Unpretty

Me holding my dog and giving him kisses

Sometimes I catch myself wondering, “Wait… was he flirting with me?” The thought barely has time to land before I shut it down. “No, no. He’s just friendly. That’s all.” It’s such a fast reflex I barely notice it anymore. Even if there was something there, I convince myself it couldn’t possibly be true. Because I’m not the girl guys notice like that. I want to be—I want someone to look across a room and think, her. But almost every time, doubt wins. Actually it's not almost, doubt always wins. And the emotional rollercoaster that follows? It’s exhausting. I keep playing back every interaction and editing myself in hindsight.

I’ve realized that part of why I do this is because of a lie I’ve let sit in the back of my mind for too long. I believe I’m too big to be pretty. I take up too much space to be the kind of woman someone would pursue. It sounds harsh to write it out, and it is, but it feels like truth in most situations. I look in the mirror and think,

Why would he like me?

Why would anyone?

And it doesn't just affect how I see myself—it changes how I interpret every conversation, every compliment, every smile.

The tricky part is that I actually get along with guys really well. I’ve always been the one cracking jokes, teasing playfully, throwing a casual kick or nudge if I’m comfortable. I’ve never been the quiet, reserved type. I’m bubbly, expressive, probably a little flirtatious even when I don’t mean to be. I like people, and people tend to like me. But that makes things even more confusing. When something feels like it might be a flirty moment, I instantly second-guess it.

Did I make it weird?

Did he think I liked him?

Did I imagine it all?

Maybe I’m just a big ball of confusing signals, and no one knows what to do with me.

My friend hiding in a ball pit

Then there are those little moments that stick in my mind, even when I try to brush them off. Like when a guy holds eye contact just a second longer than usual. Or when he laughs a little too hard at something I said. Or when I playfully hit (okay, kick) him and he just grins and says, “You’re so cute.” And for a flicker of a moment, I let myself think, Was that something? But then I shut it down again. Surely not. He probably says that to everyone. It’s not a big deal. He’s just being nice.

And when it comes to compliments, it’s a weird mix. Older guys or younger boys throw the word “cute” around like it’s candy. It’s clearly not romantic and often kind of endearing, but it also makes me wonder. What about guys my age? Why don’t they say anything? What do they think of me? Do they just not see me like that at all?

The overthinking never stops. I replay every interaction over and over. “Was I reading into that?” “He was probably just being polite.” “Maybe I imagined the whole thing.” I don’t trust my instincts. I don’t believe myself. And it’s tiring to constantly doubt my own experiences and feelings.

The thing is, I know I’m fun to be around. I know I bring warmth and humor to a room. I make people laugh. I listen well. I connect easily. Guys like being around me. But it hurts to wonder if it will always stop there. Am I just the girl they feel safe with? The one they enjoy, but never choose? It stings to always feel like the side character in my own story.

Still, sometimes I pause and wonder—what if some of them did like me? Maybe they didn’t say anything because they weren’t sure how I felt. Maybe they were afraid of messing up the friendship. Or maybe they were just as insecure as I am. And even if none of them ever did—it doesn’t mean that no one ever will. That’s a truth I’m learning to hold onto, even when it feels shaky.

Me at my college graduation

What I’m slowly learning, even if I have to relearn it often, is this: I don’t have to shrink myself to be lovable. I’m not too much. I’m not invisible. My size, my personality, my laughter, my way of taking up space—it’s all part of the package. And there will be people who see me—really see me—and are drawn to exactly that. It’s okay if I’m not there yet. It’s okay to still feel confused, hopeful, and a little heart-sore.

If you’ve ever wondered whether a guy liked you but felt too unsure to believe it—me too. If you’ve ever felt too big, too visible, or too overlooked—me too. And if you’re still figuring it all out—same. I’d love to hear if you relate. Leave a comment or share a story of your own. It really helps to know we’re not alone in this.