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He was defiantly confident and self-assured in a way that now seems rooted more in overcompensation.
Beyond the physical, Simon was repulsive in other ways.
I confessed to a friend shortly before our first date that I didn’t know what I’d do if he kissed me, if I’d be able to stomach it.
But Simon and I had a lot in common and he made me laugh.
” But the truth is…sometimes I think the reason I’m still single is because I’m inherently flawed. I’m simply going to tell you that whatever your fears are about being single, you’re not alone. If you don’t have a blog, feel free to share your stories each day on any of your social media platforms, or even use the space in the comments below.
And in doing that, my friends, I feel I have done you a disservice. It’s recently been called to my attention that I use positivity as a defense mechanism. That my humanity and my imperfections were a turnoff to him. I can’t blame all of my self doubts on men, though. That’s a refusal to take responsibility for my own life and choices and attitudes and self image, and I won’t do that. “You’re too ugly.” “You’re too fat.” “You have a gap in your teeth.” “You look old.” “You’ve done too many bad things in your life and you don’t deserve to ever find love.” “God has forgotten you.” “It’s so easy for everyone else and so difficult for you.” “You’re meant to wander the earth alone forever.” “You will always be on the outside, looking in.” And on and on and on, like a broken record. (But I don’t and doubt I will ever have a thigh gap. Part of being the heroine of your own life is accepting the bad with the good.
Early on in dating, I bought him a hair grooming kit and pinned him down to remove some obvious ones, but in our short period of dating, he didn’t take on the maintenance much himself. “Dressing up” for him meant wearing soft bohemian short sleeve shirts nonchalantly unbuttoned at the top to show the rope necklaces he wore nestled between his graying chest hair or donning an oversized blazer that made him look like his mother had dressed him in clothes he’d one day grow into.
He carried a satchel with him always, refusing to take it off even when sitting down in a restaurant.
Because we went out so little, I didn’t have to see the looks or maybe I wasn’t very aware of them until the chinks in our relationship were already starting to show through.
My husband was clean-cut, preppy, just a few years older than me.