Within one month and a half I will be unemployed. I know, that’s supposed to suck. That’ll suck, I guess. I’m entitled to moan a little bit. Or at least, I will be. Maybe not. I don’t actually know what I’m entitled to anymore.
If only I’d be entitled to cash a penny for every time I’ve heard someone lecturing me paraphrasing the most common «a girl like you», perhaps I would -a girl like me would, with most certainty- divert it to the least expected of me. Hence doing what the other girls are expected to do. Nothing. Everything. Living life. Falling in love. Falling in love again. Making their friends happy.
I would not be living on somebody, anybody, everybody else’s expectations.
What can you possibly tell of someone you’ve met for only five hours? It’s hardly more than 1/5 a day, way less than 1/30 a month. Stop right there. A girl like me, you see, was never good at Maths. And yet there it is, the A Girl Like You comment. And yet there it is, for it conveniently matches his. Other, another, brand-new comment. From the one that’s been facing you for a year and a half. Quietly breathing the same air, less quietly enraging you every day, holding the grudges, your grudges, for you. I expected something better, something else, something more; from a girl like you.
It hurts even more when accompanied of one of those idiotic verbs: all those dysfunctional -or too damn functional-, unvaried, misused, unwarily misused. And worse, too handy for anyone, everyone, never the one. A girl like you should, would, could. A girl like you should find something interesting rather soon. A girl like you would call a place home, rather sooner. A girl like you could work harder, show harder, be better, just be.
And me, 26 years after myself, still unraveling the mystery of what a girl like me is alike.
Unemployed, unattended, unattached. And yet devoted to switch to the last of your expectations.
You come. You let me talk to you. With humbleness, and honesty, in the language you prefer. For I will learn it, just for you.
But you won’t.
Because boys like you just don’t come.