I’m having a frustrating day.
I was a little late this morning because I didn’t leave as early as I’d like. I was tired when I woke up because, even though I slept well, I did have a bad dream that woke me up about 90 minutes before my alarm went off, meaning that when the alarm went off, it interrupted a REM cycle or some such. I woke up in that crazy, not-entirely-sure-where-I-am state that sometimes causes headaches (and did!). My kiddos were a little crazy today, which is not good since we have 16 class days until that damned state test. My ankle is again swollen to about 3 times it’s normal size. And my allergies seem to be acting up; my eyes keep watering and I’m not crying.
I know I’m not the only one because all the teachers around me seem to be equally as frustrated with the kiddos today, and everything seems to be going just slightly… wrong.
To top it all off, I did have a small tiff with the Boy. It has never made any sense to me why he out of nowhere decided to apologize this past Christmas, and I’ve been working on a theory or two about what his intentions are.
The theory that had been somewhat winning in my brain was that he was curious about the “what could have been.” Since I had spent so much time thinking about it when we first split, it made sense to me that he’d finally begun questioning it, too. Especially if things were in anyway not perfect with his new GF.
Some of our conversations had lead me to this conclusion as well. Notably when he told me that I *was* worth it, or that I deserved to not be anyone’s second choice. He told me this when things fell completely apart with Superman; you know, when I realized Superman was seeing someone else and keeping me as a back up girl. Since this is the only thing that he, the Boy, had never told me before, even though it was the only thing I ever wanted to hear from him, it seemed like perhaps he was testing the waters.
I’m not sure what I would do if that were the case, but the part of me that is oh so tired of always being the second choice really wanted it to be the case. The part of me that recognizes that I had been deeply, madly in love with him for some completely unknown reason really wanted that to be the case.
Instead, I got a vague explanation (paraphrased here) that I’m worth it, but not for him. That’s like telling someone “you would be pretty if (fill in the blank) ,” or the dreaded “you look good for a fat girl.” You know, those compliments that are sidled with an emotional punch to the throat.
It set me off a little bit. It reminded me why I promised myself I would never speak with him again. And I threw my little hissy fit, and then remembered: I’m not dating him, and I don’t want to date him.
Yeah, there’s that little part of me that wonders about the what if. And there’s the little part of me that misses him, some parts of him more than others (let’s just say he is…gifted).
But I don’t miss his inconsiderate way of speaking. I think he tries not to be hurtful when he speaks; there have been a few times since we began speaking again where he catches himself and apologizes, but for the most part, it’s still that matter of fact, my-feelings-don’t-matter-at-all way he speaks to me.
The worst part? I don’t think he’s aware that he does it.
And then I find myself trying to be somewhat snarky back. I find myself trying to be hurtful to him because he has hurt me.
It’s not nice, I know, but I am ever so tired of being the second choice. Or being friendzoned. I’m tired of people trying to convince me to be friends with benefits, or the side-chick, and telling me it’s somehow my fault for being so desirable, or sexy, but not something that they want to keep around for long term.
The Artist said it. The Boy said it. Superman didn’t say it, he just chose the other girl without telling me, leaving me to figure it out and being forced to realize that all the good parts of what we’d had were lies. The guy from my apartment the year before said it.
Before that, there was the handful of married men who tried to have their way with me and tried convince me that it wasn’t a problem. Plus the ridiculous four year drought before that, where I couldn’t find anyone worth my time… or willing to give me theirs.
It’s been nearly a decade since I’ve had a lover who made me feel really wanted and needed, maybe even longer. Instead of the love, loyalty, and respect I deserve, over and over and over again I’ve been emotionally used and abused. I’m seen as exotic, and as an object of lust to be used and tossed away.
But no more. I deserve better.
I am an intelligent, beautiful, strong woman. I am a creative soul who writes poetry, paints, cooks, and has an arsenal of accents that I do from time to time. When I cook, I cook with love and peace in my heart. It’s a bit of kitchen witchery that I’m quite proud of.
I am a teacher of children. I touch the souls of my students, and teach them to be better people. I am loved by almost every single one of them. They call me their second mother. They trust me with their secrets, and to heal their wounds. They come to me when they need a hug and they give me one when I feel bad.
I am a movie fan and a literature snob. And I am brilliant enough to have an intelligent conversation about both.
I am quite a catch. I love with my whole heart, through and through. Any man would be lucky to have me.
I am worth it.