Some time over the weekend I’m on a the tube and this guy turns up and what we know about this guy is that he is blonde (in that rare good blonde way) and he has very wide shoulders and a big square head and he’s with another guy that we’re not interested in at this point and they’re both carrying sports bags that say something like Fight / Fighting, I can’t exactly remember.
Also my guy is not very tall at all, maybe 5’9”, so basically he’s a little compact muscled blonde guy with a square head who can fight. I.e. awesome.
But what we also like about this guy is his haircut, which is very short all over (maybe a no.2 or perhaps no.3) apart from a wide strip on the back of his head which is longer – some short of wide Mohican. But don’t think it’s a sticky-up Mohican or anything too teenage like that, it’s way sexier like that and to be honest I want it.
Of course it’s gonna look shit on me because I don’t have his super fine, effortless blonde flyaway hair and amazing square head, but right now I can’t think straight, this is the guy that I want to be (today) and this is the hair that he has.
So on Tuesday evening Scott comes round to mine and we watch the new Family Guy movie Blue Harvest (thanks A LOT to the reader who sent this) and then I get the clippers out and I demand that Scott makes me look like that guy.
Of course Scott has never seen that guy and all we have to go by is my vague recollection of what his hair looked like plus a complete lack of knowledge / talent in cutting hair. In any case, two plays of Feedback by Janet Jackson and three plays of A&E by Goldfrapp later, I no longer have my big preppy hair, but I do have a no.2 all over and some hair sticking out at the back.
But we’re not going to be upset about that, hair grows after all.
On Wednesday after work I meet Scott in the gym and this Wednesday at the gym is when I get really mad with him. My reasons are twofold:
Reason One: Once again Scott decides that it’s a good idea to pick on a facial feature of mine which I really hate – a feature that he continuously reminds me is unattractive. When dealing with somebody ridden with insecurities and obsessions (i.e. me) this is not a good plan. In fact as you may have read, only recently I was considering plastic surgery to correct all these things that I hate about myself and I only put this off because I can’t afford it.
Reason Two: When we’re in the changing room and I’m changing into my gym clothes, Scott finds the opportunity to grab my chest, call me booby, feel my abs, comment on my physical fitness. This actually infuriates me.
I can honestly say, without any sense of exaggeration, that over the last 2.5 years that I’ve known Scott, there hasn’t been a single time when I got naked in front of him (even to try on a t-shirt in a shop) and he hasn’t felt my chest or arms or abs or something. 2.5 years later, this offends me.
I like to think that having gone out with somebody for all this time, they might have gone past the stage where they’re with me because I happen to have developed pectoral muscles. And in 2.5 years, Scott has never ever complimented me on my face, never to tell me I’m good looking, never to say I have beautiful eyes (or whatever lovers are meant to say), and you know what, I think I fucking do. Whenever I point out that I like the fact my eyes are blue despite being Greek, he points out that he prefers dark eyes because they have more depth.
And I hate the fact that he still focuses on my body (like he just saw me in a club for the first time and all he knows about me is that I have abs) and the reason for this is very simple:
Ever since I got sick two years ago and within a fortnight I had lost all my physical fitness, I feel painfully insecure about my body and the fact that people are attracted to it.
Somehow I believe that my chest, my six-pack, my biceps are not part of me, they do not make me the person I am, they are something temporary that I struggle to maintain, and once I lose them (which could happen within weeks as I’ve experienced before) nobody will be attracted to me.
So if someone is in it for the long term, if I can trust that they will love me in 10 years, through sickness and health, through physical perfection but also possibly being skinny and/or fat, they have to base their love and attraction on more substantial things than my tits.
And I’m not talking about intangible things like humour, personality, intelligence (that would be a long stretch for somebody who like me for my chest), but even facial features, smile, whatever.
So in the gym I tell Scott all this and then I remind him that he has never said that he thinks I’m handsome and I ask him to admit that it’s because he actually doesn’t find me face attractive.
He refuses to concede that and I don’t like being lied to, so I leave.
Happy Valentine’s I guess.
And yes, I know I’m angry now and might feel differently tomorrow, but this blog describes my daily thoughts and feelings, it’s contradictory and it’s ever-changing and this is how I feel right now.