When I was growing up I was sort of an ugly duckling. In middle school I was overweight, had braces, cold sores as a result of acne meds, and not to mention wore terrible jump suits. Guys would ask me out as a joke. Why not? I was a walking punchline. Who needed to tell a joke when I was around?
I think in part that contributes to my terrible self-worth when it comes to men. That's why I bond so well with my gay boys. We all have terrible self-worth when it comes to men, but in our case it's a collective effort. If someone would ask who has dated a man old enough to be their father/grandfather, who has been the other woman, who has gotten presents as a result of being the other woman, all of our hands would go up. And then we would exchange stories, laughing about how awkward it is to meet the dude's wife. I mean, she would be pissed to find out about me.
Imagine if she found out about them?
I always joke saying I am surrounded by hot guys. I know I am. It's just when these guys say, "I want to rip your clothes off," it's because they made me a new outfit and they want me to try it on.
On the other hand, I still feel like an ugly duckling. My fan boys tell me how pretty I am. They tell me how they want to kiss me all over. Some even want naked pictures. One fan boy from the UK wants naked pictures. He told me when I came to visit the UK he was taking me to a hotel after dinner. He is also only fifteen I believe. I can feel Interpol registering me as a sex offender. He says he will tell no one. He is fifteen. He will tell everyone. Maybe I should send him a picture of myself when I was fifteen. Something leads me to believe he will never ask again.
Then he will know I am a fraud, shy when it comes to guys. An ugly duckling still awaiting swan transformation. Get the brownies, this bitch is fat.
People tell me I lead the glamorous life. Yet most of the time I would rather mop out in sweats and a ball cap. I find myself wanting to run and hide from guys because eventually they will reject me for something prettier and stupider. Maybe it is the fact I wasnt a pretty kid. Maybe that's why I was such a doormat in my early twenties. Maybe that's why I dated such bad boys. It was to make up for lost time.
I think that's why Holden Caulfield was able to sweep me off my feet the way he was. He was good looking, knew how to talk to me, and I knew he loved me from the first time we met. That much is true I know. I remember how other people would diss me and Holden was always right there, like a hero and anti-hero in one. Whenever he said, "Hey Beautiful." That's all it took.
The way he made me laugh and smile, perhaps that's why it's been so hard to get my heart back from that boy.
Maybe that's why Ross the Deadbeat Daddy was able to sway me the way he was. He told me what a beautiful woman I was. How I was attractive, intelligent and smart. How he was proud of me for writing. He was the good looking guy who would have dissed me back in the day. Still, he's didn't diss me. I dissed him when I found out he denied his children.
Even when I dated Dimsdale, the successful Tony and Emmy award winning comic and writer who made the front page of the Post this past week, I felt like an ugly duckling. Dimsdale liked me so much he even sent a driver to pick me up and told me he liked how smart I was. I always felt inferior because he was so successful, but in a way it was flattering because he was intelligent and successful and wanted my company. Nonetheless, after the Asian take out disaster, the Post revealed his age at 83. He told me he was 75.
Either way, he announced to his friends that I didnt feel good enough to be with him and wondered about my lack of self-esteem. Was this the point in the night where I told him that since the date wasn't being crashed by a probation officer I didnt know what to do?
Well fast forward, now Kindred Spirit has made a return. The fling is on again I suppose. But it is a fling. I needed to laugh because as of late I have been feeling uglier than ever. Who knows what it is? Maybe it is knowing Holden is seeing other women and possibly guys. Maybe it is the fact that the one that broke my heart is far away and I just wanted someone to say something nice to me. Originally Kindred was a rebound from Holden. Last Saturday I tried to push him away, grieving the loss of Holden. Although it was no big loss I still loved him.
Anyway today there was a misunderstanding via text. Kindred told me I was thinking too much and he wanted to chill. So we ended up chilling. During our chill session I ended up telling about my life and he stopped me and said, "Stop telling me about all the horrible things that have happened to you."
Part of me thought it was insensitivo and the other part of me thought he had a point. I dwelled too much on the past. And maybe that's why I was feeling like an ugly duckling. Either way he had a point. No sense dwelling on the horrid. It would only get me down.
But after our hang out I feel pretty again. Maybe that's what I needed.
I can also hear my friend Roger telling me from the afterlife, "Stop looking so broke and poor when you see me. As long as you are going to look homeless I might as well give you a cup so you can go beg for change."
I also hear my friend Marcus from the present, "Stop talking about your exes. You need to get over that now."
Overtop of them is my mother, "Stop telling people you were fat. No one cares."
And then there is my friend Justin, "Paint those nails now!"
The verdict is in. The ugly duckling is dead. Time to go paint my nails.
Love April
I think in part that contributes to my terrible self-worth when it comes to men. That's why I bond so well with my gay boys. We all have terrible self-worth when it comes to men, but in our case it's a collective effort. If someone would ask who has dated a man old enough to be their father/grandfather, who has been the other woman, who has gotten presents as a result of being the other woman, all of our hands would go up. And then we would exchange stories, laughing about how awkward it is to meet the dude's wife. I mean, she would be pissed to find out about me.
Imagine if she found out about them?
I always joke saying I am surrounded by hot guys. I know I am. It's just when these guys say, "I want to rip your clothes off," it's because they made me a new outfit and they want me to try it on.
On the other hand, I still feel like an ugly duckling. My fan boys tell me how pretty I am. They tell me how they want to kiss me all over. Some even want naked pictures. One fan boy from the UK wants naked pictures. He told me when I came to visit the UK he was taking me to a hotel after dinner. He is also only fifteen I believe. I can feel Interpol registering me as a sex offender. He says he will tell no one. He is fifteen. He will tell everyone. Maybe I should send him a picture of myself when I was fifteen. Something leads me to believe he will never ask again.
Then he will know I am a fraud, shy when it comes to guys. An ugly duckling still awaiting swan transformation. Get the brownies, this bitch is fat.
People tell me I lead the glamorous life. Yet most of the time I would rather mop out in sweats and a ball cap. I find myself wanting to run and hide from guys because eventually they will reject me for something prettier and stupider. Maybe it is the fact I wasnt a pretty kid. Maybe that's why I was such a doormat in my early twenties. Maybe that's why I dated such bad boys. It was to make up for lost time.
I think that's why Holden Caulfield was able to sweep me off my feet the way he was. He was good looking, knew how to talk to me, and I knew he loved me from the first time we met. That much is true I know. I remember how other people would diss me and Holden was always right there, like a hero and anti-hero in one. Whenever he said, "Hey Beautiful." That's all it took.
The way he made me laugh and smile, perhaps that's why it's been so hard to get my heart back from that boy.
Maybe that's why Ross the Deadbeat Daddy was able to sway me the way he was. He told me what a beautiful woman I was. How I was attractive, intelligent and smart. How he was proud of me for writing. He was the good looking guy who would have dissed me back in the day. Still, he's didn't diss me. I dissed him when I found out he denied his children.
Even when I dated Dimsdale, the successful Tony and Emmy award winning comic and writer who made the front page of the Post this past week, I felt like an ugly duckling. Dimsdale liked me so much he even sent a driver to pick me up and told me he liked how smart I was. I always felt inferior because he was so successful, but in a way it was flattering because he was intelligent and successful and wanted my company. Nonetheless, after the Asian take out disaster, the Post revealed his age at 83. He told me he was 75.
Either way, he announced to his friends that I didnt feel good enough to be with him and wondered about my lack of self-esteem. Was this the point in the night where I told him that since the date wasn't being crashed by a probation officer I didnt know what to do?
Well fast forward, now Kindred Spirit has made a return. The fling is on again I suppose. But it is a fling. I needed to laugh because as of late I have been feeling uglier than ever. Who knows what it is? Maybe it is knowing Holden is seeing other women and possibly guys. Maybe it is the fact that the one that broke my heart is far away and I just wanted someone to say something nice to me. Originally Kindred was a rebound from Holden. Last Saturday I tried to push him away, grieving the loss of Holden. Although it was no big loss I still loved him.
Anyway today there was a misunderstanding via text. Kindred told me I was thinking too much and he wanted to chill. So we ended up chilling. During our chill session I ended up telling about my life and he stopped me and said, "Stop telling me about all the horrible things that have happened to you."
Part of me thought it was insensitivo and the other part of me thought he had a point. I dwelled too much on the past. And maybe that's why I was feeling like an ugly duckling. Either way he had a point. No sense dwelling on the horrid. It would only get me down.
But after our hang out I feel pretty again. Maybe that's what I needed.
I can also hear my friend Roger telling me from the afterlife, "Stop looking so broke and poor when you see me. As long as you are going to look homeless I might as well give you a cup so you can go beg for change."
I also hear my friend Marcus from the present, "Stop talking about your exes. You need to get over that now."
Overtop of them is my mother, "Stop telling people you were fat. No one cares."
And then there is my friend Justin, "Paint those nails now!"
The verdict is in. The ugly duckling is dead. Time to go paint my nails.
Love April
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| If I could have seen myself now when I was thirteen, I think I would have cried with shock and awe. If I could talk to my thirteen year old self, I would tell her to get ready because she's gonna break some hearts. |
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