You Can't Hurry Love

Have you ever looked at someone and just wished to be them because of the life you had pictured they lead?

That was mine and my best friend Catherine “Cat” Booth. Our philosophies were that the grass was always greener on the other side, and although we hadn’t voiced our feelings to each other, we both dropped less than subtle hints about how we wished we could be more like the other.

In order to properly describe both my dearest friend, and myself I beg my pardon but I will switch to play format. Because there’s no better way to get to know somebody than by placing them on a pedestal.

Enter from stage left, a girl who overconfidently walks into the room. She’s walking into the room like she’s walking onto a yacht; she’s so vain she probably thinks this sentence is about her.

Now from being placed on a pedestal, you can’t see how lovely this girl is when it comes to her personality and how she cares about her friends. She loves meeting new people, she’s kind and would do anything for a friend. I’ve called her up drunk at three AM, bawling my eyes out that the guy I was still infatuated with was ignoring me after I told him I didn’t want to date him anymore because he treated me bad. She’s done acts of kindness on the same level for a stranger. She once helped a disabled lady for hours instead of meeting up with a ‘hot guy’ and didn’t seem to mind when I showed her a newspaper clipping showing the lady scamming on others, and just replied with ‘disabled or not, she needed my time more than the guy’

Not many people would do that, she’s gorgeous, and honestly any guy would be lucky to have her.

However, as soon as she steps out with a confident grin, the audience begins to boo. They begin to murmur and whisper about her confidence, unfairly attacking her for her looks. I see nothing wrong with the girl up there. I only see what society will unfairly pick at about her.

She’s chubby, the audience complain about. So what? It’s what makes her so good to hug, and I’m sure she’d provide the best cuddles to any man. She looks healthy and it suits her.

She has acne, I hear a teenage girl giggle. I do as well, and there’s a good chance you do too. I choose to cover mine with make-up whereas my friend being judged by society on this pedestal chooses not to wear any.

All of these insults come together to create a general consensus. “Ugly”

I see no ugliness in my friend, only their judging actions.

Cat exits, pursued by a harsh society.

Back to reality now, and this time I won’t place myself on a pedestal because I don’t want to be judged as harshly and the thought of what others think about me terrifies me, as much as I hate to say it.

I have brunette hair, which had been streaked with blonde all over. Hazel eyes were my iris colours, which found themselves in my bambi-innocent styled look. I was of an average height and average weight.

I definitely wasn’t hot, that was for sure. I was thrown into the ‘cute’ girl-next-door look, where I would probably remain forever.

However because I dressed fashionable, was of an acceptable weight and wore make-up I was never judged the same as Cat. It didn’t matter that although I was far from being a bitch, I still would never be the same pure hearted person as Cat. I was a normal teenager, and that’s what made it different.

What do our looks, and me being ‘better looking’ have to do with anything you may ask? Well I’m happy to explain, because right now I look nothing short of conceited.

Cat, although not up to society’s standards of good looking, still had high expectations when it came to men. He had to be tall. He had to be dark and he had to be handsome. He wasn’t allowed to live in a few specific areas. He had to have some considerable amount of wealth. He had to drive a car. There’s a few more, but I failed to memorise them.

Society would say the reason Cat has never had a boyfriend is because she went for guys out of her league. I would say the reason Cat has never had a boyfriend is because she went for the wrong type of guy.

The guys she wants don’t go for girls like her. They don’t go for girls like me. The fact is, they don’t go for any girl. They know they’re good looking and can easily get a girl. So they like to take samples of many girls, okay no I’m not even going to sugar-coat it. They sleep around, because they can.

The guys that do go for Cat are sweet guys. They may not up to society’s standards either, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t be great boyfriends. They’re a lot like Cat, and would make the perfect boyfriend.

Which finally, after nearly two pages of Microsoft Word brings me to my point.

Cat attracts these sweet guys that may not be the richest, or the best looking guys, but they’re the sweetest. However Cat being shallow, she doesn’t like it. These sweet guys either assume because of my ‘looks’ I’m a bitch or they’re not good enough for me, so they never approach me, or say more than two words when I approach them.

I attract the guys I mentioned above. Good looking, and overconfident. They pick me first, and then if their top pick rejects them they go down the chain. Although those guys don’t go for Cat first, on occasions they will end with Cat.

So that’s why the grass is greener on the other side. In Cat’s eyes, her life would be easier if she could attract those muscle head guys. In my eyes, my life would be easier if I could attract the sweeter guys.

But life must go on, and there’s nothing we can do.