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.

Love,
Scarlett

Gone with the Humiliation

Let's start with my first love (love is used VERY loosely here). Okay, probably not my first. To be honest, I've liked boys since I knew the difference between the two genders. Which basically means as soon as I started preschool. In fact, the first day of school for me when I went to my new school in third grade - which was in the middle of the year for everyone else - I immediately told everyone I had a crush on the cutest guy in the class. I was always aggressive and impatient when it came to the opposite sex. He was petrified, wondering why he was so unfortunate to have a creepy, chubby girl get googly eyes for him. I still remember his reaction when his friends told him; he got googly eyes too, but more like the type where the victim in a Scream movie gets right before he is murdered. But anyways, now that I've established my early hormonal rages, I will humiliate myself even more with the story of my freshman year.

It was in grade nine in strings class. I thought I was the shit as a freshman, and when a new student from Germany walked in, I was smitten. It was my goal to grab this guy's attention and I knew I needed to talk to him. I was pretty bold when I was younger, and the number of rejections just made it harder for me to talk to boys as I got older. Of course, being my extremely forward self, I talked to him in class every day and asked him a million questions, one right after the other without letting him finish any of his answers. I couldn't stop daydreaming about what we'd look like holding hands in the hallways, what my friends would say (and the jealous, dirty looks they'd give us) and the corsage he'd get me for prom. I was clearly delusional.

Grade 9 Party is a big event for freshmen. It's in the first month of school when no one really knows one another. I remember there were activities like passing oranges to one another with our necks, Kiss and Blow, and some weird bench game I never ended up understanding. But the one I had my eye on was the Licorice Kiss. A boy and a girl put one piece of licorice in their mouthes, and would chew until their lips touched. Having much older siblings, I was always in a more mature environment. I watched movies I'd probably need to wait a few years to watch; I saw Monster in grade five, where Charlize Theron played a lesbian prostitute. The Sopranos was a time when my family spent time together, where we'd all sit in the living room on Sunday nights and watch. Whenever there'd be a sex scene, my mom would either fly towards the remote or jump across towards the TV and block us from seeing anything. Most importantly, most of my friends (who also were my role models) were almost three years older than me, so I was surrounded by the stories of the events that occured in their lives. This is probably why I was so keen on having my first kiss so early. Anyways, as soon as I saw the German kid's friends push him towards the chair for the Licorice Kiss, I shot my hand up and volunteered to be the other participant. Adrenaline rushed through me as I stepped on the chair (of course, to make it more dramatic, we both had to stand on chairs and someone would take a picture of the kiss), and put the licorice in my mouth. I was so excited (and hungry) that I ate the entire licorice and went right to kissing him. The kiss sucked. He was breathing on me and it barely counted as a peck. But still, my body was on fire. I was so excited that I stalked him for the rest of the night. I didn't seem to notice the look of regret on his face as he saw me volunteer for the kiss, and the fact that he was upset I had eaten all the licorice.
There was a dance after the activities, which I thought was a great opportunity to get to know him even better. He was nice about it, and danced with me quite a few times. I just didn't realize he had no interest in me.
A few days later, as my friends and I were sitting at our usual table in the cafeteria (which was coincidentally across from the German guy's table), a friend came by and told me he was dating this Romanian slut who was in the same ESL class as him. I was heartbroken. I couldn't understand why he would ever do that to me. I thought he liked me. I hated that bitch for stealing my man and I felt extremely rejected. I made sure to give her dirty looks when she'd pass me in the halls.

I barely spoke to him again, only on occassions where we were in the same group during strings class. He was nice and laid-back, but the way his nostrils flared when he played the cello totally turned me off. I got over him within a few weeks.

Though upset, I kept in mind that tomorrow is another day, and someone I deserved was coming along for me. Sadly, the next guy was definitely not him.

Love,
Scarlett

New Beginnings

Let's start with a new beginning. This is appropriate because it is the New Year and I count this as a New Years Resolution. As I was lying in my bed tonight, I came up with the idea of starting a blog about my life in a small town. I'm not shy from blogging, so I thought it would be a good idea for myself to start writing about different situations I go through -- whether it be just a normal entry, a poem, or a rant -- but maybe others who read about how I'm feeling can help them relate as well. I mentioned I live in a small town, which is completely opposite from what you see in Pretty Little Liars; all the good-looking guys, the crazy drama, and always having something to do with your friends, it's mostly me sitting in my room on a Friday night googling some kind of dance lessons I can sign up for (not that I dance). Though my life isn't a complete bore, I do sometimes envy the drama friends complain to me about; whether it be about an ex-best friend, a guy obsessed with her, or a crazy traveling opportunity in Europe. But even though I don't have the most exciting life, I feel this will help heal a few wounds I have received in my life by sharing it with whoever is willing to listen.

So let me tell you a little about myself. In most of the situations in my life, I have acted independent. I am incredibly honest (which if I think about it, I get from my dad who is quite brutally honest). I am the youngest of the family with two much older siblings, so I have always felt that I'd have to experience most things on my own, since we didn't attend high school at the same time or attend university events together. Most of the time, my view on life is positive and I always convince myself something good will come out of every bad situation - even though most of the time it doesn't. It's hard for me to become really close with someone and share details about my life, since I have done so very easily before and have been wounded, losing friends along the way. It's just been a challenge for me to trust again. With that said, I do love the true friends I have and am always looking out for their best interest. I think the last piece of information you need to know for now is: I'm single. I know this probably looks like I accidentally wrote my "About me" section on www.blogger.com instead of Lavalife, but really, this info will help in understanding the way I react to events in my life and the feelings I have towards school, friends, drama and let's not forget my favorite: boys.

Through the hectic but usually unexciting events of my life, I will always remember that tomorrow is another day.

Love,
Scarlett