¿Qué cosas has hecho por amor?

Pasado

What have I done for love? 

Well, to start, I can reframe the question to something better: What have I done for someone else in the name of 'love'? 

I have done quite a lot. So many things that at 27 years old, I find it hard to describe myself because I don't really know me. I've spent all my years trying to be the perfect person for another man, molding myself to fit his expectations, to make him happy, and to feel validated.    I never took a second to ask myself what truly makes me happy.

Who am I? 

What do I like? 

Do I even have any goals?

If I were a psychologist and had to undergo therapy myself, I would probably begin by asking when this obsession with pleasing men and guiding my life through them started. There would likely be a long pause before I answer, and I'd say it began when I was young.

Honestly, I don't remember much about my childhood. I considered myself too big and awkward for my age, very ugly, and clumsy, or at least, that's what I heard from all my classmates. There was no place for me in the group, so the only way to have friends was to be their bodyguard. That's how I got my first "friends." I had to protect them, make sure no guy got near them, always trailing behind them, eating at the edge of their circle, and even fighting with boys if necessary to defend the prettiest girls in school, my "friends." That's how I felt loved and valued by someone. I liked knowing that even though I was so ugly, I had the opportunity not to eat alone during recess and to belong to the popular group, even if only as a bodyguard. In that school, among all the boys, there were twins, one was an athlete and a class favorite, and the other was shy. I liked the shy one. I liked watching him, but, of course, he never spoke to me because nobody talks to the ugly ones.

As far as I can remember, no boy paid attention to me until maybe I was around fifteen. Sure, I had crushes on many, but they never liked me back. When I turned fifteen, my family moved to the capital because my sister had to start college. Moving, I saw the opportunity to start my life from scratch. My goal was to make friends and not be seen as the ugliest and heaviest in the group, as I had always been. So, I decided to lose weight. Before starting classes at the new school, I searched online for 200-calorie-a-day diets and quick weight-loss methods. Of course, it wasn't easy living with my parents, so I'd eat with them and then go to the bathroom to vomit the meals. Three houses from where I lived, there was a Zumba school, and I began going there and staying for at least two hours to continue losing weight. I succeeded. By the start of classes, I weighed much less, looked different, and, for the first time, I felt beautiful.

I don't remember who the first boy was to take an interest in me, but I do remember that during those years, there were two twins in my class, yes, twins again. And, of course, I liked the shy one. He just looked at me, but if it hadn't been for my insistence that he talk to me and take an interest in me, he never would have. All my classmates knew I had a crush on him because I made jokes, asked him questions, and, of course, I looked at him with the eyes of someone in love. I think that's when that game of 'never giving up until you get what you want' began, applied to men instead of my life and my future. Because, after fifteen years of not knowing what it felt like to be approved of by others, having the opportunity for a guy to finally notice me was the greatest happiness for me. I distinctly remember asking his friends for help to get him to notice me. Once, his best friend told me, 'Mariana, he has a religion where he doesn't want to have a girlfriend until he finds the woman of his life, marries her, and starts a family. He likes you, but he says you're both too young, and you don't even follow his religion.'

What I understood was, 'You can change his mind.' 

Studies, extracurricular courses, hobbies, everything took a back seat because my only goal, the one I thought about all day, was how to win him over. Months passed, months and more months, until I finally succeeded. He told me he liked me; his friends confirmed it. 'He likes you and will ask you to be his girlfriend at graduation.' I had done it, finally, the only goal I had for a whole year. And what happened? Well, on graduation day, I hid and left early because I was still sixteen, and my parents wouldn't allow me to have a boyfriend until I turned eighteen. When the vacation ended, and the last semester of classes began, I found out he had moved up north and would never return. I never understood why he didn't choose to stay for me. 

Months passed, and I had more and more attention, the luxury to choose who could talk to me and who couldn't. My reputation as the 'good girl' of the generation grew because, of course, at seventeen, I was the only girl in school who hadn't even had her first kiss.                                              A month before the end of classes and the start of college, that guy's best friend told me he was coming to Chiapas for a visit. Tell me how many novels I'd seen at that age because the most consistent thing that came to my mind was to take advantage of a guy who wanted me and his feelings toward me to make the other guy, who was supposedly visiting, jealous.

And that's how I got my first boyfriend. He was crazy about me, and I let him start talking to me. He left his girlfriend for me, tweeted a thousand love quotes, all dedicated to me, wrote giant texts of eternal love, gave me chocolates, flowers, letters... And I, without any feelings yet, waited for the other guy to see how well I was doing now. Although, of course, he never came for a visit, and I couldn't be so cruel as to end my then 'relationship.'

I lasted a year with him. We became very good friends; he taught me a lot about life and spoiled me to no end. I met his parents, and he met mine; we spent a lot of time together. He always paid for everything because that's how it should be, right? We said 'I love you,' and I began to imagine a life with him forever. But, of course, without ever making an effort to have him choose me every day. I thought that just being pretty was enough and that he would always have me on a pedestal, just like the first day, and would continue to do everything for me without expecting anything in return.

Mistake. 

Where did I learn that from? 

Mom.

Mom doesn't love Dad; Dad does everything for Mom without expecting love in return because Mom is so beautiful that Dad is content just knowing she is his wife and can say that to society. 

Mom is unhappy because she never knew true love but chose to be with a man who would do anything for her, rather than finding true love.

Dad.

Dad is unhappy because instead of achieving his own goals and fighting for his aspirations, he chose to fight for a pretty face to raise his status because he came from a humble family and felt undervalued.

Mom and Dad. 

Mom unintentionally taught me that Dad was lesser, that Dad's family was less than hers, and that Mom's family was more. Dad confirmed it, always saying that Mom's family was a source of pride for us because they were white, with colored eyes, they had better homes, cars, jobs... and I believed it.

I believed every one of these stories to the point where I was ashamed of my Dad. I seriously considered dropping my last name because I was embarrassed to come from such a humble and unattractive family like my Dad's.

I started doing the same things my Dad did, praising my Mom and hiding it from him.               What did I think a relationship should be like? Well, a relationship had to be one where a man would bend over backward for you, shower you with gifts, understand you, be there for you always, and you would be his entire world. You wouldn't have to do the same for him unless you felt he was losing interest in you. Then, for a while, you could be sweet, give him something material, remind him how much you loved him. But you had to be vigilant that he only had eyes for you and no one else. No other girls were allowed. Being jealous was good because it showed that you cared. I knew exactly what he wanted in a woman, and he would never want to replace you with someone else.

'I like coffee in the mornings.' 

      -'What a coincidence! I do too.' 

'But without milk and sugar?' 

      -'Of course, that's how a good coffee should be.'

'Cooking a nice breakfast and dinner every day?' 

      -'Of course! I do that every day.'

'Do you smoke? I hope not because I detest people who smoke.' 

      -'Not in a million years, I have no vices.'

'Electronic music instead of reggaeton?' 

     -'Absolutely.'

Everything, absolutely everything that you want, I can adapt to it without a problem... because I am so flexible, humble, submissive, respectful, polite, etc., that you will never find another like me in your life."