Here's the thing: there is a really beautiful and intelligent boy whom I have been well enamored with* for 5 years. Can you even fucking imagine an unrequited 5 long years? Sorry to reference the most cliche romantic story to reference, but keep in mind that the entire plot of Romeo and Juliet takes place in about a week and that includes murder. It has been a grueling and mainly boring 5 years in love.
But there were two occasions on which my relationship with this boy deviated from the otherwise flat and depressing line; once in May of 2012 and another time in March of 2013. May seemed promising for the slightly distant future; March seemed very promising for the near future. I guess what happened in May may have been what lead to what happened in March but not after nearly a year of almost no contact at all.
So let me just get this clear right now: when I am not physically in a room with him, he might as well be dead because even if we are communicating, we aren't able to do so on anywhere near the same level as we can in person; which is a testament to his lively personality, as well as his fuckwittedness about texting girls back who would just like the tiniest inkling that he may think on them once in awhile.
But I'll tell you what happened in March in my most delicate terms. We were at a party together and then he drove me home but instead we only made out and talked in his car. That's the quick version, the long one reveals that he was really really excited that we were together, and he wasn't feigning for any sexual favors** or to make me feel good because immediately after he tweeted about how happy he was. This is the new millenium; tweeting is an emotional and honest expression. He suggested more than once that we should see each other like that again, only not in a car at 5am but maybe at a restaurant for lunch.
And then never responded to any hopeful suggestions from me to follow through on such plans.
And I am heartbroken.
And I just can't believe that I would be wasting my time being heartbroken about a guy who will mean nothing to me in a year or two. Which perpetuates my idea that we should be together. Which reminds me that there is just nothing I can change about the way he is treating me. Which is my trouble.
My problem is that I can't just decide that I am going to get over him because I cannot picturing having the self assurance to say no to him in a year or five or ten on the off chance that he ever wonders what happened to me and wishes he could see me again. I'm never going to be at a point in my life where I wouldn't drop everything to go on a date with him, because he is amazing and he is going places.
I realize that may seem melodramatic, to say I would drop anything just for one date, and it probably is, but hear me out. I've seen a lot of world for my years, and I've started college and met tons of people and I have never met anyone with the same light that he has. And that makes me really really sad, because that might mean that he is one of a kind. And if he is one of a kind and he doesn't want me. That would be the worst conclusion to reach.
What I need is for him to tell me, directly, with words rather than actions, that I need to move on. That he is not interested in me, at all, forever. Because I'll never be able to tell that to myself.
That was the dramatic (but true) sentence that I should be ending this post with, but I never explained why all of a sudden this whole thing is once again relevant. I am back at the restaurant for the summer to work, and he and his family and friends came in for dinner. When I saw him my immediate feeling was nausea and anger, which I held onto tight. When he tried to talk to me I was real fuckin terse and made this weird close mouthed smile with my eyes screaming at him to get the fuck out of my face before I were to start throwing up and/or crying. You probably can't picture this face, but it's not a face you want to continue a conversation with.
I can't be friends and I can't be friendly because I gave him my whole heart. I really did. The whole stupid thing. He knows how I feel about him because I told him. I used my words, which are honest, because I have no idea how to make them any other way. Sometimes I wish I did.
*not really with, more at
**and if he was then joke's on him
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