I’ve been trying to write this for the last 4 hours. When I finally had something that wasn’t utter dreck and seemed to be flowing well, a simple slip of the keys sent it all into the ether, to wash up onto some shore of oblivion.
Well, shit. Karma’s a bitch.
In full, fearful forthrightness, with full knowledge that D.H. peruses this foolish facsimile of an online confessional from time to time, I somehow am now able to say the things that I never said to her for 7 months (Please, dear GOD! Someone stop the machine-gun style alliteration!). I am no longer afraid of the consequences, or what she or anyone else thinks of this. I must, without any doubt, say the things that I’ve been feeling. I only hope that the consequences are positive.
As of the beginning of this writing, D.H. will begin her journey towards Illinois for 2 and a half months of summer. I will remain exactly where I have been for the last 5 years.
Last night, it was time to say goodbye.
And I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to be feeling. I feel… numb. I know that she’ll be back, and two and a half months is not a long time to be sure. But still, I have little feeling that by that time, something will have changed. I don’t even know what that change will entail.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not in love with her, except in the same sense that I care and love all of my friends. That’s not at all what I’ve even wanted out of the last 8 months or so. What I wanted was a nice, simple relationship without any of the mindfucking that usually goes on.
But D.H. has not been ready for a relationship herself, and instead has been satisfied with keeping me in the friend zone. I don’t fault her for this. If she’s not ready, she’s simply not ready, and nothing I can say or do will change that.
Last night, it was time to say goodbye.
Wanna know a deep, dark secret about me? Want to know something that I’ve told very few people, something that I keep bottled up inside? Actually, I can’t believe I’m even telling you, my coveted reader, this tarnishing little tidbit, let alone placing this on the public Internet for all to peruse.
Here goes, now don’t be surprised. I did warn you…
I’m not even sure that I have the capability to love anymore.
Now before you begin preparing a canned response to this statement, please bear with me. I want to fall in love again. Every time I see a sappy movie, a few romantic moments on TV (yes, even cartoons, and especially anime), or listen to music, I am reminded of how much others are in love and loving it. It’s a constant in our society for us to believe that this ideal high love is easily attainable and in the end, perfect. We are conditioned as a society from birth to believe that the “one” is out there, simply waiting for us to stumble onto them like one would trip over a tree root in the thick underbrush of the dank, overwhelming, unexplored forest of romance.
Music is the ultimate example of where chivalry still exists. 90% of all music is about romance in some form or fashion, even, one could argue, hip-hop. Although I suppose that hip-hop would fall into the skanky, sloppy pr0n category of romance, assuming one of those categories exists. Although I have a hard time believing that Lil’ John, Notorious F.A.T., or Snoop Dogg is really just a withdrawn, lonely romantic at heart waiting for that perfect girl to come along in between week-long binges with hardcore drugs and orgies with hundreds of beautiful, fawning, gushing fan-girls.
This is why I don’t think chivalry is dead yet. Don’t get me wrong, I think chivalry is lying sprawled on the ground in a pool of it’s own blood as it’s chest heaves, laboriously drawing in a few last breaths in a pitiful rattle as it prays for the sweet, sweet release of death.
But I digress.
The problem is, we all have this ideal in our mind of the perfect person, the perfect relationship, the perfect… life-together-in-utter-bliss-until-death-do-you-part-or-possibly-until-it’s-no-longer-convenient.
Now, everyone, please, take a deep breath, meditate for a moment, and repeat after me…
The universe is not that nice of place, and not all things work out like you want them to.
The funny thing? I’m a hopeless romantic at heart. But, I’m also a hopeless realist (well, sometimes). And, contrary to popular belief, the two are not mutally exclusive. Again, this follows my old and oft used axim, “Plan for the worst, hope for the best.”
So, there’s always been a nagging, itchy fear in my mind that I will not find that perfect person, that “one”. Perhaps I’m a little too unique for my own good. Perhaps I’m not even capable of keeping it “together” in a long-term relationship, as evidenced from my previous bouts of bottomless stupidity.
But that doesn’t mean that I can’t give it a shot.
Last night, it was time to say goodbye.
And, in a few moments, something changed. Some forgotten relay in my head or her head or both our heads clicked into place.
I realized I would miss her, even though it’s only going to be 2 and a half months of not-togetherness.
For the first time in a long time when we hung out, things weren’t complicated. We had a good time, enjoyed a few chuckles and the company of friends, watched a sappy and overall hilarious movie, and then proceeded to face the realization that it was time to say goodbye.
We said goodbye, and for the first time in 7 months, simply holding her felt natural and real, instead of hurriedly scripted and poorly performed by two shitty actors who couldn’t give a damn.
Maybe I’m reading too much into this. Maybe this was just both of us simultaneously realizing that our friendship would be on hiatus for a couple of months, except for the occassional phone call or Instant Message. Maybe I needn’t worry about what is in store for us, if anything.
One thing is for sure: Before last night? I was looking at this summer almost as a reprieve, a chance for me to try something different for a change, and perhaps get into a relationship with somebody who was interested in having one with me. Hence my continued financial support of the online dating industry. And, I will stick with that as well, but now two and one-half months in the future is looking a little more… strange, I suppose.
I think a great part of my current mood has to do with the fact that I’m in a college town in the summer. Ever lived in a town where the only industry is conning poor high-school graduates into sitting in cramped, stuffy rooms listening to old white guys wanking off to each other’s intellectually-impressive sounding bullshit to provide the end-product of a piece of frickin’ paper? In the summer, when these poor saps leave to return to their respective homes for 3 months of not having to listen to alphabet-soup inspired shit, life tends to slow down considerably.
There are a lot of positive points to summer in a college town, especially when one works at said college. Parking is better, traffic is lessened, and the noise, hustle, and other associated annoyances are decreased to a level that is conducive to actually getting one’s life in some semblance of structure.
But meeting women? HA! I say. In a span of three days this city has become a ghost town, and I am forced to occupy my time with trivialities. Most of my friends are gone as well, so I will be catching up on personal projects. Of course, I always have online dating, and in 3 short weeks, Project A-Kon, my favorite anime convention and practical Mecca for my species, “Geekus Animius” will arrive. I will spend 3 bleary-eyed, delerious days with thousands of others of my kind, trying to avoid my ex-girlfriend and seeing all my friends from the last two years.
And, almost without needing to be said, I will not be trying to find a relationship such as the one I… tripped over two years ago. I promise.
Yeah, right.
Stay tuned, as from my vantage point at least, this is pretty damn entertaining. Same bat time, same bat channel.
Until next time.
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