Being called ugly always sucks

“friends who try to set friends up with ugly bitches aren’t friends.”

I was the ugly bitch.

I never got to wear the right shirt or buy the right flower but for a split moment my insecurities hijacked my sense of self-worth. Everything I hated about myself became loud and intrusive.

A couple days later I received an email explaining that blog post was not about me but about someone else. True or not I still found little relief in finding out I wasn’t the ugly bitch. Instead I wondered who it was and how he would feel if he read that. Someone else out there had been branded an undesirable and surely it would hurt him too.

Ugly is such an ugly word.

My phone was blowing up for 48 hours. His friends found out I had a crush on him. They loved him. They loved me. They loved the idea of us. They were determined to make it happen.

In detailed text messages his best friend told me what to wear on the first date, what to talk about, and what would be the best color flower to win my way into his heart. The whole exchange was rather giddy and juvenile but at least it was a lighthearted way to pass the time during our day jobs.

I was slightly hopeful. My last relationship had fizzled out and the idea of spending time with someone who was familiar but still new seemed doable. Awash in the merriment, I was willing to play along and wear the right shirt and to buy the right flower.

And then I saw his tumblr. In a blog post dated smack in the middle of the text messages between his best friend and me he wrote:

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