I did a shameful thing at my brothers birthday party last night. I drunkenly broke down crying in the middle of the night club.
Yep, I’m THAT girl.
I broke down for a very simple reason and that’s because I felt rejected by someone.
The background to this is my brother has been trying to get me to date one of his closest friends. For months now he’s been telling me that I should ask him out but I’ve refused to do it.
Not because I don’t like him.
My reason (justification) for not asking him out is, if he was interested then he would ask me out on a date, right?
My brother is saying this guy is too shy to ask me out so it’s on me to make the first move.
What no one seems to understand is how much of an insecure fucking wreck I am.
Even the thought of asking someone out makes me want to vomit. The thought of them potentially saying no is enough to destroy me.
I know my brother is trying to help me but I don’t think he realises just how fragile I am. Or maybe he does which is why he wants me to be with his friend, who he says would NEVER ever hurt me.
Since the breakup from my abusive ex, my brother has been very protective over me and is determined to make sure that I’m never in a situation like that ever again.
He and his wife were the ones who – quite literally – picked up the pieces and help me rebuild my life.
Anyways, back to last night…
His friend was at the party, we were sat at a table discussing how old we are. His friend says he is a year older than me. I pointed out that always assumed he was younger, like a similar age to my brother.
When my brother heard this he started ranting at me, saying I should ask him out etc – it got a bit heated (we were all very drunk).
Anyways, I thought fine I’ll say something so I asked him if he knew my brother wanted us to be together and he was said yes.
I then, awkwardly, asked him, “so, uh…what do you think about this?”
The whole time we hadn’t made eye contact, so his eyes were to the ground and he said, “I don’t know…”
To me that was a very strong “no!” which tore me up.
I texted my brother and said, “he’s not interested, see I told you! Now leave me alone. I’m quite sad now actually, thanks!”
I left the group sitting at the table. I went to the bar, bought a strong overpriced cocktail, downed it and mixed in with the crowd in the middle of dance floor.
Tears started rolling down my face so I stayed buried in the crowds so no one could see me like like this.
I was worried about my eye liner running and causing embarrassment to my brother in front of his friends so I tried to pull myself together.
I was calming down when I felt a hand reach round my waist and there he was.
He asked me if I wanted another drink.
I said yes.
He kissed me.
I was stunned.
The rest of the night is a blur. Nights out with my brothers friends are always so much fun.
At one point I remember agreeing to go for a date with him in a fortnight.
I should feel excited but I instead I’m feeling like the only reason this happened is because I got upset and ran off.
I feel like the only reason he asked me out is because my brother has talked him into it.
This is all kinds of messed up.
This is going to hurt me. I know it is because I think I really like him.
Here’s the thing. I have a bit of a track record for falling in love with abusive men.
I’m vulnerable, sure.
An easy target and “primed for abuse”, as they say.
What makes me so vulnerable?
I’m pretty fucking sure a messed up upbringing might have something to do with it.
My upbringing was profoundly oppressive – thanks to both parents – and living in the Middle East.
I am the only daughter to an Iranian man and a Scottish woman.
My father is the typical “Middle Eastern Father” stereotype, moody, unable to show affection, over protective, controlling and impossible to please.
The only time my father made eye contact with me was when he was lashing out at me.
He is a complex man. All the ways he primed me for abuse is a struggle for me to put it into words at the moment.
So for now I’ll say that he taught me to accept the “darker” side of masculinity.
The result of having a father like him is that I am mainly attracted to men that really, fucking scare me.
My mother was brought up by her militant, catholic grandmother.
She is neurotic, self-loathing, completely oblivious to her own internalised misogyny. The head-fuckery which she was proud to pass on to me as her “teachings” – so that one day I might become a good wife.
My mother has all kinds of mental illnesses that moulded me to who I am today.
The stories about her are disturbing and I am building up the courage to share them one day.
Some of the things she taught me were things like – all men are evil and that woman-hood is nothing but suffering.
As a result of having a mother like her I feel worthless, ugly, fat, unlovable and a failure as a woman.
As well as being controlled and abused by both parents, I grew up as a second class citizen.
I lived in the Islamic Republic of Iran for 7 years, from the age of 12 to 19 years old and the experience for me, a teenage girl was totally unbearable.
I could write endlessly about the injustices for women and girls living in Iran, and I will get round to it…
(Spoiler: I ran away from home, got back to to the UK and was homeless for a while)
I know there are people who are far worse off than me…but looking at the shitty cards I was dealt, it’s obvious that I never stood a chance in love and relationships.
The last time I posted about dating, I was excited and optimistic about having met someone new.
We waited a month to have our second date because he was overseas on holiday but we were texting a lot and I can sincerely say that we had an amazing connection.
However, to put it bluntly, the second date was a total fucking disaster.
Idecided very early on in the second date that I didn’t fancy him anymore…but I ignored my feelings and tried to make it work.
He wasn’t very talkative, quite shy so I worked quite hard to avoid it being awkward.
I got drunk and tried to have a nice time. the rest of the night is a blur. Of the bits I can remember, I would rather forget,
To say that the overall experience disappointing would be the kindest thing I could say.
I woke up in my bed, with him lying next to me. I had a stinking hangover and felt totally repulsed.
I dragged myself out of bed and had a shower. Whilst in the shower I continued to ignore my feelings and convinced myself that I could turn it around.
I convinced myself that it would be a good idea to continue the date. So I drove us to this cute place in town for a “romantic” breakfast.
It really wasn’t.
Much like last night, he wasn’t talkative and I tried my best to fill the silence with nice things like admiring the decor but eventually I gave up on it.
My next move was to get him back to his car which was parked at my house so we could say our goodbyes – but he didn’t leave – he followed me into my house.
I didn’t know what to do.
I made us a cup of tea and I told him that at some point I will need to get going because I had lots of errands and things to do.
He said “okay”, then took his shoes off and made himself very comfortable on my couch.
We watched a couple of episodes of The Spy on Netflix – which I thought will bore the fuck out of him (political dramas are not his bag) but he persevered.
Finally I plucked up the courage, got up from the couch and said, “okay that’s it now – I have stuff to do so I’m going to load my car with stuff for the recycling station”.
I took the loads to my car and then with my keys in my hand I said to him, “right I have to go now” and he said “okay, do you need any help?” and I told him that I’m meeting a friend who is helping me.
“Okay” he said. He turned and continued watching the TV.
I started trembling and I abruptly told him “you need to leave now!”.
He was apologetic and left the house with me, we hugged, he got in his car and instead of driving off, he just sat there.
So, I’m still trembling at this point as I back my car out of the drive – I could see him in his car just staring at me as I drive off.
He made me feel so anxious and uncomfortable but I can’t be angry at him because I don’t think it’s his fault.
It’s my own fault. I should be angry at myself for ignoring my feelings.
I should be angry that I didn’t kick him out sooner. I was the one who let the date continue to the point where I felt trapped and anxious about telling him to leave.
You could say that I led him on but it’s more complicated than that.
I honestly thought I liked him – but none of it was true…it was all in my head.
The truth is, I totally deluded myself.
I made myself believe that I liked him and that I fancied him. When it wasn’t going well I tried to force the situation and it didn’t end well.
I think I did this because I was so lonely, because I desperately want a boyfriend.
The second date was a complete shit show and I only have myself to blame.