It Will Be Effortless and Beautiful

Once upon a time, more like five months to be exact, I fell for an undercover fuck boy. What’s an undercover fuck boy, you may ask? Well, according to Urban Dictionary, it’s a guy who is a piece of shit but puts on an act of being a decent person to get into your pants. It’s a pretty accurate definition, and I honestly couldn’t have said it any better myself. So mad props to Urban Dictionary.

We had actually worked together for a few months during an annual event at a famous theme park. We didn’t interact much until the last couple of weeks, and even then I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until a week or two later that I found out he had a crush on me from a friend who had also worked with us. Later that night, after many flirtatious comments on one of my photos that I had posted on Facebook, we started messaging each other which led to us exchanging numbers. I had my friend message him to make sure his intentions were pure, and after reading their messages, I made the decision to give this guy a shot.

After a week of constant texting, I invited him to come over to my apartment and he ended up staying the night. I don’t remember much of that night because I was drunk off my ass, but I do remember feeling this happiness that I hadn’t felt in a very long time. He spent most of the next day with me and my roommates as we watched stupidly funny videos and tried to recollect what happened the night before.

Even though we had started seeing each other for only two weeks, it felt so much longer than that. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something was different about him. I was able to give myself to him both physically and emotionally.

It wasn’t long after he had first spent the night that I decided to give up my virginity. I had waited twenty-one years to find someone who I could share myself with, and I thought I found him. I didn’t have high expectations especially since it was my first time, but damn was it disappointing. Do I regret giving it up to him? No. What I do regret is not giving it up to someone who had a much bigger package if you get what I’m saying.

You know the saying “all good things must come to an end”? Well here it is. The part where he completely screwed me over like the dumbass he was and still is. I mean who would want to ghost such an amazingly funny and decent looking human being such as me? A dumbass, that’s who! I can still remember the last morning we spent together before he decided to walk out and disappear on me for two months. I remember calling out of work to spend the day with him in hopes of seeing Moana. Spoiler alert: IT DIDN’T HAPPEN. We ended up watching an episode of The Walking Dead in silence, something that I found very odd. No kisses, no light conversation, nothing. He couldn’t even look me in the eyes. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t want to ask questions.

I could have gone to work that day, but I chose him instead. It was a decision that had ultimately led me to my first real adult heartbreak.

The one thing that sticks out to me the most whenever I think about this specific day is what he said to me before walking out the door. “It’s not you. Don’t ever think it’s you.” If it wasn’t me, then what the hell was the problem? I expected him to text me later on that day, but he never did. Nor did he text me the next day or the day after that. It was driving me crazy not knowing what was going on, so I tried contacting him myself. A few minutes turned into a few hours which turned into a few days of not hearing back from him. And yet he would post on his social media. I knew I needed to move on, but I didn’t realize how hard it was going to be.

I started drinking excessively. I relied on alcohol to help me feel better, or better yet, numbing any feeling I had. I couldn’t sleep in my own bed without being reminded of him, so I would either sleep on the floor or the couch. It took me almost a month for me to even lay in my bed, and when I had, I wouldn’t go near the side he would sleep on.

The fucked up part about all of this is that I somehow convinced myself that it was my fault that he left. I hated myself for not being enough for him. I saw myself as someone who was worthless and incapable of being loved by anyone. If he didn’t want to be with me, then why would anybody else want to? In two short months, I had hit rockbottom.

As I was slowly making progress and moving on from this piece of shit, he suddenly decided that it was time to pop back into my life by sending me a snapchat. After having a panic attack for almost ten minutes, I opened it up. I had two options. I could either ignore it or reply back. I’m sure you can guess which one I chose to do.

We held a conversation for about ten minutes before one of us decided to end it. I wanted to think that there was hope for us, but I also didn’t want to backtrack and erase all of the progress that I had made. A week later, I found myself at a bar downtown where I was too drunk to function. Big surprise there. The only part I can vaguely remember is me sending a snapchat of CeeLo Green’s “Fuck You” to him because I thought it was absolutely hysterical. He replied the next morning, something I didn’t expect. The thing that shocked me the most about this is the conversation that we had. He apologized. No, you didn’t read it wrong. It took me a minute to process the fact that he knew how to make use of the word, let alone have it in his vocabulary.

Not long after that we started hanging out again. I knew trust was going to be a big issue. I expressed it to him several occasions and each time he would tell me the same thing; “We would work on it together.” Things were going smoothly. We actually planned on hanging outside of my apartment and going on dates. Did any of it actually happen? No. He actually stood me up twice. TWICE. The first time it happened, he didn’t even bother to text me until after I posted something about it on snapchat. Then it happened again, so I blasted him on social media. “I guess I deserved it” was his response. Of course he deserved it. He also deserved a nice kick in the face, but I didn’t want to make the gap in his teeth any bigger than it is. Slowly our texts died down to snapchat messaging and then to nothing.

I used to believe that the reason why he came back into my life was to give us another try, but now I realize that it was to get closure that I had desperately wanted and needed a few months back. I don’t need a man to make me happy, especially one with an awful haircut, a large gap that I can fit my whole fist through, and a micropenis. I deserve someone who is going to make me as happy as I make them. I won’t have to try to make it work. It will just happen and it’ll be effortless and beautiful.