I think some of the biggest scars you carry are from your first love. How you were loved for the first time structures how you love, and need to be loved for the future. I think there comes a point where you realize that your needs aren’t necessarily rational, and that you realize the way that you are is due to past experience – but it often feels impossible to change the way you feel.
My first boyfriend was the stereotypical hockey jock that all the girls had a huge crush on. He’d cycle through all the pretty girls. And then give attention to the geeky ones. He was exactly the kind of guy that every girl claimed to hate, but fell at the knees for once he finally gave them the time of day. I was one of the few girls who was sickened by these weak girls that would fall for the guy they so adamantly seemed to hate. I think that’s probably what made me seem attractive to him.
He pursued me. It was a blatant, unrelenting, and inevitable pursuit, because he is ultimately extremely charming. The only thing I can commend myself for was that I was never the type that claimed to hate him, nor was I the person to give him any particular attention. I was the anomaly. I was the chase.
I knew what I was in for, but I still let it all happen anyway. Our relationship was a constant argument about which girl he was texting; that, and whatever other wrongdoings he was participating in behind my back. As I write this I realize how ridiculously stupid I sound, but I know he loved me. Loved me as much as a person can at sixteen. He loved me, but I think he loved the feeling of being loved – by everybody – more. I know it was because of his insecurity, and his broken home, but there are more more complexities than that. He would seek the attention of girls whenever we were going through a difficult time. As soon as we were fighting he’d find a girl to flirt with, as if he needed a safety net. And when we’d be good again, he’d ditch the girl completely. He proved enough times to me that the girls didn’t matter. He’d walk up to them in front of me and tell them he doesn’t care about them, or that he was only giving them attention because he was mad at me – something like that. Not that this makes it okay, because it definitely doesn’t, but in some twisted way made me forget about all the unfaithful things he would do. He’s twisted acts of love, somehow were misconstrued as valiant. It came to a point where these girls weren’t even a problem because I knew he loved me. Talking to other girls became just another aspect of our relationship. And it continued like this until he did more than talking.
At least I could draw the line somewhere.
And you don’t know this at the time but all the things that he does to you, affects you. You don’t realize how much he belittles your self-worth. That although he ultimately will show that he loves you, you yourself don’t feel loveable. In the back of your head you can’t help but ask yourself, what is wrong with me? Why aren’t I enough? You can only tell yourself so many times that it’s because we’re in a fight, and that’s the only reason. The reality is, that it isn’t the only reason. Maybe it’s not because of you, but it’s not because you’re in a fight. And whatever the reasons are, your mind – whether you acknowledge it or not – tells you that you are not enough. The person you believe to love has made you feel small.
I have become a horrible person to love. I have become a horrible person to love because I feel small. I am insecure. I am insecure, and I don’t think I’m pretty enough, or smart enough, or funny enough, and I need constant reassurance that I am. And I don’t need that reassurance from the man I love, I need that reassurance from everyone. I have become the person who has ruined me. I strive for attention, revel in it. Feel ecstatic when someone other than the man that loves me tells me how beautiful, or charming, or funny I am. I enable it. Fuel it. I have become the person who needs constant reassurance that I’m loveable. And I want that from everyone. I am loved today. I am so loved by a perfect man, and I need everyone else to let me know how special I am, so I don’t have to feel small anymore.
Even if past relationships are long gone, you carry pieces of them with you.