The unlovable

Chapter 1

I'm a lesbian.
At least that's how I feel. These labels are difficult to battle, I know some people live a happy life unlabelled but for me it's different. Imposter syndrome makes me believe that if I don't stick something to my heart to clear up all the emotions in my head I'm just lying to myself and everyone around me. My head is a mess. I know I like girls, I feel like I've always known. I vividly remember watching Kim possible and my jaw dropping the second Shego appeared on screen. My little 10 year old brain couldn't piece together what I found so cool about her compared to Kim. She was the villain. Kim was the hero, why wasn't I obsessed with her? Then came Emma Watson. Hermione was everything I wanted to be and more. Although I never felt eased when she ended up marrying Ron at the end of the saga. I could go on for hours about my long list of confusing crushes on female characters. Male characters are a different story, I was able to agree that actors like Ryan Reynolds and Chris Hemsworth were attractive but the way I felt when I looked at them compared to Ruby Rose and Kristen Stewart were two very different feelings. Ryan is attractive, even the straightest of straight men are able to proudly admit that but that didn't mean I was ready to dive into bed with him. Growing up watching Pokemon gave me a love for Ash and how cool he was during his 6 thousand gym battles. He was cool in all sorts of ways but I was more infatuated with the idea of wanting to be Ash rather than being his girlfriend. This is gunna open up another can of confusing emotions if I think about this for too long. I've spent months sitting here on my unmade bed replaying all the thoughts in my head, rethinking every emotion I've ever felt towards men in my life. I've dated men although dated is a poor way of putting it since my therapist would consider my past relationship with my ex more of a trauma bond to a man who convinced me no man would ever love me if I didn't tend to my eyebrows or if I never dyed my hair. The way I felt about him changed constantly, I fed on the validation he gave me. Every compliment. Every sweet thing. Every I love you. I craved it, it carved into my skin when I had a bad day. It shrunk my low self esteem when I struggled to walk past my bedroom mirror when I got up for college. At the end of it all he never loved me as many times that I cried, screamed, begged and pleaded with him I realised I never loved him either. Not once. Not a single I love you that fell from my lips was real. It was a lie that I wrapped myself in to believe that there was a man out there that was able to love me despite me not feeling the same. I couldn't tell you what it was that made me crave attention from men. My therapist probably could. Not me. I couldn't even tell you I'm 100% a lesbian because if I'm honest, I don't know.

Swipe. Swipe. Swipe. Here we go again. Another mundane stare at people all hoping for a meaningful connection with someone new or a quick hook up for a release of pent up frustration.  In my case it was a collection of silence, unmatching of people who are way out of my league, the odd man who had definitely switched his profile to slip in through the queer category or a possible blip in the apps messy algorithm. Bing. Someone liked you. Im ashamed to admit that I actually paid the £12.99 price it cost for a weeks worth of premium on this god forsaken app that only seemed to lower my self esteem and make my cry over the lack of matches I got. I took in a deep breath that filled my entire chest, my heart racing as I hoped to see the face of a beautiful woman who would want to runaway with me to a farm in the middle of nowhere so we can live our cottagecore lesbian dreams. We'd get married in a beautifully decorated barn that our friends had helped us clean out to fill with freshly grown flowers and hanging fairy lights. I slowly exhaled through my nose, my thumb swiping across to reveal the profile. I slumped down in my chair, lowering my shoulders in a heavy sigh of disappointment yet again. It was a man. I opened up the profile to get a closer look at the man who'd clearly ignored that profile that screamed sapphic queer woman. His first photo was a close up of his face, a teeth showing grin plastered across his face before my eyes noticed a woman with her chin resting comfortably on his shoulder with her arms wrapped around his shoulders. My eyebrow raised in confusion before suddenly narrowing in a frown as I swiped up to read the bio. My boyfriend and I are looking for a third to join us.