good enough. They said that I was so much more than that.
And then the lecture comes: that I shouldn't be caring too much, that I should leave most of it for myself. They told me I'm getting a little too carried away for my own good--I've been giving so much when I shouldn't have.
I guess in my hurry to make him feel that he's special in his own way, to try and make him see that there was a me that could love him unconditionally, that I had nothing of that love left for myself. I defy, of course. Being the narcissistic that I am, I will always leave a little bit of that love for myself. But what happened last Friday got to me so much (along with other things starting from Valentine's Day onward) that I couldn't take it anymore. Was I not special enough to be treated like a princess on Valentine's day? What, possibly, could I have not yet done to make him feel content? Must my face be rubbed against the fact that I am just not good enough ("particularly in the kissing department, it looks like," my friend laughingly puts in)? In the end, the little bit of love I left for myself wasn't strong enough to overcome the insecurities that were beginning to form.
I probably would have been okay with it. If it was any other day, I would have laughed and taken it in form. But I couldn't. The nice little after-Valentine's make up dinner had to end with him saying the stupidest thing at the wrong time. I wish I could turn back and make him shut up before he said it. But wishing for something to be undone is pointless--it was, after all, been said and done. There is nothing left to do but to forgive and forget.
In the midst of my confusion, my friends decided to help out. It was time for me to move on and forget about it. People do a lot of stupid things in life, and what he said wasn't particularly the brightest thing he ever did, but that doesn't change the fact that he chose to be with me, that he tried as much as he could. I've been too wrapped up about what and how much other people have done for their significant others that I've forgotten how much he could do, and the limits that he has. I do understand that he is, in fact, human, and that he makes mistakes, but so did I. My mistake was that I expected too much when I shouldn't have.
This is a lesson I've been trying to learn over and over again, and if Life was a university course, I would have failed shamefully. I am trying not to be bitter, because I do not want to grow into the female version of Uncle Scrooge. I'm okay now, although still recuperating from friends' admonishing remarks (which weren't particularly nice to hear, but like they said, the truth hurts). Hopefully things will be fine from now on; I shall try to forget my first Valentine with him and chalk it up to "inexperience." Therell be other things to look forward to.
To my glorified ladies: You know who you are. I wouldn't know what I'd have done without you. Even though you made me eat half of that ice cream (calories which I shall be burning on Monday, chasing you guys around at school for what you put me through) I still love you. There is nothing I wouldn't give to you. Thank you for taking care of me when no one else could. I love you, very, very, very much.
I was feeling particularly crappy after Friday's episode when friends decided that I was moping too much and needed to be taken care of, since they say that "nobody else is doing it." Tried to defy by saying "I could take care of myself," but friends insisted, or else they "will be forced to lock me in my own room and make me listen to Britney Spears' songs for the rest of the weekend." Amply frightened, I acquiesced. Armed with a gallon of strawberry ice cream (my wallow food) and tons of jokes and stories to tell, they barged into my house, settled comfortably in my couch, turned on the tv, found Something's Gotta Give, and tried to keep my mind occupied for the next two hours of what could have been an oncoming bitch mode in full swing.
And so the drama begins: we would ooh and ah on the right scenes; when there was a particularly lovey-dovey scene I tried to get away, but friends made me stay put and watch the whole thing. Every shoulder was a perfect place to put my head on. By the time the movie was over, the strawberry ice cream was gone, our stomachs were full, eyes were red and puffy, but in the end, we all had an amazing time.
And of course they had to make me talk. I was feeling a little bit vindictive and so I poured it all out. I got so mad the tears just started leaking out by themselves. In the end I asked them if I was good enough. They said that I was so much more than that.
And then the lecture comes: that I shouldn't be caring too much, that I should leave most of it for myself. They told me I'm getting a little too carried away for my own good--I've been giving so much when I shouldn't have.
I guess in my hurry to make him feel that he's special in his own way, to try and make him see that there was a me that could love him unconditionally, that I had nothing of that love left for myself. I defy, of course. Being the narcissistic that I am, I will always leave a little bit of that love for myself. But what happened last Friday got to me so much (along with other things starting from Valentine's Day onward) that I couldn't take it anymore. Was I not special enough to be treated like a princess on Valentine's day? What, possibly, could I have not yet done to make him feel content? Must my face be rubbed against the fact that I am just not good enough ("particularly in the kissing department, it looks like," my friend laughingly puts in)? In the end, the little bit of love I left for myself wasn't strong enough to overcome the insecurities that were beginning to form.
I probably would have been okay with it. If it was any other day, I would have laughed and taken it in form. But I couldn't. The nice little after-Valentine's make up dinner had to end with him saying the stupidest thing at the wrong time. I wish I could turn back and make him shut up before he said it. But wishing for something to be undone is pointless--it was, after all, been said and done. There is nothing left to do but to forgive and forget.
In the midst of my confusion, my friends decided to help out. It was time for me to move on and forget about it. People do a lot of stupid things in life, and what he said wasn't particularly the brightest thing he ever did, but that doesn't change the fact that he chose to be with me, that he tried as much as he could. I've been too wrapped up about what and how much other people have done for their significant others that I've forgotten how much he could do, and the limits that he has. I do understand that he is, in fact, human, and that he makes mistakes, but so did I. My mistake was that I expected too much when I shouldn't have.
This is a lesson I've been trying to learn over and over again, and if Life was a university course, I would have failed shamefully. I am trying not to be bitter, because I do not want to grow into the female version of Uncle Scrooge. I'm okay now, although still recuperating from friends' admonishing remarks (which weren't particularly nice to hear, but like they said, the truth hurts). Hopefully things will be fine from now on; I shall try to forget my first Valentine with him and chalk it up to "inexperience." Therell be other things to look forward to.
To my glorified ladies: You know who you are. I wouldn't know what I'd have done without you. Even though you made me eat half of that ice cream (calories which I shall be burning on Monday, chasing you guys around at school for what you put me through) I still love you. There is nothing I wouldn't give to you. Thank you for taking care of me when no one else could. I love you, very, very, very much.