Sometimes when I’m at a house party, people come up to me and ask me about my blog, often interested in how I decide what to write about. The only way I can describe the process is that a topic will pop into my head, and I’ll feel a compulsion to type something about it: I guess it’s like a diary in that sense. Unlike a diary though, I know that these words will be read by others so I edit them and I rationalise them in an attempt to not sound like a prat. I can’t promise that I manage it every time, but we do our best. Although today, I’m not going to edit and I’m not going to rationalise: we’re just gunna go with it.

To make an extremely long, and tumultuous story short, in the past couple of weeks I’ve come to realise that I’ve never really been in a romantic situation with a lad where he’s tried as hard to get to know and understand me as much as I have him. I’ve consistently been the one who’s been actively interested in a bigger way than the physical sense; asking all of the questions, noticing the small things, and making an effort to work out what’s important to the person I’m interested in. And this realisation came to me when I was cleaning my room, sorting my shoes out, listening to music. I was feeling so relaxed and so honestly myself, and it made me think that there are so many parts of who I am that I’ve never shared with someone because I’ve been too busy trying to get to know them, and they’ve never asked.

That feeling was of course, kind of sad, but at the same time, it made me realise just how stressful ‘dating’ can be. How people have spent so much time and energy messing with my head, telling me yes then telling me no then telling me they would if they could but they can’t so they won’t; making it seem like I’m involved in the situation when really it’s just about them. I’m involved by name, but I’m never particularly relevant. Yawn.

So I went upstairs to my housemate the other day when I was feeling a little low, and I mentioned all of these feelings to her, and after listening to me she thought over all of the romantic relationships she’s had with boys and she completely empathised with me. Then without even bringing up how I’ve been feeling, multiple girls just this week have told me how they’re tired of being wanted physically; being told they’re hot by a drooling drunken boy at 2am, but never being given the time of day once the sun comes up.

Fortunately, I’m pretty emotionally robust so I can deal with the rejection. However, just because a person’s self-esteem is in decent condition, that doesn’t make it indestructible. And being told by someone that they’re really into you, or they really fancy you, is lovely for 2 seconds but it very quickly becomes hurtful if all it is is words. What I mean by that, is that the words become less believable if you don’t do anything about them. I’m flattered in the moment, but I’ve been in so many situations like this where boys have put my hopes up so far, then at best ignored me, that at this point I don’t trust words.

I don’t really understand why this is a thing, and I don’t know why I seem to attract it, but god almighty it’s a headache. Not least does messing with someone’s head like this fuck with their feelings, but it made me feel completely objectified at points. After the excitement of the moment had faded, I’d wake up and wonder if what’d actually happened there was a young lad only saying what he’d thought I wanted to hear because he wanted to sleep with me. Making that dramatic confession untrue, and all the emotional turmoil completely unnecessary.

All of this isn’t to say that I hate every lad I’ve had a situationship with; I’m still quite fond of a few of them, but I have to say my piece because I’m tired. Not to mention the fact that a healthy level of self-esteem doesn’t just happen; it’s incredibly fragile and takes a lot of work to maintain. So I refuse to allow the yeah-but-no-but treatment I’ve had from lads this year, to morph into self-criticism and thus take a toll on my self-esteem. Naturally, this is always easier said than done but once again, we do our best.

Thus, I want to finish with a request for all my readers (no matter your gender): please think before you speak. Decide whether what you’re about to tell a person is beneficial to them, or do you just want to say it to help yourself? Go into things with the correct intentions, and try not to fuck with someone’s head in the process. You might not always manage it, but it’s always worth a try. Because personally, I don’t need or want to hear it anymore, if you’re not going to do anything about it.