If You Look Closely, She's Transparent

I’ve been spending a lot of my time lately thinking about girls and dreaming about girls and thinking about how I’m very lonely and often depressed and I think it’s time to have a good old fashioned rant even if most of my posts or the things I write are already rants.

The thing is, most of my friends have been left by girls recently and I find myself talking to them about it and wondering how it is that we got there in the first place. And we all talk about how this girl was very pretty and how we really liked her and sooner or later she just stops talking to us because…we don’t actually know the reason but we try our best to come up with one.

For example, there’s this girl i have really liked for like a year or so and so like about a year ago I tried asking her out. I told her we could go watch a movie or something. This was after i had made the appropriate conversations about what she liked and about her and what she had done for several days and stuff. It is not my usual modus operandi but I thought it was ok if i did it with just this one girl. So after a while I asked her out and she said yes but we never actually went out because she said she was busy or something and after that I asked her out a couple more times and she kept saying she was busy and I just stopped trying.

I was hung up on that for a little while and then a friend of mine who is also her friend told me that she didn’t want to go out with me because I wasn’t good enough for her. I asked him to explain and he said that she hung out with a lot of very beautiful girls who all had handsome boyfriends and that she felt I wasn’t on par with them and basically that’s why she would ignore my obvious advances. I told him it was fine then, although I must admit that I was a little sad because of that but i tend not to give those kinds of things much importance because it has happened before.

Because we live in a world where romantic culture is based on what you read in books and magazines and what you watch in romantic movies and such. And there’s nothing worse or more depressing that trying to win over a girl who expects you to arrive in a white horse or a red ferrari and take her away from her home and live happily ever after. It feels as thought you’re not good enough for anybody because the bar is too damn high and you can’t seem to save enough money to buy a white donkey. And you spend your day telling a girl she is perfect and she says that she’s not perfect and you say that she’s perfect in all the ways you care about and you say that you don’t care if her mother doesn’t think she’s perfect or if her friends doesn’t think she’s perfect or if she herself doesn’t think she is perfect because you’re not in the business of asking other people about what you think, she’s perfect in all the ways you care about and that’s enough.

Obviously she doesn’t believe you and then you’re back to square one. And from that square you seem to know how everything is going to play out and you know that the girl who rejected you is going to start dating guys you don’t know and that sooner or later she’s going to choose the one that has the best job and who looks like he’s going to be a good father and they’ll get married and have kids and be semi-happy. And thing sooner or later end up that way because girls, they don’t see you as the guy who writes all those pretty things they have never read, they see you as the dorky guy with the glasses and that’s something that you don’t want to change.

And the same romantic movies tell you that sooner or later you’re going to find somebody who likes who you are and who want to be with you because she thinks you are perfect in every way they care about. And with all those girls ignoring you from the moment you ask them to go out with you it seems like that moment will never come and it also seems like when it comes your love will be unilateral and that she will only be with you because you have a job or a house or money, and you don’t want that. All the things you hold dear and all those girls you talked to while they were having problems with their boyfriends, they will go away in a couple of years and not one of them will remember you as a close friend. And all those glances they shoot at you with their beautiful eyes they will amount to nothing because it doesn’t matter how much you want to tell them that you’re worth it. It doesn’t matter if you think you’re a better guy than their boyfriends or if you think they are perfect or absurdly pretty or worth writing poems and songs and prose and all that. It doesn’t matter. Because in the grand scheme of things they’re gonna marry whoever they think is right for them and you won’t be that man.

And i know it’s all very depressing and it keeps me awake at night and it gives me nightmares and somehow I keep dreaming that one of them will notice me and say that i’m not such a bad guy. Because I still haven’t found someone for whom to play the piano for. I still haven’t found someone to hear me sing about how much I love them or how much I love her eyes or their smile. I still haven’t found someone that reads what I write and says it’s for her.

And if i have ever cried, it is at moments when I realize that the world is a dark and lonely place in which I spend most of my time. It’s simply because I come to the realization that no one is meant to be with me right now. It’s because I know that even if love is real, it’s a very hard thing to find and if you look for it you never find it and if you give up you don’t find it either. And I write all this stuff as a scream into the darkness, as a sort of escape from reality, hopelessly complaining about the way the world works, always hoping that I’m somehow wrong. Hoping that I’m mistaken in everything and that the world is actually a beautiful place where girls like you for who you are and not your mask and where no one minds if you ask them out because they know fairy tales aren’t real but love stories are. That even if I don’t personally own a white horse or a red ferrari, I have the potential to make someone immensely happy. That people realize that I’ve loved them quietly for so long that maybe they could give me a chance to play the piano for them. That maybe they see that beneath my mask there is someone who can make them happy in so many unique unknown ways.

And I want to make someone happy in unique unknown ways. I want to dedicate myself to someone so intensely that I drop dead of exhaustion because if you die loving someone then it’s infinitely better than dying any other way. Because I still believe that love stories exist even if they are implausible and not at all frequent and even if we live in a world where sex doesn’t mean love and where we’re all ranked by how sexy we are and how long we can go without stopping. Even in a world where girls don’t take a second look at you because for them you are ugly even if you are not because their friends think you’re ugly and that’s good enough for them. People tell you to move on and find someone else but you never do because you are pretty much not what anyone wants thanks to the media and the image of the perfect man.

Nostalgia and Romance are just words made up of letter from the alphabet and any way you look at it you can only describe it because other people have told you what it’s supposed to feel like to be in love or to long for someone. The world has forgotten, or maybe it never knew, that falling in love is a glorious feeling that you have to fight for. If you’re not handsome then you’re not worth falling in love with, and that’s the bottom line. Girls won’t talk about you with other girls and that beautiful feeling of actually loving someone will be forever lost in the vast sea of traditional attractiveness and success that everyone seems to be swimming in now.

And we call ourselves hopeless romantics because romance is a disease that you have to get cured of and we have, like the name implies, abandoned all hope of getting cured. And everyone knows that if you’re infected with romance, then you’re completely worthless as a human being or a husband or a boyfriend. You can’t back up poems with money. You can’t back up love with money. You can’t back up self-confidence with looks based on the way that you look. You cannot simply ask a girl to be with you based on how beautiful she seems to you, you have to back it up by being interesting, hanging out with her friends, being funny, being stable.

If I say I’m tired of it I would just be digging an even deeper grave. If I say I’m tired of how the world works or how this goddamn city works then I’m just…I’m just…

It’s so depressing.

It’s all very fucking depressing.

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