“The intention and outcome of vulnerability is trust, intimacy and connection. The outcome of oversharing is distrust, disconnection— and usually a little judgment.” – Brene Brown
Isn’t that the truth?
There have not been many people to know me as I truly am— this has caused me considerable grief over the years. Building walls and hiding my feelings was simply how I made it through most of life. I don’t know why.
In some ways, I never felt as though I belonged anywhere…belonged to anyone. A walking, talking, living, breathing paradox. Unpredictable. Inconvenient. It seemed as though people only liked me if I’d fit their mold. Oh, I played along sometimes. Then I’d go home, soak my pillow through, get up and prepare to do it all over again.
Hi, everyone. This is a poorly thought out, spur of the moment post about my crippling, possibly irrational fear of being cheated on. It will be long, it will be candid and it will be mildly
entertaining embarrassing. Enjoy.
When I was a young girl, I genuinely believed I had everything all figured out. I’d be married by 25, with child by 26, and we’d all live happily ever after, amen. Boy, was I stupid as a kid! I will never understand why my mother allowed me to watch so many Disney movies growing up. I am convinced that those were the original Nigerian scams.
That being said, screw you, Cinderella and Snow White. You’re both liars and con artists peddling bulls—t to little kids. Jasmine and Ariel are both like, waayyy better than both of ya’ll, but somehow you two are always considered “the real princesses”. You and that sleeping beauty girl that nooobody ever remembers. You both just suck. Go. Away.
So there’s this guy…
Wow. I can’t even focus my thoughts enough to type what I’m trying to say. Get it together, girl.
Okay, let’s try this again. A few days ago, while I was simply minding my own business, this guy randomly entered my periphery. I honestly don’t know where he came from, which may sound really strange, but humor me for a moment.
Something peculiar happened when I first saw him. I instantly felt as though I needed to get to know him. Now before I go any further, let me just confirm that I personally find him to be gorgeous. Naturally, he’s quite enjoyable to look at, but his physical appearance genuinely had nothing to do with this initial attraction. In fact, I didn’t even realize how beautiful he was until I’d been “observing” him for awhile.
I say “observing” because I have no clue how else to put it. “Watching him” sounds creepy AF, like I’ve been conveniently lurking in the bushes outside of his house with binoculars every time he showers. That is definitely not the case. I can’t say that I “know him” either because I don’t; I only know of him.
I deleted the dating app about a week after installing it. It was such a relief.
I really don’t know what to say about the whole “dating in the digital age” thing. It is probably safe to say that it isn’t for me. Though I genuinely wasn’t looking for anything romantic in the first place (and I made that quite clear), I simply couldn’t contend with the unspoken (or not so unspoken) expectation of a hookup or FWB situationship. Whatever happened to just being friends?? Perhaps that is exactly my problem…the outdated desire for something strictly platonic with a member of the opposite sex. Stupid, stupid me.