Tuesday, August 7, 2012

The Curse of the Big Nose

So the next guy I fell for was sub-par when it came to attractiveness. In fact, I had only begun to talk to him in the first place to get closer to his friend. Little did I know that that plan never works, and you end up caught in the web of a love triangle. Okay, who am I kidding, the guy I was actually trying to get never really talked to me. I see him a few times around town now and then, but our conversations are limited to small talk and I no longer have any interest in him. Now back to this guy's looks. I hate to sound shallow, but I must explain every aspect of each of my lovers (ha, now let's pretend I forgot to mention the unrequited part of my loving). He really was ugly, I even tried to look at him at different angles or think about him from different aspects, but no matter how hard I tried, he remained very unattractive. He had a really big nose, not the type that would flare like the German, but the type that just had extra meat, and his ears stuck out like an elf's. I was turned off when I even thought about kissing him. So why did I like him? His personality. You probably think his personality included a heart of gold, romance and a strong passion for life. Actually, he was a very unstable pothead who encountered a lot of mood swings, was disrespectful to women, and quite immature. Oh, I know just how to pick 'em. I was still in high school and in the phase of falling for guys who were lost and thought the way to treat a girl was to be mean to her, and then I would heroically sweep in and save him by showing him how to love. Of course this was a stupid idea and failed almost immediately. I was also just a teenager who hadn't encountered many love interests, so I was basically desperate to find a guy to always talk to. Let me break down the sequence of events that lead to the disastrous end:

In the beginning, we spoke as friends. There would be a little flirting here and there, but most of it was harmless. He made me laugh and we talked online almost every day. Sometimes I would see him but we never made plans to go out. He began to tell me about his family problems and his stress with school, and I immediately felt the need to comfort and be there for him. Little did I know, this asshole wasn't telling me his problems to bond, but only because I basically became his free therapist. I am good with advice and can think logically and positively when it comes to most problems, and my innocence led me to believe he cared for me as much as I cared for him. But he never listened to my troubles or cared about what I was going through; it was all about his annoying life and the girls he would bang every week. He purposefully told me about the girls because he thought it was amusing that I would act normal but be secretly jealous. He never asked me on a real date and I was solely his "go-to" girl. I was really into him because I grew more attached as we spent more days talking. I was too naive to realize that he was using me for his own amusement, and I was his escape from his depressing reality. I fed him positive energy, commenting on his good things and making him feel better, while his nose grew even bigger with ego.

Of course, we began to argue as I realized his increasing asshole-ery until I had enough. Our talks simmered down and one night I went to a party where his friends were. I was having a good time until one of his good friends asked me how he was doing. I was taken aback by his question because how would I be more aware of how he was doing than his own best friend? This meant one thing and one thing only: that bastard had been talking about me. And not in The Notebook kind of way where he spills his everlasting love for me, but in the way that I was basically a toy. Who knows, he could have even called me his booty call, even though the bare thought of any sexual activity with him makes my legs want to lock together and a Medieval chastity belt to synthesize. So that was it. I was done. I confronted him about it, online of course (because I was a loser with an attachment to the internet), and he got angry at me for talking to his friends in the first place. Motherfucker, if you get jealous when I speak to your friends, then why are you playing with my heart? A heart so fragile and untouched, that even years later I still feel he is the one who has hurt me the most out of all the boys I have dealt with so far. Angry, I stopped talking to him. It was difficult at first, letting go of the routine of coming home every day and receiving a message from him, falling into endless conversations of serious situations and flirty comebacks. He messaged me again after a while but I was dry with him, so he got the point and we have not talked since.

The moral of this boring story is that guys with big noses are assholes. No I'm kidding (kind of). It's that usually unattractive guys are nicer because they think they have nothing going for them, but some of them are egotistical douchebags who just want to use you and be an ass. Okay that's still not the moral of the story. The moral is that you shouldn't be so naive, and just because you care so deeply about someone without judging them, it certainly does not mean that they will do the same for you. So the best idea is to tone down the sincere kindness until they show you a reason or two to care.

Assholes will be assholes, and the rest of the guys in the blog are pretty much that. But I will never lose sight of the genuine care I can give, and life goes on; as tomorrow is another day.