I have been the victim of vicious rumours for as long as I can remember.
When I started high school around 8 years ago, a girl who I considered a friend started a rumour that I was cheating in all my exams, and that was the reason why I did so well in school. Apparently, she considered herself a top student, and could not stand the fact that I was beating her in all the exams. She turned everyone I considered as friends against me. I was nicknamed “Fork.” People would post MSN Messenger statuses about me using this nickname. Things like “Spoons are better than Forks.” “Fuck Forks.” I caught on only a few weeks later. I was lucky that my parents had told me that we were moving away from London to Hong Kong within a couple of months. Otherwise who knows what could’ve happened.
I thought I was past all that. But then a new high school meant new people. New people meant new tormenters. I’d never had a boyfriend before, and when I moved to Hong Kong, many girls judged me when I said I had never had a boyfriend. I was only 13. Give me a fucking break.
High school wasn’t a beautiful experience. I know a lot of people would say this. But you’d think that after high school, people grow up. People would stop this shit. But they don’t.
I heard a rumour about me. Two rumours in fact. One was that I had sex with one of the older students at my university. That was bad enough. Another was a rumour that I had sex with someone I was actually really into, when in fact, during the night in which he claims we had sex in, we actually spent most of the night talking, and part of the night kissing. Sure, he came back to my place. But that was that. It really hurt to think that he was telling people we went further than we actually did. I trusted him. I would never have expected that of him. But I guess my naivety got the better of me.
Of course I cried. That’s the rational thing to do, right? When people are saying you did these things when you didn’t do them, it made me feel degraded at the very least. Is this what people really think of me? I wanted to confront these people. The ones that made the rumours. The ones that consumed these rumours with relish, believing those lies, having something to do in their otherwise pathetic lives. But what good would this do? I wouldn’t come across as righteous or dauntless or anything like that. I’d just look insecure. I’d just fuel their fire even more.
I guess one thing I’ve learnt is that rumours will never stop. Also, it’s not like I haven’t given them any reasons not to believe these rumours. I have been promiscuous, at times more so than I should have been. I haven’t been the most sensible person sexually. But why do people give a toss? I guess people just need something to talk about.
I suppose… no publicity is bad publicity. At least not all bad.