Page 38 of Coincidentally Kismet

Cam

No thanks, Rambo.

Will

Let me know if you change your mind.

Cam

I won’t.

Will

I watched a movie with Ruiz once, at the same time over Skype.

Cam

Cute, still a no.

It’s been another long week at work, and Lo has been giving me the silent treatment for days. But Will has been texting me nonstop, and to be honest, I’m relishing it. I haven’t made any decisions on how I feel about him yet, but with this fight between Lo and me still going on, it’s good to have someone to talk to. Not that I can tell Will what we’re fighting about...I’m pretty sure he thinks it’s about Smith always being over.

The longer the fight goes on, the more I consider what my best friend was trying to say. I’ve been crazy hard on myself when, instead, I should be my own biggest fan—though that’s easier said than done. I also need to make a decision about Will. Each time we talk, the lines get blurrier, and it’s not healthy for anyone.

Daveed and I had a long talk about it today, and no surprise, he agreed with Lo about my need to stop being so hard on myself. He went on and on about how many clients have requested me to do their scalp treatments, and he made sure to throw in that a few have been asking for my number, which obviously he didn’t give.

The kicker is, I don’t know how to make myself feel better. How can someone miraculously love how they look? Can I buy confidence on Amazon? My self-esteem hasn’t always been an issue for me. Of course my parents were realistic with my brother and me growing up, and I never thought I was a model. But Will broke me, and it wasn’t just when he dumped me.

Will has always been spectacularly above average—I’m talking walking dreamboat. Like Elliott, he can turn all the headsin a room without even trying. He never consciously played up his looks, but I never believed for a second he didn’t love the attention he garnered. A couple of weeks before he ditched our dreams and me, we had gone on a college visit.

Will seemed pensive during the entire tour, but right when we were going to meet my mom at the dining hall to head home, we walked past a sorority house. Some of the girls were tanning themselves on the front lawn wearing little more than scraps for bathing suits. Will’s eyes were glued to them. I tried mercilessly to get his attention, but it was like I wasn’t even there. Repeating the question I had asked him three times before he even heard me catapulted me into a serious spiral.

By the time we reached the dining hall, I was so furious over the blatant disrespect, I didn’t say a word to either him or my mom the entire ride home. Later, my mom came up to my room and pried until I spilled the beans. Have I mentioned that Patricia isn’t one to sugarcoat things. She told me that if I wanted the body guys dream of, I would have to work a little harder. And curse my grandmother for my bad genes.

I realized that night that I would never be good enough for any man, let alone Will. It didn’t matter the hundreds of times I tried sculpting my body into something resembling a stick figure, I was destined to have curves. Part of me wept for the adoration I would never experience, and the other part got pissed off. Truthfully, it’s probably why I begged Will not to leave me that night. I thought he was my only shot at some semblance of attraction. I didn’t want to be alone.

When I shared this all with Daveed, he sympathized. He said he used to struggle with similar issues, and it wasn’t until he decided to embrace himself for who he was, to stop wishing to be someone else, that he began to really come into his own. He explained that even if we aren’t coupled up with someone, it doesn’t mean we are alone.

After a fair amount of grumbling about Will’s brain cells not all firing, Daveed said something that struck a chord, something that gave me a new way of viewing loneliness. I’ve been repeating his words in my mind all day: “Cameron, just because someone is single, it doesn’t mean they are lonely. True loneliness comes from not having others to help carry you through life’s messes. You have a family that loves you, friends who think you walk on water, and me. Don’t settle for a relationship with Will, or anyone else for that matter, because you think it will bring you the self-acceptance you’re seeking. True happiness, fulfillment, and acceptance of one’s self comes when you let go of the fear you’re carrying about being enough and about being alone.”

It was such a profound statement, and so far removed from any angle I’d ever viewed my insecurities from previously. We strategized together on the best way for me to start moving past the stories I’m telling myself about how I’m perceived. My homework assignment was twofold: the next time I go out, don’t let anyone else pick my outfit, pick something I feel good in, and essentially fake it ’til I make it. And second, call my therapist for a session.

I agreed to try it, to try to not pay attention to the voice in my head that’s telling me what I think people believe, and to sit back to actually observe instead. There’s nothing to lose by giving it a whirl. The only problem is it’s Saturday afternoon, and I have no plans in sight for me to take my new perspective out on a test run. Speaking of plans, I’m desperate to make up with Lo, and I’m hopeful she will come home soon so I can give her the biggest hug, grovel on my hands and knees if I have to—oh, and also give her this bottle of tequila I picked up.

As if I summoned her, Lo waltzes into the apartment and slams her purse down on the table with a huff. Unsurprisingly,she’s been drawing out the drama of this fight. The girl gives major pissed-off-mom vibes when she’s upset.

“Lo, can we talk?” I ask hesitantly.

“Have you learned your lesson?” She stares at me, eyes practically bugging out of her head and hands on her hips.

“I think so? Is the lesson that you love me and don’t appreciate me bad-mouthing myself because I’m your best friend and you wouldn’t be friends with someone who isn’t a body-positive feminist?” I hedge.

“Yes! I do love you, but I won’t tolerate that bullshit, Cam.”

“Okay, I can’t promise that I won’t ever feel insecure, but I can promise to stop talking badly about myself.”

“Well, I guess that’s a start, but you should know this is about more than just the negative self-talk. I want you to feel like you can come to me, confide in me about anything, not just feed me the surface-level shit that you share with the guys. I know there is more to this story. You have never been this self-conscious in the whole time I’ve known you.” I notice a tremble in her voice. “I feel like you’re shutting me out while tearing yourself down.”

“I do know that. I really do.” I jump up immediately, sweeping her into a hug. “I promise to be more open instead of keeping all my fears to myself.”

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