We think too much and feel too little. –Charlie Chaplin

I feel like I have been in the situation where I’ve been picked second so many times. I honestly feel like the amount of times I’ve suffered through someone else’s indifference is staggering. I don’t know that I could even calculate the amount of times I’ve been cheated on by men who just couldn’t really be bothered to be faithful, that I could really remember the amount of times that I’ve been stuck with the less attractive boy because my friend was the hot one, that I could ever confirm the amount of times that I have been cast aside by my friends, by my boyfriends, by my employers because for whatever reason, I just wasn’t enough. And you know, to be fair, maybe it wasn’t necessarily that I wasn’t enough, but more accurately that I wasn’t enough for them.

I can’t even convey to you how it feels to know that you weren’t someone’s first choice. And in nondramatic honesty, this tragedy, this unasked for circumstance has happened to me quite a lot. It’s something that has just sort of followed me and as I’ve gotten older, although you would think I’ve gotten used to it, I haven’t. And even when it occurs with people that are seemingly unimportant in my life, it stings. Even when it happens in situations where it’s probably unintended, it makes me feel embarrassed, like I don’t deserve to sit at the table, like all over again, I’m just not good enough for whatever proverbial situation. 

I sort of always felt like the runt in my world. Not because I’m small, although people who know me personally know that I am small, but because I just always felt insignificant. I have to admit that there are a select few people who have always made me feel important and those people, I always held close. I never felt like I couldn’t be myself around them, I never felt like I had to go out of my way to stand up straighter or impress them because for whatever reason, they loved me exactly the way I was.

But there have been other individuals who have not been so kindhearted. There have been some people in my life, in my romantic life more especially, who have made it their habit to leave me as a last resort, to keep me around for when they were bored or waiting for the cable guy. Those people, these individuals who saw the beauty in someone else and just held onto me for that extra support or attention, they never saw me for who I was. They saw me as this pathetic little creature, someone they could keep on a string for when the plans they really wanted to partake in fell through. They saw me as someone attractive enough to be seen with but also unattractive enough to ignore, someone that they didn’t necessarily want to lose but someone that they couldn’t see themselves truly happy with. There would always be someone else, someone prettier, someone more spontaneous, and someone more in the lines of the girl they were looking for. There would always be that woman that was exactly what they wanted and maybe because they could never really have her, they put up with me instead.

And honestly, I know that I haven’t been the only one who’s endured this. I know tons of people who have gotten all dressed up just to be an afterthought, lots of individuals who have put all their eggs into a certain basket just to learn that that particular basket had a secret Tinder account behind their back, and plenty of people who have been used as playthings when someone they genuinely cared about was just bored and craving attention. For some of us, those of us that are hopeless romantics and put our whole hearts into other people, this notion is just infuriating. It’s insane to think that being good to someone, taking time out of your day to text them and check on them, and spending countless hours thinking about them throughout the day and night only earns you disregard. 

I don’t think I’ve personally ever done that to another person and if I have, it wasn’t intentional. But if I ever have, I want to take this opportunity to sincerely apologize. Because it’s one of the worst feelings in the world and I would hate to instigate that in someone else.

A great man. But not quite great enough… -Lori McMaster Bujold, Paladin of Souls

Honestly, I have seen this particular situation occur so many times that I could fill up the entire internet. I remember some time ago I was employed by this man who was dealing with it on a daily basis. I don’t remember all the details because now it seems like such a long time ago but some things stuck with me. I remember this one particular morning he had swung by to pick something up and looked like he hadn’t slept in days. My co-worker and I had asked him what had happened, jokingly asking him if he had had an exciting night. He looked hurt, visibly shaken, maybe even concerned to the point of physical illness and knowing him the way we did, we understood this wasn’t a persona he often exhibited, if at all. The thing I remember so vividly was the pacing. It was like he literally couldn’t sit still.

It turned out that there was something going on with the woman he was in a relationship with. (And to be clear, this is the stuff that I can’t completely remember because some of the stories have blurred together.) I know how he felt about her because how upset he was made it clear; he was pretty heavily invested and had made it a point to center his life around her. And don’t misunderstand because it’s not like he had lost control and was freaking out. He was genuinely that worried about her. He was like someone’s dad; he was immediately thinking the worst. He was worried that something crazy might have happened to her. Kidnapped, murdered, lying dead in a rain soaked gutter.

He always struck me as a romantic and his behavior was just indicative of someone in love. He wanted to make it work, he didn’t want her to give him the run around, and he didn’t want to deal with her putting him second. And with her, that’s what seemed to always happen.

Well I guess with this particular event, she had pulled the “girls’ night” card and was under the impression that he was a complete idiot and wouldn’t see all the Facebook photos she posted. Naturally, it wasn’t just girls in those photos. I think you know where I’m going with this. Like my best friend said to me one time, social media will be the dissolution of all relationships one day.

I want to say that she made up some excuse like, “her and her girls just happened” to be at the same place as her ex-boyfriend and his group of friends. They took pictures together, maybe danced a little, maybe did some shots, I don’t know. I don’t really know what goes on in clubs anymore. I try not to leave my house unless I have to.

Anyway, the thing was that it wasn’t just an ex-boyfriend that she had just happened to bump into in some shitty, overpriced club in Ybor. It was also, quite coincidentally, her child’s father. This wasn’t just some guy that forgot to call her back a few years ago. This wasn’t just some “rando” who she was set up with one time and never met up with again. This was someone that she had a pretty serious bond with. This is someone that’s probably going to be in her life for the next 20 or so years. And naturally, when I reminded my old boss of this, I could see his face change. This wasn’t what he wanted to hear and I can totally understand that. I guess I just thought that he would have put two and two together but the reality is, love is blind. The poor guy loved her.

But then soon, something else happened. It was around Halloween time (also, if I can just point this out in regard to the whole club debacle, the time when women think they reserve the right to prance around dressed like prostitutes in public. And I’m not being a hater, I’m just being honest…) and apparently this woman had planned some sort of pumpkin patch thing with her child (obviously) and the child’s father, as well as his family. Now, when my old boss told me this, I have to admit that I was like, “Okay, maybe that is legitimate and you’re freaking out a little unnecessarily…” (I know, me saying that. What a hypocrite.) 

But then, after all of this, after there were pictures posted and this guy had literally been sweating bullets for days on end, she just like, disappears. She literally disappears off the face of the planet. She’s not at her house, she’s not at her child’s father’s house, she isn’t at any of their hangouts and she isn’t answering any phone calls or text messages. She just ghosted. And obviously they broke up shortly after and while I never really learned the details (because I don’t think he wanted to share and I never asked), I don’t think he’s been super involved with anyone else since. Probably too scared of getting emotionally knocked around again. I can’t say I blame him.

But you want to know my honest opinion? Look, let me preface and say that I don’t know this woman and I didn’t know these two together. But him, him I did know. Fairly well. I knew the great lengths he went to charm people, especially people he cared about, and I know how deep his feelings ran for her. He wasn’t the type of guy who would bring his girl to Outback Steakhouse on Date Night. He would probably take her somewhere really awesome and old school like the Palm Restaurant or Casa Ludovico. He wouldn’t have proposed to her with baguettes and a bottle of Korbel. He would have bought out the whole restaurant for the night and gotten her some crazy rare diamond worn by Audrey Hepburn and commissioned by Harry Winston to add an aspect of their modern romance to it. In a world of Florida casuals, this man was a walking tuxedo ad. 

I’m not saying that she was this awful woman or that he was so easily blinded by his attraction to her. I’m just saying that I know he put her first. She was his first priority and everything else, well, it clearly took a backseat. So when things fizzled out between them and she sort of left him hanging, I actually felt a little sorry for him. It just didn’t seem fair. It didn’t seem like something he deserved or an accurate response to how he treated her. It seemed like she just kept him around for when her baby daddy was too busy for her. It looked like, from the outside, she kept him close because he worshipped her and he showered her with such wonderful things. Not because she actually reciprocated the feelings he had for her. It was all really sad to me; I just felt like he deserved better than that.

I should have held onto my pride. I should have never let you lie. I guess you got what you deserved. I guess I should’ve been more like her. –Miranda Lambert, More Like Her

You know, I was in a situation similar to the one mentioned above. I guess it wouldn’t be my normal blog if I hadn’t.

My particular situation, however, propelled me into something of a downward spiral and although it’s taken me a long time to realize it, I really can’t continue to blame my ex-boyfriend for it. As honestly gratifying as that would be for me, as much as it would really make me feel good to just shift all of the blame on the shitty way he treated me, I can’t do that anymore. I can’t continue to allow his problems to be mine. I can’t just label him as something awful and use it as an excuse to drink, whine about men, and write bitter blogs. I mean, although it makes for relatively entertaining reading, I’ve got to take some accountability. 

I mean, I’m always asking for it from everyone else, right? Why not hold myself accountable?

The other thing is that while my life did go down the tubes for a while after the whole ex-boyfriend debacle, it eventually picked back up. After some time, some soul searching and some serious self-care, I blossomed into a new person. I rose from the ashes and became this really strong individual. I became passionate about things that I once didn’t even know existed, I became gradually more sure of myself because I had no other choice but to survive, and I learned that no matter what happens to you, there is always someone out there who cares. That no matter how stressful things might feel for you in the moment, there is always someone out there wishing the best for you. I also learned that things could always be much, much worse. That just when you think you’ve taken way more than you could ever handle, you get dealt more. Just when you’re so sure that things cannot get any worse, they do. And you keep waking up in the morning. You just keep living. Because you’ve got to.

The reality is that I can’t hold him responsible for something that propelled me into a whole new way of life. Do you want to know why? He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve to be habitually verbally blasted by me by way of my slowly growing blog and he certainly doesn’t deserve to be given credit for my eventual success. I mean, that I absolutely cannot give him credit for. I did this on my own. 

But at the same time, I have to say that I was always last on his list of priorities. In a way that maybe was unintentional, he left me like a neglected toy from three Christmases ago and just continued calling his ex-girlfriend. There I was, simmering in my own discontent, wishing that I could just be exactly what she was. I wanted to be really skinny because that’s how she had always looked to me: one of those girls who was somehow just naturally rail thin without ever dieting or even lifting a finger to exercise (which I always envied). She ate whatever she wanted and always posted pictures of herself drinking sugary alcoholic punches or carb loaded beers and for whatever reason, unbeknownst to me, she never gained an ounce. She looked great in all her clothes and could literally wear anything because she was so skinny and didn’t have huge Italian hips, like yours truly. She was probably a little thinner than what was healthy but I’ve got to tell you, she could rock it. I always tried to get below a certain number (because she had basically publicized her weight and back then, maybe that was meant to hurt me) but I just never could thanks to my chronic low blood sugar and European roots. 

It just never seemed fair to me, especially since I worked so hard at being thin. It was like a full time job.

I had always attempted to be really fun and spontaneous with him when their affair had started because he had once mentioned to me that she was always “up for anything”. (As we’ve gotten older, this woman and I have since gotten closer, and I have learned this to be true.) He said that maybe the reason things weren’t working out between us was because I was so tightly wrapped and unwilling to enjoy myself. (He obviously didn’t say it like that; he usually stuck to one or two syllable words, cliché phrases he learned from his firefighter friends, or cuss words.) She wasn’t crazy and neurotic in the way that I was and because of that, they were able to embark on all these random, last minute adventures. And although I always tried, especially once their little illicit fling went super public, I’ve just never been one of those fly by the seat of my pants kind of gals. The thought of having a chaotic, remotely unplanned life just terrifies me. Don’t wake up and tell me you got an itch to go to Busch Gardens. I’ve got things planned already!

(Seriously. I don’t know how people live like that. I cannot do it. Not having plans is anarchy! My stomach literally hurts just thinking about it and I am not even kidding.)

She also had this fairly particular style and although everyone always accused me of copying it, that wasn’t necessarily the case. I mean, the reality is that we live in goddamn Florida, right? People here don’t dress the way that I’ve always liked to (which is sort of like a mix between Kourtney Kardashian and Dr. Maura Isles). I’ve always sort of adapted to this low key, casual beach style because that’s just how people dress here. And forgive me, but I wanted to fit in. There are worse things than dressing like everyone else. Over the years, I have grown out of that a little bit. Don’t tell me I can’t wear my cheetah leggings as pants because I will not listen to you.  

But this woman, she had this sort of California beach bar at sunset with a touch of girly skater style and it was right up his alley. He practically lived at the clothing store she worked at and I’m not sure it was just because she was employed there. While that probably had a little something to do with it, I really think he just had a thing for Etnies skater shoes. (Ugh, to this day, I despise those shoes. I mean, in all honesty, I don’t know who thought those would ever be something deemed as attractive footwear but I’m sorry, they were dead wrong. I literally can’t handle it. My husband has a dusty pair in his closet that he hasn’t pulled out in years because he knows I hate them.) For whatever reason, maybe because he was one of those guys who insisted on only wearing jeans with Hurley, Fox or Billabong t-shirts, he had a thing for girls who shopped only at PacSun, Vans or Tilly’s. And that isn’t an insult to anyone; it’s just a fact.

His ideal girl would be a tiny framed one; a Florida girl with coastal style, a fun lover, a girl who was one of the guys. And as much as I never wanted to admit it, she was it. At the time, and honestly who knows, maybe still to this day, she was the epitome of all the things he wanted out of a woman and it drove me absolutely crazy. I could never measure up. And maybe that’s why he always went back to her. Maybe it was because they had a lot of unfinished business or maybe it was because they had so much shit in common. I can’t really be sure.

All I know is that I was just trying to sort of channel her because I knew that he loved her style, he loved how she dressed. I was aware that he loved how spunky, feisty, and unwilling to take shit she was. She was notorious for always putting him in his place and calling him out on his shit and I think he actually liked it. (She even called me a few times to put me on blast and I had to respect her for it because she wasn’t scared of me.) But me? I never did things like that because I’ve always been incredibly agreeable, too afraid to rock the boat I was standing in. And after a while, I learned that there were repercussions for me putting him in his place. I understood that he loved how willing she was to have fun, how easily she would just go with the flow and get on a plane to Aruba if he asked her. I was painfully aware of all of it. 

All of these little facts, they meant something to me. They affected me in a way that I didn’t realize back then. I was just trying to be more like her.

Moral of the Crazy: I know that now, looking back on all of this, reflecting on all the events that took place, it makes me seem a little pathetic. And you know, I’ve got to be honest when I say that I hate that word. Pathetic is never a word that I would use to describe myself. Maybe it’s better to say that back then, I was just trying to make things work out. I wanted to be who he wanted me to be but now I know how ridiculous that sounds.

Instead of bending for him, instead of morphing into this skinny little ex-girlfriend wannabe, I should have kicked him to the curb. Instead of buying clothing and accessories that would provide a wisp of her personality, I should have disallowed such control. While it is all so clear to me now, I don’t think I realized that’s what was really happening at the time. I’ve thought about it tons of times since and I’ve even spoken with people who were involved in that situation. We all played roles, we all had our own dangerous parts to play. We were mandated to be his pawns and for whatever reason, neither one of us could ever see that. But this girl and I, although it always seemed like we were against each other, we never really were. Because we were always fighting the same fight. We were always fighting for the same thing. We had always wanted the same thing.

I think that sometimes, maybe things just are what they are. 

In the case with my old boss for example, I think he was attempting to be everything for his girlfriend. He was making a significant attempt to play every role that she would ever need. He was faithful to her, supportive of whatever relationship she had attempted to have with her child’s father (before things got weird), and he treated her daughter like his own. Maybe the issue wasn’t that he wasn’t doing things right; it was just not what she wanted. He could have given her the world but from him, she wouldn’t take it. 

 

And similarly with my ex-boyfriend, it wasn’t about all the ways I could appease him. It wasn’t about how agreeable I always tried to be no matter how explosive he was. It wasn’t about all the things I tried to do to make the relationship one that was more endearing to both of us or that I incessantly tried to spunk myself up to be “more fun”. It wasn’t about all the things I had tried to do to be more like her. It was never about any of that.

It was the fact that I would never be her.

And it took me a long time to realize that that was okay. The truth was no matter how much I replicated all the allegedly exciting attributes she possessed, I would never be the same. When I was finally able to understand that our differences were things that made us unique and not characteristics that made us lesser than the other, I realized that I didn’t have to transform into a James Bond FemBot because my ex didn’t like me. I just had to find someone worthy of appreciating all I had to offer. I had to find someone who would always keep me on a pedestal, someone who would continuously put me first, and someone who would keep me very high on their list of priorities in a permanent status.

Realizing that you’re worth such integrity and respect is deafening. I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to realize it.

If you feel like you’re not the first thing your significant other thinks about when they wake up in the morning, you aren’t important enough. If you catch on to the fact that your significant other has had some sort of secret dating app on their phone to meet ladies when you’re not around, you’re not important enough. If you feel like you are incessantly trying to better yourself in order to gain your significant other’s approval, you’re not important enough. If you are competing with anyone else for your significant other’s attention, you are not important enough.

And it isn’t that you aren’t of value; it’s that you aren’t of value to them.

And you should be. Because you are important and valuable. You’ve taken time and made progress. And above all else, you’re worth it.

Take care of each other. But more importantly, take care of yourself. After all, you’re all you’ve got.

The only person that deserves a special place in your life is someone that never made you feel like an option in theirs. –Shannon L. Alder