Love Lost; Love Gained
“She’s imperfect but she tries
She is good but she lies
She is hard on herself
She is broken and won’t ask for help
She is messy but she’s kind
She is lonely most of the time
She is all of this mixed up
And baked in a beautiful pie
She is gone but she used to be mine”
It all started in second grade. Michael was the coolest boy in my class, and on the George Washington Elementary playground, standing near the blacktop swings, he asked me to be his girlfriend. Then, he kissed me on the cheek. At that moment, Cupid smacked me in the heart, and I have yet to recover.
So what is the “it” I’m referring to? No, it’s not love or even puppy love. The “it” I’m talking about isn’t even infatuation. The “it” that started for me on that second-grade playground was a loss of self—self-identity, self-respect, and self-love. It was the beginning of me giving up everything to be part of a relationship, to have someone love me.
Michael and I were both preparing for our spring play. He wanted to be a bunny, and so did I, but there were only a few bunny parts. So, since Michael wanted to be a bunny, and I loved Michael, I tried out to be a fish. A week later, Michael dumped me for another girl in our class whose name and face I can no longer remember.
That anecdote through the eyes of a 7-year-old sums up my history with men up until this point. It has been almost 36 years of exactly the same. When I meet a man, and he is nice to me, it is only a matter of time before I start to wonder if he might be the one. Usually, he ends up as a friend, and I am okay with that. That’s a lie. I’m not okay with that. I hate being the friend. Being the friend to someone you want more from is one of the most excruciating things in this world. Unrequited love is maddening. However, I hold on for as long as I can. I blend into the man’s life, bending myself into an origami of the perfect friend who is supportive in all things, even their relationships. I become whoever they need me to be.
Do you need me to fill the spot where your girlfriend should stand until you find a girlfriend? I am really good at that. Do you need a companion until you can find someone you actually deem worthy of romantic entanglement? I’m your girl.
Even though unrequited love and always being the “friend” are hard, they are nowhere near as hard as completely losing yourself in an actual relationship. While I twisted myself for certain guy friends, I broke myself for my husbands. I did whatever I could to please. I looked the other way when I had an idea they were cheating. I took the abuse. I was like a little puppy whose owner kicks it every night. I was still just as happy to see them when they would come home, and I would love them and cherish them, forgetting about thes…until they kicked me again. Then, I would cower in the corner until they apologized. After that, all was forgiven, and it was time to make sure I did everything so they would continue to love me again.
After my first separation, I felt like I was going through withdrawal from a hard drug (this happened with my second marriage as well). I had no one to supply me with my daily need of love and acceptance. I needed my affection fix. I started looking for it from other men—the guy friends I mentioned above. I would spend all my time with them, falling for them, falling into bed with them, etc.—trying to keep some form of that affection that I so badly needed.
I don’t know who I am without having another title attached to me. I need the validation and love that come with that title. Without it, I’m just…Tabitha. It is odd, though. As I have made distance between myself and men, I’ve started to become acquainted with myself again. I have a routine. I take care of myself. I don’t binge. I read. I have conversations with myself, and I listen to music. I’m starting to become comfortable in my own skin, even though I have a lot of it.
I think back to that little girl on the playground, the girl who just wanted to be a bunny in the school play, and I realize that is when I started to become the person I am today — that is when I started to put down my own wants and needs to pick up the wants and needs of others. While generosity is a good trait, generosity at the cost of your own happiness is not. People will either like me, or they won’t. I don’t need to win or buy their affection. Men will either want me or they won’t. I don’t need to force myself on them.
So from now on, if I want to be a bunny, I’ll be a bunny. And people can either fall in line and love me for it, or they can move on. Thirty-six years is plenty of time to live for the happiness of others. Now, it is time to start living for my own.
