When I was 10, I thought I was in love with a boy I shall call Matthew. (Rather than redacting names, it is easier just to change them.)
He was as beautiful as a 10-year-old boy can be, with jet-black hair and olive skin. He had a way of smiling with just the corner of his mouth that melted me. His blue eyes felt eternal when they landed upon you. He was also bigger than most other boys, with strong arms that I longed to envelop me and keep me safe.
It may seem odd for me to love any male based on my childhood, and that is likely true. But at 10, I had no idea what love actually was. I was well-versed in sex and how men use and abuse women, as well as how they can protect and cherish them. I also knew firsthand how men often did both — use and protect, abuse and cherish. And because of my childhood, these were the relationships to which I gravitated (gravitate).
And so I longed for Matthew to love me back. I flirted. I laughed at his jokes. I did his homework. Ya know, the usual for grade-school romance. (It would be a few years before I would fully develop my toxic trait of securing "love" from men with sex.)
Lo and behold, it worked. I mean, kinda. We were 10. He would talk to me after class. My notebooks were full of doodles involving hearts and our names. I would cheat at M.A.S.H. to make sure we ended up married and living in a mansion with two kids and a Jeep.
This bliss lasted for about a week before my apparent nemesis, whom we shall call Lola, decided that I did not deserve Matthew's attention because I was nowhere near as cool as she was. And she was absolutely right.
She was beautiful in the way 15-year-olds are, but she was also only 10. She had gorgeous blonde hair, porcelain skin, and piercing blue eyes that oscillated between passion and poison, depending on who they were looking at. Guess which one I got?
She was also an excellent gymnast. This mattered to me at the time because I was consumed with gymnastics. Being good at it made me feel special . . . which is probably why my father took it away later that year, but I digress.
The point is, the triangle was set — me, Matthew, and Lola. I was vastly unprepared for the evil women can generate and lost more than just my relationship with Matthew.
Lola's campaign was ruthless. She spread rumors about me and bought gifts for my friends so they would hang out with her instead. She told a teacher she saw me cheating on a test. She batted those blue eyes and tossed that blonde hair around Matthew as if her life depended on it.
She even challenged me to a round-off back handspring competition in front of the local taco joint. (I declined because I have a long history of avoiding confrontation as if my life depended on it.)
I lost my friends, my reputation, and my Matthew. But that was nothing. I moved to a new school the next year and never saw any of those people again. However, I also lost my faith in women and myself.
I already knew men were deplorable, but I also knew how to manipulate them back. I have only ever used that in situations I deemed life-or-death, but there was comfort in knowing I had the key and could use it.
I was unprepared at 10 to discover that women were just as fucking evil, more so because we attack our own gender. And knowing that the key out of it was to be just as evil and ruthless was useless to me because I could never be that girl. I never once have been and never will be.
I share all this to get to my point. (I know, I actually have one for once!) Who does this? What is wrong with women who act this way? What is their damage? What is their end game? How do they look at themselves in the mirror? How do they pull so many others into their webs?
Several decades later, I can say that I have met men who are not sexual predators, and I have met women who are not black widows. These people have restored some of my faith in humanity. However, I can also say that the evil ones I encounter never seem to be less destructive.
And so I find myself once again in love with a Matthew, only to battle a Lola for his attention.
I know, you cannot make this shit up. Same names. Same triangle. Same debilitating sense of complete and utter inadequacy. (Cue up Dolly's "Jolene" at this point.)
I am unsure if this Lola is more evil or if she has a more extensive arsenal as an adult. She attacks me publicly and personally. She hides behind a false claim of caring about my well-being while repeatedly slamming me with every girl's deepest and darkest fears.
She turned at least one friend against me to the point where he actively engaged in hurting me instead. She berates me with every name in the book and continually tells me how naïve and stupid I am.
I am neither. But there is a very (very) thin line between being in love and being an idiot. I know this because I have been in love before and have been garroted by that thin line.
To say that I have trust issues is like saying the coyote only has a passing obsession with the road runner. You hand me a grilled cheese sandwich, and I will immediately flip it over to ensure the other side is also grilled. That, dear reader, is a trust issue.
I earned it the hard way, though. From my parents to trusted adults to friends to boyfriends to husbands to bosses, I have been burned more than Anakin Skywalker. I have been lied to, cheated on, abused, and thrown away. I have also been loved, cherished, and valued.
And so I love my life, but I also struggle with the sense that the rug could be pulled out from under me at any moment.
I continue to share all this to emphasize my point. What kind of woman conducts herself in this fashion? Against another woman? Simply because that woman fell in love with a man?
Does she hate herself? Her life? Her reflection in the mirror?
If she just hated her ex, she would attack him. That, while misguided, would be understandable.
But to attack a woman she does not know and who does not deserve her venom in such a fashion that this woman begins to question everything she knows in her heart to be true, making her a little crazy and furious at herself . . .
Who does that?
Not me. I refuse to be a Lola — even if she is always cooler and prettier than I. Why would I when I get to be a Castle?
I will continue to delete messages and block burner numbers. I will wipe away tears and focus on trusting my heart. I will respond with as much kindness as I can muster and drink a toast to your failure in breaking me. You cannot break what has already been broken, dear, and you cannot chaos your way to contentment.
So sod off, and find a more befitting nemesis and Matthew.
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