Spite & Ostin the Footnote: Why he no Longer Matters

Today’s the day I’m giving you the lore behind my longest situationship: Ostin, bébé.

Earlier today, I was doing something I’m really good at: thinking about the past. Writing about what happened in high school really made me wonder: am I a self-centered bitch who victimized herself to the point she couldn’t get over what her ex did to her? What am I willing to admit about how wrong I was in some situations?

For a long time, I was in the safe zone. Everyone was on my side. I never had a big conflict. I usually cursed someone’s entire existence and left, right? I made up with some and just left others behind.

For example, Miranda and I never confronted each other, but when I see her on campus, we say hi. Same with Phabian. Summer was one of the people I thought I left behind, but turns out, that bitch can be as spiteful as I am sometimes.

Now, two people are in the middle of nowhere: Ostin and Summer.

Me and Ostin had a complicated relationship, and by that, I mean I embarrassed myself enough to never like a man ever again. Looking back, I fully did it for the plot. I was someone with so much time and peace, I felt like I needed something more than just being chill.

To start (and I hope you’ve read my recent blog), Ostin and Summer—the old bitch I used to be friends with—are now dating. When I saw Ostin for the first time, I recognized my target. I was a bag full of insecurities, and he wasn’t my cup of tea. But he could be my only entrance to the “cool people.” Like 100% of the time, I end up wherever I plan to be. I escaped whatever spot I was in and met the purest friendships life could give me—at the cost of my sanity.

From the outside, I looked like a stupid bitch who didn’t understand what men are capable of. From the inside, I masterminded my way into everything I wanted. I did not know the soul tie I’d create by getting to know Ostin, but I’m keeping a list of all the horrible things Ostin did to make me whatever I am today. When I left that relationship, I wasn’t mourning what we had. I was mourning the girl I lost and the girl I’d become.

In my life, I’d never felt such hate for someone. I couldn’t recognize myself from how much hate I had in my heart. Ostin had to face a whole new person after the lockdown (which is when our relationship ended). During lockdown, everyone was complaining about their weight gain; I lost 10 kg. From the outside, I was clear and honest with everyone—including Ostin—about how much I didn’t want to fuck with him ever again. Every time he was near me, he was ready to catch insults and stares and never said a word back.

But looking back, was that the whole story, or did I leave something behind?

Now here’s where it gets messy: I did Ostin worse after that. No one could tell, but I made sure I ruined that guy’s year. Once I got into his friend group, I made sure everyone heard “things” about him. Slowly, everyone started to abandon him. They weren’t ready to give up on their friend at first, but I made sure—before acting on anything—that I knew how many grudges they were already holding. From the outside, he would find us in our local café chilling and look paranoid and weirded out by how different this dynamic felt.

Then I remembered how, in the start of our relationship, I used to complain about how many girls he must be seeing. Sauf que, I was the one talking to people he wouldn’t even imagine would hit on me. Ostin underestimated many things about me, but what he underestimated most was how much I get away with shit. By that time, I already understood what pretty privilege was. I had my double D’s since middle school, and I was too afraid of slut-shaming to the point I became a big slut with no single soul knowing—to this day.

What I’m saying is, the reason I was still spiteful for two whole years—even after he recognized what he did wrong and apologized—was because I was in the wrong too. I wiped out everything from my head because I wanted a second chance. Not because I loved Ostin, but because I was trying to love someone I made up in my head, and the scenario I created didn’t play out.

I’m not saying Ostin was in the right, but growing up means not only recognizing the shit you did to others but to yourself too. I’m someone who’s willing to admit what went wrong and apologize for it. So when Ostin reached out to me for the god-knows-what time, I was in a place where I was ready to listen to him and apologize back—even though he didn’t know my entire version of the story.

Conversations went well. Some of my girlies were telling me to give it a chance, and maybe this time it would go well. Except, through conversation, I realized Ostin was the same bitch he used to be. Just older, but not wiser. Time went on, and our conversations got shorter until he went fully ghost. In a very salty way, I completely ignored it for two months until I got the news he was dating Summer. The one I cried on, who told me how alien he looked.

You might say, “Oh, you’re absolutely gonna ruin his life this time.” Except that never happened. I was just disappointed, but not surprised. I kept thinking, Where did the spiteful bitch I used to be go?

Days went by, then weeks, and now it’s been two months. Today, going out, I glanced in the mirror and saw something I’d never trade for a spiteful revenge. I was wearing my mother’s $300 cashmere scarf, my father’s first watch gift to her, my little sister’s necklace, my brain (which got me to every place I wanted), a character every basic bitch would kill to have, a body that no one’s good enough to touch, and finally a family that would go to the end of the world for me.

I couldn’t even count the blessings God gave me. I had everything I wanted, and I wasn’t ready to ruin it for someone whose father wouldn’t even pick up the phone for him.

The only thing Ostin got was a mother who’s dying trying to make something of her son, who, to this day, has an empty life. At this point, I don’t pity him anymore. I’d rather just never hear anything about him.

Hurt people hurt people. But also, hurt people always end up hurting themselves. And that right there is my own spiteful revenge. I don’t even have to hear about it.

And for that ;

عمال يعادي ويتكابر ويسوق في عنده ومش صابر            

وأنا من عيلة وبنت أكابر وفي وسط ناسي يا ناس آيه