That was the analogy my mum used, when I woke up this morning still thinking about what happened last night.
I’m still weak, desperate for comfort and reassurance from someone other than my parents. I need people to tell me that it’s alright, that girls like me will be okay, that we’re cool & special, it’s just that those people can’t see it.
I know that ‘everyone is entitled to their own lifestyle, who are you to criticise others ladeeda’, but they forget that they judge people too. They think that others are boring or nerdy just because they don’t find the same things fun. They think people have no fashion sense just because they wear specs and don’t wear tight-fitting clothes.
Last night I was so repulsed by the girls, more than the guys. Have you ever been in the girls’ toilet in a club, sober? Try it. You can see how UGLY all of them really are, both outside AND inside. They cuss, they stagger in and out, with their boobs spilling out of their dresses. & then you should LOOK at their faces, really LOOK at them, and see that even with all that heavy makeup, they’re not pretty. at all.
But what breaks my heart is that this, this is what guys are after. Sure my friends are the decent kind who just go there to dance and ‘have fun’, but still. & I did dance, for a short while, but after some time I just didn’t like the atmosphere anymore. One of the songs had this line, ‘Get a F***ing life’ and while everyone was yelling it, I was thinking : this song should be dedicated to all of you.
I’m sorry if this offends anyone who loves clubbing and thinks that it’s the best thing ever. If you’re the defensive sort, you’ll probably be all : ‘WHATEVER YOU OVER-PROTECTED NERD WHO DOESN’T DRINK AND CALLS HER MUM EVERY HOUR AND WEARS A LOOSE TOP WITH LEGGINGS TO A CLUB. YOU NEED TO GET A LIFE, UGLY LOSER. CAN’T EVEN DANCE TO SAVE YOUR LIFE’
Sorry? I can’t dance? Oh, & I suppose you call all that grinding, bumping and gyrating…dancing. A little funny, since I don’t see people buying tickets to watch people dance like that, or taking lessons. I can’t pirouette in a club, can I?
& **** you if you think that body-hugging is the way to go, when it comes to clothes. My top & flats were from Barcelona & my leggings were American Apparel – BUT THIS IDIOT VOMITED ON THEM. I don’t mean to show off – if you know me, I’m not that kind of person who flashes brands in your face- but baby, call me what you want, just don’t EVER EVER EVER call me boring or unfashionable.
This guy approached JP while we were standing around, and I know he was being polite when he asked if I was a uni student. But his breath was warm and it felt so gross that I snapped ‘NO’ and turned away.
I just stood around awkwardly, & people-watched. I thought that if E.T was into this kind of thing, I would hate him. & I realised that I was sorely mistaken about certain people. I swore to myself, that I would NEVER date a guy whose idea of fun is – well, this.
Lorri checked out this numerology thing, and the description of my personality is quite accurate- I’m often disappointed by the realities of life, shortcomings of others or myself, which may be holding me back from greater success. Makes me want to improve on it, but I am often unsatisfied with the results.
I feel like people let me down a lot of the time. & I let myself down too. Maybe it’s because I expect a lot out of everyone.
Dad says I have an inferiority complex. I think it’s superiority which has become inferiority due to reality. I look in the mirror, I think, hey, I’m prettier than those girls, without makeup too, but then I ask myself, well, if that’s the case, how come no one says you’re pretty and boys don’t like you? Therefore you must just be lying to yourself, those girls are prettier than you.
I know, I sound like I need others’ validation- & to be perfectly honest with you, I do. I feel like if I’m the only one telling myself that I’m special and pretty and nice and awesome, it sounds like a complete lie meant to comfort myself.
It’s not just about looks. I – I crave intellectual stimulation, I seek meaningful conversations. I would rather sit and talk about religion and evolution with someone than yell ‘What’s your name?’ in a club and go, ‘WHAT? ICAN’THEARYOU’ .
What was I looking for, going to the club? Fun? No, I knew that I didn’t like that sort of stuff long ago. Love? I knew it wouldn’t happen. I think what I wanted was…once again, validation. I wanted to be approached, to be wanted, but I wasn’t, and I felt so lousy and unattractive being the girl everyone passed by, the one no one touched even while I was dancing (not that I want to be groped, but)…
A foreign dude did notice me leaning against the wall, reluctant to dance, and he was like ‘just dance, like this..’ and he shuffled his feet a little. I laughed and he went off. But…to me, I think that was nice. Even if he did end up dancing like every other guy there.
Each time I tell someone how I feel, I end up breaking into tears, because I simply don’t want to get it. I don’t want to hear that guys at this age are all horny jerks and just want girls who are easy. I don’t want to hear that that girl there with the short dress and thick makeup is freaking hot.
The decent guys don’t like me either, and the disgusting ones don’t too. So what should I do? Resign myself to online chatting/dating, maybe only getting my first kiss at 48, and then dying alone.
I want to be different, but sometimes it’s painful being like this.
Do the good girls really win in the end?