Which of the seven deadly sins do I probably possess? Envy, no doubt. While I’ve generally learned to put aside my innate jealousy and be a mature young woman, I can’t help but sometimes still feel those twinges of resentment when something that I greatly desired happens to someone else instead.
I know. How shallow of me.
The last time I was kissed was nearly three years ago; I’m sure you can imagine how frustrating that can be. (Yeah, yeah, go ahead and laugh at me.) Maybe it’s because I won’t give away my kisses as easily as others. I need that emotional connection to back up such close physical contact. Also, there haven’t exactly been too many gents lining up to woo me, per se. (Is it my face? Do I laugh weird? Why don’t you like meeeeee?) To be honest, I didn’t really notice this lack of lip-locking until one day I just sort of did the math and realized ohhhh crap, weeks became months became years dear god where has the time gone?! Of course, I’d love to be asked out and even be in a relationship–hell, I might even go for that one-off makeout with an attractive guy–but it just isn’t happening right now. Whatever, it happens. I can honestly deal with the fact in and of itself.
It becomes significantly harder to deal with, however, when one of your friends barrages you with deep sighs and the following infuriating statement, in various forms: “[However many] guys like me right now, ugh! They just keep flirting with me! How do I get rid of them? I hate my life!”
Maybe she isn’t doing it on purpose. Perhaps she doesn’t realize that what’s she doing comes off as insensitive and oddly boastful. But this, this is what sets off the growling green monster inside of me. You hate your life because a given number of significantly attractive, smart, nice guys are flirting with you nonstop? Boohoo. Your life is so hard. Please, tell me what it’s like to be the toy in the window display all the children are dying to play with, how you’d give anything to join me over here in the clearance bin because wahhhh, there’s nothing worse than being wanted.
I once vented to a friend (Friend A) about how I was feeling insecure about myself, and was later told by a different friend (Friend B, the one making the above aggravating statement) that perhaps I’d been a bit insensitive, as Friend A was suffering from her own self-image problems and that my comments had made her issues flare up. (If that statement makes little to no sense to you, I can assure, I still feel the same way. If it does make sense… would you mind enlightening me?) In essence, I wasn’t allowed to talk to Friend A about my own problems because they made her feel worse about her own.
So then, why is Friend B allowed to dump her “relationship woes” on me without worrying that this might flare up my own insecurities on the subject? The way I saw it, at least Friend A and I were in the same boat regarding our lower self-esteems, so I figured we could have talked it through together and maybe even found solutions to our similar problems in conjunction. And yet, I was embargoed from such conversations. On the other hand, Friend B was more than welcome to complain about something that she knew actually would make me feel insecure, because she was excelling and I was failing. I couldn’t complain. I had to sit there and just take it.
Perhaps I’m getting overworked over nothing and my inner envy is bubbling over and clouding my judgment. Still, would you expect a frantic singleton like me to gleefully listen to her friend complaining about the attention she’s getting? I once told her I’d trade places with her in a heartbeat. I don’t think she realized I was completely serious.
It’s like Donald Trump walking up to a homeless man and complaining about how immensely hard he (Trump) has it.
No. No you really don’t.