My feelings for my boyfriend have absolutely perished. Currently, I’m at the airport waiting to board my flight back home to New York after a successful freshman year of college, and I’m arguing with my boyfriend, Marlowe, about something that happened last night. Actually, calling it “arguing” would be a stretch considering I give no f*cks about the conversation he’s trying to have with me. He’s essentially been talking at me for the past 2 hours in absurdly long paragraphs.
When it comes to men, I’ve always had a knack for one-sided relationships. Almost every relationship I’ve ever been in has been a product of an intense crush they’ve had on me that I’ve felt too guilty to reject. It’s a cyclical thing that’s always happened like this:
Don’t be Eloise. Eloise is stupid and makes impulsive choices that she doesn’t think about the consequences for. Kissing boys is fine. It is innocent, it happens, and it especially happens in college. The reason I’m severely advising against being Eloise is because I made the fatal mistake of kissing my computer science TA.
“He’s not a bad person, but he’s also not a good one. I think he tries too hard to seem mysterious and deep, but at the end of the day, he only thinks about himself. Also he’s just selfish and uncaring of other people. He’s good at making you think he cares, but he has no problem dipping whenever he wants. That’s the signs of a shitty dude. And I’m just pissed that you did so much for him and he’s doing this”
There’s this boy that I’d been sleeping with for a while– his name is Raza– and over the past week we’ve gotten really close. An important aspect of our relationship was intimacy, so before I debrief into my self-psychoanalysis, I want to cover the sex (sorry mom and dad).
It wasn’t always the best.
Going into my freshman year, I was told that college can be a lonely time for us adolescents. Had you known me exactly one month ago, I would have disagreed: I had a rich, popular boyfriend, went to parties on the weekends, and had friends galore. If you had asked me a month ago from tomorrow, I would have one-thousand percent concurred.
Right now, I’ve been living in this weird nomadic limbo. I was just recently kicked out of my room in Mellwitt Hall (more like Mellshit, am I right?) by my amazing roommates Lola and Queenie. It’s unfortunate that Lola shares the same nickname as me, and now, knowing how badly I dislike her, I wish my name resembled nothing of her character.
So, I’ve been trying to channel my frustration on the world productively. Here it is, world: a blog.
Background to contextualize my life:
I’m going to try to keep this short because this is the boring part.
My full name is Eloise Kneadly and I’m a 17-year-old freshman (update: I’m 18 now) at a small liberal arts college in the rural Midwest. Perhaps it’s not quite as rural as I describe it, but I’m from the heart of Manhattan in NYC, so my urban nationalism has me half expecting people to pull up to campus in tractors.
My senior year kind of sucked, but that’s for another blog post. To summarize it in 10 words:
changing schools, bad boyfriends, stalking, blackmail, fighting, too much drama
Considering all of that, when I got to college, forgive me for expecting high-school to be over. I thought I was past all of that needless adolescent bickering and on to bigger and better things.
To sort of reinvent the Eloise we’ve all come to know and love, and separate myself into a new, god-like, perfect female, I came up with the name Luna, and decided I would go by that for my new Middle-American life. Luna was to be everything Lola wasn’t (Lola is the nickname my best friends and family call me by): kind, patient, hard-working, a good student, popular. The kind of girl everyone, including me, wants to be. It would be time consuming, but to achieve the sort of infectious popularity I’d seen other girls so effortlessly emit would scratch off a checkbox on my teen-movie fantasy bucket list.
I thought it would be easier to explain if I pretended that Luna was my middle name, but it’s just something I heard, liked, and then claimed. There was this movie that had come out earlier this year with a main character named Luna, and they described her in the trailer as such: LUNA FEELS EVERYTHING.
I severely identified with Luna’s emotional wreckage. It was a way I could still keep some of Lola in my new identity, and I quickly decided to take up this new demeanor.
So this is where I’m going to complain about the first-world hardships Eloise, Lola, and Luna all have to face. Maybe now the world won’t feel so lonely?