I am a teenage girl, and so some may say it was inevitable that sooner or later a post would crop up about boys. Well, consider it cropped my dear readers, and welcome to my whimsical whine.
I have been played, and quite honestly, it's shit. Going from talking to someone virtually every day to the point where if it wasn’t for social media I would be questioning if they’re still alive, is not fun. Being called the wrong name and being confused for another girl you are talking to, is not fun. You, my dear sir, are not fun. For the sake of this post, I shall call the mystery man Richard. Because the nickname for Richard suits you and your personality pretty damn well.
Yes, I will miss our night-time cuddles in front of the television, and the way in which you could make me feel as if you were the only person who understood me. I will miss the excitement when we found something else we both had in common, a love we both shared, making me feel like it was you and me against the whole mad world. I will not miss the confident wandering hands, despite the constant no's, or the mood swings, or the indirect tweets about me from your friends. The snide remarks and my feeling obliged to put you first, when other things were a lot more important. Being called “thirsty”, “needy”, “clingy” and “desperate” just because I’m not afraid to ask how your day has been and try to help wherever I can. For being a nice person.
I'm not a needy person, but I need to know when someone's serious and when someone's just playing. I’m not desperate, I’m just desperate to know who I can really trust and who is just talking to me for the sake of it, using me and filling my head with fickle fantasies and nonsense. I’m guess I’m just horribly human, and I’m fed up of apologising for that.
I hate the fact that because of you, whenever I hear my phone buzz or the doorbell ring, I think it's you asking me how I am or wanting to apologise. I hate the fact that if you were to do one of these things, I am likely to go running back into your comforting, overly large arms and completely forget how I am feeling right now. How I keep finding myself checking your Twitter or Facebook like a crazy person to see if you've put anything about mistakes or missing me, only to see that you're just posing and flirting with other girls, the same girls you’ve told me in the past are 'just friends'. I hate the moment when the reality hit me that I’m just another one of these girls, the way that my stomach dropped and my eyes pricked, because you’re a prodigious pompous prick. I hate the fact that I keep thinking over the time that we spent together and realising that we never agreed to be exclusive, never really agreed anything, and therefore, what you did and continue to do isn't technically wrong. It isn't wrong, but it's still shit.
Playing with people's feelings is wrong, though. Toying with their hopes and constantly telling someone that they live their life life badly, is wrong. Telling me that I’m too heavy, when you know I’m incredibly self-conscious, is wrong. Criticising me for the little things, for the way I talk, is wrong. Completely ignoring me when I finally say that I don't feel happy with a situation and instead going out and getting drunk with a group of girls younger than you, is wrong, and so is getting them to send me selfies of you together. It's wrong and it's shit. You're wrong and you're shit. Richard, darling Dick, you’re shit.
I've had enough. Enough of the talk and joyless jokes behind my back, your constant demand and need for attention yet neglect of mine. Only talking to me when it suits you. Making me feel like I’ve done something wrong and passing off anything crude as a ‘banter’. The casual cruelness in which you ignore what I want, just so you can present and project your ideals and desires.
I am done. Done. The world is my oyster and all that jazz. You're just a teeny tiny bit of algae and one day you're going to get bitten by a shark.
I’m not going to cut you out of my life, because I am a nice person. If I see you in the street or at a party, I’m not going to ignore you or start walking the other way, because I’m a nice person. If I were to do any of these things, after all, I would be just as bad as you. We may even end up remaining friends, who knows – because I am a nice person. The only thing I’m sure of is that I’m not going to go out of my way anymore to ensure that you’re happy. Because, thanks to you, I’ve realised that I am my number one priority, and I am fabulous.
The glorious Khloe Kardashian once said “the best form of revenge is a good body”. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to improve myself, my body and my mind. Make my life better, not because of you, but for me. The fact that I may be posting more on social media however, is most definitely to ensure that you realise I don’t need you. Accidental snapchat to show that I’m having a lot of fun and looking fabulous? Whoopsie - “Sorry, wrong person! J”
And so, I hope when you see that tanned, toned and terribly happy girl in a few months’ time you think about how you once made her feel, and seriously reconsider how you treat girls. What you do is not big, it’s not clever, and it’s not cool.
So thank you, Richard. Thank you for making me see that I'm worth something, either through your empty compliments, or through me finding out that I deserve better. Thank you for providing me with the motivation to make my life better, to make ME better.
I’m not bitter, I’m just better.