So there's this guy...
Every female in the world has or will meet him at some point in their life. I first met him in 7th grade. He was dreamy and cute and oh-so-charming and I flashed my smitten 14-year-old eyes at him like nobody's business. For weeks, I stalked him in the hallway, admiring his handsome face and perfect hair from a respectable distance. I even went so far as to inhale deeply if by some chance we passed in the hall, just to smell the aroma of his shampoo or deodorant or whatever the hell it was. I liked the way he smelled. Okay? It's not that weird. I was sure I'd never have the opportunity to actually speak to him because, lord knows, I was never going to be brave enough to start a conversation. This, of course, did not deter me from creating an entirely fictional relationship. I dressed in what I thought he'd like; I spoke of things he was interested in and even altered my personality to be more like the kind of girl I thought he might date. Considering my age, I was exceptionally elaborate about the changes I was willing to make to turn his head.
Sadly, I accepted that it was probably all just fantasy.
But as fate had it, circumstances brought us together through a mutual acquaintance. We began our friendship as I believe all 14 year olds are required; with an exaggerated amount of teasing each other, followed by the world famous junior high version of going 'out'. This basically means you agree that the other person 'doesn't suck' and is okay to be seen hanging out with. This also gives your automatic consent to endure the verbal assault from your friends regarding their opinion of your choice of a mate.
This can be brutal but if you really like this guy, you deal and convince yourself that they're just jealous.
In the interest of time, let's skip ahead in the relationship a month or so. We talked on the phone every day, we sometimes hung out a little IN school and occasionally I rode my bike to the park where we met and talked, sometimes for hours. He was a nice guy...until...
I wasn't aware of it at the time, but apparently boys carry around in their head, a calendar of how long it is acceptable to be gentlemanly before they are allowed access to your, we'll call it 'considerable assets'. He made it clear to me during one of our conversations that my time had expired and I was now expected to satisfy his curiosity about what my 'parts' felt like. I was flabbergasted because no one had sent me that memo. As I hang my head in shame of my 14 year old self, I will admit that, to a certain degree, I consented, all the while feeling like I'd just crossed a border into "Trampville" that I couldn't uncross. I felt cheap and deceived and can look back with absolute certainty knowing that this was where my self-esteem began its massive nosedive. If that weren't enough, the next time I saw him in school and every time thereafter, he ceased to acknowledge that I existed. Occasionally he'd call me after school, but I quickly learned it was only because he wanted an encore. I hated myself for doing just what I'd made plans to do; changing myself to attract a boy. It became a mistake I repeated throughout my life.
I met this same guy again and again. No matter how many times I moved or changed jobs he was always around. Of course his name changed many, many times in each city which I found him, but he remained, nonetheless, the same selfish, arrogant ass. I'm sure, if you're a woman, you've also met him. He's the most ubiquitous man I've ever known. He makes you feel amazing right before he crushes your self-confidence and makes you question, not only your intelligence but also your attractiveness and femininity. With the awkwardness and eternal waiting period of an unreturned "I like you" text, you begin to question everything about yourself. I know you can relate. You dated him too, probably more than once. He gets around and he's not limited to just being a man you date. Sometimes he's a boss or a co-worker. He can be a neighbor or a complete stranger in an elevator. Wherever it is that you find him, you recognize his perceived ability. With one condescending glance or his head to toe scan when you step in the room, followed by an arrogant smirk, he gives himself away. He'll do his best to reduce your self-confidence in as few words as possible. Oh, yes. You'll recognize him.
I'm proud to say I'm now 53 years old and have finally learned to deflect this guy's attitude back to it's source. It took a long time, and I still run into 'that guy', but I can boldly say I am not ashamed of any of the things that make me who I am anymore, no matter what he says or does. I have daughters and granddaughters now; two of them are getting close to dating age (despite my husband's objections).
I hope that I will be able to teach them to shield themselves against him. They are amazing, intelligent and beautiful girls and to their mother's horror I'm sure, I tell them the mistakes I made because I want them to make better choices. I want them to know their worth does not depend on what a man or anyone else thinks of them. No one else has the right to determine your value and anyone who tries is revealing more about themselves than you.
As for me, I refuse to ever again feel ashamed about the things I do or choices I make, even when they aren't ones other people support. Who we love, how we dress, speak, behave, think and what we believe are our choices. No one has to agree with them, but they do need to accept us as we are, even when we have wrinkles, grey hair and cellulite. Because, Cosmopolitan magazine be damned, we earned them.
I am proud of myself and believe anyone I choose to allow in my life should be too. I promise that I will return the support. If you have enough confidence to be who you truly are, then you've already conquered one of life's biggest obstacles. Be proud of who you are and don't let anyone take that away.
If by chance you haven't quite got there yet, keep working at it...and once more, let me warn you:
So, there's this guy....
