For some reason, lately I think about you all the time.
About what had been, between us.
In a way, this is extremely frustrating. Because of what was, and of course will never be again; and I don't even know why I should dwell on it in this manner, but I can't help it.
And then, because I don't understand:
what we had - whatever little it was - it's over now, and I'm content with that. I am honest when I say that I'm more satisfied in being your friend than else. But the memories haunt me.
Why is that? Why do they have to come back to me in such a vivid manner?
...the way I rested my head against your shoulder and chest the night we met. The way you hold me close, and your straying hand on my backside; enough to make me quiver. Finally kissing you, and it was like drinking fresh water in the desert. The way you kissed my neck and my brain shut down completely. Chatting side by side on a bench and you kissing the top of my head. The smile you had when you saw me arrive.
See, it wasn't much - it has been only a couple of weeks and brief encounters. Nothing significant.
But I've been thinking, lately; that of all the guys I've been with, you're the only one I wanted to be with in that moment. I kissed them all, but you had been the only one I had wanted to kiss before it happened.
But I don't want to mourn over the loss of something; because I don't think I've "lost" anything. I had something, I had you - for those, brief, moments; and that's something I never thought I could - and as such I intend to treasure it. Without pain, though; and sadness.
But I really don't understand why I can't seem to let it go, why these reminescences have to haunt me - because they still have the power to stir me deeply.
I want to move on - and find someone that deserves me. Just let me go now.
Monday, September 23, 2013
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Now I can breathe again
I am just so happy
Happy that we talked, happy that is was you to make the first move.
You must have noticed how awkward and stiff and uncomfortable I was when I came to talk to you - although I did, and I hugged you and told you "I am here to make conversation!", just like you accused me last time of not doing. Then you just stood there, and talked to someone else while I was waiting for my drink; and I even made sure you were busy so I could not be scolded again. And I told you I was leaving. And when you came at the table, we basically ignored each other- or maybe it was a careful thread around each other...? Sure that's how I pictured the whole night - and the future of our possible interactions - would be (basically, a nightmare).
Instead, the first thing you said when we were left alone was "Let's start again fresh. Let's not mention what happened, I have been honestly too busy and too tired to say anything; but's let's give ourself a fresh start."
It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders, I had to hug you for the relief. I don't care about "fault" and "responsibilities"; all I care is that this is past us.
I thought all this was lost forever, I thought you were lost forever and you didn't care - you told me quite literally this is not the case - and we could not be friends and that broke my heart.
It did. I don't care that we'll never be anything more, because that's not what I want anyway; but to lose you like that...
Instead, I (we) are given a new chance. It is priceless. The relief is indeed overwhelming. It feels like I can breathe again.
Also because I didn't expect it, let alone coming from you- having you say "There's something wrong, let's fix it"; and this makes it all more valuable.
Now, if I could just get over the fact that you're still screwing that little bitch; and never wanted to sleep with me...
Happy that we talked, happy that is was you to make the first move.
You must have noticed how awkward and stiff and uncomfortable I was when I came to talk to you - although I did, and I hugged you and told you "I am here to make conversation!", just like you accused me last time of not doing. Then you just stood there, and talked to someone else while I was waiting for my drink; and I even made sure you were busy so I could not be scolded again. And I told you I was leaving. And when you came at the table, we basically ignored each other- or maybe it was a careful thread around each other...? Sure that's how I pictured the whole night - and the future of our possible interactions - would be (basically, a nightmare).
Instead, the first thing you said when we were left alone was "Let's start again fresh. Let's not mention what happened, I have been honestly too busy and too tired to say anything; but's let's give ourself a fresh start."
It felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders, I had to hug you for the relief. I don't care about "fault" and "responsibilities"; all I care is that this is past us.
I thought all this was lost forever, I thought you were lost forever and you didn't care - you told me quite literally this is not the case - and we could not be friends and that broke my heart.
It did. I don't care that we'll never be anything more, because that's not what I want anyway; but to lose you like that...
Instead, I (we) are given a new chance. It is priceless. The relief is indeed overwhelming. It feels like I can breathe again.
Also because I didn't expect it, let alone coming from you- having you say "There's something wrong, let's fix it"; and this makes it all more valuable.
Now, if I could just get over the fact that you're still screwing that little bitch; and never wanted to sleep with me...
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Give me love
I've always valued my indipendence more than anything.
I hate feeling restricted, depending on someone else (for anything - for my happines, to have something done... really anything). I've always thought, I'd be better off by myself than with someone I don't want to be. That relationships should not be entered lightly and you should really be with someone you want to be with, not having a couple life just out of habit. Because, honestly; of course you get attached to someone with whom you share your daily life with, that you hear from everyday and exchange physical affections - up to and including, but not only, sexual intercourse - and share your free times and holidays with. I always say, it's like sleeping with your pet- you get attached to a hamster too, if you have it around it everyday and you don't detest it.
I stand by all this. I haven't changed my mind and - goodness! - certainly I don't want to settle. I never liked second bestes, for me it's always been all or nothing. I want what I want; and if I can't have it, I'd rather not have anything at all than settling for something that just won't do.
That's who I am, that's how I'm done; and - to be honest - I am quite proud of it too.
But...
but.
There are so many in betweens.
There's the aching in your loins and your lips those days you just really want to kiss someone.
There's those days when nothing seems to go your way, and you just wish you had someone to call.
There's the bewinderment when you wake up in the middle of the night and you're alone in your bed; or in the morning when you open your eyes and you just wish, with all your might, just for few seconds, that there was someone resting the head on the pillow next to yours.
There's the coming home late at night, sore and tired; when you crawl under your blankets and you would want to have someone to hold you close, and fall asleep to the sound of their breath.
There's the times you go to the movies alone, and walk in the park with the colours of the autumn all around you, and the falling leaves; and no one to hold your hand.
And it's great that you can close the door behind you, and no one will come knocking and bother you. That you don't have to share those popcorn at the movies, or fight about just which one to go to anyway. The freedom to just shut off your phone and have no one panic because you don't answer. The luxurious joy of just spreading your limbs and stretch like a cat in that bed of yours; and not having to fight for space.
All this is amazing. Don't get me wrong, I love it.
And usually the times when I enjoy and treasure all this are many more than the occasional pang of solitude. All in all I am happy.
But can you honesly, entirely be happy of a choice that's not yours?
Yes, I value my freedom and indipendence and all that; but sometimes it would be nice to have someone knocking on that door, or turning on the phone and find five missed calls.
Because it would mean that someone cared enough.
And although things are so much better lately, and I've had more in these past few months that I've experienced in my whole life, even if I feel confident and attractive, and I know how to have a good time without regrets, even if I've ticked off some "I'd like to do this" from my list
I still feel like I am on the edge of a cliff and I am reaching out, and there's no one there to grab my hand.
And it gets so tiring, and I am afraid I will end up letting go or just turning around and not looking back- close inside myself and just "fuck everyone". And this scares me, because I've been there before - and it was a dark, dangerous path; and I don't even know how I get through it, so I don't know if I'll be able to do it once again.
And it feels like I am here, with my heart wide open and no-one will take it.
More, I feel completely alienated because sometimes I don't seem to feel what others feel; or I just frequent people with such different sensitivities than mine that I could come from a different planet.
And I'm not ashamed - for no one should ever be of one's emotions or ways of feeling - but I swears it makes me wondering
Is there something wrong with me?
Because everything I touch seems to turn to dust, and I keep on caring for people that clearly don't do the same for me
and I don't seem to be ever able to keep anyone around.
And it doesn't matter if it's someone I want or not [bear with me for a second here] because at least it would mean that there's something, in me, worth loving.
We all want to be loved. It means that we're worth it. I need to feel worthy of someone's love.
And I want to be adored, and cherished. I want someone to feel enchanted by me, by the way I smile and the passion I put into things. That will forgive my insane attachement to fictional characters, and to share my passions for books and movies and baking and horse riding and travelling.
Someone that will caress my hair and kiss my neck. To hold my hand and stroke my back. To trace with his fingers every freckle and birthmark on my skin (and there's a lot of them). To marvel at the texture of it, and to hug me close. To rest his head on my chest and having him offer his shoulder to cry and/or sleep on.
I want to feel desired, and take his breath away when I take off my clothes. I want to be undressed and desired so intensly it hurts.
Given my more than strict requirements about being in a relationship [see above] I could settle for having this for at least one night.
But then he wouldn't call back, and I'd feel the emptiness even more.
What's wrong with me?!
I hate feeling restricted, depending on someone else (for anything - for my happines, to have something done... really anything). I've always thought, I'd be better off by myself than with someone I don't want to be. That relationships should not be entered lightly and you should really be with someone you want to be with, not having a couple life just out of habit. Because, honestly; of course you get attached to someone with whom you share your daily life with, that you hear from everyday and exchange physical affections - up to and including, but not only, sexual intercourse - and share your free times and holidays with. I always say, it's like sleeping with your pet- you get attached to a hamster too, if you have it around it everyday and you don't detest it.
I stand by all this. I haven't changed my mind and - goodness! - certainly I don't want to settle. I never liked second bestes, for me it's always been all or nothing. I want what I want; and if I can't have it, I'd rather not have anything at all than settling for something that just won't do.
That's who I am, that's how I'm done; and - to be honest - I am quite proud of it too.
But...
but.
There are so many in betweens.
There's the aching in your loins and your lips those days you just really want to kiss someone.
There's those days when nothing seems to go your way, and you just wish you had someone to call.
There's the bewinderment when you wake up in the middle of the night and you're alone in your bed; or in the morning when you open your eyes and you just wish, with all your might, just for few seconds, that there was someone resting the head on the pillow next to yours.
There's the coming home late at night, sore and tired; when you crawl under your blankets and you would want to have someone to hold you close, and fall asleep to the sound of their breath.
There's the times you go to the movies alone, and walk in the park with the colours of the autumn all around you, and the falling leaves; and no one to hold your hand.
And it's great that you can close the door behind you, and no one will come knocking and bother you. That you don't have to share those popcorn at the movies, or fight about just which one to go to anyway. The freedom to just shut off your phone and have no one panic because you don't answer. The luxurious joy of just spreading your limbs and stretch like a cat in that bed of yours; and not having to fight for space.
All this is amazing. Don't get me wrong, I love it.
And usually the times when I enjoy and treasure all this are many more than the occasional pang of solitude. All in all I am happy.
But can you honesly, entirely be happy of a choice that's not yours?
Yes, I value my freedom and indipendence and all that; but sometimes it would be nice to have someone knocking on that door, or turning on the phone and find five missed calls.
Because it would mean that someone cared enough.
And although things are so much better lately, and I've had more in these past few months that I've experienced in my whole life, even if I feel confident and attractive, and I know how to have a good time without regrets, even if I've ticked off some "I'd like to do this" from my list
I still feel like I am on the edge of a cliff and I am reaching out, and there's no one there to grab my hand.
And it gets so tiring, and I am afraid I will end up letting go or just turning around and not looking back- close inside myself and just "fuck everyone". And this scares me, because I've been there before - and it was a dark, dangerous path; and I don't even know how I get through it, so I don't know if I'll be able to do it once again.
And it feels like I am here, with my heart wide open and no-one will take it.
More, I feel completely alienated because sometimes I don't seem to feel what others feel; or I just frequent people with such different sensitivities than mine that I could come from a different planet.
And I'm not ashamed - for no one should ever be of one's emotions or ways of feeling - but I swears it makes me wondering
Is there something wrong with me?
Because everything I touch seems to turn to dust, and I keep on caring for people that clearly don't do the same for me
and I don't seem to be ever able to keep anyone around.
And it doesn't matter if it's someone I want or not [bear with me for a second here] because at least it would mean that there's something, in me, worth loving.
We all want to be loved. It means that we're worth it. I need to feel worthy of someone's love.
And I want to be adored, and cherished. I want someone to feel enchanted by me, by the way I smile and the passion I put into things. That will forgive my insane attachement to fictional characters, and to share my passions for books and movies and baking and horse riding and travelling.
Someone that will caress my hair and kiss my neck. To hold my hand and stroke my back. To trace with his fingers every freckle and birthmark on my skin (and there's a lot of them). To marvel at the texture of it, and to hug me close. To rest his head on my chest and having him offer his shoulder to cry and/or sleep on.
I want to feel desired, and take his breath away when I take off my clothes. I want to be undressed and desired so intensly it hurts.
Given my more than strict requirements about being in a relationship [see above] I could settle for having this for at least one night.
But then he wouldn't call back, and I'd feel the emptiness even more.
What's wrong with me?!
Envy is the worst poison
They say it's jealousy, but to my it's evny.
Because then you don't even enjoy what you have, and feel miserable about other people that don't share your life anyway; they're on a different path, doing different things. You should never compare yourself to others.
I know it get said a lot, but it's so true.
And when you envy someone that's your friend, that's the worse.
I feel the worst person ever today, I swear.
I know it's mean and wrong and I just shouldn't do, because it's unfair too
but I am envying my friend. And it hurts and sucks and I feel all the worse because you shouldn't feel this way about your friends.
Thing is, I am happy for her. I really, really am. She deserves all the good that she can get, because she's an amazing person.
But I can't help but feeling
"...why her and not me? Is there something wrong in me, or in what I am doing? Why can't I get that too?"
and I know that's not the way it works; and probably she envies (or not, because she's a better person that I am) things I have - a place to call mine, more security, an healthy brother - but it's so frustrating because it's like she doesn't even care.
No, that's not true.
But what she has, I have been wanting it so badly and sometimes it just feels like everything I thouch crumbles and breaks.
And it doesn't matter that I made out with a guy last week and it was great, he's never going to call again; and she always manages to have the sickingly sweet encounters, where they hold hands and talk all the time, and become FB friends and hear from each other - and I just seem to be able to kiss them and send them away and it's like "what do I do wrong?"
And sometimes loneliness catches up with me and it's like a beast hunting you; sometimes you feel okay for a while, but it's always only a patch and it's never going to fix it, because it's rooted so deeply down in you that you feel like you are never going to get rid of it.
And I just want someone to hold me close at night, and not to wake up alone in my bed everymorning.
I don't even want this on a regular basis; but at least once in my life, please.
And whenever I try to explain how I'm feeling, it's like no one feels the way I do then (of course) I start wondering if maybe it's me, maybe my way of feeling is so alien that that's what drieves people away.
And I know that one should stay true to his/herself and I do, I swear I do - I've been doing it these past 27 years, it's not like I am giving up now;
but I swear I just want some comfort and know that's ok; that's going to be okay, that I am safe and I will make it thought this too.
I want to know that I am loveable and worth caring for. Desireable.
I just want to cry now, but the tears won't come.
Because then you don't even enjoy what you have, and feel miserable about other people that don't share your life anyway; they're on a different path, doing different things. You should never compare yourself to others.
I know it get said a lot, but it's so true.
And when you envy someone that's your friend, that's the worse.
I feel the worst person ever today, I swear.
I know it's mean and wrong and I just shouldn't do, because it's unfair too
but I am envying my friend. And it hurts and sucks and I feel all the worse because you shouldn't feel this way about your friends.
Thing is, I am happy for her. I really, really am. She deserves all the good that she can get, because she's an amazing person.
But I can't help but feeling
"...why her and not me? Is there something wrong in me, or in what I am doing? Why can't I get that too?"
and I know that's not the way it works; and probably she envies (or not, because she's a better person that I am) things I have - a place to call mine, more security, an healthy brother - but it's so frustrating because it's like she doesn't even care.
No, that's not true.
But what she has, I have been wanting it so badly and sometimes it just feels like everything I thouch crumbles and breaks.
And it doesn't matter that I made out with a guy last week and it was great, he's never going to call again; and she always manages to have the sickingly sweet encounters, where they hold hands and talk all the time, and become FB friends and hear from each other - and I just seem to be able to kiss them and send them away and it's like "what do I do wrong?"
And sometimes loneliness catches up with me and it's like a beast hunting you; sometimes you feel okay for a while, but it's always only a patch and it's never going to fix it, because it's rooted so deeply down in you that you feel like you are never going to get rid of it.
And I just want someone to hold me close at night, and not to wake up alone in my bed everymorning.
I don't even want this on a regular basis; but at least once in my life, please.
And whenever I try to explain how I'm feeling, it's like no one feels the way I do then (of course) I start wondering if maybe it's me, maybe my way of feeling is so alien that that's what drieves people away.
And I know that one should stay true to his/herself and I do, I swear I do - I've been doing it these past 27 years, it's not like I am giving up now;
but I swear I just want some comfort and know that's ok; that's going to be okay, that I am safe and I will make it thought this too.
I want to know that I am loveable and worth caring for. Desireable.
I just want to cry now, but the tears won't come.
Monday, September 2, 2013
It's complicated
Why do certain relationship -of any kind- between two people have to be so complicated?
F*ck.
No matter how you turn it, no matter what kind of bond is there- you just can't get it right.
Is it a hint that you should just give up and avoid hurting each other in any way, by being just apart?
I don't believe the chick flick bullshit that is forced on women- and that we dispense to each other on a regular basis. Things like "...that's because you mean so much to each other" or "you're both so deep, it's inevitable to crash" or - that is the worse - that "you fight so much because you're so attracted".
That's nonsense.
If I like someone (being physically/romantically attracted, or just like someone as a person) I don't want to fight. I want to get along. To talk, to have a good time. Cupcakes and rainbows, give them to me.
[!!! This is very different from a healthy, intellectual, discussion !!!]
But sometimes is just so complicated.
Maybe it's me. Maybe I overthink things.
Ok, that's for sure. I overthink even my overthoughts.
But! There's more. There needs to be more; I need to have some kind of grounds to base my paranoia on.
The other person has to do something too.
So, we're back to the start- why do some relationships have to be so complicated?
And of course, they're always the ones you care more about. So that it hurts even more having screwed them up.
FML.
F*ck.
No matter how you turn it, no matter what kind of bond is there- you just can't get it right.
Is it a hint that you should just give up and avoid hurting each other in any way, by being just apart?
I don't believe the chick flick bullshit that is forced on women- and that we dispense to each other on a regular basis. Things like "...that's because you mean so much to each other" or "you're both so deep, it's inevitable to crash" or - that is the worse - that "you fight so much because you're so attracted".
That's nonsense.
If I like someone (being physically/romantically attracted, or just like someone as a person) I don't want to fight. I want to get along. To talk, to have a good time. Cupcakes and rainbows, give them to me.
[!!! This is very different from a healthy, intellectual, discussion !!!]
But sometimes is just so complicated.
Maybe it's me. Maybe I overthink things.
Ok, that's for sure. I overthink even my overthoughts.
But! There's more. There needs to be more; I need to have some kind of grounds to base my paranoia on.
The other person has to do something too.
So, we're back to the start- why do some relationships have to be so complicated?
And of course, they're always the ones you care more about. So that it hurts even more having screwed them up.
FML.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
What if...
---this is pure work of fiction---
This blog is usually to give order to my thoughts, and the events described are ones that happened.
This ain't. It's just some personal rambling, and things I wish would happened, so I wrote them down like it was a story; that is how I always exorcize my demons.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Oh gosh. Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh.
I have been imagining -dreaming- this moment for months. Never thought it could actually happen. And now I am panicking. Of course! What do I do?!
You're standing there, nonchalantly; staring at the air or something I can't see, your hat just like I remembered it -or maybe it's a different one, who knows.
Ok, this is it. It's the perfect chance, I can't let it slip away. I have to talk to you. I have been obsessing about this, hoping to see you again, expecting you around every corner; it's not like I can walk away now, I'd regret it forever. Again. Goddammit, it can't be that difficult, can it?
I can still recall the feel of your hands on my hips and the salt of your sweat on my lips. This would just talking. And we're in public. Ok, that doesn't count, given what happened last time.
On we go.
Luckily, there's plenty of people around us -but not too many as to make difficult to make my way through the crowd, just enough so you don't see me walking towards you.
And then I'm there standing, and while I work up the courage to actually say something, you must have sensed my presence, because you turn towards me.
"HI-" I falter.
"Hiya"- and you brush away the hair from your eyes like you always do.
Damn you and that accent Irish accent of yours - sweet and thick like caramel and I swear, it has the same effect on me. If I didn't know what to say before, this sure isn't helping.
While my brain panics while searching for something plausible to say -anything, at this point; you discretely yet obviously look me up and down in what I hope is an appreciative manner. You look amused, possibly because by now I must be blushing like a fire idrant.
"Maybe you don't remember me..." I start .
"Oh, I sure remember you" and then that half grin again. You have no intention of making this easy on me, are you? Dammit.
I was already prepared to explain the circumstances of our last (and first, at it) meeting, to buy myself some time and see if it rang any bell for you; and if it did, just with which feelings you recalled it. Were you mad at me for running off like that? If you didn't recollect who I was - where did we meet, what did we do - I could have just left with some excuse.
But now you have me cornered -although not quite literally, not this time- and I have to come clean.
"...I am sorry I left like that." The million excuses I had made up in my mind, all the things I thought of telling you back then, are gone now. You keep silent, apparently determined not to help me in one bit (are you still upset? If you ever were?). Or maybe you just want to see what am I getting at. About that, I am not even sure I know myself; so good luck to you.
"If it helps, I have been regretting it since then.-" Still no response. Dammit man! "So I was wondering..." I hesitate, trying to read your expression (and failing, so I continue) "...if you'd like to have coffee some time. Maybe. That is, with me." - now I can feel the redness creeping up my neck to my cheeks and I feel even more silly; but I can't take my eyes off of you, craving for an answer and trying to get any hint of one from your face.
You don't reply, for those that seem like endless minutes but probably are just a couple of seconds; then your beard splits in a flash of white teeth and you're smiling -nay, grinning- at me. "I would like that very much."
I smile back to you -really, I don't even want to know how ridiculous I look right now- and I mumble something ;"Good", possibly. Then I turn to leave, trying to hide just how wide my smile is and how happy I am - I don't even know why. "Wait!" and I feel the slightest touch of fingers on my wrist, like your hand went to take it and you changed your mind halfway through.
Maybe you changed your mind about all of it? Maybe all this was a play, you're just making fun of me. Or a sort of sick revenge. Now you're going to ask my name, because you don't know -ultimately- who am I, and how do we even know each other. I knew I had to leave it like it was, I should have never come and talk to you; this could only have ended badly; why did I even do it!?
"How about you leave me your number?- " I feel a rush of relief so sudden and so overwhelming that I am surprised I'm even still stranding up straight. Which is not unusual, when you're around. "I let you go once, I am not making the same mistake again.".
This blog is usually to give order to my thoughts, and the events described are ones that happened.
This ain't. It's just some personal rambling, and things I wish would happened, so I wrote them down like it was a story; that is how I always exorcize my demons.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Oh gosh. Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh.
I have been imagining -dreaming- this moment for months. Never thought it could actually happen. And now I am panicking. Of course! What do I do?!
You're standing there, nonchalantly; staring at the air or something I can't see, your hat just like I remembered it -or maybe it's a different one, who knows.
Ok, this is it. It's the perfect chance, I can't let it slip away. I have to talk to you. I have been obsessing about this, hoping to see you again, expecting you around every corner; it's not like I can walk away now, I'd regret it forever. Again. Goddammit, it can't be that difficult, can it?
I can still recall the feel of your hands on my hips and the salt of your sweat on my lips. This would just talking. And we're in public. Ok, that doesn't count, given what happened last time.
On we go.
Luckily, there's plenty of people around us -but not too many as to make difficult to make my way through the crowd, just enough so you don't see me walking towards you.
And then I'm there standing, and while I work up the courage to actually say something, you must have sensed my presence, because you turn towards me.
"HI-" I falter.
"Hiya"- and you brush away the hair from your eyes like you always do.
Damn you and that accent Irish accent of yours - sweet and thick like caramel and I swear, it has the same effect on me. If I didn't know what to say before, this sure isn't helping.
While my brain panics while searching for something plausible to say -anything, at this point; you discretely yet obviously look me up and down in what I hope is an appreciative manner. You look amused, possibly because by now I must be blushing like a fire idrant.
"Maybe you don't remember me..." I start .
"Oh, I sure remember you" and then that half grin again. You have no intention of making this easy on me, are you? Dammit.
I was already prepared to explain the circumstances of our last (and first, at it) meeting, to buy myself some time and see if it rang any bell for you; and if it did, just with which feelings you recalled it. Were you mad at me for running off like that? If you didn't recollect who I was - where did we meet, what did we do - I could have just left with some excuse.
But now you have me cornered -although not quite literally, not this time- and I have to come clean.
"...I am sorry I left like that." The million excuses I had made up in my mind, all the things I thought of telling you back then, are gone now. You keep silent, apparently determined not to help me in one bit (are you still upset? If you ever were?). Or maybe you just want to see what am I getting at. About that, I am not even sure I know myself; so good luck to you.
"If it helps, I have been regretting it since then.-" Still no response. Dammit man! "So I was wondering..." I hesitate, trying to read your expression (and failing, so I continue) "...if you'd like to have coffee some time. Maybe. That is, with me." - now I can feel the redness creeping up my neck to my cheeks and I feel even more silly; but I can't take my eyes off of you, craving for an answer and trying to get any hint of one from your face.
You don't reply, for those that seem like endless minutes but probably are just a couple of seconds; then your beard splits in a flash of white teeth and you're smiling -nay, grinning- at me. "I would like that very much."
I smile back to you -really, I don't even want to know how ridiculous I look right now- and I mumble something ;"Good", possibly. Then I turn to leave, trying to hide just how wide my smile is and how happy I am - I don't even know why. "Wait!" and I feel the slightest touch of fingers on my wrist, like your hand went to take it and you changed your mind halfway through.
Maybe you changed your mind about all of it? Maybe all this was a play, you're just making fun of me. Or a sort of sick revenge. Now you're going to ask my name, because you don't know -ultimately- who am I, and how do we even know each other. I knew I had to leave it like it was, I should have never come and talk to you; this could only have ended badly; why did I even do it!?
"How about you leave me your number?- " I feel a rush of relief so sudden and so overwhelming that I am surprised I'm even still stranding up straight. Which is not unusual, when you're around. "I let you go once, I am not making the same mistake again.".
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Confused
I am writing this because I need to say some things, and for
...reasons, I cannot tell them directly to the person they're addressed
to. So, I'll write them here instead, that maybe they'll weight a bit
less on my heart. And who knows, maybe he's reading (I doubt it).
"What is that you want from me?
I truly don't know, I don't understand.
I haven't heard from you in almost a week, and whereas everyday you 'like' something on my facebook, or leave a comment; I had gotten used to receive your goodnight message [see, this is all your fault. I hated it when it was happening! I hated getting used to it, and liking it. I knew I was right.] although it seems like a lifetime ago when it happened.
What has changed? What have I done? Was it me? Or is it just you? Has your interest just faded? Or did I do something 'wrong'?
Because, in my head (how I look back, and analyze, surely overthinking everything, I reckon) this has begun after I started opening up to you. And, you know, it was you that said to do that. You 'accused' me of never sharing, of never talking about my experiences. So I did. I opened up -like I never, ever do; especially with someone I barely know- and I told you stuff. Things I haven't told anyone, or barely so. I have shared, and trusted. And now you're gone, and I don't understand.
I don't regret anything, you know? I have always been honest, and sincere; and my true self. And I am'proud' proud to say that I don't regret anything I've done, anything I've said. What you've seen is me, and if you don't like it, if I was more fascinating when you knew less; I am sorry, but there is really nothing I can do about it.
I am sorry because I really like you, I am interested in you.
I want to talk to you, and be with you; and yes, have sex with you. I want to see you, to touch you, to kiss you, just to be around you; because I feel comfortable and safe.
And I thought it was the same for you. You said it was, you behaved like it was. It seemed like you couldn't have enough of me.
Maybe it was.
I don't believe any of the bullshit that my friends want me to; the pathetic chick-flick excuses that come to mind
"He likes you too much, he doesn't want to get involved, he's scared of the feelings he could develop for you, he wants you too much and if he was around you he could not resist, and you'd end up doing things he'd regret."
That's honest crap.
You like some one, you reach for them. You want to see them.
You don't? Not interested. Easy as that.
And then there are the things you do say.
Every once in a while, when I do talk to you.
The things I keep thinking about, and that I just cannot let go; against my own better judgement, because they give me 'hope' (although it's not hope, not really. More like doubt instead. Ok, hopeful doubt, if anything like that exists) that maybe, after all, you do care.
Things like
"I think about you more than it's healthy" (is it true, that children and drunken speak the truth?)
or
"You have no idea how much [talking to you] means to me".
And then you just disappear for days.
What. The. Fuck.
See, and it's not even about sex. It's not about "...what's going on between us?"
I've 'given up' on that already - if I ever had any expectations (not really).
I don't even have any doubts anymore (those I did have, for a long time); I don't ...'obligated' to you in any way -if I will get the chance to be [as in have sex] with someone else, I'll take it, no second thoughts- although of course I am still attracted to you (see, how foolish I am. For me nothing has changed. I will still feel a tingle and a wave of relief take me over if you text me or something; because of course I am still interested.). But, even as friends -why? What happened? What has changed?
Because, you see, I know it has to do with me. It has to.
Because you talk to your other friends (my friend) everyday. So it cannot be that you 'need time for yourself'. Or don't have time at all, or are not online; or I don't even know what other crappy excuse.
It's me you don't want to hear from, or talk to.
Why?
I think I deserve an explanation, of any kind.
Just tell me what's going on, at least I'll stop wondering.
I don't want anything from you, honest.
But, how how hazy and shady the relationship between us has been, I think I deserve at least this explanation. Because you refuse to give me any when I try asking, and I am tired of trying.
But I still care, damn me."
"What is that you want from me?
I truly don't know, I don't understand.
I haven't heard from you in almost a week, and whereas everyday you 'like' something on my facebook, or leave a comment; I had gotten used to receive your goodnight message [see, this is all your fault. I hated it when it was happening! I hated getting used to it, and liking it. I knew I was right.] although it seems like a lifetime ago when it happened.
What has changed? What have I done? Was it me? Or is it just you? Has your interest just faded? Or did I do something 'wrong'?
Because, in my head (how I look back, and analyze, surely overthinking everything, I reckon) this has begun after I started opening up to you. And, you know, it was you that said to do that. You 'accused' me of never sharing, of never talking about my experiences. So I did. I opened up -like I never, ever do; especially with someone I barely know- and I told you stuff. Things I haven't told anyone, or barely so. I have shared, and trusted. And now you're gone, and I don't understand.
I don't regret anything, you know? I have always been honest, and sincere; and my true self. And I am
I am sorry because I really like you, I am interested in you.
I want to talk to you, and be with you; and yes, have sex with you. I want to see you, to touch you, to kiss you, just to be around you; because I feel comfortable and safe.
And I thought it was the same for you. You said it was, you behaved like it was. It seemed like you couldn't have enough of me.
Maybe it was.
I don't believe any of the bullshit that my friends want me to; the pathetic chick-flick excuses that come to mind
"He likes you too much, he doesn't want to get involved, he's scared of the feelings he could develop for you, he wants you too much and if he was around you he could not resist, and you'd end up doing things he'd regret."
That's honest crap.
You like some one, you reach for them. You want to see them.
You don't? Not interested. Easy as that.
And then there are the things you do say.
Every once in a while, when I do talk to you.
The things I keep thinking about, and that I just cannot let go; against my own better judgement, because they give me 'hope' (although it's not hope, not really. More like doubt instead. Ok, hopeful doubt, if anything like that exists) that maybe, after all, you do care.
Things like
"I think about you more than it's healthy" (is it true, that children and drunken speak the truth?)
or
"You have no idea how much [talking to you] means to me".
And then you just disappear for days.
What. The. Fuck.
See, and it's not even about sex. It's not about "...what's going on between us?"
I've 'given up' on that already - if I ever had any expectations (not really).
I don't even have any doubts anymore (those I did have, for a long time); I don't ...'obligated' to you in any way -if I will get the chance to be [as in have sex] with someone else, I'll take it, no second thoughts- although of course I am still attracted to you (see, how foolish I am. For me nothing has changed. I will still feel a tingle and a wave of relief take me over if you text me or something; because of course I am still interested.). But, even as friends -why? What happened? What has changed?
Because, you see, I know it has to do with me. It has to.
Because you talk to your other friends (my friend) everyday. So it cannot be that you 'need time for yourself'. Or don't have time at all, or are not online; or I don't even know what other crappy excuse.
It's me you don't want to hear from, or talk to.
Why?
I think I deserve an explanation, of any kind.
Just tell me what's going on, at least I'll stop wondering.
I don't want anything from you, honest.
But, how how hazy and shady the relationship between us has been, I think I deserve at least this explanation. Because you refuse to give me any when I try asking, and I am tired of trying.
But I still care, damn me."
Saturday, August 17, 2013
Alone
It has always fascinated me, the distinction that English language gives between "alone" and "lonely".
Having Italian as my mother language, for example, I can tell you we don't have such distinction. The word you use is always the same "solo/a", and you have to add a verb - "sentire" - when you want to express loneliness: as in, "I am alone" vs. "I am feeling lonely".
Of course, one can feel lonely even in company, and being fine with being alone.
I usually am.
But there are other times, the loneliness gets to me so much it hurts.
This is one of those times.
These days, I feel like I am stuck in a limbo of sorts.
I am waiting to go back to work, for my classes at uni to start; and right now there's quite literally no one I know in town (ok, there's two people, but I chose not to count them for reasons).*
I am scared, and waiting and possibly slightly bored.
More than anything, I could do with a friend, and I really don't know where to turn- I feel like I have no one.
*one of them, I desperately wish he was here.
the other one, I don't really care much for.
Now, this is my blog and no one (no one that I know anyway) is probably going to read it anyway, so I might just as well be honest.
Of course is not true I have no one.
I still have friends (well, sort of) in Italy, and I have my parents, and my best friend... I guess if there was something really wrong I could go to them.
Thing is, there isn't. It is a sort of discomfort that I know exactly where is it coming from, and I know they can't do anything about it anyway.
Plus, I feelselfish arrogant bad (?), but ... [how can I put this?]
Sometimes, with all their love for you, you know that those people (I know mine, you know yours) just can't give you what you need. Maybe theydon't won't even understand you, understand what the problem even is.
So, to save the both of us from being miserable, and myself from feeling even more lonely, I'd rather just be on my own and fix this one myself.
There's nothing more despicable than turning to the people closest to you, and realizing that they just f*cking miss the point. It makes me feel completely ... I don't know, eradicated. Alien.
It's like... "You're the person that's supposed to know me better than anyone, that I can confess myself to completely; how can you get me this wrong? How can you not understand? Don't you know me at all?"
Anyway.
I am feeling lonesome.
It is the loneliness that comes from not having anyone around, and the bare need for support.
Unspoken, un-worded, pure presence: hug me and hold me tight, let me know that I am not alone, after all.
Phisical contact. The vicnity of another human being you can just ... be with. The closeness that comes with it, and the comfort. It is heartwarming and benefical.
I don't have that, and I crave for it.
[Since I am being honest, let's be it 100%- this feeling is, of course, enhanced by the fact that I have a very particular person in mind that I would like close to me right now, and he's not being collaborative; hence adding to my despair.]
This is what pets are for. They sense your discomfort, and they cuddle up to you.
Except my cat, he's (well, first of all, he's back in Italy, and) an ass; and whenever I feel cuddly and in need for affection, he has clearly decided that he has better business to attend and refuses to sit on my lap and being pettet.
And this is another point:
I could ask, I guess; but I don't want to.
Some things should not be asked! They should be just offered, easy as that!
In an ideal world, I would have someone close to me that would understand my mood, and would offer to watch movies and cuddle under a blanket together. Or just sit close to me while we mind our own business, but kiss me every once in a while.What the heck, even going out for coffee. A random phone call.
I could do all of this, I could ask for it.
But, first off- that's not the point: I want these things spontaneously offered, and it's not the same if you have to ask for it. As one of my friends would argue - "yeah, but if you ask, you get what you want". It's not the same! It's like... the difference from a surprise present and one picked from a whishlist. Yeah, the surprise may disappoint you (or, in my case, you may not get the attentions you need - as I don't), but the point is, if it doesnt't, you know how much the other person cares for you. I need to know that I am cared for. Easy as that.
Secondly... if you ask, and you are refused; it hurts so much worse. Because if you don't ask, you can at least keep thinking (or pretending) that "They didn't know", or "They didn't understand" (they, or he, or she).
But if you ask - if you put your heart right there out, and it's left there... it hurts like hell. It's feezing, out there.
That's why I won't ask.
That's why I won't turn to anyone and speak my distress.
That's why now I'll go and make myself a cup of tea, get under a blanked and watch The Lord Of The Rings all day long.
Because I can not stand to be rejected.
Because I know I can do it on my own.
To prove myself that I am good enough, and strong enough, and I will get through this, like times and times before, and times and times again like I know they will come in the future.
I am enough.
But sometimes is also okay to feel lonely, and want to cry; and you can do that.
And no one will be here to see me anyway.
Having Italian as my mother language, for example, I can tell you we don't have such distinction. The word you use is always the same "solo/a", and you have to add a verb - "sentire" - when you want to express loneliness: as in, "I am alone" vs. "I am feeling lonely".
Of course, one can feel lonely even in company, and being fine with being alone.
I usually am.
But there are other times, the loneliness gets to me so much it hurts.
This is one of those times.
These days, I feel like I am stuck in a limbo of sorts.
I am waiting to go back to work, for my classes at uni to start; and right now there's quite literally no one I know in town (ok, there's two people, but I chose not to count them for reasons).*
I am scared, and waiting and possibly slightly bored.
More than anything, I could do with a friend, and I really don't know where to turn- I feel like I have no one.
*one of them, I desperately wish he was here.
the other one, I don't really care much for.
Now, this is my blog and no one (no one that I know anyway) is probably going to read it anyway, so I might just as well be honest.
Of course is not true I have no one.
I still have friends (well, sort of) in Italy, and I have my parents, and my best friend... I guess if there was something really wrong I could go to them.
Thing is, there isn't. It is a sort of discomfort that I know exactly where is it coming from, and I know they can't do anything about it anyway.
Plus, I feel
Sometimes, with all their love for you, you know that those people (I know mine, you know yours) just can't give you what you need. Maybe they
So, to save the both of us from being miserable, and myself from feeling even more lonely, I'd rather just be on my own and fix this one myself.
There's nothing more despicable than turning to the people closest to you, and realizing that they just f*cking miss the point. It makes me feel completely ... I don't know, eradicated. Alien.
It's like... "You're the person that's supposed to know me better than anyone, that I can confess myself to completely; how can you get me this wrong? How can you not understand? Don't you know me at all?"
Anyway.
I am feeling lonesome.
It is the loneliness that comes from not having anyone around, and the bare need for support.
Unspoken, un-worded, pure presence: hug me and hold me tight, let me know that I am not alone, after all.
Phisical contact. The vicnity of another human being you can just ... be with. The closeness that comes with it, and the comfort. It is heartwarming and benefical.
I don't have that, and I crave for it.
[Since I am being honest, let's be it 100%- this feeling is, of course, enhanced by the fact that I have a very particular person in mind that I would like close to me right now, and he's not being collaborative; hence adding to my despair.]
This is what pets are for. They sense your discomfort, and they cuddle up to you.
Except my cat, he's (well, first of all, he's back in Italy, and) an ass; and whenever I feel cuddly and in need for affection, he has clearly decided that he has better business to attend and refuses to sit on my lap and being pettet.
And this is another point:
I could ask, I guess; but I don't want to.
Some things should not be asked! They should be just offered, easy as that!
In an ideal world, I would have someone close to me that would understand my mood, and would offer to watch movies and cuddle under a blanket together. Or just sit close to me while we mind our own business, but kiss me every once in a while.What the heck, even going out for coffee. A random phone call.
I could do all of this, I could ask for it.
But, first off- that's not the point: I want these things spontaneously offered, and it's not the same if you have to ask for it. As one of my friends would argue - "yeah, but if you ask, you get what you want". It's not the same! It's like... the difference from a surprise present and one picked from a whishlist. Yeah, the surprise may disappoint you (or, in my case, you may not get the attentions you need - as I don't), but the point is, if it doesnt't, you know how much the other person cares for you. I need to know that I am cared for. Easy as that.
Secondly... if you ask, and you are refused; it hurts so much worse. Because if you don't ask, you can at least keep thinking (or pretending) that "They didn't know", or "They didn't understand" (they, or he, or she).
But if you ask - if you put your heart right there out, and it's left there... it hurts like hell. It's feezing, out there.
That's why I won't ask.
That's why I won't turn to anyone and speak my distress.
That's why now I'll go and make myself a cup of tea, get under a blanked and watch The Lord Of The Rings all day long.
Because I can not stand to be rejected.
Because I know I can do it on my own.
To prove myself that I am good enough, and strong enough, and I will get through this, like times and times before, and times and times again like I know they will come in the future.
I am enough.
But sometimes is also okay to feel lonely, and want to cry; and you can do that.
And no one will be here to see me anyway.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Poker face
Or that is, the lack of one.
I really don't have a poker face, nor I am a player.
More, I have been recently told, I am terrible at playing the game, because you can read on my face everything that goes on inside my head.
Needless to say, it wasn't referred to the card game poker (although I am sure that the suggestion applies).
I can't play with feelings, I am not able to manipulate people.
You'd think this is good. Apparently, it is not.
Luckily and once again, I have to thank for being such good friends, that are less naive that I am, and can (and do) watch my back.
When I complain and I say that I'm too naive, and I blame myself for that they say "It's ok, it's not a bad thing".
Or is it?
Sure, I guess that not being a selfish, self-concerned, manipulative individual that plays with other people's feeling could be seen as a good thing.
Then why do I wish I was more like it?
When did having bad qualities became something valuable?
Sure, I am happy and proud to be an honest person. Deep down I don't really wish I was any different, but it would sure save me some troubles and heartaches.
I'll be honest and say I don't think it's any different anywhere. I don't really think that Sweden is so much worse than Italy is, or any other place, really. Just the general behaviour is different.
By this I mean that most people and what people do the most is casual sex and hook ups. Whereas the same I am sure it happens in Italy, it is much less so, at least in the small community where I come from; and this always to the extent of my knowledge anyway.
Again, I don't mean to say in the slightest that Swedish people are "manipulative players" and that doesn't happen in Italy. Quite the contrary, I am used to a society where you do get judged for having casual sex (let's be honest, it is like that), whilst here is quite common; really it's more unusual the contrary. And no one judges for that, which honestly I find quite refreshing.
So I am sure that you get players in Italy too, just you encounter them less because people don't sleep around that much. Probably this also means that the ones that lie, do that so much more and more often.
A friend of mine knows a guy that is commonly known - admittedly not by everyone - to have multiple girlfriends at the same time. He does it constantly. He seems like he cannot bear to have only one girl at the time, and he genuinely likes them both, and just can't choose.Poor guy, I really pity him.
So, I wonder:
If everyone sleeps around anyway, which need is there to lie?
If the gal is clearly into you (guilty as charged), why make up stuff?
See, I can be innocent as you like; but I'm not that stupid. You could have gotten the girl (that is, clearly, me), if you hadn't been that idiotic. Now I'm all suspicious and probably you won't get into my panties after all. Too bad for you. Because, see; I know I can't play, so I avoid it altogether. But you think you can- when you cannot. And you just burned your chances. Too bad.
I really don't have a poker face, nor I am a player.
More, I have been recently told, I am terrible at playing the game, because you can read on my face everything that goes on inside my head.
Needless to say, it wasn't referred to the card game poker (although I am sure that the suggestion applies).
I can't play with feelings, I am not able to manipulate people.
You'd think this is good. Apparently, it is not.
Luckily and once again, I have to thank for being such good friends, that are less naive that I am, and can (and do) watch my back.
When I complain and I say that I'm too naive, and I blame myself for that they say "It's ok, it's not a bad thing".
Or is it?
Sure, I guess that not being a selfish, self-concerned, manipulative individual that plays with other people's feeling could be seen as a good thing.
Then why do I wish I was more like it?
When did having bad qualities became something valuable?
Sure, I am happy and proud to be an honest person. Deep down I don't really wish I was any different, but it would sure save me some troubles and heartaches.
I'll be honest and say I don't think it's any different anywhere. I don't really think that Sweden is so much worse than Italy is, or any other place, really. Just the general behaviour is different.
By this I mean that most people and what people do the most is casual sex and hook ups. Whereas the same I am sure it happens in Italy, it is much less so, at least in the small community where I come from; and this always to the extent of my knowledge anyway.
Again, I don't mean to say in the slightest that Swedish people are "manipulative players" and that doesn't happen in Italy. Quite the contrary, I am used to a society where you do get judged for having casual sex (let's be honest, it is like that), whilst here is quite common; really it's more unusual the contrary. And no one judges for that, which honestly I find quite refreshing.
So I am sure that you get players in Italy too, just you encounter them less because people don't sleep around that much. Probably this also means that the ones that lie, do that so much more and more often.
A friend of mine knows a guy that is commonly known - admittedly not by everyone - to have multiple girlfriends at the same time. He does it constantly. He seems like he cannot bear to have only one girl at the time, and he genuinely likes them both, and just can't choose.Poor guy, I really pity him.
So, I wonder:
If everyone sleeps around anyway, which need is there to lie?
If the gal is clearly into you (guilty as charged), why make up stuff?
See, I can be innocent as you like; but I'm not that stupid. You could have gotten the girl (that is, clearly, me), if you hadn't been that idiotic. Now I'm all suspicious and probably you won't get into my panties after all. Too bad for you. Because, see; I know I can't play, so I avoid it altogether. But you think you can- when you cannot. And you just burned your chances. Too bad.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Perfect summer days
I know I've probably said it before, but -
you get the most perfect summer days in Sweden.
Possibly because they last so little, so every single one of them is dearly treasured (unlike in Italy, where I longed for the rain and breeze of the autumn; dreading the long, endless, summer months where you don't do anything but sweat and lay lifeless incapable even of sleep. Yeah, I don't like summer much.) but really, they are perfect.
First of all, the summer sky is the bluest thing you'll ever see. Seriously, I've never seen a sky so perfectly ... blue. The temperature is just perfect, the sun kisses your skin and the air caresses it, so you get sunburns without even noticing. And have I mentioned lilacs?
Lilacs are my favourite flower, I really, really love them. They're pretty as it get, they grow big and tall and they smell heavely. And the colours are beautiful. I used to have a lilac plant back in Italy, but it kept on dying despite my efforts. For some reason, I thought it was a warm(ish) climate plant; so you can imagine my surprise when I moved here and there were lilacs everywhere. (And I do mean it, they're literally everywhere, like they're endemic or something. Not that's a problem, it makes the spring even more amazing. I just love living in this place!)
So, the landscape is set: bluest than blue sky - check, flowers that smell like falling in love - check, sun shining - check, softest green grass - check; avaibility of free days and parks around the city every corner - also check.
I am also blessed with the best of friends, and I've been spending the last month in almost paradise- that is, every weekend, when I'm not working.
Take yesterday for example. It was amazing.
We met early afternoon, after a long enough night of sleep, head to the supermarket and buy the most random and lavish amount of food. You name it, we had it: french baguettes and brie cheese, blackberry cider, chocolate (milk, dark and white), donought, chips... anything, really.
Then we head to the park, sit on plastic bags (yeah, we forgot the blankets. As usual) and just proceed to lay in the sun, laughing, eating, drinking and occasionally playing cards.
We spent ... I don't know, possibly 4 hours like this.
(Yeah, this is another awesome thing about living in Sweden: endless summer days. I mean, they are endless, because the sun barely sets. You have to go northern of the Polar Cirle to get the midnight sun, and then it's just a couple of weeks between June and July; but even as south as Stockholm, the sun does go below the horizon, but you still have the light that lingers after the sunset... or before the dawn; and then it begins all over again. I cannot swear, because for some reason I keep missing the early hours around 2am, but there is still light around 1am, and there's already at 3am. So.
Yesterday I got home after the picnic at ... 9.30pm maybe, and it felt like 5pm instead. I told you, it's unbelieveable).
Also, I am finally doing all the things I've always only dreamt of doing.
I know it's maybe cliche, but... late nights at the beach, and barbecues, and walking barefoot, and just improvising and not planning and have lazy afternoons. The kind of days you see in movies, and I thought - "They're not real, who actually does that...?" (of course, I was only jealous).
Then I moved here, and I saw people actually doing that (even more jealous).
And now, I do too.
Of course, that is the whole point, really.
It's not what you do, it's how you do it. It's being that kind of person.
It means being outgoing and carefree and happy and having friends to do that kind of stuff with.
And I am closer to that now.
I am finally beginning to be who I always wanted to be; beginning to be the kind of person I've always really been on the inside. And now it's finally coming out, and I am still liked for that. I am liked for that version of me.
I am myself and I am happy. And it's all good.
you get the most perfect summer days in Sweden.
Possibly because they last so little, so every single one of them is dearly treasured (unlike in Italy, where I longed for the rain and breeze of the autumn; dreading the long, endless, summer months where you don't do anything but sweat and lay lifeless incapable even of sleep. Yeah, I don't like summer much.) but really, they are perfect.
First of all, the summer sky is the bluest thing you'll ever see. Seriously, I've never seen a sky so perfectly ... blue. The temperature is just perfect, the sun kisses your skin and the air caresses it, so you get sunburns without even noticing. And have I mentioned lilacs?
Lilacs are my favourite flower, I really, really love them. They're pretty as it get, they grow big and tall and they smell heavely. And the colours are beautiful. I used to have a lilac plant back in Italy, but it kept on dying despite my efforts. For some reason, I thought it was a warm(ish) climate plant; so you can imagine my surprise when I moved here and there were lilacs everywhere. (And I do mean it, they're literally everywhere, like they're endemic or something. Not that's a problem, it makes the spring even more amazing. I just love living in this place!)
So, the landscape is set: bluest than blue sky - check, flowers that smell like falling in love - check, sun shining - check, softest green grass - check; avaibility of free days and parks around the city every corner - also check.
I am also blessed with the best of friends, and I've been spending the last month in almost paradise- that is, every weekend, when I'm not working.
Take yesterday for example. It was amazing.
We met early afternoon, after a long enough night of sleep, head to the supermarket and buy the most random and lavish amount of food. You name it, we had it: french baguettes and brie cheese, blackberry cider, chocolate (milk, dark and white), donought, chips... anything, really.
Then we head to the park, sit on plastic bags (yeah, we forgot the blankets. As usual) and just proceed to lay in the sun, laughing, eating, drinking and occasionally playing cards.
We spent ... I don't know, possibly 4 hours like this.
(Yeah, this is another awesome thing about living in Sweden: endless summer days. I mean, they are endless, because the sun barely sets. You have to go northern of the Polar Cirle to get the midnight sun, and then it's just a couple of weeks between June and July; but even as south as Stockholm, the sun does go below the horizon, but you still have the light that lingers after the sunset... or before the dawn; and then it begins all over again. I cannot swear, because for some reason I keep missing the early hours around 2am, but there is still light around 1am, and there's already at 3am. So.
Yesterday I got home after the picnic at ... 9.30pm maybe, and it felt like 5pm instead. I told you, it's unbelieveable).
Also, I am finally doing all the things I've always only dreamt of doing.
I know it's maybe cliche, but... late nights at the beach, and barbecues, and walking barefoot, and just improvising and not planning and have lazy afternoons. The kind of days you see in movies, and I thought - "They're not real, who actually does that...?" (of course, I was only jealous).
Then I moved here, and I saw people actually doing that (even more jealous).
And now, I do too.
Of course, that is the whole point, really.
It's not what you do, it's how you do it. It's being that kind of person.
It means being outgoing and carefree and happy and having friends to do that kind of stuff with.
And I am closer to that now.
I am finally beginning to be who I always wanted to be; beginning to be the kind of person I've always really been on the inside. And now it's finally coming out, and I am still liked for that. I am liked for that version of me.
I am myself and I am happy. And it's all good.
Monday, June 3, 2013
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Regrets will kill you
The worst thing is, I really don't regret anything.
If that was the case, I least I'd have someone (myself) to blame for what happened (or not).
But I don't.
Looking back, I really couldn't do any different. I am ... if not proud, at least okay with the decisions I took.
But then... I have this itching, really, that's driving me insane.
Because I keep looking for him everywhere. Anywhere. Just based on the fact that he lives here too (if he hasn't left yet. That's also a possibility, and a sort of mantra that I keep repeating to myself, to remember that meeting him is not a possibility), although I know that the chances of actually meeting are less than scarce.
But, oh!, how I wish there was some way - any way - to get to him. And I don't know how.
Or even why I want to meet, really.
I mean. I know why I want to meet him. But then I didn't left him my number last month because I wasn't sure about him, and I didn't want to be a tease.
Why am I now so driven? What happened?
And if I meet him and then change my mind?
Oh, I don't know. I am really really confused.
I am okay and happy with meeting other guys, and I having a good time; and I do that. But then, I always kinda ... compare all of them to him. And thinking (ok, now always; but given the guys I meet, most of the time!) that it was him that I was talking to instead. Because of his damn accent that drives me crazy, because I want to know more, because... I want to kiss him so badly.
If that was the case, I least I'd have someone (myself) to blame for what happened (or not).
But I don't.
Looking back, I really couldn't do any different. I am ... if not proud, at least okay with the decisions I took.
But then... I have this itching, really, that's driving me insane.
Because I keep looking for him everywhere. Anywhere. Just based on the fact that he lives here too (if he hasn't left yet. That's also a possibility, and a sort of mantra that I keep repeating to myself, to remember that meeting him is not a possibility), although I know that the chances of actually meeting are less than scarce.
But, oh!, how I wish there was some way - any way - to get to him. And I don't know how.
Or even why I want to meet, really.
I mean. I know why I want to meet him. But then I didn't left him my number last month because I wasn't sure about him, and I didn't want to be a tease.
Why am I now so driven? What happened?
And if I meet him and then change my mind?
Oh, I don't know. I am really really confused.
I am okay and happy with meeting other guys, and I having a good time; and I do that. But then, I always kinda ... compare all of them to him. And thinking (ok, now always; but given the guys I meet, most of the time!) that it was him that I was talking to instead. Because of his damn accent that drives me crazy, because I want to know more, because... I want to kiss him so badly.
Monday, May 27, 2013
This is the story of my first kiss
"At the moment, it seemed like a good idea".
This is a sentence that comes up often when I have to tell what happened, or why did I behave a certain way about it. At the moment, back then, it seemed like the only thing to do, or the best behaviour to keep.
It was about a month ago, at a party... I hadn't exactly crashed it, I had been officially invited. Only, to actually explain how I ended up at that disco pub, it's a really long story.
I wasn't even drunk (which may actually come as a surprise, given my latest tendencies when it comes to drinking alcohol. Although, I'd like to stress, I never seem to manage to actually get drunk. I only drink a lot, become quite giddy for 30 to 40 minutes, and need to pee constantly. That's cider for you.)
So, I was not drunk, somehow on a party and (this is even more improbable, I reckon) on the dance floor.
And there he was.
When he asked me [yes, he actually asked for permission! And say all you want, I think it was cute. Also, he may have gotten kicked in the nuts otherwise, I am extremely jumpy. And especially clueless when it come to romantic moves. I had no idea.] "Can I kiss you?" I said (nodded? Did I even answer?) "Yes."
Again, at the moment it seemed like a good idea (Not that I regret it now, or ever).
And the rest of the night is gone in a sort of haze, and I don't remember anything.
Ok, ok. "The rest of the night" is probably around 2 hours, because they shut the place around 5- but still. I know we spent a good part (if not all) of those two hours happily making out. But that's pretty much it.
And then, since I am really awkward, we had to leave and I didn't know how.
He had made very clear he wished to leave together, my place or his place it didn't matter. I made just as clear it wasn't going to happen. But it would have been awkward if we were to go away from there at the same time but not together; right?! So I signalled my friend "We have to go - now!" - and we left.
And here's the awkward(-est) part.
Again, I don't remember much but I'm pretty sure it went something like this...
(I had been trying to leave for a bit, but every time I mentioned going he kissed me again and... well, I got distracted. Eventually, I managed - but it's not like we actually talked, and I really didn't know what to say...! And I guess I hate confrontations and I have terrible social skills. But still, I feel pangs of guilt at the thought.)
"Well, thanks for tonight, it was very nice."
And I walk away.
I am a terrible terrible person!
At the moment it seemed like a good idea. The only possible move, really.
What do you say to someone with whom you've basically eaten each other's faces' off for the last hour and a half, and had a probably 2min long conversation?
"Thanks" is just polite, really. And it had been (very) nice.
"Do you want to do this again sometimes soon?" - I couldn't possibly say that.
Besides, I wasn't sure I wanted to sleep with him - certainly not that night, but maybe not ever.
What if I gave him my number? Then I'd be just a booty call.
What if we'd go out together? What if I didn't like him? That would be awkward.
What if I decided that no, I didn't want to have sex with him after all?
I didn't (don't) want to be a tease.
It's better left it like that.
(Then I spent something like 10 minutes looking for the friend that invited me to said party to say "hi", and I swear I couldn't find her anywhere; just when all I wanted was just to disappear, and feeling his eyes on my back all the time. Great.)
I don't even regret acting that way.
Yes, I wish I actually had some way to get in touch, but I still see why I acted that way. It made sense, it makes sense even now.
But, oh! I'm obsessing about it now.
Not about what happened - no (although, I think about it both often and fondly). About what didn't happen. I keep thinking about how it would be to have sex with him. And knowing that he's here, somewhere in this city; so there's the technical possibility of running into him... it's driving me nuts.
Because, you see, the possibility of course exists, but it's so remote it doesn't even makes sense mentioning. Stockholm is mcuh smaller than London or New York or New Delhi or even Rome; but it's still a capital. Yes, I know which metro line he lives on, but does he uses it? When? Going to o coming from where? The chances of meeting are minimal.
And then, even if we met...?
Would he recognize me? Still care? What does he even think of me (after leaving like that)?
Two (stupid ass) movie titles keep chasing each other in my head-
Serendipity
and
He's just not that into you.
He didn't ask for my number (I know why I didn't ask for his. But why didn't he ask for mine?), so maybe he doesn't care - maybe he even forgot at all about me.
But then I have my friends, to whom I turn for advice, that tell me either "just forget about him already", or "It's impossible that he has forgot about you, you don't make out with someone for over an hour without breaks and the forget about it. Besides, he had a stupid ass smile on his face when you left, he was clearly happy. Maybe too stuck to actually being able to ask you anything."
Which is not really helpful.
At the same time, if it's "destiny" that we meet, it will happen. You can't force fate and blah blah blah. But it doesn't help that I have to use that same goddamn metro line to go to work every day! (Of course, at times when normal people are already at work for hours, just so the chances of actually meeting are even scarcer. I know, just my luck).
Recipe for disaster. Or, at least, sleepless night - spent remembering the feeling of his hands on my body, and imagining him beside me, solid and warm; so I could just reach out and...
(I know what's the problem, I'm way too horny. But then again, what's the solution to that...? Exactly, it's a vicious circle.)
This is a sentence that comes up often when I have to tell what happened, or why did I behave a certain way about it. At the moment, back then, it seemed like the only thing to do, or the best behaviour to keep.
It was about a month ago, at a party... I hadn't exactly crashed it, I had been officially invited. Only, to actually explain how I ended up at that disco pub, it's a really long story.
I wasn't even drunk (which may actually come as a surprise, given my latest tendencies when it comes to drinking alcohol. Although, I'd like to stress, I never seem to manage to actually get drunk. I only drink a lot, become quite giddy for 30 to 40 minutes, and need to pee constantly. That's cider for you.)
So, I was not drunk, somehow on a party and (this is even more improbable, I reckon) on the dance floor.
And there he was.
When he asked me [yes, he actually asked for permission! And say all you want, I think it was cute. Also, he may have gotten kicked in the nuts otherwise, I am extremely jumpy. And especially clueless when it come to romantic moves. I had no idea.] "Can I kiss you?" I said (nodded? Did I even answer?) "Yes."
Again, at the moment it seemed like a good idea (Not that I regret it now, or ever).
And the rest of the night is gone in a sort of haze, and I don't remember anything.
Ok, ok. "The rest of the night" is probably around 2 hours, because they shut the place around 5- but still. I know we spent a good part (if not all) of those two hours happily making out. But that's pretty much it.
And then, since I am really awkward, we had to leave and I didn't know how.
He had made very clear he wished to leave together, my place or his place it didn't matter. I made just as clear it wasn't going to happen. But it would have been awkward if we were to go away from there at the same time but not together; right?! So I signalled my friend "We have to go - now!" - and we left.
And here's the awkward(-est) part.
Again, I don't remember much but I'm pretty sure it went something like this...
(I had been trying to leave for a bit, but every time I mentioned going he kissed me again and... well, I got distracted. Eventually, I managed - but it's not like we actually talked, and I really didn't know what to say...! And I guess I hate confrontations and I have terrible social skills. But still, I feel pangs of guilt at the thought.)
"Well, thanks for tonight, it was very nice."
And I walk away.
I am a terrible terrible person!
At the moment it seemed like a good idea. The only possible move, really.
What do you say to someone with whom you've basically eaten each other's faces' off for the last hour and a half, and had a probably 2min long conversation?
"Thanks" is just polite, really. And it had been (very) nice.
"Do you want to do this again sometimes soon?" - I couldn't possibly say that.
Besides, I wasn't sure I wanted to sleep with him - certainly not that night, but maybe not ever.
What if I gave him my number? Then I'd be just a booty call.
What if we'd go out together? What if I didn't like him? That would be awkward.
What if I decided that no, I didn't want to have sex with him after all?
I didn't (don't) want to be a tease.
It's better left it like that.
(Then I spent something like 10 minutes looking for the friend that invited me to said party to say "hi", and I swear I couldn't find her anywhere; just when all I wanted was just to disappear, and feeling his eyes on my back all the time. Great.)
I don't even regret acting that way.
Yes, I wish I actually had some way to get in touch, but I still see why I acted that way. It made sense, it makes sense even now.
But, oh! I'm obsessing about it now.
Not about what happened - no (although, I think about it both often and fondly). About what didn't happen. I keep thinking about how it would be to have sex with him. And knowing that he's here, somewhere in this city; so there's the technical possibility of running into him... it's driving me nuts.
Because, you see, the possibility of course exists, but it's so remote it doesn't even makes sense mentioning. Stockholm is mcuh smaller than London or New York or New Delhi or even Rome; but it's still a capital. Yes, I know which metro line he lives on, but does he uses it? When? Going to o coming from where? The chances of meeting are minimal.
And then, even if we met...?
Would he recognize me? Still care? What does he even think of me (after leaving like that)?
Two (stupid ass) movie titles keep chasing each other in my head-
Serendipity
and
He's just not that into you.
He didn't ask for my number (I know why I didn't ask for his. But why didn't he ask for mine?), so maybe he doesn't care - maybe he even forgot at all about me.
But then I have my friends, to whom I turn for advice, that tell me either "just forget about him already", or "It's impossible that he has forgot about you, you don't make out with someone for over an hour without breaks and the forget about it. Besides, he had a stupid ass smile on his face when you left, he was clearly happy. Maybe too stuck to actually being able to ask you anything."
Which is not really helpful.
At the same time, if it's "destiny" that we meet, it will happen. You can't force fate and blah blah blah. But it doesn't help that I have to use that same goddamn metro line to go to work every day! (Of course, at times when normal people are already at work for hours, just so the chances of actually meeting are even scarcer. I know, just my luck).
Recipe for disaster. Or, at least, sleepless night - spent remembering the feeling of his hands on my body, and imagining him beside me, solid and warm; so I could just reach out and...
(I know what's the problem, I'm way too horny. But then again, what's the solution to that...? Exactly, it's a vicious circle.)
Saturday, May 25, 2013
On body image
When I am home alone, I like to walk around naked.
It's not like I actually do it on purpose - "Oops, everyone's out! Let's take off all my clothes!" - it just sort of... happens. Like I am getting dressed or undressed, and I just ...stay naked for a while in between. Unless it's summer, and it's really really hot, and then it's on purpose, because I can't stand the feeling of anything but my panties on (and even that, only because I don't really want to sit anywhere without panties on).
I used to do it in Italy too, but there I had very noisy neighbours (not that I care much about it anyway); and it was actually quite difficult ever to be alone. Whereas now, living in a quite tall building, and with basically nothing but woods around (that I can see from my windows at least); I do it quite often.
And I just installed a mirror in my corridor, just outside my bathroom.
This is to say, I walk in front of it pretty much all the time- dressed, naked, and in between.
At first, I was quite concerned, I really didn't want a mirror there at all - the initial idea was to put it on the opposite wall, exactly because so I wouldn't have had to see myself all the time - but it wasn't possible; so there it is.
I previously had a very ... difficult experience with a mirror like that before. I was living in Ireland at the time, and in my student apartment there was a sadistic mirror right beside my desk. That is, I would be sitting there, studying (or more like it, browsing the internet), and I couldn't help but glance myself in the mirror - I mean, it was right there, even if I didn't want to, it was just inside my rear view. I couldn't unsee it. Of course I tried and, as everybody knows, the more you try to ignore something, the more impossible it becomes to do so. Every. Single. Day.
Also as possibly everyone knows, sitting down is not exactly the most flattering pose to look at yourself; especially if you're bent down on the books. You're tummy is (quite naturally, actually) rolling, and your bum looks larger. A nightmare, that is.
I hated it. And myself.
(Yeah, it was a dark time, that one).
Now it's much better, but that's not really what I wanted to say... well, that too; but not primarily.
What I actually wanted to say is:
...do people actually look at themselves in mirrors? Like, the whole of them? Undressed? Look at their bodies?
Sometimes for me is difficult to understand what people do, sometimes you just take something for granted because that's what you do, and then you go like "...wait, are you telling me that you don't do that?!" - not because it's wrong, you just ...take it a bit for granted, I guess; we all expect everyone to do what we do. Don't we? (I don't think well of myself; I don't see myself as pretty; I'm not a nice person, I'm not sociable or I feel awkward or whatever it is... and we assume that everyone thinks the same of us. Naa-aah. Not true.)
I remember I was watching a tv-program... you know, it was just a silly thing, but I liked it. It was one of those program where they get these stilish personal shoppers persons and they get random people from the streets that clearly have no sense of style, and they give them a makeover. (I know, I know; my taste in tv programs is terrible. What can I say, I don't watch much tv). And this one here, I remember they also give them a psychological sort of makeover, telling them things like ... "you have to learn to love yourself" or "beauty comes in every size" or "you have a beautiful body, just like it is" (yeah, that's the reason why I watched them in first place. I get positive feedback from wherever I can get it).
And I remember this one time, they were encouraging thig woman to look herself in the mirror. Actually look at herself. Because she'd never done it before.
I couldn't believe it! Is there someone that never took a proper look at themselves?
I guess there is, because lots of people apparently never took a look inside themselves either (yeah, that came as a surprise too) (I am talking psychologically and spiritually of course. Not surgery-like. Just though I'd specify).
I'll admit, I am not the best at self-loving, I really need some improvements on the matter but. At least I know how I am. It's not ... obsessively concentrating on my defects either. It's just part of... knowing yourself I guess.
It's hard to think that people can be so... undetached? I don't even know the words to say it.
Anyway, I walk up and down my mirror everyday and, for the first time in a ... long, long time (first time ever?) I like what I see.
I don't think I've improved much either, I just... improved my acceptance.
It's damn hard to love yourself and like yourself when all you get is negative feedback.
And, yeah, that's all I ever got. Or at least that was the feeling.
Now, I don't want to hear the usual bullshit about how "that's just not possible!" and "but you're an amazing person!". Please.
First of all, how I am inside is not the point here. Second of all, of course it had happened that... say, someone honked at me, of wolf whisked at me down the street (yeah, growing up in Italy is fun). Once, I was at the disco (Me! I never go dancing.) and a guy approached me:
"Hello boobs."
Charming, wasn't he?! Now I'm not even a body - a piece of meat - anymore. I am just a part of that body, like can be a picture on a porn magazine. That was so degrading. (See, there's a reason why I never go dancing).
Again, I know Sweden (Stockholm) is not paradise on earth. But add this to the list of reasons why my life here is so much better:
I feel better about myself, I love myself.
I know how it's like, you have to like yourself for others to like you, and it's what's inside that matters and blah blah blah.
First of all, I like the inside-me a lot, thank you very much.
And I know that probably part of this new self love is due to the fact that here I just feel so much more at ease and comfortable - with myself and others and hence, with my body too.
But. It's also true the other way round.
I feel more appreciated here, so I feel also more at ease inside of this body of mine, and therefore I behave more comfortably... it's a virtuous circle (sometimes, they also happen!)
It could be that here I am less exposed to the media-bombing about the ideal female body image (although I didn't watch much tv in Italy either, and I possibly spend even more time on the internet here lol) but I think that the most of it comes from different sources.
For one, I find clothes my size here. [ok, let's make this explicit - I am a curvy (being nice) lady. Loooots of curves] I can't find a bra that fit me to pay for it (of course you pay for your shopping, it's a figure of speech). Most times, a size L just don't cover enough of me - will be tight on the chest (guess why...?) and possibly shoulders, the sleeves way too short. Don't even get me started on the jeans.
Now, finally, I find clothes that fit me. It's like, here, a woman my size is actually considered. I would go as far as to say, they have clothes for real women.
Here's how it works:
In Italy, you're supposed to be a certain size. So, they make clothes up to that size and no more. You don't fit? Well, clearly you're the problem, and you're supposed to ... shrink and lose weight until you do. Same goes for the expectation that people have. Everyone judges you - males, females, friends, family; ugly, handsome, in betweens... everyone. What the heck, you also judge others! And you're supposed to fit into that image. You don't? Well, you're just not attractive, or plain wrong.
Now, I'm not just curvy. I am tall too (not freaklish tall, here I'm practically short, 170cm). My legs are long, my shoulders quite broad and my hips... don't even get me started. Let's say I am a good breeder, was I born in the medieval time I probably would have been perfect.
I just don't fit!
Here, you see woman of all sizes. And - surprise surprise - it's okay. They actually like you.
The first times, it came as a complete shock: "no no no no, you can't be looking at me! You can't be seriously be hitting on me. She's much prettier than I am! The room is full with prettier girls that me. They're all blonder, and taller, and thinner." (yeah, I know. Told you I don't fit)
Nope, that actually happens.
Again, this is not utopia: for once, everyone's obsessed with sports and active life, but more for the sake of it than to actually lose weight or look better. And you'll always get the person that discriminates, or is obsessed with image, or that plainly doesn't find you attractive. But - and that's the thing - not only those.
And, believe me, I am completely and absolutely clueless when it comes to flirting. You basically need to give me light signals like the ones they use to aid pilots land planes, before I understand your moves. I am that bad. So they have to be quite obvious to get through. I imagine there's a whole bunch I actually missed.
Also, I can go out dressed however I like.
That is, also, a first.
See, here people are actually respectful (read: clueless, when it's me trying to get messages through. I told you I fit perfectly). So, all those bunch of fun tops and dresses that were just lying in my closet, that I never dared wear before (something that's meant as "flirtly revealing" can sometimes become "borderline porn" when I put it on. What can I say, not my fault) are becoming my battle horse outfits.
I got random drink offers, quite some stares (one epic night, I was bored and I counted them. Fifteen different people! Ok, it was a pub and the women percentage was possibly below 1%) but not one "hello boobs"!
To sum it up:
I am finally starting to love my body. Here's ok to be shapely, and you're not judged (fail!) for it, but actually appreciated. This makes you feel more comfortable inside your own skin, and that also makes you more at ease when dealing with others. That makes you more comfortable with yourself and the virtuous circle begins.
To hell with "it's cold in Scandinavia", I dress less here than I ever did in the Mediterranean!
It's not like I actually do it on purpose - "Oops, everyone's out! Let's take off all my clothes!" - it just sort of... happens. Like I am getting dressed or undressed, and I just ...stay naked for a while in between. Unless it's summer, and it's really really hot, and then it's on purpose, because I can't stand the feeling of anything but my panties on (and even that, only because I don't really want to sit anywhere without panties on).
I used to do it in Italy too, but there I had very noisy neighbours (not that I care much about it anyway); and it was actually quite difficult ever to be alone. Whereas now, living in a quite tall building, and with basically nothing but woods around (that I can see from my windows at least); I do it quite often.
And I just installed a mirror in my corridor, just outside my bathroom.
This is to say, I walk in front of it pretty much all the time- dressed, naked, and in between.
At first, I was quite concerned, I really didn't want a mirror there at all - the initial idea was to put it on the opposite wall, exactly because so I wouldn't have had to see myself all the time - but it wasn't possible; so there it is.
I previously had a very ... difficult experience with a mirror like that before. I was living in Ireland at the time, and in my student apartment there was a sadistic mirror right beside my desk. That is, I would be sitting there, studying (or more like it, browsing the internet), and I couldn't help but glance myself in the mirror - I mean, it was right there, even if I didn't want to, it was just inside my rear view. I couldn't unsee it. Of course I tried and, as everybody knows, the more you try to ignore something, the more impossible it becomes to do so. Every. Single. Day.
Also as possibly everyone knows, sitting down is not exactly the most flattering pose to look at yourself; especially if you're bent down on the books. You're tummy is (quite naturally, actually) rolling, and your bum looks larger. A nightmare, that is.
I hated it. And myself.
(Yeah, it was a dark time, that one).
Now it's much better, but that's not really what I wanted to say... well, that too; but not primarily.
What I actually wanted to say is:
...do people actually look at themselves in mirrors? Like, the whole of them? Undressed? Look at their bodies?
Sometimes for me is difficult to understand what people do, sometimes you just take something for granted because that's what you do, and then you go like "...wait, are you telling me that you don't do that?!" - not because it's wrong, you just ...take it a bit for granted, I guess; we all expect everyone to do what we do. Don't we? (I don't think well of myself; I don't see myself as pretty; I'm not a nice person, I'm not sociable or I feel awkward or whatever it is... and we assume that everyone thinks the same of us. Naa-aah. Not true.)
I remember I was watching a tv-program... you know, it was just a silly thing, but I liked it. It was one of those program where they get these stilish personal shoppers persons and they get random people from the streets that clearly have no sense of style, and they give them a makeover. (I know, I know; my taste in tv programs is terrible. What can I say, I don't watch much tv). And this one here, I remember they also give them a psychological sort of makeover, telling them things like ... "you have to learn to love yourself" or "beauty comes in every size" or "you have a beautiful body, just like it is" (yeah, that's the reason why I watched them in first place. I get positive feedback from wherever I can get it).
And I remember this one time, they were encouraging thig woman to look herself in the mirror. Actually look at herself. Because she'd never done it before.
I couldn't believe it! Is there someone that never took a proper look at themselves?
I guess there is, because lots of people apparently never took a look inside themselves either (yeah, that came as a surprise too) (I am talking psychologically and spiritually of course. Not surgery-like. Just though I'd specify).
I'll admit, I am not the best at self-loving, I really need some improvements on the matter but. At least I know how I am. It's not ... obsessively concentrating on my defects either. It's just part of... knowing yourself I guess.
It's hard to think that people can be so... undetached? I don't even know the words to say it.
Anyway, I walk up and down my mirror everyday and, for the first time in a ... long, long time (first time ever?) I like what I see.
I don't think I've improved much either, I just... improved my acceptance.
It's damn hard to love yourself and like yourself when all you get is negative feedback.
And, yeah, that's all I ever got. Or at least that was the feeling.
Now, I don't want to hear the usual bullshit about how "that's just not possible!" and "but you're an amazing person!". Please.
First of all, how I am inside is not the point here. Second of all, of course it had happened that... say, someone honked at me, of wolf whisked at me down the street (yeah, growing up in Italy is fun). Once, I was at the disco (Me! I never go dancing.) and a guy approached me:
"Hello boobs."
Charming, wasn't he?! Now I'm not even a body - a piece of meat - anymore. I am just a part of that body, like can be a picture on a porn magazine. That was so degrading. (See, there's a reason why I never go dancing).
Again, I know Sweden (Stockholm) is not paradise on earth. But add this to the list of reasons why my life here is so much better:
I feel better about myself, I love myself.
I know how it's like, you have to like yourself for others to like you, and it's what's inside that matters and blah blah blah.
First of all, I like the inside-me a lot, thank you very much.
And I know that probably part of this new self love is due to the fact that here I just feel so much more at ease and comfortable - with myself and others and hence, with my body too.
But. It's also true the other way round.
I feel more appreciated here, so I feel also more at ease inside of this body of mine, and therefore I behave more comfortably... it's a virtuous circle (sometimes, they also happen!)
It could be that here I am less exposed to the media-bombing about the ideal female body image (although I didn't watch much tv in Italy either, and I possibly spend even more time on the internet here lol) but I think that the most of it comes from different sources.
For one, I find clothes my size here. [ok, let's make this explicit - I am a curvy (being nice) lady. Loooots of curves] I can't find a bra that fit me to pay for it (of course you pay for your shopping, it's a figure of speech). Most times, a size L just don't cover enough of me - will be tight on the chest (guess why...?) and possibly shoulders, the sleeves way too short. Don't even get me started on the jeans.
Now, finally, I find clothes that fit me. It's like, here, a woman my size is actually considered. I would go as far as to say, they have clothes for real women.
Here's how it works:
In Italy, you're supposed to be a certain size. So, they make clothes up to that size and no more. You don't fit? Well, clearly you're the problem, and you're supposed to ... shrink and lose weight until you do. Same goes for the expectation that people have. Everyone judges you - males, females, friends, family; ugly, handsome, in betweens... everyone. What the heck, you also judge others! And you're supposed to fit into that image. You don't? Well, you're just not attractive, or plain wrong.
Now, I'm not just curvy. I am tall too (not freaklish tall, here I'm practically short, 170cm). My legs are long, my shoulders quite broad and my hips... don't even get me started. Let's say I am a good breeder, was I born in the medieval time I probably would have been perfect.
I just don't fit!
Here, you see woman of all sizes. And - surprise surprise - it's okay. They actually like you.
The first times, it came as a complete shock: "no no no no, you can't be looking at me! You can't be seriously be hitting on me. She's much prettier than I am! The room is full with prettier girls that me. They're all blonder, and taller, and thinner." (yeah, I know. Told you I don't fit)
Nope, that actually happens.
Again, this is not utopia: for once, everyone's obsessed with sports and active life, but more for the sake of it than to actually lose weight or look better. And you'll always get the person that discriminates, or is obsessed with image, or that plainly doesn't find you attractive. But - and that's the thing - not only those.
And, believe me, I am completely and absolutely clueless when it comes to flirting. You basically need to give me light signals like the ones they use to aid pilots land planes, before I understand your moves. I am that bad. So they have to be quite obvious to get through. I imagine there's a whole bunch I actually missed.
Also, I can go out dressed however I like.
That is, also, a first.
See, here people are actually respectful (read: clueless, when it's me trying to get messages through. I told you I fit perfectly). So, all those bunch of fun tops and dresses that were just lying in my closet, that I never dared wear before (something that's meant as "flirtly revealing" can sometimes become "borderline porn" when I put it on. What can I say, not my fault) are becoming my battle horse outfits.
I got random drink offers, quite some stares (one epic night, I was bored and I counted them. Fifteen different people! Ok, it was a pub and the women percentage was possibly below 1%) but not one "hello boobs"!
To sum it up:
I am finally starting to love my body. Here's ok to be shapely, and you're not judged (fail!) for it, but actually appreciated. This makes you feel more comfortable inside your own skin, and that also makes you more at ease when dealing with others. That makes you more comfortable with yourself and the virtuous circle begins.
To hell with "it's cold in Scandinavia", I dress less here than I ever did in the Mediterranean!
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