On Things Unrequited (Especially Love)

I'm thinking about getting this as a tattoo.

Something prompted me to write this entry tonight – something I cannot quite grasp while I am still in the throes of a reactive anger that left me wanting to dance it out (kind of like “hug it out,” but for people who like to dance) at my favorite club.

Anyway, let me start out by saying something I’ve thought about a lot lately – I loathe men. All of them, really. Not one seems to have any qualities I would desire in a romantic partner, and the one that did changed his mind about me a long time ago. In the last seven months, I’ve had time to think, to vent, to cry, and to generally feel like crap, and I wish I could say it were over, but it’s not. I see no light at the end of the proverbial tunnel – I see no chance at finding someone I could say “I love you” to and mean it again. I’m being held in a state of mourning by some force that wants to teach me a lesson. A cruel, endless lesson that will likely only be useful after I’ve left my youth behind.

What has spurred on my loathing of the heterosexual man? It appears to me as though many men lack any sense of follow-through and/or ability to be honest when it is most vital.  A lack of communication skills is perhaps the most salient problem among the young men I have come into contact with. The lack of willingness to take responsibility for one’s actions (and speak for those actions) is perhaps the greatest problem that plagues our society. American society is producing individuals who want instant gratification – the concept of hard and honest work is nearly lost on my generation. I am not referring to honest work simply in the sense of work work, but in the sense of working toward honest, beautiful relationships with your fellow man. Last weekend I met someone who had sparked within me a feeling of joy I hadn’t felt in a long time. He was smart, funny, kind of a nerd (just like myself), and liked Leonardo DiCaprio movies. We hung out on both Saturday and Sunday, but by Monday, he had decided he didn’t like me anymore. He didn’t actually say this – someone else decided to play messenger, though I believe I already knew this when he didn’t text me the next day. And of course, I still have a lingering interest in this person – a crush that I hope will go away as soon as possible. By the time I started typing this sentence, a gag reflex that surfaces when I think of this person has already developed, thank goodness.

I want to simply like someone so badly. I want to remember what a first kiss is like, what the nervousness you feel when you first get close to someone is like once more. But I can’t now. I have to wait. I am still very much in love with another – someone who has all but forgotten everything about me, including the fact that he has had my entire heart since the day we met three summers ago.

Heartbreak is truly the most painful emotional trial I have ever been through. It hurts even more when you realize that the one you love has likely forgotten all about you and the love you shared. He’s probably whispering the same sweet nothings I once heard into the ear of someone else. Unfortunately, we should all get the chance to feel this way. Without knowing pain, there is no such thing as knowing love.

So, in the meantime, I am trapped in the interim between love and loathing and being subjected to shallow encounters with shallow people that truly lead nowhere. I am in a holding pattern; an endless cycle of disappointment that always brings me back to thinking of someone who never thinks of me. End rant.

Tags: Bobert, Heartbreak