I’ve been thinking a lot about this (obviously), as much if not more for me than for you so feel free to read or ignore or just take a shit in the shower.

It’s okay if you like him. It’s okay that he’s twenty and you’re not. It’s okay that you were jealous of/bothered by Annie or Alyssa or Katie or anyone else. It’s okay if you want to kiss him and have him fall asleep with you, and it’s okay if you want to fuck his brains out. And more than that, it’s okay if you do. It’s even okay if (that) you’re thinking about a future beyond this season and this show. All of that: okay. That it may require you to relinquish some of your power is up to you.

In high school I decided that my mantra as to why I sabotaged a relationship for the first (but definitely not the last) time was that it was easier to disappoint myself than be disappointed by someone else. That was how I could understand it at the time. But now I know that that’s a lie, just a catchy way of comforting myself with bullshit, and that in truth it was (is) just the terror of caring, wanting, hoping, loving, and then being found out, seen, rejected. Of being the disappointment I knew/feared I was. This pretty much defines every relationship I’ve had or thought about having ever.

So if you like him and you’re filled with fear at whatever kind of exposure that could bring you, emotional, professional, whatever, then that’s one thing, and I would understand. And if that’s true, if that’s true AND you acknowledge that it’s true, it still might not mean that pursing something with him is the right thing for you. The two are not mutually exclusive.

I said no to things my whole life. I turned down every birthday party, every play date, every trip. My parents didn’t like it because they assumed it was because I thought I was too good for other people – my friends, my classmates, whomever it was. This was not a teenaged thing borne out of puberty or pimples or feeling out of place; I remember saying no to a specific birthday party (Natalie, blonde), remember my mom’s annoyance, remember her handing me our big white phone and making me call to tell them I wouldn’t be coming. And I remember knowing the reason why and feeling something, a kind of shame, that there was no way for me to verbalize. I was five. So this is something fundamental in me that has taken (and continues to take) a lot of effort to overcome. So when I finally broke down and committed to therapy to treat my eating disorders first but really all the shit behind them, I started saying yes. To everything. Even if I was uncomfortable, or anxious, or scared, yes. Open. Ready. And everything happened. I made the best friends, I fell in love, I tried new things and felt new things and came alive. And it wasn’t the absence of fear. (Because I’m afraid of everything and fearlessness for me is false.) It was the decision that there was something more important than fear. For me the distinction is important.

Like most things, that was cyclical. I said yes, I let it all in, until I couldn’t say no. I suffered the consequences of things I knew weren’t good for me because I thought that saying yes meant trying not just new things but all things, all people, all experiences. That that was letting go and truly allowing (one of my words/images, to allow). But what I realize and what I know now is that, for me, saying yes means saying yes with understanding. Not just having insight but actually applying it. It means having enough respect for and knowledge of myself to know what to allow, what to open for, what to let in.

And at first all the yes’s I said to people I knew weren’t what I really wanted were learning lessons. Experiences. The chance to make playlists and buy condoms and feel giddy or scared or moody or heartbroken. The messiness that I had been craving. But somehow, at a certain point, maybe last year, it turned hollow. And I saw that the yes’s to these people, these experiences, this messiness had started to cave on itself, and close me off to the possibility of what I knew and know I truly want. Something good, something intimate, something beautiful and positive and whole. Something more. I did the fun and the dramatics and the banter and the world coming to an end and I don’t want that anymore. It isn’t enough. And I think right now, even though it can be boring or frustrating or just plain lonely, I would rather have nothing than have that. Like eating candy when you want a steak.

You know you. Past all the bullshit that keeps you from yourself, you know. So if you like him and you choose to have something with him, okay. If you like him and you decide that that something isn’t right for you, okay. Give yourself a break. Trust yourself. Whatever it is you want, it’s okay. Uphold it.