More Memory Tears

We talked about seeing each other at Choices. How no one would even know we were together so it would shock everyone. We both hate PDA, but we said we'd have a long, intense kiss in front of everyone, and that's how we'd let them know. We joked about how everyone would react.

I don't know why some part of me still hoped it would happen. How on earth I thought it maybe still had a chance. I wondered if he'd kiss me at all. It's all I wanted to do up in that light booth. I could've stared at him working forever, with his silly commentary and his goofy smile and his stupid bright eyes. Seriously. He's far more handsome than I allowed myself to remember, and all I wanted was for him to finish working, grab me, and pull me into him. But it never happened. As I should've expected. And eventually, I'll be okay with that and maybe even grateful. But for right now, I'm just hurting and miserable. I am aching for his affection. Specifically his. It's not loneliness. It's desperation for one specific person to be just as desperate for me.

I can hold a good conversation with him. I'm so grateful that it doesn't feel weird and he doesn't ignore me and I can keep up a conversation with him. I don't want to just have conversations with him. I don't want to go back to the past year where we barely interacted. I don't want to be civil and enjoy a friendly interaction whenever I see him, as rare as that already is. I want those Senior Week nights back. I want Skype calls where we both stay on too late. I want trips in his truck and his voice on the phone and his arms holding me close. I want to scream and cry and collapse because none of that will ever be real again. I feel so empty. And tomorrow, we go back to our normal lives, and my normal life is no longer the joy and comfort that McDaniel gave me, and I can no longer deny this reality. The world goes on, and it is not going to wait for Nick and I to get back together. We have to keep moving with it.

For The Anxious Moments

About That

"I was once with a guy who was super introverted, socially quiet, very serious and respectful. He's always so polite and reserved. Like he's not out there at all. But sexually? He's... I don't know how to phrase it... He's in control. He's not dominating. Like he won't tell you what to do or take a dom position. But he doesn't have to. He just gets what he wants. He puts you exactly where he wants you. Strong enough to pull you and place you and all of it. You won't even know what happened. It takes a good five minutes before you can tell him to stop because you didn't even realize when something happened!"

"Okay it sounds kinda weird, but it sounds like my brother would be like that, you know?"

Girl, I am TALKING about your brother.

Happy Memory Tears

I want to write them down. I don't want them to expire or fade away ever. Even if they make me cry.


The night that I was in his room for the first time, he took a while to actually hold me. But he finally did. And the feeling of his hand running up and down my skin was electrifying. It was so simple but it reached my whole body. And I wondered if he would ever kiss me. I'm glad he let us finish the movie first. I'm glad he joked with me about me pushing him off the bed. It was funny how he struggled with my clothes. And how whenever I looked away from him, the TV screen gave me all sorts of emotions. I had plans that evening and other people to see. But I never wanted to leave that room.

Wednesday night, we stayed up til around 4. And just kissed on the couch. I wore nothing but his shirt. I'm obsessed with that shirt. It was the first time he complimented my eyes. He also told me about how I looked so good in my dress at formal that I put him in a corner. I might not ever believe those words fully but I'll replay them a million times.

Thursday, we were in the living room. Torreke and Jonathan joked about whatever. I don't remember. I just remember the occasional kisses on the top of my head. And how inviting they felt. How sweet they were. I remember Mariah smiling in the background.

On my couch at home, he told me what our first time would be like. I played with the idea of him being my first and my only. "You have the best bedroom eyes I've ever seen".

"You are the most vocal person I've ever been with and I love it."

On the day of graduation, the last time I saw him was while getting ready. And it was our last goodbye. He complimented my dress. And he told me he was so so proud of me.

I was scrambling to pack after graduation. And I was stressed and sad and hurting and I didn't ever want to leave McDaniel. Nor did I want to spend forever packing when my family was waiting for me. But wearing his shirt kept me sane. I sent him a picture in the car to keep myself from crying. And it apparently kept him sane, too.

"Because you're a giant nerd. And what do we say about nerds? Nerds. Are. Hot."

Back home, on my bed, we said we loved each other for the first time.

He also said my cami and no pants was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

He would compliment my legs. My butt, a lot. My eyes. My smile. He always called me beautiful. And when I told him I didn't see what he saw, he said he'd remind me every day until I did. And he kept that promise the whole way through.

He got into the tiniest accident. It put a damper on his mood the whole day. When we sat at lunch, he was obviously overwhelmed about it and he was mad at himself. I grabbed his hands and I told him I loved him. His eyes softened up immediately.

He told a story about his cousin swearing his hat was in his cousin's car. He knew it was in his own and he told his cousin, "my girl even put it on". I loved being called "my girl".

Upon telling him the lame, nerdy reasons behind naming my SmartTrip cards, he said "I need you here right now".

"How did I get so lucky?"

His answers to my work problems somehow always included fire.

He said he used to stare at me during meetings. I didn't catch him once.

When he walked into the greenroom once, I sprawled across the couch and told him to love me. Apparently some of my shirt lifted and he saw skin and freaked out, thinking if he hugged me, he'd be too inappropriate and what was the right angle to hug if she's sorta lying down and is this too long? This is too long.

We passed each other on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays as he was leaving class and I was starting my day. Sometimes he wouldn't say hi back. He told me he'd so look forward just to seeing me for those two seconds. It was two. Seconds.

"It's the way you look at me. It's not fair."

Yay Progress

I've passed Stage One of the breakup.

Where I'm sad ALL the time and spend every second of every day thinking about him and missing all the little things we had. Where I cry because I won't hold his hand in a car anymore or I go to bed not having Skyped him or I wonder if I'm ever going to get to watch all the things we said we would watch together, and if I do will I miss him the entire time? Where you look at old text messages and think about how good it used to be. Because it used to be SO. GOOD.

I am now at Stage Two. 


Where life is lonely on your own. Where you realize HEY HE IS GONNA BE JUST FINE WITHOUT YOU. And you're not fine. You're afraid of the next time you see him because by now, maybe he will have moved on despite the fact that you clearly have not. Where all the old text messages are too old, so they're all deleted now. You can't read them and pretend anymore. This is your reality now. What's worse is you're sorta kinda used to it being the bleak and boring and redundant every single day.

Whee.

The Modesty Issue

Sidenote, I'm 10000% over the mirror effect.

Ang told me about a friend of hers from school who runs THIS blog. And I very much like the idea. I know there's a pretty big community for this stuff. I like that these girls are telling the world that women don't have to show skin to look good. And if you look at these pictures, WOW the girl works it. Like, she looks phenomenal. I kind of want her to design my entire wardrobe? I wish I had so many fun skirts and tops and I could decorate my shoes like she does and WOW. Mind you, all that takes money so like, good for her that she can afford to make all these things (yes she does make a lot of her own clothing). Regardless, it's a cool idea and very important. Girls need to learn to be confident regardless of the outfit. They are more than what they wear, or don't wear. But like, these blogs have the exact opposite effect on me.

I tried on a dress today that showed off my midriff and my whole back. It's fitted and it's NOT too short but it teases the too short line. Wow, I liked that dress. I'm not at a point where I love my body. So automatically I was like, hmm, this is fitted and shows off the stomach I haven't been able to fully work off. I've been pretty hard on my own body since the breakup, though that's mostly because I gained a good bit while I was in Chicago. Still, I don't HATE my body anymore. I'm not DISGUSTED by myself anymore. I feel only the smallest bit more confidence and that means everything to me. I didn't hate how I looked in this dress. And my mom, obviously, said no to it because para que voy a estar enseñando todo, right? I've already conceded that I'm not an adult and my mom owns me until she dies. But I'm SO ridiculously upset by this?? Like, I felt so good and that's not gonna happen again. Fact of the matter is I have no clue where I would wear it and I'm sure plenty of people might think I'm too big for it. I don't care. I don't dress for other people. I PERSONALLY LOVED wearing it and so even if I only wore it around the house, I'd wear it and feel good in it. But no. Kay. Cool. 

I decide to deal with my annoying mood by looking at this blog and reminding myself that I don't need to show my body to look good. But like, I don't feel good? Like, when I go shopping I see this cute stuff and I try it on and WOW I hate how it looks. I look like a potato. Or a five year old. I look like a little girl that wants to dress like her mommy. I don't feel like me. It looks good, just not on ME. And so looking at the blog just made me feel like "hey, you can't pull this off. You NEED to show skin and wear bold makeup otherwise you look absolutely ordinary and unimpressive. To everyone INCLUDING yourself." 

My mom also mentioned that a dress like that doesn't let people know I'm Christian. But that never made sense to me. I don't see skirts and automatically think "Christian". I see skirts and think, cute, you decided to dress up today, good for you. Some men don't think "Christian" or "dress up", they think "easy access", which is sorta terrifying when you ride the bus home! I've never been comfortable in skirts and for me to wear one is a MAJOR decision when getting dressed. It's active effort on my part. Aside from the "should women wear skirts" debate, if I see a girl who is covered up and wearing pants and whatever blouse, I don't think a single thing about it. You wear clothing. Cool. I am not automatically calling into question the spiritual life of every person I see simply because someone's shirt shows their stomach a little. I don't think "oh, she must not be Christian", I think "WOW good for you for having the confidence that I never had even though Christian women are supposedly meant to EXUDE confidence since our bodies are given to us by God". I'm all about wearing appropriate clothing for the moment. There are certain things you do and don't wear to school, work, church, the beach, a funeral, a wedding, the theater, and so on. But just every day out and about? Literally who cares?! What do you know about the person? Nothing. Clothes tells you nothing. It's so easy to dress to the nines and never set foot in a church in your life. The person who judges based on clothing is a fool. Clothes means nothing. And I'm not saying men don't get the modesty talk either because I know it happens. But other than "pull your pants up" and "wear a clean shirt", the most I USUALLY hear is "wear a tie to church". With women, it HAS to be a dress or skirt, but it has to be certain lengths at the bottom, it can't have any openings other than head, arms, and legs, the sleeves can't be too short because HEAVEN FORBID WE SHOW SHOULDERS, and it can't be too tight.

Quite frankly, for completely separate reasons, I keep thinking about how much being a woman is kind of awful. Like, yes, we get the miracle of birth and giving life. But not all women can do that. So do those women have nothing? What about the women who DO NOT WANT CHILDREN, either because they just do not like kids, their bodies can't handle pregnancy, or they fear the ultimate responsibility of shaping a soul and giving up almost their entire selves to another being all while having every choice they make judged and not being financially stable enough or selfless enough to do the job adequately?! Honestly, being a mom is such a scary thought for me. It always has been. And what if I have a daughter?! I don't know how I could do it. How I could look at this beautiful child with hopes and dreams and optimism and tell her what it means to be a woman.

"You're going to have pain during puberty. It's different for everyone, but for some people it's the most crippling four days you can imagine. For others it's just a lot of heavy bleeding out of your vagina for more than the normal 3-7 day range, and the start day completely unpredictable. Whatever your scenario ends up being, you're going to have it for the rest of your life. Unless you get pregnant. In which case you won't feel anything for a few months and then you'll feel the worst pain known to humankind. And then, when you're too old to go through the same nonsense every month, you'll go through something else which makes your body a whole different kind of uncomfortable and your hormones a whole different kind of unstable. All of this will cost immense amounts of money because there are people who view the items necessary for these natural, inevitable processes as a luxury. People will question what you wear every day. People will remind you consistently of what you can't do. Despite your intelligence, determination, and qualifications, lots of people will tell you that you can't be a leader. Some will tell you that you shouldn't even have a job. People will buy you dresses and pink things and dolls and all sorts of fun toys, just as long as they aren't related to science, engineering, construction, or anything too manly. You will be told that you can't let boys touch you, but no one will tell the boys not to touch you. The boys will be across the hall in another room learning about Wisdom and you will be learning about Purity. You will be told that your body is not your own and that it belongs to God every day for the rest of your life UNTIL you get married, in which case it will belong to your husband. You will have to allow your husband to tell you what you can and can't wear or do, not that he will necessarily care about any of that, but if he does you HAVE to listen. When he makes dumb decisions and can't get past his own ideals to see another point of view, you still have to let him lead. Your sex drive will be ignored by a whole lot of people, and some men will pretend they care about it because they think they are God's gift to women. Every emotion you ever feel about anything will be used against you. And then it will be devalued and overlooked because obviously your emotions are meaningless, invalid, and probably just due to the hormones you can't control. Some people will completely ignore your wants and needs until you get a man to voice them for you. You will be called some absolutely horrible names, whether you are the sweetest and most innocent girl on the planet or you commit every crime in the book. And yes, you are expected to take it, either because you deserve it or good girls don't talk back. You will be taught to hate other girls or view them as competition. You will be taught to hate yourself. You will be reminded of your age consistently, and that age will be tied to questions such as when you'll get married, when you'll have kids, or why you don't want to have more kids. Any decision you make will always be your fault, never your partners. People will try to take your success away every chance they get. People will hurt you verbally and physically without repercussions. You will be told for your entire life that your value rests in your looks and your ability to get a man. And no matter how many times God, the bible, your family, your friends, books, or the internet tell you differently, some part of you will always believe that your value rests in your looks and your ability to get a man."

How do you warn an innocent soul about this? Why would you ever want to put anyone through this? Why can't we just wear pants and revealing dresses without being blamed for a man's lack of will power or his instability in his faith? How do you change these horrendous ideals when your own family and church tell you that some of them just have to stay? How do you continue to positively live in a world like that? How can you expect anyone else to?