Besides Andi and Josh, I cannot remember a Bachelorette finale that I enjoyed so much.
Seeing Kaitlyn and Shawn together and smiling, it warmed my heart. Every ounce of my cold, dead heart.
But it also made me sad. I cried while Shawn was confessing his undying love to his princess. I cried as Kaitlyn finally told her prince that she loved him.
I wonder where men like this reside.
Maybe as personal trainers in Connecticut.
Maybe as insurance salesmen in Kentucky.
Maybe as dentists in Florida.
Maybe in Never, Never Land.
Last night, as Shawn was saying that one thing he was the most excited about was finally being able to defend Kaitlyn and stand up for her, I had some mixed emotions. On one hand, the tears were welling up in my eyes and on the other hand, I was trying to stop myself from throwing up in my own mouth and choking on it.
I may be attracted to the wrong types of guys. However, I cannot figure out what this type is. All of the guys I have been interested in and even the man I was married to, are SO incredibly different. Different jobs, different looks, different lifestyles, different positions in bed, different penis sizes and different heights.
All very different.
Yet, one thing remains the same. They do not want me. I am not their princess or their forever.
I love deeply and passionately. I do not do anything half way. But when my heart gets broken, it breaks all the way. It doesn’t splinter. It shatters.
All of the men I’ve dated (or the one I was married to) have all been allowed to make me feel certain ways when things ended. Yes, I allowed it.
I gave them the power to affect me the way that did.
I am not perfect.
My boobs don’t stand perky. When I lay on my back, they fall back under my armpits.
I don’t always shave my legs and my girly parts, because frankly, it’s a pain in the ass.
I have some silver hairs, laced in with the brown. I have to color it every 6 weeks to prevent them from blinding people in the sun.
I have a flaw in my front tooth. It is very noticeable to me, although not always to others.
I have a few stray hairs that grow on my chin and sometimes upper lip.
If I do not have my eyebrows waxed or threaded, they would grow together as one.
My thighs rub together. I have never had, nor will I ever have, a thigh gap.
I have scars on my body. From heart surgery, C-section, appendectomy and gall bladder removal.
My stomach is not flat. And I have back fat.
I have wrinkles by my eyes, from laughing and probably crying, over the years.
I am emotional. I cry at reality TV shows and when my feelings get hurt.
I am a pack a day smoker.
I don’t handle alcohol well. I either love on everyone or cry.
I have to stop myself from gambling, because I know it is a dangerous addiction for me.
I need resolution to things. Closure. I do not do well with “not knowing” and accepting things for “what they are”.
I rush to judgment sometimes on people.
I am not a good housekeeper. I can do it, I just hate doing it.
These are flaws I know about myself. Inside and outside of me. I know these about myself and fight these insecurities daily. DAILY.
I think what men (and women) don’t realize is that their behavior can trigger these insecurities. It can worsen them and bring them to the front of your world.
Is it their responsibility? Probably not. Is it mine to not give them the power? Probably.
This is me being brutality honest.
It’s hard. It’s hard after years of being told you aren’t good enough or being treated like you don’t matter, to pick yourself up, dust yourself off and push all the negatives to the back again.
When a man doesn’t want you, you start picking apart why. At least I do.
Because of what has happened to me, especially in the last five years, I constantly wonder what is wrong with me.
I look in the mirror now and see all the flaws. I see all the reasons that no one would love me. Physically and emotionally.
I hate that I let myself think this way.
I hate that I let them have this power over me.
I hate that I cry during a “reality” show, because I want someone to love me like that.
And maybe…some day, someone will.
Maybe my Prince Charming will find me.
Congratulations to Kaitlyn and Shawn. I hope this is one of the success stories.
I hope Nick Viall will stop trying to be on the Bachelorette or vying for the next Bachelor. I’m sick of seeing his serial killer smile all over the news and social media.
Good Bye, Nick. And Good Riddance.