Relationships have never been my strong suit. Going to an art school filled to capacity with flamboyant guys, there weren’t many dating opportunities. Adding to my ineptitude, I buried myself in school work and community service during my first two years of college leaving little time for meeting men.
Disclaimer to my madness, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to seek out relationships, but it felt like hands were physically holding me back from going out and meeting people. I did not view my lack of social life as a hindrance, instead, using my free time to binge Netflix shows.
After a while, however, I began to realize that I have deep rooted issues trusting men and believing what they say. After heavy reflection, I think the main cause of my “problems” roots back to several experiences in middle school, leaving me to question why middle school experiences haunt us for years.
I was bullied insistently throughout middle school. Whether it was for my speech impediment, height, learning disability or my study habits, I would come home every day crying. The bullies and tormentors were always boys from the grade above me. This constant torment made me fear and distrust guys, thinking they were always secretly laughing at me.
This fear persisted until I transferred schools and developed a friendship with a great group of guys. Unfortunately, it was middle school--when hormones are raging for both boys and girls. In the seventh grade, I had a crush on this one guy who then became my “boyfriend.” This was when being in a relationship meant nothing more than posting it on Facebook, moving someone to your Top Eight on Myspace and stealing hugs in the school hallway. Clearly, a big commitment at the tender age of 13.
I really liked this guy, but it turned out that everything was a game to him. In the span of three days in which I had hardly spoken with him, he had started a rumor accusing me of horrible things--calling me a psycho bitch.
Now this harmless crush, which didn’t extend beyond Myspace and Facebook and would have fizzled out by week’s end anyway, blew up into a big middle school drama. My group of friends became divided, and I spent the next two years dodging him in the hallway. What hurt me the most: my two best friends believed his words over mine. I had to pull up my phone records to clear my name.
The teasing and humiliation I endured during middle school led me to mistrust men and their intentions ever since, something I have not been able to shake. This situation, which middle school prepubescent boys would easily shake off, has left its impression, having a greater impact on my life than I could ever have expected. Any time a guy is nice to me, I suspect he is either planning some elaborate scheme to humiliate me or he is gay; it will take compelling evidence to convince me otherwise
I realize that I cannot go through my entire life with this irrational fear of men and relationships. The question is: What can I do to shed the nerves of my 13-year-old self and avoid this perpetual paranoia? Where is the instruction manual for assessing a guy’s true intentions--that he’s not just messing with my psyche?
I am not the only woman who has scars on their heart from past experiences or events that have shaped the way women view men and potential relationships. How can I stop my past from haunting me? Is it fair for me to ask for a list of references? How does one take that first leap of faith to begin looking at each guy based on his own merits? I know intellectually that I am being absurd, but human nature always prevails and gets the better of me. Soon enough, I hope, a guy will prove that fairy tales aren't just fictional stories, and men can indeed be taken at face value. He just better not prove me wrong after he wins over my heart.