I’m attempting to force myself to write in my blog every day. I’ve gotten SO BAD at keeping up these past several years and someday I’ll be dead and then what?
I’ll be gone but hopefully not forgotten. (Feel free to use these prompts for your own writing).
The Unrequited love poem: How do you feel when you love someone who does not love you back?
I haven’t really been in very many relationships in my life. My first boyfriend just wasn’t that into me and it broke my heart. I gave him ALL of me and he discarded me like yesterday’s socks. To make matters worse, he started dating someone while he was still with me. I immediately broke up with him when I found out, which in hindsight, was what he wanted, I suppose. Then he wasn’t put in the awkward position of breaking it off with me.
But that experience taught me to harden my heart. It broke something in me. I remember holing myself off from civilization, for days, and analyzing every aspect of that relationship and coming to the conclusion, the only person I can ever truly count on, is me. I never again allowed anyone to get as close to me or to give myself as fully. It was just too painful. I’ve given all that I’m capable of giving to Kevin and no one else.
I wish I could give more to Kevin, but there is a wall that no matter how hard I try to break down, remains to this day.
In some ways, I feel like that experience damaged me. It made me cold, uncaring in a lot of ways. I truly don’t care. I mean I care, but only to a point. It scares me sometimes how cold I can be.
But in other ways, I’m sort of glad it did happen. I don’t get that upset when someone pulls out of my life. I just shrug and go on with my life. I’m not exactly proud of this trait, but it’s definitely protected me from getting hurt. And if people don’t want to make that much effort to be part of my life, I’m certainly not going to chase them down and MAKE them. Meh. Life goes on.
I had another “relationship” right before Kevin. I wouldn’t call him my boyfriend because I wasn’t naive enough to think it was going anywhere, he was separated from his wife. They were on the crux of getting divorced. He was someone I went to high school with and had a huge crush on, though he didn’t give me the time of day in high school because contrary to popular belief, I wasn’t part of the “cool” kids – I was one of those kids that was on the outskirts of many different groups of kids – I was friends with everyone and no one at the same time.
(Remember the cold heart trait?)
But it was an intense relationship. We had fun together. It was lighthearted and never serious. But I did like him. The night before his divorce was final, his wife called him and wanted to talk. He was torn. I didn’t want to let him go but I knew if he didn’t, he would always wonder “what if.” So, I encouraged him to go.
He never came back.
It was hard, and I cried for hours afterward. I remember my roommate stayed up with me and tried to console me. But that piece of walled heart? Protected me and though I was sad, I wasn’t devastated. It didn’t break me, I simply went on with life.
Six months later, I met Kevin.
But I was cautious. I tread very carefully because when I met Kevin, he was newly divorced (six months) and I didn’t want to become the “rebound girl.” (I feel like this blog post just took a turn into deep emotional territory, grab hold of something).
So, I kept him at arm’s distance, though we did move in together and lived together for two years until I thought, “Okay, I think it’s safe to say I’m more than a rebound girl” and pretty much forced him to propose because tick/tock! Life is too short for you to make up your mind, either we get married or we move on.
Yeah, I’m such a romantic.
And here we are, almost 29 years married.
But that’s my romantic story in a nutshell. Sure, there were other guys sprinkled throughout that history, but none lasted very long because I wasn’t interested in anything long term – we had fun, we moved on. So other than my first boyfriend, I’ve never felt love for someone that didn’t return it.
I don’t know if that is something to be proud or to feel sad about. I’ll let you decide.