foiled

"Whenever I marry," [Blanche] continued after a pause which none interrupted, "I am resolved that my husband shall not be a rival but a foil to me. I will suffer not competitor near the throne; I shall exact an undivided homage: his devotion shall not be shared between me and the shape he sees in his mirror."

Sometimes guys have this remarkable way of making me feel beautiful. Sometimes it is what they say, while at others it is that extra special look they have on their faces. I have known guys, some only ever friends, who paraded me and treated me like a queen. And then there have been those who have obviously liked me with the whole of their minds, but not their eyes; and while I felt smart and funny and possessed of every imaginable virtue, I did not feel pretty. Perhaps it is such a shallow thing to desire. In high school, after all, I went out of my way to deprive myself of a pleasant exterior, wishing to be desired for my other traits. I have changed my mind, however. I want to feel -to be told- that I am beautiful. Because, you know what? I am.