Unrequited Love @ MindSay

he keeps popping up. when i least expect it.

the hurt went away with the guilt and shame

and bad feelings and anger and all that good

stuff that happens. but the last week... my,

my, my...

 

i remember old jonas brother's songs and i

smile. and then i look at him and i want to

punch him in the nose and cry and scream.

feelings which were never as strong as they

are now, but only when i see him.

 

i want to scream in his face and have him

see those tears he never saw, tell him about

how he not only hurt me but countless other

people, friends, around him and me. i want

to show him what he did, how he changed

things. and i want to tell him how things

could have been so different if he'd only

said just a few words.

 

and even as i type this, i realize how i finally

got over it. too much drama and unrequited

hopes. of which i like neither. perhaps this

is the final passage way for me to go through

so i can finally let go, finally let my heart finish

healing. finally let this sadness and anger go.

 

hmm... rainy days do this to me.

I met Troy in 2004 through MySpace. He was everything that I look for in a man; athletic, confident, smart, well-liked, adored by other women... Odd, right? Liking men who are lusted after by loads of other women? I think it's my way of proving to myself that I am attractive. If I can get the man that everyone wants, then that MUST mean there is something about me that is better than those other chicks.... Right?... That is my validation, anyway, but I always end up feeling like that turd clogging up the toilet in a public restroom when these men get done with me.

Anyway, back to the story... one of us randomly added the other. At this point I don't really remember who added who, but it probably was me looking desperate as ever. We talked online and on the phone although he was 2 hours away at a different college at the time. He never led me on, and I liked that. Even after we met in person, he never played games with me. He told me upfront that he liked me, but that he wouldn't be in a committed relationship because, after all, we were both in college away from each other, and what 19 and 20 year old can stop the temptation of a drunken hookup when their significant other is way more than a phone call away. Unfortunately, it backfired and made me want him even more.

We've continued this on again - off again sexual relationship for 4 years now. It's different than a normal friends with benefits thing, though. At least thats how I feel. When we get together the chemistry is so great and we're so comfortable with one another. We're honest about how we feel, and we've never argued. Neither of us has ever gotten pissed at the other when someone came into one of our lives leaving us apart until we were both single again. Not that it wasn't painful because, believe me, i've spent nights crying, just hoping that he could be mine and no one elses. *le sigh*

Here's where everything gets thrown for a loop... He's finally, completely done with his education and just moved home last week. We'd been in touch every day  for the last couple of months through text and a random phone call here and there. Both of us have just been dying to see one another again, and this weekend the time finally came. We take turns going to see one another, so it was my turn to go to him this time.

I woke up early on Sunday because he had text me on Saturday saying he wanted me to come right then and there, but since I couldn't could I PLEASE come as early as possible on Sunday (the day we had planned to get together). I got all dolled up, dressed to kill with butterflies tagging along in my stomach. I get to his house and there he stood in basketball shorts with no shirt, muscles rippling all over his rock-hard body. The first words out of his mouth are, "i've excited since you called to say you were on your way." That's when i melted into a puddle of love on the floor. But really, I melted inside, but was still secretly upset that i had gone to the trouble to look so cute and he was standing there barely out of the shower.

We hug and go sit together on the couch. He stares me in my eyes and goes on about how i went all out and how good i looked. I was torn between flattery and embarrassment that I had gone so far out of the way and he didn't even put a shirt on for me. Still, I couldn't be mad at him. I mean, this guy turns me into a babbling baby. He charms the pants off of me; literally and figuratively.

We spent the day watching movies and talking... with intermissions of the best sex of our lives (admitted by both parties). I often wonder, though, if thats why he keeps coming back. He makes it perfectly clear that I have the best vagina he's ever had the pleasure of knowing, but again I'm torn between flattery and insecurity that he only wants me for sex. I feel like the most insecure person in the world around him, but I still feel like I MUST be the sexiest woman alive for him to keep choosing me.

I feel like such a little school girl. I'm too old for this. I shouldn't have to sit around and wonder how he feels about me. It's just that we have all of this good sex every time we see each other, but we don't go out and do things. I mean, I understand that every time we see each other we have been apart more about 6 months each time so we're automatically in the throws of passion the second we see one another again. I just hope that now that he's home for good that we can make this into more, but at the same time I am so scared because I don't know if he feels the same way about it. I mean, there is a lot of sex, but he does the little intimate things with me too; like last night he pulled me in close and held my hand as we were falling asleep. The problem is, I'm too scared to ask him. I seriously don't know if I would rather just be used by him and wonder if I'm being used, or if it would be better to find out that I am being used and be heartbroken. I guess, there is always the possibility that I'll get what I want and he'll want to make this into more soon, but in the back of my mind i feel like he will never see me as more than a piece of ass.

I'm worth so much more than to feel this way, but there is just something that makes me unable to stay away from him! I know it is because he is sexy as sin (physically and mentally), but I should be able to have some self control and stay away from him if this is unhealthy, right? I just don't have the will power to have "the talk" with him because I fear that my brain will tell me i need to let him go and find someone that is better for me emotionally.

I really am fucked up in the head. I literally put myself through this and then complain about it or feel hurt.... I just don't know how to approach the situation with him. People keep telling me to wait a while and see how things pan out now that he's home, but now that I've seen him I am so impatient. I really have no clue what to do, but most likely I will be waiting around for him to call me and getting no sleep over it when it takes him a week to even text me. ugh. I make myself sick thinking about it.... I hope someone had the patience to read this and drop me some advice because i really need some help here.

'Til tomorrow...

.Once upon a time, there were two young boys. They weren't supposed to like other boys, but they did. They met once in highschool and again shortly after.

.At that point, somewhere within the first few days of the this re-meeting, one boy fell in love with the other boy. Love--almost--at first sight. The feeling grew as they got to know one another. Feelings were obviously mutual.

.Then, very early into this, one boy ran away.

.The other boy then compared every other boy he met to the first boy, always knowing it would never last... because they were not the first boy. Occasionally he met a young man who would distract him from his feelings for the first, but this would always end quickly and sadly. He saw the first boy again, but these meetings were few and far between. He always hoped for the day the first boy would come back. The day he would not run away.

.This is a true story.

If you were mine

We'd fly to the moon

And we would hit golfballs into the

Space vacuum

 

If you were mine

We'd dive under sea

And dance with the mermaids and maybe the

Sea monkeys

 

Oh, everything would be so perfect

And everyone would be so happy

People with AIDS wouldn't be sick

And war-torn countries would find peace

If you were mine

 

Hello again, dear friends.  I know, I'm really terrible with these updates, but I just can't seem to find the time, energy, and inclination to make the library trip with any sort of regularity.  Unfortunately, the 'net situation doesn't appear to be changing any time soon, so y'all are gonna have to just deal with it.  I'm sure you can manage, you're a tenacious bunch, and I know we've been through worse scrapes than this before, so just hang tough and we'll get through this thing.  So, without further delay, on to the juicy newslike details of my daily life.

First off, of course, is the employment situation.  Work continues to play the dominant role in my life, sucking down my time and energy in a brutally voracious fashion not unlike that of the mighty black hole, roaming the stars and leaving naught but the void in its terrible wake.  Yeah, work is totally just like that.  My activity cycle has been ruined by repeated switching of shifts, call-ins, and Adult Swim.  Nowadays, if left totally undisturbed, I will sleep anywhere from ten to eighteen hours, followed by an active period upwards of 35 hours, a schedule that conflicts rather harshly with employment, leisure activities, necessary supply-gathering, and the world in general.  It's tough being messed up, y'know?

But enough about that, it's time for the more intriguing, soap opera-y details of my romantic entanglements.  I've been seeing one of my coworkers for a few months now.  I know, I know, it's a terrible idea and it'll only cause trouble for me in the long run.  But dammit, I just can't say no to a pretty young woman when all she wants in the whole wide world is to hob my knob for a bit.  Therein lies a bit of a problem, however, for you see, this dear lass has gone from a simple fling to a Class A One-Sided Relationship.  She's totally in love with me and wants to keep seeing me, despite my total lack of interest in having a girlfriend.  We've talked about it many a time, and she always tries to tell me she's okay with being just friends, but it's a transparent lie and I'm honestly not sure if she wants it to be or not.  In either case, I probably should cut the whole deal off immediately, but I can't bring myself to put her through that kind of rejection...and don't bother telling me it'll hurt her less in the long run, I already know.  What I'm hoping for is that she'll find someone else and move on but who knows if she even sees other men while I'm in her life.  I get the sinking feeling that while she's got me, she won't even consider another romantic interest.  Funny how it works out; I spend years chasing women I can't have, then I end up getting chased in much the same fashion.  C'est la vie, player.

Along that same vein, though I suppose most of you had guessed it by now, I don't think I can really say I'm in love anymore.  My main squeeze these past couple of years has grown quite distant, to the point where I believe she's been actively avoiding me.  For what reason, I can only guess, but the end result remains the same.  In the end, it's most likely better that I consider the whole affair exactly as what it was: an internet love interest that grew, flourished, and died without ever being truly realized.  It's still my opinion that there was a huge opportunity missed there, and I'll likely be reflecting for years to come on those precious few times she and I made those connections that are the stuff through which soulmates are forged.  It was rare, but once in a blue moon, we could really talk about ourselves and each other, and oh dear God, did it make me happy.  It's not often that I relish the feeling of adrenaline surging in my veins, but I have to say I've never been happier to have my heart hammering the beat of a war drum against my chest.  It made me feel more alive than I've ever felt before, and that's including the times I got into the nose candy.  Love, man...it's primo shit, and I can't wait until the next time I pick up a stash and take a nice big hit of spiritual completion.

What's been frying my noodle about the whole ordeal is how long I coasted on the old assumptions of mutual love and convinced myself there was still a connection between the two of us, despite the total lack of communication.  For the better part of a year I was still thinking of her almost every day, having silly little domestic fantasies as I lay in bed each night (or morning, screw you Wawa) and generally wanting the woman in the worst way.  However, the situation wasn't totally lost on me.  I realized how fragile my perception of reality was becoming, but chose to ignore it for a while, like staying in bed an extra few minutes because it feels so warm and comfortable and safe.  But one fateful day, when I was getting ready to go meet my ladyfriend, I was looking around for clean clothes to wear, and my sole pair of unused boxers were the special ones I had been saving for the woman I loved, just for an offhand comment she made a long time ago that she liked them.  Ever since that day, I had been keeping them 'unspoiled', never wearing them when I might find myself in bed with another woman...but that day I realized my love had ended, that was the day I defiled my flaming chili pepper underwear.  It was a day of mixed feelings, but for once, I didn't cry at all.  Didn't even feel a lump in the throat or anything, it was just another step for me.  Kinda weird to think of how vehemently opposed I was to this line of thought such a short while ago, refusing to give up hope that we would be together someday, only for the final decision to be made with relative coldness.  I have to say I don't approve of how things turned out in the end, but there isn't anything I can do about it, and it's not causing me the sort of emotional anguish it might have for a younger James.  Just another brick in the wall, I say.

Let's see...not much else to report.  My best friend wants to split an apartment with me, but I have my doubts about his ability to commit to financial responsibility.  Plus, if I did live with him, I'd end up doing far more drugs than I do now, and I'm already a little uncomfortable with my current level of indulgence in recreational pharmacology.  On the other hand, being irresponsible with one's own body is a great deal of fun...eh, we'll burn that bridge when we get to it.  And there's also the factor of being comfortable at home.  My current place, though decent, doesn't really feel like home to me, having to sneak around my roommate to do anything fun or relaxing.  It's almost exactly like living with parents, except there's no love at all.  Just restriction.  Bleh.

Anyway, that's enough ramblings for one night.  I know you hear it from me all the time, but I'll try to make my updates a little more frequent.  Not that anybody's really paying that much attention, but sometimes it just feels good to get it all down in text.  Theraputic, it is.  A real personal vacation.  Ciao.