Tonight I wore my favorite ripped jeans. They make my bottom half look amazing.
Ben gave me the standard "you look pretty" as he left for his show. I could tell he wasn't even paying attention. I didn't look pretty, I looked fierce. I was not wearing a pink chiffon dress. I was wearing my favorite ripped jeans. Pretty, I was not.
I ran into a bunch of my High School friends at the show. Perfect. Weird, also, seeing as my hometown is over an hour away from here. Yet here we all centrally converged. My new blonde locks (I was a red-head in my former life) shocked most. Shocked me right out of their memory apparently.
Whatever. Yeah, I don't remember you either now that I think about it.
Afterwards, I was bored. All my friends went into the VIP lounge. I could not get in. Something about a red wrist band. Mine was yellow. Colorists.
Soooo, I very much so didn't want to stay after that point. Ben had been hanging out/sneaking in booze with his friends and tried valiantly to pretend he wanted to hang out with me for a while. He thinks he held my hand, but in reality he *dragged* me up the spiral walk-way and down the corridors, slowing only to rush me from the artists' booths that had caught my eye. I almost cried as I was looking at the blown glass ornaments and vases -- I picked one up and turned to spout about how beautiful I thought the colors were in this one vase, but Ben had already rushed to the end of the booth. I cringed knowing two things: Really Good Boyfriends want to know what you like. And Really Good Boyfriends are probably buying their girlfriends one of those vases (they were only $25, omg! I love local artists because of that). I realized that Ben isn't taking the time to get to know me. If I were to point that out (again), he'd get frustrated about it and begrudgingly try to find some way to feign interest in something of mine. I also realized that if I ever want anything, I'm going to be the only one to give it to me. In a way, I think that makes me a stronger person. I don't rely on anyone else to take care of me or pamper me -- for holidays I don't worry "oh, maybe I shouldn't get that yet, someone might have gotten it for me for my birthday", no worries, they haven't. I think also in a way it makes me a very lonely person.
Heidi, on a side note, deserves exception. She is the one person who listens, computes, analyzes and savors things that I say see and do. She knows how I feel about something by my facial expressions. She can tell if I really like it or am pretending to like it. She always buys me great thoughtful gifts. And every holiday I am anxiously horrified that I will get her something inappropriate or unthoughtful. She's such a genuine person. I'm glad I have her as a friend.
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I am not chic, so it is ironic that I go by that name. Like calling the fat kid "Tiny". It'd make sense if I were instead called "Dumpy". Like when you run into a door in High School and your friends call you "Door" for four years. That makes Sense.
2 comments:
My dear chic, I really don't know about this boy of yours. Or more specifically, it's obvious that you don't know about this boy.
I know it's terrifying, but you really need to either stop expecting more from him than is giving you right now (people don't normally start giving/caring/loving more as a relationship goes on, only less) or you need to find someone who will give you the attention/interest/adoration you want/need/deserve... Just my opinion. x
I want to kindly add my opinion to Redframe's. I know relationships can get better (my own did, immensely) but it sounds like you need to ask yourself some serious questions. This one is only going to get better if you both really want it to. Otherwise, you're just delaying the time you could be out there finding someone who makes you feel right.
Good luck.
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