What a Girl Wants is Just What a Girl Needs

W

Hi Walter,
I hope you have the time to answer this because I’m completely lost. My first real relationship was with a woman about 2 years ago. I loved her and later she told me that she, “had love for me and was never in love with me.” I know this all too well. I’ve heard it from every man I’ve ever loved and now the woman I loved. I’m still trying to put back the pieces of my life through therapy, anti-depressants and a life coach but I’m struggling hard.

See, I want love so badly if I could choose it over air I probably would. I’ve been searching for it unable to find it. I’m so insecure from my past relationship, girls can smell that shit 10 miles away, so maybe that’s why they lose interest after the first date or never reply to my messages on dating apps.

Every girl I’ve ever wanted lost interest within weeks and/or just ghosted me. I came out this past November and I thought things would change and my world would open up but nothing. It seems like the girls I’m attracted to don’t date girls like me. I’m slowly coming to terms with realizing love may not look like how I thought it would but with everything going on in the world I can’t help but wish I had someone to love me too.

How do I move on completely from my ex without jumping in the arms of another girl? (Not possible because nobody wants to date me). How do you cope when no one wants you? How did you come to terms with who you are? I mean, coming to terms with all of who you are, accepting the good and the bad while willing to work through and change what you can. After coming out how did you come to terms with who you are in this lifestyle?

Sincerely,
A Girl That Needs Advice

Dear A Girl That Needs Advice,

Ouch, honey that hurt like a hangover. Spending two years of your time with a person who doesn’t love you back in a romantic way, would have me swinging from a Chandelier like Sia. As if her having love for you will keep you warm on those lonely winter nights. Chile please, she tried it to capacity.

And you knowing all too well, accepting it like the latest iPhone, is beyond baffling. If you hear a story about yourself you don’t like or doesn’t serve you — change it.

We are in a new era when “Times Up” is the new 7 Up. We no longer have to cling to the narratives of our past.
It is like squeezing your fat feet in a pair of shoes it can’t fit in — an already hard walk made worst through circumstances due to poor choices.

Could you imagine? Most people can’t walk a mile in mine, mostly because they can’t afford it. Some costs are too high. Most people tend to blend into their mediocre lives.

I commend you for making a conscious effort to piece together the puzzle of your life. I know it’s puzzling and complex, and dynamic and yet at times static and hopeless. But if you can still breathe, you can still believe. Don’t squander your next chance on insecurities and pity.

We need a reset button to erase away all the bullshit you were ever told about your life. You are not a sum of your experiences, exes, rejections, or some shit your parents told you. You are greater than that. Erase every model. Destroy every barrier. And lift every voice that affirms you. And start fresh renewed.

It’s important because what we send out does come back. That’s how the universe works. It’s called the law of attraction. It’s a law for a reason. You should put out positive messages about yourself, for your emotional well being and future. Let’s manifest your destiny like Beyoncé, sans the cheating husband. But a wealthy husband is certainly better than a broke one. But I digress.

You are your own billboard, It is time to broadcast the best version of yourself. This is your new full-time job. You better sell it like Serhant or serve it like Serena.

This isn’t magic. I’m no genie in a bottle or great deity. It’s a process.

I wasn’t always high on self-esteem. I guess I was a bit of an outsider. Feminine acting boys, with a sharp wit and an interest in fashion, don’t make the best candidates for homecoming king. So I learned early that people like me were few and far between like stars:  bright, misunderstood, isolated and out of reach. I remembered being teased and tossed aside. I learned that what others thought of me wasn’t my problem. And haters have one sole focus, honey.

And that’s to hate.

So, that motherfucker who used to utter gay slurs at me was just doing his job honey. And for free.

I found a group of friends who were my refuge during those turbulent teenage years. Those were the days. Sneaking in bars, cruising public restrooms and parks didn’t exactly qualify as extracurricular activities. Don’t judge, but you can a little. Those were the spots where the men were. It’s ironic because those unsavory places were our first safe spaces. We just couldn’t meet them off the street, for fear of getting our ass kicked. We had to improvise.

I met my first boyfriend at Union Station, a place ubiquitous for cruising particularly in the bathroom. And no, I was classy, so I didn’t meet him in a stall near you, more like the food court further away. Had I known then, I would have stuck to the burger and fries instead and left his ass alone. That event precipitated a decade of poor choices in men. I usually will learn a lesson to lessen the pain, but sometimes my lessons repeated like car payments.

But you have to give yourself time to be taught. You have to look back at the hurt and humiliation to reach your Oprah “aha!” moment.

It’s a humbling experience.

Some people enter our lives for a reason and season. Sometimes we are choosing the same type of suitors over and over again, failing to learn the lesson. Trying to emulate those fuckup models we call parents, which end up being the catalyst to our subsequent failed romances. History repeats from generation to generation like slavery.

And speaking of parents, I never came out. I emerged. Declarations about my sexuality seemed too dramatic and archaic. And straight people never have to “come out,” so why should I? Why do we have to be defined by who we’ve slept with, or are aroused by, or fantasize about? And what is this talk about homosexuality being a lifestyle? I rebuke that too. Dieting is a lifestyle. Obsessing over how many calories to count or how many steps to track, especially when you aren’t particularly good at math or exercise, is a lifestyle that lasts a lifetime.

Sucking a dick every now and then, never made anyone one fat. We tend to forget about them once we spit.
Sometimes a girl needs a moment to return to her core. Imagine what could happen if you could just let everything go and just be? And maybe what you really need is something you can give yourself — a fresh start.

Love,
Walter

About the author

Love, Walter

Add Comment

By Love, Walter

Recent Posts