As the eighth installment of these 30 truths comes out of my finger tips I'm forced to admit something: I don't really think I have anything to write about...
I mean, everyone was bullied, and everyone has been mean to someone too. I wasn't abused as a child, I've never has anyone hurt me in a way that scared me permanently, I don't think I have any grudges that present them self at random moments based on how someone treated me.
If I have a reoccurring problem with someone it's usually because they hurt someone I love. As in, someone who was mean to my sister, or mean to my friend, or to my mother. I can deal with the crap people dish to me because I'm (almost) always there, and I get to decide if it's a big enough issue to warrant my immediate attention or if it's just not deserving of my time. When someone wrongs a person I love I'm not necessarily there, I can't fight for them, I don't get to ride in on a white horse and beat the crap out of someone for being mean to them.
I keep saying 'mean'... I swear I'm not eight years old
Since I don't have anyone in my life who "made it Hell" I think I'll write about someone who I just let treat me poorly, until I wised up and kicked him out of my life.
Someone who treated me poorly
I will start with saying that I've made stupid decisions in my days, and the decision to date Malcolm* was a bad one. It was my second semester in the musical school and I was having a good ol' time dating many a boy because I was finally not in high school where that stigma prevents a lot of young people from having a pleasant dating experience (dating monogamously in high school makes no sense. you're 16... why should you limit the boys you kiss to only one because that's what everyone else is doing? You don't know who you are, let alone who you should be "going steady" with...) and I was enjoying the freedom from not being tied down.
*name has not been changed because I don't care that much
Then came Malcolm.
He was new to the university because he had decided to transfer mid year and he played the trombone. He and I didn't have any classes together because he technically was behind since he joined the program late. He was okay I guess, not ugly, left handed, and he was really smitten with me. I don't care who you are, being sought after is nice, even if you're not that interested.
So Malcolm followed me around and was really persistent and the other guys in my life sort of just stopped meshing. Malcolm, however, was too persistent to stop trying to win my affections no matter how many times I turned him down; after all, I am amazing.
Finally, I told him I would be his girlfriend (this is after about 6 times of me saying "no"... why don't I listen to me? why?). I should have know he was not on the same page as I was because the next thing out of his mouth was, "can I make it facebook official?" I told him yes to that as well, but I didn't get on facebook for 2 days after because accepting that request was one of the scariest things I'd ever done. I liked the look of "single" beneath my name. It made the independence that I exuded in bright waves more legitimate, and it also let every guy I went out with aware of the fact that I was not their girlfriend, one date is never enough for me to decide that, even if it's awesome.
Malcolm and I officially dated for 5 short months, and in that time he took my self esteem from here to here, and if you can't see my hands imagine something really high, going to something a lot lower. Eloquent, I know.
Malcolm is black, and his mother hated me. It wasn't just because I was white, it's because I was white and I was dating her son. She couldn't stand not only the color of my skin, but also the way I acted. I don't know how I was supposed to act around her, but apparently everything I did was wrong. I did learn a lot of valuable things about relationships through this experience, and it starts with his mother.
Rule 1: if the family doesn't like you, get out. There is always a blurry line with this one, winning over a guys mother takes time, but if they refuse to get to know you because of things like your skin color (accent, where you live, education, religion, things like this) you have no hope of getting on their good side, and when you date a guy you also date his family. It is a huge plus if they like you because he likes you, but this is rarely the case.
Malcolm never stood up to his mother about me, this was a big "treated you like shit" move. If he loved me like he claimed he wouldn't have let his mother say the things about me that she did. She never said anything hateful to my face, but there was so much hostility in the way she looked at me, and never acknowledging me verbally is another huge problem. Lady was a bitch. Malcolm didn't care.
The next huge problem with Malcolm was the possessiveness/jealousy. Once we were walking into a restaurant and I had on a top that was cut low (It was spring, the season when the boobs come out, and I have huge ones that refuse to stay hidden. Why hide Gods gift? I see no point). A man, in his early fifties mind you, looked at me. I didn't notice, if I had I probably would have found it funny. It was funny. Malcolm got mad at me and scolded me for wearing low cut shirts. I was confused. If I wore them he too got to look at my boobs, why would he want me to hide them? Who cares if some old guy looks. They're just boobs, it's not like I had sex with the guy. I wasn't allowed to talk to friends I'd had in high school because they were boys. I wasn't allowed to be alone with another guy because Malcolm didn't want me to. This is where it gets dicey. I do what I want. I did what I wanted. He got pissed, I got pissed, I then decided to lie to him and that's never good. I shouldn't have had to lie. I should have been allowed to be friends with whomever I wanted. It's a girls right to do so.
Rule 2: if I guy tries to control you in any way (how you dress, who you're friends with, the books you read, shows you watch or don't) get out. You are your own person. If your boyfriend can't trust you enough to let you make your own decisions get the fuck out. Trust is love.
Finally the last straw with him was how me made me feel insignificant. I didn't even want to initially date this guy and he somehow manipulated me into feeling like I would never be good enough. I wasn't funny. I was boring. I didn't have fun friends or interesting things to say. In reality he is the boring one. Watching sports center multiple times a day is boring. Only interest in a few areas and no desire to learn more, no curiosity for life is boring. No sense of humor is boring. I have no idea how he turned it around and was able to make me feel weird and boring and like a loser, but he did it. He and I didn't mesh, but because I didn't listen to myself and continue saying no, I dated a guy who made me feel like crap all the time. That's not love, no matter how many times you say it. Love lifts you up, and he pushed me down so that he could be above me. Men who need to dominate are crap. He was crap. The whole relationship was crap.
Rule 3: Don't ever let anyone make you feel like you're worth less (not worthless... worth less than you are worth, which is a whole lot). You are amazing, and you need to date someone who also thinks you're amazing. If you're dating a guy who in any way at all makes you feel badly about something you like, something you are (this doesn't include bad things such as self harming, addictions, being a serial murderer... those are bad) get out. The type of people that need to bring others down to feel good are terrible people, they need to date each other, not you.
Rule 4: Date someone who "gets you"... if your senses of humor don't match, you won't have fun. They need to see you as better than you see yourself, they need to think you're funny, they need to think you're smart, they need to value you as a person and understand (and if they can't understand at least sympathise with) you. opposites attract, and it is our differences that keep us together, but it's the ability to appreciate each other that makes it enjoyable.
But what came out of it was a smarter girl. One who can recognise when someone is trying to change you or belittle you. I'm smarter for it, so it was worth it.