“Also, the girls’ tournament is at the same time in the same place” he stated
“The girls’ uniforms for volleyball are 😉, I mean they have very short tight pants”
I felt confused and surprised as the comment came after the words “I love you”
“I mean their asses will look good”
But then I felt inferior.
“But yours still wins sorry” He added to fix it. “#pervertalert”
“Please don’t comment on my body like that, especially when you’ve just mentioned other girls’ bodies”
“Sorry,I was just trying to throw a compliment. You used to like it and now…”
“No” I added with disgust. “I love genuine compliments the way anyone would. But not when its about my ass after you’ve commented on other girls with a hashtag calling yourself a pervert.”
And that’s the problem. Women are constantly ‘complimented’ by the act of comparison between the individual and the surrounding women. As someone who has lived life proving myself I am worthy of myself, and that it is enough, comparing me to other women to identify my significance is wrong. Because if I am “beautiful” compared to the girl on my left. What will i be compared to the one on my right? I, like every other person, am amazing because of the qualities I’ve gathered and the person I’ve earned to be recognised as. And commenting on someone’s physical appearance in a raw manner and made greater by adding that it is better than other girls, takes my individuality away and isolates me because you have not gotten to know the remaining people you could see as options.
I feel beautiful. I love my freckles. I love my average brown eyes. I love my subtle dimples by the arch of my smile. I love my body even in winter when it grows. But I don’t love it because these things are superior compared to other girls. I love them because they are accompanied with other features you have not taken the time to recognise.
But if you call me beautiful because i have “nicer ass than the other girls” it makes me worry that I have to be in competition with everyone else to keep you. I will from then on, fear showing you the things that make me inferior compared to said women, because I will no longer be beautiful to you.
The first time we talked, he said:
“I really like talking to you. I can’t really explain it. But you are somehow real. And mature. And smart. And fun. Unlike others.”
The last thing he said to me was:
‘But you girls are all the same. That’s what I realised. You want what you can’t have. That’s just too damn bad. And when someone finally is willing to give you that it suddenly becomes boring. Being like *name* or *name* would get me much further probably. You know what? Fuck it. I’m leaving an a year so who cares”
When I said I couldn’t return the feelings he had for me, he took what got me to smile every time. And the thing that made him want to see me smile, and used it against me to convince himself he could move on since the thing that made him stay was no longer there.
Something I wrote when I was 16.