30 Day Writing Challenge: My First Love and First Kiss

My First Love and First Kiss

I wish I had a story for you; I really do. Unfortunately, I do not. I've never had a first love, and I've never had a first kiss. In fact, I've never even had a boyfriend. And because of this, people pity me. By my age, people assume that I would have had my first kiss and my first boyfriend, and a couple other ones after that. At 21, it seems like everyone has had that experience. For those of us who have not had those experiences, we appear strange, or weird, and people can't comprehend exactly why it is that those "rites of passage" of our teenage years have not hit us yet. It's taken me awhile, years in fact, but I've become okay with it. I've become okay with the fact that I have not ever had a boyfriend, or had a first kiss, or had a first date. I've learned to be okay being alone and single; it's made me a stronger and better person. Would I like to have those experiences? Sure, at some point in my life, but I'm not going to rush into them just because it seems like everyone else has had them long ago. If they happen, they happen. We're all on different paths in life, and comparing myself to the life path of someone else does nothing in terms of improving my own position in mine. So I'm just going to roll with it. 

Growing up, I had a strong feeling that I would be this person: a 21 year old woman who has never been on a date or been kissed or had a boyfriend. I was always the awkward one, who basically spent all of her time learning everything about the world and giving back to the community. I'd squeeze some friend time and some alone time in there too, but from early on, I knew I was different. While friends were having their first boyfriends and first kisses and first dates and first times, I was the observer. I was the outside observer that they would come to for advice and the person that could be there for them when their bad relationships reached their inevitable ends. I wasn't the pretty one or the popular one. I was the awkward, nerdy, band geek who loved people and loved learning. I wasn't that girl asked to a school dance by their high school crush like you see in the movies. I wasn't the pretty one who had boys following her around waiting for their chance to be with her. I wasn't the one anyone talked about in a more-than-friend kind of way. I was the one that people asked for homework help. I was the person people asked for life advice. I was the person people asked for help doing things. I was the person who played sports even though I was really not that athletic or skilled at them. I was the person who was horrible at picking up subtle signals about anything, since I am not very perceptive. I was the person who cared more about grades than one should. I was the one that was bullied and picked on for being different. I was the one who spend weekends studying or volunteering instead of hanging with the popular kids.  If that's my legacy, loving others, loving learning, and having a passion for helping, I can live with that. In high school and middle school, I didn't see it that way.

I used to see myself as the ugly ducking of my friend group, the one that no one wanted and that would be left behind once the others paired off. I saw myself as the one hoping someone would notice me, that someone would surprise me and reveal that they had feelings for me. I saw myself as the one who had so much darkness and unresolved anxiety on the inside that I would never be beautiful and that no one would want me, that I had no worth. I hit the jackpot in terms of the awkward stage: braces, acne, glasses, a little extra weight, anxiety, and smarts. Unfortunately that awkward stage is a lifelong battle for me; it's not something that I've been able to outgrow. You don't see characters like that winning at life in the media. You don't see them in the rom-coms or the romance movies. No. Those are the kids the popular kids bully, the ones that are laughed at for thinking they have a shot with those "out of their league," the ones that people use as a doormat and take advantage of, and the ones that are forever alone. When that's what you have to look forward to, what is the point?

I no longer see myself that way, and it's taken me a long time to become comfortable with my position as an outlier. I see myself as a strong, independent, intelligent woman who loves people and has a passion for helping others. I desire to make a change in the world, and I know that I can do anything I set my mind to. I know that I do not need an "other half" to be happy and live life, but I'm not closed off to the idea of life companion who can push me to be the better version of myself each and every day. If I'm the outlier because I've put so much time into working on making myself a better person, I can live with that.