How To Get A Boyfriend

chapter one

Hey Mr Shoulder man

Look, I can't read your mind, #statingtheobvious. What I want to say is personal and private, understand? I like to keep to myself, i.e. "Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead" #prettylittleliars. So if I find out you breathed a word of this to anyone- you're dead. I'll drown you myself + laughs+ Okay, on a serious note. I don't know why you are angry at me; neither do you want to tell me. That leaves me with assumptions, which I am not fond of as a scientist. I figure it has something to do with the fight I had with my ex-friends. Honestly, I didn't even see that one coming. The entire 2016 was to do research on how to get a boyfriend. Wow, ex-friends... I never thought I'd say that.

I always thought I was weird coz I usually had more male friends than female ones. The girls that I was, and still am friends with- are like tomboyish. Girls that are one of the guys like me. I even know how to get a girlfriend, even kissed a few girls. Shhh!  I was curious and wanted to know if what guys do actually works. It was also to educate myself on the games guys play so that I don’t fall victim to the schemes boys play. Yeah, I still got played… When you play with the big boys, huh? I bet every paragraph is making you more upset lol Yes it is true and I had sex 5 times, with 4 guys in 3 months. I had to think of the worst way to put it, to get my friends… well, they
were at the time to tell me the truth. But that’s in the past. I did ask you to tell me what’s wrong or tell me what they said so that I could explain. So your suffering is all your own doing. I got major trust issues, and yet I care anyway.

I grew up living under a rock, okay. Don’t judge. I know how to be a wife, but I don’t know how to be a girlfriend- note: one word. I know how to be a female friend, a girl friend – note: two words. I’ve been in an unofficial relationship for three years. I was happy, and I loved him. I loved him with my life, but life had other plans. It ended
badly, and I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t like crying, and I avoid creating situations where I will cry. I loved him, and till today, after three years of being exclusive- he still denies it. None of my friends knew about ‘us,’ and being in a ‘friends with benefits’ relationship does minimize a lot of the drama. It takes away the drama where,
girls especially, try to test how ‘strong’ the relationship is. I really don’t get girls though. They drive me nuts. It takes away the tension where one partner is with friends and the other joins the group- and then everyone leaves as if to give the couple privacy. If I wanted to be alone with my guy, surely we’d be alone. Why can’t we hang in
a group of people? The point is the relationship between he and I ended. He and I never had sex, nor anal or whatever else. It was just really... carried away make-out sessions.

Despite that, I still needed just over a year and a half to heal. I didn’t want to move on coz I was lonely, and I wanted to wait until I was ready. This was my forever guy and just like you, only wanted friends with benefits. In the back of my mind, I was like ‘he’ll change his mind’, but I am stupid. He always showed me he loved me, showed me he cared, opened doors for me, protected me, treated me like a lady, I never saw him check out another girl in front of me and I felt like a priority to him. But I am stupid and he was not. The break-up was messy, more for me than any of the other parties involved. Yes, parties. When it ended- everything in my body ached. I
just had to tell my brain that the pain I am feeling is imaginary. I cut the skin on my upper thigh with the blades of my dissecting kit and sterilized it with hand sanitizer to keep it from turning septic. I lied to myself to survive, so many lies. I cut my upper thigh ‘coz I didn’t want anyone to know about my struggle. I lied to myself saying the pain from the wound is ‘real pain’ and what I am feeling is an illusion. After the third time, even digging my nails into my cut or my jeans rubbing against my raw wound
didn’t feel different from my heartache. To everyone, I am fine- smiling and still making dry jokes but I am dying on the inside.

One night I just kept crying, I couldn’t stop myself. My tears blinded me. I started weeping in the bathroom while washing the washing. Then I somehow made my way to the study and I cried some more and eventually, I ended up in my room. My mom was in the room asleep on the bed. I was sitting on the floor sobbing at her feet. My t-shirt and jeans were soaked. It looked like someone threw a giant bucket of water over my head. If only it was water, instead of my tears. If she only lifted her head she would see that her daughter is broken.