Sometimes Lessons Learned Need to be Reiterated

“Play hard to get”

“You need to act uninterested”

“Be unavailable for awhile”

This is advice I have been given time and time again, and as many of you know, I don’t take advice very well. The moral of the entire Thanksgiving holiday was simply that I am fed up with men—and I don’t know why I bother at all. I know, I know, same old story from good ole’ Amelie, complaining about men…blah blah blah.

But here’s the thing, men, listen up. Women are not always at fault when things don’t work out. That isn’t exactly earth shattering, but getting it off my chest is important. Also, one night stands don’t necessarily get taken in the same way by both parties. I have had this reversed on me, so I can’t hold much blame—but it’s annoying as hell when one party thinks nothing of it, and the other really thinks there was a connection. This will be a major philosophical insight for the history books: avoid one night stands.

I sound like a religious freak now, but randomly sleeping with people is never a good idea. I don’t care if you know them, care about them, or just met them—it still doesn’t ever work out well. You fall for them, they fall for you, or you feel like a total hung-over whore the next day. Breaking up with someone you aren’t dating, but slept with, is a messy situation. It is also no fun at all to sit by a phone waiting for someone to call that you inadvertently fell for when sleeping with them.

So, girls and boys: random make outs at bars are fine, but don’t take someone home you aren’t dating, it just turns out messy, annoying, and infuriating in the end.

I am not innocent here—I have both inadvertently and purposefully played guys in the last year. I have watched as I crush them when we weren’t even dating, and lacked the emotional response I assumed I should be having. I have ignored phone calls, listed people in my contacts list as “do not answer”, blocked people on Facebook, and mostly been a total bitch. Having the situation reversed on me makes me neither feel guilty or innocent; mostly it just makes me angry.

I can play hard to get like a champion…until I get more than three drinks in me. With that I decide I am in love (only takes two drinks if it’s wine) and I decide that I am nearly an old maid and should go for it. I act like I would if I just found my true soul mate and likely end up at least kissing them. As I have learned time and time again, soul mates aren’t quite so perfect when sober—and lead to awkward situations.

The real problem is, that I typically have at least three drinks in me—so how on earth can I find a man? I think the answer is simple—I need to choose: alcohol, or men.

I think alcohol is a more reliable choice.

When a Hopeless Romantic Gets Hopelessly Broken

I can’t help but to think that sometimes love is meant not to be. I look back on my relationships, the loving ones, the ones that lacked one thing or another—and I realize that there is only one that was good enough to last. That one of course, did not last, and I wonder sometimes why that is. For the sake of clarity I will call this guy Simon. Sure, we had our issues, and yes there were hard nights, distance, and maturity issues—but we cared deeply for each other. Simon is the only one that I am still incredibly close with (when we find time to see each other). I ran into him last spring for the first time in years and the chemistry was definitely still there—on both of our ends. It is easy to slide back into the way things were, when the way things are aren’t all that different.

At even the thought of Simon my heart has fluttered since the day we met when I was only sixteen. We always had a connection no one could deny, and one that threatened anyone we ever dated before and after we were together. I was his first time, he wasn’t mine, but he was my first love. It has been five years now since we last were together in that loving way or since we last admitted that we were. Each time I run into his arms for a greeting hug I am used to stopping short, reminding myself to breathe, and forcing the painful memories of our break up from my mind.

Yesterday, it was very different.

I think the last six months of not feeling anything have finally had their effect. I still miss my shitty ex that treated me like a piece of crap, and now I don’t feel the flutter when the one good man, Simon, holds me. I numbed myself to the wrong longings, without even knowing I was doing it. I could tell he noticed the change in me, and wanted to ask what caused it—but didn’t. We walked the delicate line of not asking about relationships, both knowing the pain it causes the other when we aren’t alone together. I don’t know where the years went between when we last touched and the cold November we are now in, and I am horrified that love can die. The connection we had was the only definite in my life, even if I didn’t hold him, I felt that love—and now it is just absent, and I am numb. I am not crying or screaming, just not feeling at all. I think I turned my heart off. I had been trying to do that for over a year, but now it’s turned off to the one I want it on for, and I am scared.

I tried to justify the fact that the first man I ever truly loved, the only one I ever have, could not be with me. As I drove the nearly two hours from where we met back to my apartment I tried to explain things to myself. I realized that had Simon and I stayed together I would not be the person I am today. When we were dating I was totally trusting, smoking cigarettes, and content with not going to college to stay near him. We broke up and now I have a degree, I rarely smoke, and I have a job that pays the bills. I dated others that hurt and scarred me, and with those scars I have learned who I really am. I am going to go to graduate school, likely across the continent—something I would have never done if we were still together. When we were dating I could barely stand being more than a mile from him, our love made us grin constantly, but our dreams meant nothing without the other. I am now independent, bitter, and cautious.

Which is better I am not sure, but now I know that I do nothing in my life that isn’t good for me. I do not fall in love blindly like I did with him. I measure each step to protect my bitter heart, but I measure each step for me. If Simon had not broken my heart, if I had not given it to him to break, I would be someone else. I would be a pushover nicotine addicted college dropout, with the man of my dreams. There are days when I am not sure which I prefer, where I am now, or where I would be with him—but today I think I am better off where I am. I also think that he saw what would happen to me if I stayed with him, something he mentioned during the teary breakup, and he chose what was best for me.

When I was about to leave my parent’s house to go see Simon yesterday I was cleaning out an old box and I found a car I had written and never sent to him. I had written it before we ever dated, expressing how much I cared for him and how hopeless I was without him. I was unsure of myself, self conscious, and in denial of the fact that I knew he cared too. The girl who wrote that letter made me sad. I missed knowing something so definitely, the way I knew then that I loved Simon. At the same time, I am glad that I know it isn’t a matter of me being deserving of someone, but of someone deserving me. I am much stronger now—heartbreak will do that I guess. I briefly considered giving him the card that I’d written about seven years ago, but instead put it in my purse to serve as a reminder for however long I need one, that love that requires losing yourself is not love at all.

The pain I have endured has helped me to develop my writing beyond anywhere it could be if I was happy all of the time. I no longer search blindly for love, hoping for the spark I felt with him that I just couldn’t find again. Maybe there are only a few true loves in each person’s life. He was one of them, now I have to wait until another one comes along. I think since the spark with Simon is gone, I now have room for a new one…once I get settled in graduate school that is. I have been pushing men away from me since I was freed from a horrible relationship over a year ago, and I will continue pushing until I meet one that leaves me no choice but to open my arms.