Rant – Being Used; It’s Not About You

First off, I’d like to apologize for this post. It will sound like a teenage angst-ridden memoir: whiny, angry and unabashedly self-centered. Blame shall be placed where it may or may not be deserved; but in the end, this is simply a method for me to release this pent up annoyance that has clouded my thoughts the past few months. Simultaneously, I hope to point out a few traits, subtleties and interactions that may also be bothersome not only to myself but many in my type of position. I can say the latter with confidence as I’ve heard of other individuals who’ve been in  something of the same situation.

First and foremost, I am not a “traditional” Caucasian-American-looking girl. I do not have luscious – perhaps long, but not necessarily – blonde (or lighter colored) hair, nor do I own a pair of non-brown eyes. I do not possess breasts of covetable proportions, nor do I have the delineated proportions of a runway model. I also do not dress in matching outfits: the perfect cardigan, the perfect set of layered tops paired with dark colored jeans, a pair of adorable peek-toe shoes, coupled with face-matching sunglasses and a big purse to boot.

On that note, I’m not even a “traditional” Asian-American. I do not have long straightened raven hair, set perfectly in every way. I have no ability with makeup and do not have a perfectly set face with beautifully lined eyes and eyebrows, the perfect amount of mascara, and the beautiful dab of lipstick. My body is not waif-like and thin – although this may be a stereotype – and my mannerisms are not, for lack of better terminology, cute.

In fact, I have cropped jet black hair. The back of my head is sheared with #2 razors while the top is messily chopped down. Every morning with the power of wax, I manage to mold said mess into something an angry porcupine would be proud of. My eyes have been described as “black and soulless” on a countless number of occasions; one can apparently “get lost in its darkness”. My legs are proportionally shorter than my torso; it is by the shear power in length of my torso and my extremely muscular build that I manage to continue eclipsing 5’5″. I dress boyishly; my clothes are still a mangle of things from high school, to college, to what I’d hope to be a bit more professional, but when paired with my shoes and lack of purse, tends towards someone who doesn’t try hard enough or is too lax.

I am loud and outspoken. My voice carries through the hallways and buildings. In fact, people can often identify where something is based upon the sound of my voice. Even those who are three floors down can supposedly hear me and my dolphin-like laughter.

And yet, I love to meet people and make friends. The power, the magnetism and the exuberance which draws people to me (as weird as that may be) is uncanny and a bit unsettling sometimes. But that’s, most remarkably, where it ends. Then, they meet my friend.

She is the traditional American beauty; blonde hair, beautiful green-grey eyes and light skin. She is tall with legs that any woman would be envious of. She has an immaculate taste; making work-out outfits look as if they were meant to be taken to the ball. She is also intelligent, articulate and well spoken. She is – as everyone else in this world seems to be – a lot quieter than I am. If one were to see her first, they’d think to themselves that she is a mystery and intriguing (unlike me who can be referred to as a “tour de force”). Upon talking to her, they would peel back the quiet layer and uncover and seemingly love what they see on the surface. Basically, my friend is the makings of a perfect covetable woman.

So here comes the crutch:

I hear about her beauty, about her amazingness (excuse the lame word) and about how much they like her: over and over again. It seems, being here in Virginia, that I have turned into something between (a) the wingman to (b) she-who-listens-to-the-man-as-he-stammers-on-about-his-likings.

They laud her beauty. Day in and day out.

They express their love of her intelligence. Of her shining personality.

To me.

And how does it all start? Well, when we all become closer because I am the one to whom they gravitate towards due to the openness and straight into her they fall.

What am I saying? Basically, I’m tired of people making friends with me so they can get with my friend. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a wonderful and amazing person, but sometimes it gets to be a bit too much. Additionally, she isn’t even interested in being in a relationship right now!

Had you asked me first, before trouncing your feelings to her directly and asking for her hand, I could have told you that! I don’t see why you don’t tell me since you’ve obviously expressed to me enough times your feelings for her.

And on top of that?

I’m tired of being the “fallback”. Perhaps this is only a negative and completely misconstrued observation. I know she’s beautiful. I know that you would prefer her over me. I know you’re probably thinking that this is settling because we are close friends. It sickens me. But what sickens me more is myself that I am willing to let you be nice and to “talk me” into thinking that you may actually prefer me over her. I’m absolutely disgusted with myself for acting like that. We all know the truth, why don’t we all just own up to it now?

While my irritations encompass being used as such, they have also extended towards the belief that those individuals who seem to have suffered some sort of “calamity” (subjective “calamity”) in their youths and who did not normally speak up or at all seem to talk incessantly about themselves once they do. In fact, every conversation – wether they are part of it or not – will somehow, miraculously always turn into a story, opinion or thought process focused and based upon them. It’s all, “I did”, or “me [this]”. Damn dude, shut the fuck up! This story isn’t about YOU!! Someone else was telling the story! This particular situation doesn’t have to deal with you and your thoughts; we are in the middle of listening to someone else talk. In fact, please mind your interjections in conversations; if someone else is in the middle of a long process, please do not just throw your opinion in there without any regard. At least let the poor man finish before you begin your barrage.

I know by writing this up in a blog, I am being passive aggressive. Why don’t I just handle this situation forthright  Why don’t I just tell it straight to their faces? Because, I’m tired of hurting people’s feelings. I do not want to offend. I do not want to insult. And I especially do not want to see the pain in their eyes. But the reality is, will they find this? Probably not. In which case,  again, it’s just a rant on my part.

Thank you for letting me rant this.


About floatingsheep
Recently moved to Blacksburg, Virginia (Virginia Tech) for graduate school from good ol' sunny California. Wanting to share my (mis)adventures around the East Coast and in general. :D

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