Once in a while, I’m struck by the realisation that I’m playing out a scenario with a boy that’s already been played out with a boy before him. That I’ve been playing out the same scenario for years. Boys come and go with ease and I have trouble remembering names, who said what, where who was from and which one didn’t like blowjobs.
Scratch that, I will always remember the one who said he didn’t like blowjobs.
But that brings me back to the inevitable fact that I have been so immersed in a roundabout way of viewing these boys that I have lost out on being able to genuinely feel something. My feelings are always genuine at the beginning and I almost have to hold myself back on the magnitude of those feelings so I don’t scare the ‘boy of the moment’ away… But somehow, somewhere along the line, it wasn’t the boys that were scared away. It was me.
I’ve been hurt in the past, been cheated on, been dumped over text on my birthday, been told I was too intense. Intense in the way I presented my feelings? Maybe. But my intensity should never have been taken for intention and I rolled my eyes at that excuse. The fact is that I have been hurt and it took me a long time to view all those heartbreaks as lessons, but I do view them as lessons. You are as strong as you feel, stronger even, and these experiences, like all others that trouble and torment, reinforce that strength.
Unfortunately, they also extract something from you with each stab at your heart. I have found that I can no longer talk about certain things with ‘would be, could be’ paramours. For example, if they want to have conversation that revolves around Drake lyrics, I’ve been there, done that, wrote a book on it and want to bury it. (A boy recently ruined Drake for me.)
But it’s more than just Drake, it’s asking questions that once thrilled me to find answers to. It’s the exploration and excavation of a could be lover. The initial excitement of finding out things about them, their childhood, their hobbies and their views. I’ve grown tired of asking boys the same questions and hearing answers that could all potentially be the same – if I remembered them all that is.
I’ve just grown tired and I’ve been growing tired since my first relationship. I know your 20s are supposed to be about finding yourself and exploring the world rather than being tied to the notion of finding someone else. But I’ve grown up with fairy tales and young adult romance novels, with the idea of a person out there meant for you; a soulmate. I still believe in this idea, just not in the same way.
I guess that’s why I’ve allowed myself to search through various outlets to find that person and in doing so, have played the same games and the same scenes out of my personal movie library over and over again.
I guess jumping from one to the next is really a hindrance to my own growth, and actually, I was scared of being lonely. Which is okay, and I’m glad I can admit it, because it’s true. I hate being lonely and I understand that’s why I’ve let myself take on the role of a sort of lover purveyor on a conveyer belt. But I also understand that it’s time for me to take a break.
Before I short circuit and hold up that process that should really be natural and not mechanised. I’m still going to get lonely, no doubt about it. But I’ve got a lot of love for myself and I could always work on loving me out of my loneliness.
Your 20s are about you and not a significant other. I’m starting to realise that as much as I’ve said that in the past, I’ve only recently started to believe it.
So, here’s to me being 22 and feeling it – and not another boy.