The Whirl of Love
This is my entry to Noemi’s Love Struck Writing Contest. To read about the mechanics of the contest, click here. An advance valentines day post.
Growing up with insecurities was not easy. It wasn’t easy for me too. Although I had my share of really good childhood memories, I would never forget that I grew up unconfident because of my physical appearance.
I always joke about how I never experienced being slim or thin or slender… in short, I have always been the fat girl — chubby, flabby, stout, healthy… I have always pretended I was not bothered by it, that I was cute and intelligent enough and it was all that mattered. In reality though, I feared that no guy would ever notice, pursue, and marry me.
It was a pity really because I’ve realized when I was in high school that I was the “hopeless romantic type.” I read romance novels all the time, write poetry and love Shakespeare. My dilemma, I had no suitor in high school until I was in second year. I never told anyone that I felt really bad about my looks. I felt hopeless that no one thinks I was pretty, except for my bestfriend.
My bestfriend was the first guy I ever befriended seriously. Truth was, I befriended him because I had a secret crush on him. The problem was he was already attached. Anyway, we remained friends up until I was in college where our relationship dramatically changed.
From the very start, you’ll notice that I started my tale explaining about my insecurities. I did that because I wanted to justify my behavior about relationships. Because of my insecurities, I never trusted men but loved the idea of being in love, of dating, of being woed. I went out on dates with differrent guys and had numerous boyfriends all at the same time. Although my relationships were pretty “harmless,” I was often teased by my friends about my relationships and so, I was given the reputation of being a “player.”
No one knew that the reason why I went steady with different boyfriends at once was because of my fear of being left alone. I was terribly afraid of not having a boyfriend so I always made sure that if ever I separate with one, I would always have a “reserve.” I know my behavior and actions were not justifiable, I was just relating “who I was” at that time.
When I met Oly, I had four relationships, four boyfriends. Yes, that many. I was heavily involved with those four in different levels. Whew! Each of them contained a chunk of the characteristics of my idea of the perfect boyfriend. J was the youngest and the most emotional and romantic, he was also immatured and has no direction in life. M was the guy next door and was the bet of my sister and mom, he was complicated. Jo was my dream boy since he was very good looking, he made my knees weak and my heart melt and he was also irresponsible. B was my bestfriend, I was in love with him since day one. B and I realy clicked and we fell madly in love with each other. There was only one complication at that timne, he was still with his long-time girlfriend. In short, I was his mistress.
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