love shouldn’t make me feel this small, (right)?
“In these moments I knew that if I could be smaller, smaller, less and less, if I could be tided, then he would love me fully and properly; and that anybody – oh everybody – would.” – Acts of Desperation, Megan Nolan
About two months ago, I read the book “Acts of Desperation” by Megan Nolan as an attempt to see my past predicament visualised through another’s lens. From memory, I remember thinking that the book was a bit of a drag in parts but wholly relatable to my own situation in many ways. Mainly, the way that one unconsciously find themselves shrinking into the shape that they think would suit the person they so desperately tried to please.
Quieter, more pliable, less demanding. As ludicrous as it sounds, I often find myself overthinking my actions and words as so to not startle the avoidant in him and disrupt the precarious yet perfectly maintained line of our casual dynamic that we had going for months.
My bestie looked at me incredulously when she caught me staring at cigarette packets on display back when we were travelling in Japan sometime this January.
“Bruhhhhhh, please don’t tell me you’re thinking about getting HIM something.”
I whined and tried defending myself, saying that he got me a little gift when he came back from his travels the month before too. I asked her if she thought cigarettes in Japan would taste any different, or if a pack of cigarettes could go through customs.
We gave up on that ridiculous notion because I couldn’t be bothered going through all the mental turmoil wondering about something unknown, but a small part of me didn’t want to get him something I knew he loves because that would mean that I paid close enough attention (to be fair, who could I NOT notice…?)
Get cher’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
A small part of me knew it wasn’t just simple reciprocation, but that I’ve truly missed him during my travels.
I settled with a small random keychain I found at a typical tourist trap souvenir stall that I thought would look good with his big bunch of keys and bottle opener (visualise my bestie rolling her eyes at me in the background).
I remember feeling really nervous thinking about how to present it to him when he was over one night, thinking of ways to sound as nonchalant as possible (like it could ever be nonchalant when you think of someone even in a different continent).
I don’t even remember how I end up giving it to him, but an expression I’m struggling to describe formed on his face before he quickly recovered and smoothly said that I really didn’t have to before he quickly set it aside at the bedside table.
Although I can’t word how to describe his face, I just remember feeling really foolish and wished over and over again that I just kept that stupid keychain to myself. It made me feel so small and like I’ve done something wrong to upset the balance, it made me feel so stupid for caring and thinking about him when I’m overseas.
If I had to guess, he looked uncomfortable at my gesture because he’s probably been through this enough times to detect the ever-so-subtle tip of the scale in which the girl starts to care more than she used to. This is probably the part he dreads coming the most because it usually signifies the end.
I hate how predictable our plot is, how much of a cliche I’m being.
It wasn’t just him that didn’t want this to end. In fact, I think I didn’t want it to end more than he did. At that stage I grew so dependent on him that I’d rather have some of him than none. And so I committed to my part from then on and did what I knew he wanted from me.
I cared and kissed and cuddled and moaned just the appropriate amount, never too little but never too much. I barely initiate or reach out first, even if so only sporadically. The equilibrium was restored, but I was no longer happy. I just felt lost and a little emptier each time he kisses me goodbye.
Was it ever worth it to supress yourself into a more digestible version for someone you so supposedly “loved”, just to be “loved” back? Maybe so, but would you even recognise yourself at the end of that babygirl?
