Hustling for Love

To put it simply, this is the story of a girl who wanted to be liked but hadn't fully settled into liking herself.

Here, people are like horses. Self-doubt once draped inside me from shoulder to rib, liver to sacrum like an unwound film strip. Though I perfected pleasing, pretending, and proving, their horse instincts heard the fluttering film inside, knowing the difference between trying and being.

I started dating L, the tall and slender one who lived in a shack and eroded my emotional armor with a river of playful, contemplative conversation. L had just gotten out of a seven-year relationship and ours drew me into the public eye. I was far from winning most popular before we took-up dating and it became evident there was a solid camp of people who did not like me, including, unsurprisingly, the ex. 

I wanted them to like me. Badly. All the time. Especially the people who didn't like me. I wanted them to adore me. I dreamt about it. I obsessed over it. I talked about it constantly even though I knew it was beyond boring. I threw myself pity parties where I told myself that it wasn't fair.  They should like me!! 

And they didn't.

What do you do when you don't feel liked? Well, five-years ago I said kiss-ass, walk on egg shells, cower, roll on your belly, and get small. I traded authenticity hoping for love in return.

At that point in time, I told myself that I got smaller so I wouldn't threaten the people who didn't like me. In truth, it was a great escape--I could blame them for my unhappiness rather than actually facing my own uncertainty-- Am I Worthy of  Love?????????? 

A similar situation has rolled around again, five years later, and my desire to be liked is bubbling like a fart in water. Even though I have obsessive thoughts about what I can do to regain favor I am aware of the underlying, nagging question of worthiness, and this time, I won't hustle for love.