As soon as I was old enough to start liking them, I promised myself that I would never be the kind of girl to write about boys. But here I am some seven years later, about to write about a boy- two boys actually. I am not a romantic; I don’t gush over boyfriends, I don’t brag about my relationship (or at least I try not to), and if any guy ever tried to kiss me in public, I would probably smack him. That being said, I’d like to cut to the chase of all of this.
In tenth grade, I started dating a boy a year older than me, who shall remain unnamed, and I thought he was just about the greatest guy I could ever meet. I had never been in a real relationship before, and I had no idea what I was doing. We had a pretty good time. We hung out after school, we went to movies, and we went out to eat (I paid); it was a typical high school relationship in some ways I suppose. Looking back, however, I should have known that something was always a bit off. I never really considered that all the nights I spent crying about the ways he manipulated me, the way he ignored me around his friends, the way he talked about how I dressed and spoke-- those things weren’t supposed to happen. After about eighteen months of being pushed around, our relationship ended in tears, as most of them do. It was not until over a year later, however, that someone showed me how wrong it had all been. I will forever be grateful for the boy who led me to the realization that my voice matters. He has showed me that I am intelligent, beautiful, independent, and worthy of real love. Most importantly, being with him has helped me to realize that I can never let myself be pushed around like I was ever again. I am too good for that.
As a child, I never had high self esteem. Elementary school children don’t care about intelligence, which I had; they care about appearance, which I did not. I was never skinny like the rest of them, I had braces for five years, and a lisp until sixth grade. I was the epitome of the nerdy outcast girl. The effect that had on me followed me well into high school. When the braces came off, and the lisp disappeared, and I learned that wearing Crocs in public is not socially acceptable, boys started liking me and I thought it was a privilege. It surprises me still that my parents, as progressive as they are, never really talked to me about how boys should treat me.
People were always surprised about how long my first boyfriend and I dated. The explanation is simple--we should never have stayed together that long. He is a good guy, and even a nice friend, but as my boyfriend, he was manipulative, condescending, and sometimes just plain mean. He took everything I had to offer him for granted, and somehow convinced me that I was just getting what I deserved. When we finally called it off, I was devastated, as most sixteen year olds usually are after a breakup. In the following months, I started to see how dysfunctional we had actually been, but it wasn’t until a year later that a distant friend came into my life and showed me my true self worth. That friend was supposed to be my platonic homecoming date. The ‘platonic’ part didn’t work out as planned, but as soon as we began dating, I was astonished by the differences in this relationship from my first. I never felt like I was bothering him, or had to act differently around him. We went out for dinner, he paid, and was appalled when I said that no boy had ever done that for me before. The most notable difference, which everyone around me has seemed to pick up, is that I am happy when I am with him.
My epiphany did not really come at one moment. Rather, it came after looking back and reflecting on an infinite number of moments over the past few years. He has helped me to see not only how mistreated I was in the past, but also how I deserve to be treated. Part of me is ashamed that it took the care and affection of another boy for me to come to this realization. I feel like I should have been stronger and more confident. I should never have let my happiness lie in the hands of someone who was not guaranteed to hold onto it. Most of me, however, is thankful to have someone in my life who has helped me realize my own self worth, who will not allow me to refute his compliments, and who will be late to class on the nights when life is too much for me, and I am on the phone, inconsolable. His love for me has helped me find my own love for myself, and realize that I do not and never will deserve to be manipulated by any person. My confidence has grown as we have, and this time I know that my voice and opinions matter, and that his happiness is not justified if my own is sacrificed. Though as of right now I hope that what we have together never ends, I find comfort in knowing that if it ever does, I have the confidence and the ability to love myself, and to never let any person get in the way of that.
