The ever fabulous Mo receives a lot of heartbreaking emails from girls who are in need of advice and/or encouragement, and sometimes she posts them so that we, as readers, can help out. This question is near and dear to my heart, mainly because I’ve been there. I set up shop there. In fact, I could probably set up shop there again because it’s been HOW long since I saw some lip action from a guy?

Anyway, I sat down to respond to the post and realized that it might be easier to just, you know, make a post of my own, given my tendency to RAMBLE. Especially when I get to talk about myself and my sordid past. A friend of mine says that blogs exist so that people can spout off their opinions (he says some other stuff, too but I don’t remember it word for word…I should go look it up since he HAS A BLOG) and I say that in large part, personal blogs that exist for the sake of filling up the interwebz with pointless content are the most narcissistic tool known to man. You get to talk about whatever you want for however long you want and sometimes, people read it and comment to talk about you, too and then you can respond and talk about yourself SOME MORE, which is always a good thing, especially when you’re me and refuse to talk at all in person.

By the way, today I’m wearing a red shirt with a pink tank top underneath. I am mad stylin’.

My point! I be havin’ one! Or several. Back in the day, I was awkward. Puberty and I were not friends (although really, is puberty friends with ANYONE? That bitch is wicked unpopular). I had bad hair and weird clothes and since I ran around living my life in my head, I spent a lot of time existing in a reality that did not quite line up with the reality of those around me (well, it seems that some things never change). I wrote bad prose, worse poetry (OMG I LUV U!! or OMG I H8 U DIIIEEEE!!) but I listened to some really good music. That stuff aside, I was a reasonably nice girl and considered myself dateable on the personality front. Then I realized that no one in high school pays attention to stupid shit like personalities! Good times.

So I was dateless throughout high school. In my younger, elementary years, I “dated” someone who turned out to be gay. Thankfully, we both got over ourselves and we talk semi-regularly on MySpace. Maturity, FTW! I had crushes in high school. I asked one of them to the prom and was rebuffed instantly with the line, “I don’t do prom.” (Until the next year, when he so did prom.) Then I went to college. Oh, how I went to college. There, I discovered one of my favorite things about college campuses: boys. Lots of them. Running around with their shirts off. Or vaguely resembling popular rock station DJs, only 800 times hotter.

But none of them were interested in me. It seemed that the only place to meet guys that were interested in me was online. I don’t have a problem with online relationships (friendly or otherwise), so long as everyone’s cool and uses common sense. I’ve never seen most of my friends face to face, and they’re like family to me. Anyway, so I met this guy. And he was weird and funny and couldn’t spell but that was okay because he liked me! He was interested in me! OMG! (This was in the Dark Ages, so OMG was not yet widely used.) So we ACTUALLY met. AJ came with me in case I needed to bailed out. I was nervous but things went okay. We kind of clicked and had a lot to talk about. I didn’t feel any sparks. At the end of the night, what I felt was relief. He liked me in person, too. Then there was an awkward kiss and I was off!

Being new to relationships and all, I was pretty bad at it. Making out was like, so awkward because huh? What am I doing? With my hands? Am I doing this right? Wait, what? Huh? WHAT?! NO! NO*! ABORT! And so on and so forth. For nearly three years. There were many fights and that one time when he threw his cat across the room because it clawed him in the face because he wouldn’t stop torturing the poor thing and that other time when he threw his CD player into the wall because it was the nearest object that wasn’t me. More fights. More and more and more fights.

All because I wanted to fit in.

I know this is probably coming off like, “Well, I did this and you SHOULDN’T but if you do, it’s all your fault!” but that’s not what I mean at all. I know what it’s like to stand where you are, sweetie, and by God’s good graces, I know what it’s like to stand on the other side. You are lovable. Every square inch of your beautiful body is lovable and you deserve to have that. Everyone does. Everyone deserves to have intimate relationships with others, regardless of their size or skin color or country of origin or religion or who they’re attracted to. Someone commented and said to wear clothes that make you feel good and to engage in activities that you enjoy, and I couldn’t agree more. As you come into your own, you will begin to see your worth as it encompasses your entire being. I hate the saying “how do you expect anyone to love you if you don’t you love?” but it’s true, at least in part. Something changes about a person when their self-esteem begins to rise. I’m not sure what it is – something in the way you carry yourself, a certain glow about the cheeks. On days when I am feeling my best, I get the most attention. Sometimes it’s unwanted but that happens on my worst days, too.

My advice to you would be to focus on the things that bring you joy – friends, hobbies, pets, classes, books, photos, sunsets, baby animals, flowers, stars – and begin the painful excursion of learning you. For myself, when I focus on something that I want but am unable to immediately and/or easily obtain, I find that the want quickly becomes unbearable and only subsides when I distract myself with other things.

You, my dear, are glorious and wonderful and you have a community out here embracing and supporting you. If you ever find yourself in need of a shoulder to cry on or vent to, my mailbox is always open. I have found that things have gotten easier as I’ve gotten older. After the monumental death of my first relationship, I went through a phase where sanity and I were incommunicado and then I moved to California because I have seen too many movies. Turns out, it was the best thing I could’ve done. I got distance from my situation, found some awesome people who were willing to listen, and most of all, I began to see myself as an acceptable, worthy human being.

I’ve never had guys beating down my door. I will never have guys beating down my door, which is fine by me because a) I’m too poor to constantly replace doors, and b) I’m a recluse by nature. There have been a few nibbles in the past [insert number here] years and I’ve been interested in approximately one person (The Rebound and The Distraction don’t count), and if you’ve been around the various incarnations of the Sparkle Pantsosphere in the past four years (yeah, four years), you know who I’m talking about and how it ended (did I tell y’all about that night?). I’ve not actively pursued anyone mostly by choice and partly by fear because while I have grown immensely comfortable with myself, there are some aspects of my personality that will never change. But by and large, I’m happy. I still have moments of crippling self-doubt and feeling alone but it usually passes. I have found the best cure for those moments are my friends. And movies. And YouTube. And sometimes, a big bowl of ice cream.

*Apparently, he was unfamiliar with this word.