(Social) Media

I sometimes wonder what I look like to others. What they would think if they saw me. Right now, I’m on the couch, and I’ve spent the entire night on my laptop and on my phone.

She must be lonely, I bet people would say if they were to look through my windows. She must not have anything better to do tonight.

When in actuality, I’m spending my night like this by choice, on purpose. True, I had no other things to do, but even if I had been invited somewhere I would probably have said no unless it was someone really close to me, someone important.

Social media. Social media. Just because I’m not physically hanging out with someone, doesn’t mean I’m not spending time with them. It’s not like I spend all the time I’m on my phone playing solitaire. I’m being social. “On the line” as an old woman once said.

I may be on the couch by myself. But my mind is with friends.

Is it really so wrong to NOT want to get to know people, or have them get to know you?

I feel like getting to know someone is all trickery.

First, you make yourself all pretty, in whichever way you prefer whether that’s with makeup or a new dress or whatever you prefer that makes you feel good and makes you feel like you good, or to attract the kind of people you wish to attract.

Then you have a conversation. “Tell me something about yourself.” You tell them normal things, cute things, funny things. Things to draw them in. Awake interest. Make them like you. Find the things you have in common. Talk about them. Talk about common interest even if you have opposing views. Opposites attract, right? Just be cute and flirty. Touch their arm. Look into their eyes for a second too long. Keep them wondering, keep them wanting.

It’s all a game.

You don’t mention your flaws. You don’t mention your bad habits of not cleaning your house often enough or only washing your hair once a week or your bad relationship with people or how you can spend the entire weekend in bed watching TV shows or how you don’t really like people or your mental health. Nothing that can be percieved as boring or gross or a burden. You don’t mention that. Not yet. You make sure they like you first. Like you enough. Then, maybe, you let them know. A little bit at a time, so they don’t run away screaming. And you hope they don’t. Because you’re not ready to start all over.

It’s exhausting, getting to know people. Is it really so hard to understand that some people prefer to just, not? Is it really so  hard to understand that some people can’t handle the pressure?

How Did I Get from Elephant to Here?

When I was little, I had an imaginary friend. He was an elephant, he was my age, walked on two feet, and was my height. I was four.

I don’t have an imaginary friend anymore. On the contrary, I have imaginary enemies now. I think everyone hates me, that they look at me and think negative things, that every time someone talks to me they have an underlying motive, that they’re talking to me for a reason other than they want to be nice and make friends with me.

I also have a terrible habit of interpreting everything in the worst possible way, even if people don’t mean it that way. I interpret everything as an attack on me, or an attempt to start an arguement. I really believe people people will start arguments with me to cause irreparable damage to our friend-/relationship… I believe people are only with me because they have to or because it’s convenient for them, never because they really truly want to. I believe people don’t really like me.

But just like I knew the elephant wasn’t really real when I was four, I know that this isn’t really real now. I doubt strangers think much of me at all. Most people are just being friendly. In the majority of cases people don’t mean things as bad as I think they do. The friends who stayed my friends even when we didn’t have a single class together all last year are proof that people aren’t just friends with me because it’s convenient or they have to. My online friends must like me somehow otherwise they wouldn’t spend time talking to me. It’s all in my head. The rational part of me knows this. The rational part is not always the dominant part though.

I have flaws. Big flaws. Ugly flaws. Things are wrong with me. These are some of them.

Call Me Hopeless, But Not Romantic

I want the human contact that being in a relationship brings.

I don’t mean sex. I’m doing just fine without sex.

I want holding hands in a crowded street in the morning when people are rushing to work, or on the bus in the late afternoon when everyone’s exhausted. I want the comfort of having someone there with me, that I’m not alone in the crowd.

I want to make and eat dinner with another human being. To try new dishes. To fuck up completely and end up ordering pizza. To have a conversation with someone instead of sitting in silence in front of my laptop.

I want to be with a person who will give me a hug and stay hugging for a moment before they let go, at least once a day. Both for their sake and for mine. Someone who wants to do that.

I want someone I can fall asleep with, not sleep with. I want someone who will fall asleep next to me, a tangled mess of arms and legs and hair and t-shirts and blankets. Someone who will hold me. Someone I can hold.

I want intimacy. Not sex.

Why Do We Care?!

This is going to be a somewhat frustrated blog post. Because I am frustrated. This topic frustrates me. I wanted to write something similar a long time ago but I never got around to it. However, I think this entry will be more frustrated than that one would have been. Anyway. This will be whatever it ends up being.

So what is it that frustrates me? Sexual experience. Why the fuck do we care? And by that I mean, why do we care about the experience of others?

Why does it matter whether someone has had sex with one person or four people or thirteen or none? Why does it matter whether a person has had sex with one or more people at the same time? Why does it matter what sexual things a person has done and with whom? Whether a person has had sex only with people he or she has been in relationships with or whether a person has casual sex or whether a person is waiting ’til marriage or for the right person. Why the fuck do we care?

LITERALLY, the only thing that matters, is that you are okay with your own experience. If you’re happy with having casual sex then why should you change that? If you’re not happy with it, well you can’t change what’s been done but you can change where you go from here. If you know you’re waiting for the right person then screw what people think, you wait for that right person and it will be worth it!

But the thing is, we do care what people think of us, and we do care about others. Some guys will always brag to their friends about their conquests, regardless of whether the friends asked or not. Some girls will always discuss the last guy they slept with with their friends, regardless of whether the friends asked or not. People will always tell someone that they’ve done it for the first time. People will always have to listen to someone say they’ve done it and thus be forced to acknowledge the fact and respond appropriately. And “appropriately”, in most cases, is NOT “I literally do not give a fuck about your sex life.” 

People are nosy. And that’s annoying. I don’t want everyone to know my business, and I don’t want to know everybody else’s. And I know I’m not the only one. But people will always tell and people will always listen, and people will always gossip about things. But why does it have to be someone else’s sex life?!

Why can’t we all just stop talking about numbers and what’s been done? I’m not saying we should shame sex – god no, because that’s still caring about it! I’m saying I wish people would stop caring. Stop making a big deal out of it. No one should have to feel any sort of way for being a virgin at a certain age or having had a higher number of partners by a certain age or ever. Because it’s nobody’s damn business anyway.

Love Is Not A Choice

If you have to choose between me and someone else, please don’t choose me.

I don’t want to be anyone’s choice. First, second… Nothing. Love isn’t supposed to be a choice. This isn’t Pokémon. It’s not a matter of “I choose you”… It’s a matter of, “I had no choice, I fell in love with you, I couldn’t help it, it just happened”.

If someone chose you… There’s always a chance of them choosing someone else, later on. I don’t believe love should be about choosing someone to be with, not the way you choose which book to read next because you’re bored or you choose which university to attend because of its attractiveness (to you or future employers) or because it will benefit you. It’s not about lining up the people you could potentially be in a relationship with and choosing one based on how good-looking they are, or smart, or rich. If you find yourself in that situation, my advice would be to turn around and walk away from all of them. You’re not going to find love that way.

Love is about magnetism. You’re being pulled towards a person, and they’re being pulled towards you, and you can’t help each other, you have to have each other, be together, and no one else matters.

To quote Gone Girl: We have each other – everything else is background noise.

Or to quote Ygritte in Game of Thrones: It’s you and me that matters to me and you. You’re mine, mine as I’m yours. If we die, we die. All men must die. But first, we’ll live.

Love is about not being able to stay away from each other. It’s about not being able to get them out of your head. Not being able to let anyone else take their place. You want only them. You need them. You can’t imagine your life without them. You can’t imagine living without them, in one way or another. You need them in your life. You forgive them for the mistakes they make, because the thought of being without them is too much, to overwhelming, it makes your heart ache and insides shiver and eyes water.

Love is not a choice. Love just happens. And if you’re lucky, love will just happen to the other person as well. And that, could be the best thing that ever happens to you.