People tell me I am confident. People tell me I seem nonchalant, and people tell me they would never want to cross me. When people tell me these things about myself, I take them as compliments. 

But it’s all an act.

Truth is, I’m incredibly insecure. I’m very sensitive. I crave constant validation.  I am not sure if I started craving male validation or if male validation became an addiction, something I rely on now. 

Like many teenage girls I want to be thought of as “pretty” and “cool.” To whom I’ve give the power to choose whether I’m either one of those things is still bewildering to me. 

I am letting 16-year-old boys determine whether I feel I’m worthy? No way. It can’t be. And yet, my good days depend on a boy giving me attention.   

During lunch, my guy friends compare who is hooking up with who.  Who looked good the other night, who didn’t. I sit. I listen. I make notes to myself to do this, don’t do that. I’m aware of the cycle I put myself through as if hypnotized by a pocket watch swinging in front of me. 

The problem with hook-up culture, besides basically killing all hope of romance, is it encourages self-objectification. 

I’m not good enough to date, only good enough to make out with

 Hook-up culture has diminished my self-worth. Some friends say they even play dumb for fear boys will get annoyed if you don’t let them mansplain.  Or, they fear boys will be mad if you have a better sense of humor than they do. 

Recently, I grew really close with a boy quickly.  He had a soft smile, a warm comforting sense of humor, held onto every word I said and broke down all my protective walls. When my friends met him, they were so excited because he seemed like he was so good to me. We stayed up all night texting. He made me happy—or what I thought was happy. I kind of have it planted in my head that if I have a guy in my life, it would equate to me being “happy.” 

At 16, I don’t think I know what real happiness looks like and I don’t know where I will find it. 

As weeks went on, he and I spent more time together and my feelings grew. It seemed his did, too. One Saturday night we made plans to hang out. I waited around and tried to keep myself busy until it 20 minutes before 7. Then, I got the notification. I opened the chat and my stomach dropped. 

“Hey, I’m tired so I think I’m just gonna chill at my friends.” I read in disbelief. 

“Ok.” I responded. 

Just hours before he had been saying how excited he was to see me! This was so unlike him! I was crushed, and somehow also felt like I knew this would happen. I hoped to wake up to an explanation, but there was none.

I sent him a text asking if something was wrong. To which he responded, “Imma just be honest I wanna get with other people, too, but like if I see you at a party, we can still get with each other.” 

This was all coming from a boy who spent weeks showering me with attention and seeing me at every available time, seemingly wanting something more. He switched up so fast and provided no explanation for it. And I was supposed to just be ok with that.

And the thoughts started.  I must have done something wrong. I wasn’t good enough.  I was too honest and probably scared him.

I took the blame for the actions of a boy who was simply just immature. 

But even after this realization, I continued trying to investigate what had happened.  A mutual friend said, “He probably liked you too much and wasn’t tryin be exclusive - so he had to drop you.” 

No wonder girls feel worthless and disposable. 

My older sister told me to focus on myself, and my happiness, and find validation in other places. But that was not what I wanted to hear. I was sad and craving more male validation than ever, hoping to show the boy who hurt me that he made a mistake. 

I was still looking to be seen by him. I thought it would make me feel better.  

You would think that after this experience, I would come back to reality and realize that no matter what a boy does, I’ll never be satisfied and that I should really seek satisfaction from within. And yet, even with this knowledge I still want approval from boys. Why can’t I be satisfied with just me? 

When a guy does notice me, I feel light on my feet. I’m powerful.  It's the feeling of desirability, but it never lasts long. Hours pass, and I slowly come down from cloud 9. It’s in these moments that I’m heavy again and I crave more attention.

As a girl living in New York City, I’m on the receiving end of a lot of catcalling. It doesn’t matter what I wear; I could be in a baggy t-shirt and sweats, the calls and stares from middle-aged men will find me. I don’t enjoy being catcalled, but if I leave my house in a good outfit, I expect eyes to follow and when they don’t, I feel microscopic. I tell myself, “Miel, you don’t want that attention, it's gross. You feel good and that's enough.” I repeat it. I try to convince myself it's how I feel. But it’s not how I feel. 

Time and time again I am hurt, objectified, and made to feel small by the men around me and still I crave more of that glowing, sparkling, powerful feeling of feeling seen and noticed by boys. 

I want to feel that way on my own. Just me. I want to understand what makes me happy.  I want to find it and feel it. Just me. I want that to be enough. Just me. I hope someday I’ll get there, and I can’t wait to meet that girl.