A Revisit To an Old Topic

There are always those movies that, when you watch them for a second (or third, or fourth, or fifth... I think you get the point.) time, you are once again in love with the story, the characters, everything about it. Bridget Jones' Diary is one of those movies for me. I could watch it 50,000 times, and it would never get old. Her adventures-- or, better put, misadventures-- in romance are ones that women, even me, dream of. Now, I'm not one to particularly scream out from the rooftops that I'm a hopeless romantic, but... What can I say? I am. I see a good chick flick and fantasize about the best scenes happening directly to me. I picture myself as Bridget Jones, and Colin Firth is telling me that, despite all of my flaws, he likes me just the way I am. I close my eyes and have a little daydream starring yours truly running after my love in a pair of "genuinely tiny knickers," a pair of tennis shoes, a camisole, and a cotton hoodie worried that he might leave me for forever when in fact he was just doing something incredibly romantic such as buying me a journal from the store just down the street to start the year anew. I wish daily that I could find someone who regarded me so highly that they would think to do something like that. I want a guy to look at me and tell me that he loves me for me, inadequacies and all. But I'm afraid that's not going to happen. No, not afraid. Terrified.

I have this funny way of protecting myself. I tell myself that I don't care about not getting married and finding love. I tell myself that I'm happy being on my own and content to become that little old lady that lives alone and cares for a lot of pets in her home. Now, there's nothing wrong with that, but... deep down in my heart, even though I say I'm fine with that as my lifestyle, that's not what I want. I tell myself those things, because it makes the ache of actually being alone a tiny bit duller. Instead of an intense constant stabbing pain, it's only a dull constant stabbing pain, always there, never fading. Now, I know you're probably thinking, "Stupid girl... Just go out and get a boyfriend." Easier said than done, my friend. Easier said than done. The fact that I yearn for a relationship doesn't mean that I'm going to settle for the first (and possibly only) thing that comes along. My parents raised me not to lower my standards for anything, and I agree with that viewpoint. I have set my bar very high, and I expect any man that I enter a relationship with to raise up to that bar, possibly even exceed it. This is one reason why I've not been Miss Dates-a-lot. Strike one against Stef. Another reason is my personality. I'm extremely strong-willed. I know that. It's both a gift and a curse in that I have the ability to stand up for what I believe in, but I am also quite intimidating so I've been told. I know what I want, and I rarely stop until I get it (Just in case you didn't realize, this sort of situation-- the relationship sort, that is-- is one of those rare occasions in which I do stop.). Strike 2. Strike 3 (I'm out.) is the fact that I'm not the prettiest person in the world. Don't get me wrong; I'm not horribly disfigured, but I'm not necessarily eye-catching, either. I'm overweight, and my nose takes up practically 1/3 of the width of my face. Now, the weight I can do something about, and technically I can do something to my nose as well via plastic surgery... But I don't want to for fear of changing the resonance in my nasal cavity drastically and having to learn to sing all over again. I'd rather just have a big nose, because my singing is pretty much the only thing I've got going for me, it seems. It's strange. I put on this air of confidence, and to most I seem like a very self-confident young woman... But I'm just not. I like myself. I like my personality... It's just my appearance that I don't like and that has such a devastating effect on my psyche. And that's not even entirely dealing with my weight. I look at my face and see someone utterly average. When you're surrounded all your life by people as beautiful as some of my friends and my sister and mother... then you just feel so stunted and... average. And why would any guy settle for average when they can have someone that's above average? I'm just worried that, if I were to get into a relationship with someone, he'd, out of the blue one day, tell me, "Well, I found a girl who is like you but just a tiny bit better. You see, she has a slightly smaller and therefore more appealing nose." And then I'll be left, crying my eyes out, and alone once again. I pray to God every night that He'll send me a man to sweep me off my feet, a man who will treat me like the best thing he's ever known... I pray that He'll give me my own little romantic comedy... So far, no luck. From what I can deduce, I'm just not the dating type. I'm the 'best friend' archetype. You know, I'm the girl that everyone goes to for advice (Why that is is beyond me, but... I'm happy to help.) but only wants advice. That's her only role in the story. She's not worth anything else, because any added plot lines would make the story too convoluted and crammed with information. So, you see, it seems that I was doomed even before I started thinking about men.

Needless to say, I'm worried about my future as far as the relationship standards go.

My mind and heart hurt.

~Stef

Comments

Sylvia said…
Stef, I love you more than anything, so I'm going to be 100% honest here. Your standards are fine, your will is fine, your weight is fine, your nose is fine (seriously, I never thought there was anything that special about it). There is nothing wrong, except for one tiny thing, and I think that's your attitude. As much of an absolute cliche as it is, you can't expect a guy to love you until you love yourself. And putting on a confident air does not count as loving yourself. I love you, and I know you are fabulous and talented and hilarious and capable of loving yourself without getting that validation from a guy- you just have to open yourself up to the possibility. That being said, you're only twenty. Spinsterhood is a far off place my dear, and lots of things can change before then. You are not Miss Havisham. ;) Moreover-and this one is going to suck- having been dating since I was 15, I should probably tell you that the running down the street in the nuddy-pants doesn't really happen. Coupled life is far more ordinary than that. There are no grand romantic gestures, but that is what makes the teensy ones matter all the more. I'm not even going to go into how I think marriage is kind of unnatural, etc., 'cause that's kind of a tangent. (me? tangent? never.)
I love you, Stef, and I want you to know that you're beautiful (and that's not a lie to make you feel better.) I've always thought that you are beautiful, and I never understood (and still don't understand) why you don't see it. So I'll keep saying it until you do.
-BoLN

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