When I found these little slips of paper, I scooped them up without really thinking about it. I was going through a phase where I had to pick up every little scrap of paper I saw with writing on it; grocery lists, sticky notes, random pieces of mail with just one sentence or address. I liked the brief glimpse they gave me into someone else’s life.
I wonder where these particular slips of paper are from, what the girls who wrote them are like. I found the papers on a street with two high schools in the immediate area, but there was also the art school I went to right in between them, and the notes were written on an unusual, unlined paper. Maybe the papers were torn out of old books in some school library.
As I look at them now, I get the same feeling I got from them before; it’s such an intimate conversation between these girls, and I get a peek at what they confide in each other. But what really strikes me now, a few years after finding the notes, is how much I relate to them. There is something both comforting and painful in having physical evidence of other girls carefully examining the minutiae of their interactions with boys, hoping for some clue to help them figure out how he feels.
At the beginning of the notes, the girl A states,
“I’m boy crazy… That boy hasn’t called me yet and I don’t know what to do… I want him to be mine!”
Her friend, girl B, replies,
“Oh gosh… dear!!! Find a boy that is crazy for you!!!
Girl A’s response,
“But I want that one!”
is an all-too familiar feeling.
The conversation between the two girls could almost be my own inner dialogue, when I struggle with balancing my own self worth and my need for validation from a boy. And it can be difficult some times, to know deep down that I’m a pretty-okay girl, so why don’t any boys seem to think that as well? It seems like an oddly pathetic feeling, to just want to have someone tell me I’m cute and funny and smart and talented, and that those qualities make me attractive. I know that I’m all those things, but what does it matter if no one I’m attracted to seems to think so? Like I said, it’s a pathetic feeling.
And I see girl A and girl B struggle with the same feelings. Quickly after calling herself “boy crazy,” girl A seems to pull herself together a little, stating,
“Yeah but I think I won’t call him anyway…. I am a woman! I don’t follow boys! […] You remember when I broke up with my ex? So sad… Fuck that!!!”
Girl B, who has been trying to be helpful throughout the notes, only opens up about her own feelings in the last bit she writes. Earlier she states,
“There are so many fish in the ocean! You’ll find other [sic] boy!”
Only to immediately contradict herself:
“For me, I can’t really find the one yet! There are no guys.”
Girl A offers her friend no written consolation, and only vows to heed her earlier advice to be patient.
At the end of the day, that’s all any of us can be when searching for love and the fulfillment it gives us: patient. And whenever I dig myself out of my self-pitying spiral of doubt, I’m left with one piece of truth: I genuinely like myself. I really am cute and funny and smart and talented. See the banner at the top of this blog? I did that! Pretty neat, right? I know! And I also know that as tough as it can be sometimes to be alone, if I keep being not only patient but also my own badass self, regardless of who is or isn’t around, I’ll be okay. Because the hardest part, learning to love and live with myself, is already done. All that’s left is to find someone who agrees. And anything less? So sad… Fuck that!!!