First encounter with the ex. His ex specifically, and quite frankly I was very okay. First impressions? Pretty, but not overwhelmingly so. She was dressed rather, provocatively, oh alright she was dressed so scantily I had to refrain from wondering if she had walked straight off her shift in the red light district and into the restaurant. Forgive my cattiness but who honestly dresses like that in public and considers that appropriate? Her attire and demeanour were hardly classy but not knowing who she was initially, she had a sweet smile and seemed to very friendly with everyone. I actually was wondering about where the other girls had placed their purses, her and I seemed to be the only ones in the room who still had their purses around their shoulders, which brought me a sense of female solidarity.
I was halfway through my pinacolada before I glanced at her face and realised that she was familiar to me. Who was she? I know that I had seen her face somewhere before. A distant memory of facebook stalking and session of self-inflicted torture led me to the horrid realisation. I was mid-sip before my insides froze. HER. But it couldn't be her, my kind and considerate boyfriend would have pulled me aside and given me a warning in advance. Conversely, he'd probably fear my reaction and decide to play it safe by hoping I wouldn't become aware of her true identity all night. In this instance, it's quite a shame that I am an intuitive and intelligent young woman. It only required half a pinacolada and a night of careful listening to confirm my suspicions. No doubt once I suspected her identity my ears perked up the way a dog's does when it hears its owner approaching. Yeah, like that. The fact that our names sound the same assisted immensely, I wonder if that made for a smooth transition for my boyfriend... let's not ponder that.
First feelings? Very okay. I was taking it very well, actually. I was dressed with modest, classic sophistication. I was on the arm on the man I Love, I was chatting and mingling with his friends in a friendly manner. I was the perfect balance of cordial and fun-loving. I have no idea how she was (mingling, catching up with old high school friends I suspect) but I was the modest, classy individual whose heart was set on Christ. She was the party animal who - okay judging by the way she dressed I honestly thought she was a dancer, or part of the entertainment... one of the exotic dancing/stripper variety. Clearly, I'm an upgrade, right? No raging jealousy, no impulse to rip her teeth out or anything of the sort.
Oh how brief that rational bliss would be.
As the night progressed, I constantly had to scold myself. STOP LOOKING AT HER. Pretty difficult when you've an entire expanse of thigh, midriff and other sexual unmentionables walking around and searing your retinas. Did she have to dress like that? The fact that her and her okay-pretty face, taut backside, thin and practically perfect body was walking around in close proximity to him made me exceptionally edgy. I felt like she was following us. When she was in his line of sight, I stepped in and interfered with it. She sat at our table. Ignore her and be nice. Be classy. Like a sir. Be considerate. BE PERFECT.
What threatened to absolutely shatter my resolve was her dancing. She's a great and talented dancer, she has the grace and ability to pull it off - but honestly did she have to be that provocative? Did she have to dance like that in the presence of my boyfriend? DID SHE? SERIOUSLY? It's almost as though she did it on purpose. It made me question whether or not my dearest boyfriend was regretting his decision to be with me. Why did she have to be so sexually provocative? It was both intimidating and awkward. I didn't know if I should keep clapping, look away or leave the room to throw up. I could dance like that if I wanted to, but I don't, I don't want to be an occasion of sin, no matter how awesome it looks. So of course, I felt better about myself in that respect. But, it hacked away at my self esteem by making wonder if my boyfriend would like me to dress that way or dance that way, or have a perfect body like hers, or... be as daring and provocative, or... I don't know. It certainly induced me look upon myself in a very critical manner. Am I pretty? Am I sexy? Am I attractive? Am I his one and only? Watching her dance made me feel like answering no to all those questions. In my mind and heart I knew I was better for being a more dignified individual on the right path to the Lord, Loving my boyfriend with purity of heart, mind and soul, striving to love him the way Christ loves all of us. I know that that for a fact made me the upgrade and better person. However, a different part of me, a raging, ravenous and insatiable part of me - this dark monster I could barely control whipped out its claws and ripped apart all my rationality and sense of self-worth. I wanted to excuse myself and take a moment to breathe. And so came the plummeting of my self-esteem. I hate this horrid feeling.
I know that I'm better than this. Much better than this.
It was as though she had something to prove. Like seeing me made her dance in such a way to make me feel like I am an inferior individual. Like she is the best he'll ever have and I'm just some sloppy, downgraded, mediocre and yet adequate replacement. Well if that's the case, I hope she did it because she was intimidated by me. In any case, no wonder why he liked her. Sigh. I'm sure she's lovely and that the beginning of this paragraph is total fiction. I'm sure that's just who she is - a fun loving, friendly person who happens to enjoy male attention, albeit the wrong attention. It's difficult to think about my beloved boyfriend liking anyone else, or having feelings for another person but its inescapable. But he's with me now, and that's all that matters. THAT'S ALL THAT MATTERS, SERIOUSLY.
The best I can do is pray for her. Doing so would completely contradict my naturally inspired propensity to call her a female dog and a slut. It also will help me overcome the feeling we all have, you know that feeling you get when someone you dislike succeeds in life? That horrible jealous feeling that makes you want to punch their face in? Yeah, that's a terrible feeling to have. It's jealous and selfish and completely uncharitable. It's good to remind ourselves that Christ resides in all of us and he loves all of us, especially when it is difficult to see the light Christ in that other person (especially when it is trampled and obscured by inappropriate clothing and sexually provocative dancing, for example). I don't like her, I don't want to like her, I don't want to think of her as sweet or nice or anything of the sort, but I will do this charity for her. I will try.
It helps to remember that I'm the first girl he ever fell in love with. He called me "the one". Two and a half years vs a couple of months? Yeah I own.
