When I have a crush on someone - weak or strong - I lose my ability to speak properly. Sometimes I stutter from nervousness. Sometimes I speak too quickly, with thoughts racing between my lips at the speed of my erratic heart palpitations. Sometimes I don't know what to say when I actually have everything to say.
Sometimes I say absolutely nothing at all.
I've had a few epic crushes. Charles L. Michael R. Bernie (his name is Bernie... he doesn't need an initial for his last name). And of course, The Academic. I consider myself a fairly confident and charming person, but I lost any sense of that person around these individuals. They made me nervous. They made me sweat. They gave me butterflies.
Charles L. was in elementary school. I didn't know how to talk to him, so I slapped him upside the head instead. I also slapped him in the face (please do not ask me why... I guess it was my own way of pulling his pigtails). I nearly died when we held hands at my birthday party at the rollerskating rink. We circled the rink together during a slow song and I totally thought it was meant to be. I didn't say anything to him the entire time (but he gave me the cutest patent leather backpack as a present).
Michael R. Ohhh, Michael R. Wow. Now this was the middle school crush to end all crushes. And it lasted until my sophomore year of high school, even though we were both at different schools. We talked a lot online (back during the days of AOL instant messaging). That's actually how we began talking. I knew he liked the James Bond movies, so I made up some bogus crap about how I was a fan, as well; this would later come to bite me in the ass when I couldn't answer any questions about the movies. We became fast internet friends, but this never transferred to real life. (This is one reason why I absolutely do not like texting, IMing, or BBMing when you're getting to know someone romantically. They have no place in dating.) I didn't know what to say to him. Or how to say it. One day, for example, we were both walking down the hallway from opposite ends. We were the ONLY two people in that hallway. We made eye contact, but said NOTHING to each other. Knowing myself, I probably choked on my butterflies and looked away. At the end of 8th grade, we hosted a symposium. Couldn't talk to him then, either. Even though we were face to face at one point. I think he realized the absurdity of the situation because he made an effort to say hi to me twice. I eked out a "hey," but nothing more.
I actually saw Mike in 2008 at a middle school reunion (magnet program. bear with us.), and decided I had really great taste in middle school. He turned out to be a wonderful human being, and a great catch (yes, he's taken.).
Bernie was the summer before 11th grade. Bernie was super cute. Bernie was tall and surfer chill with baby blue eyes. Bernie was great with kids. He was funny. He was compassionate. I really liked Bernie. I didn't have a problem talking to him until my fellow camp counselor let it slip that I had a crush on him. Hello, awkward - he and I were co-counselors for the same age group. After that, I couldn't overcome what I felt to be humiliation, and so silence ensued.
The Academic. Slightly different situation. And perhaps it isn't fair to lump him with these crushes since much more than a mere crush developed between us, but oh well.. For a period of time, I could get it out. And it was easy. No effort at all. When I began sensing that something wasn't right, however, I began to clam up. When he began hesitating, I began hesitating, which probably made him hesitate even more, which in turn made me hesitate even more. I relied on old conversation topics as if I had nothing to say. On some level, I think I thought these topics would be easy to navigate, which would enable me to read his (weird) behavior. I also think I thought I'd have more control over the situation and my level of emotional investment. Relying on stock topics kept my heart and vulnerability at bay. I had everything to say to him, and I still have everything to say to him.
I just can't.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Open Letter
I don't know what to do with the fact that I just miss you.
So I'll continue doing nothing.
love,
me.
So I'll continue doing nothing.
love,
me.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
31 things that could have spared me a lot of trouble
I don't normally listen to advice from my mother about dating because she tends to have a very traditional approach that is difficult to translate into modern dating scenarios. She recently sent me a link to a MSN article, "31 things I wish I'd known about dating when I was 21." I initially ignored it, expecting to find corny tropes about dating that would only take away from my precious tv watching time (post-finals, I've been indulging in all kinds of trashy television. amaaaazing!!!). About a week ago, I decided to check it out, and was pleasantly surprised. Good job, mommy.
A few favorites...
4. Don't help him ask you out by texting him something nice or polite. I'm glad you're more outgoing and thoughtful than he is, but he doesn't want the help.
6. It's shocking how much guys will talk about marriage. Until there's a ring on your finger, it will be better for you if you pretend you're deaf. (it really is shocking...)
14. Guys get resentful, too.
19.
26. My mom always said, "Men don't think." I thought she meant, "They are mistaken in their thoughts." But they're just not thinking anything at all. About you. They're watching the game. That's why they haven't called.
31 things.
A few favorites...
4. Don't help him ask you out by texting him something nice or polite. I'm glad you're more outgoing and thoughtful than he is, but he doesn't want the help.
6. It's shocking how much guys will talk about marriage. Until there's a ring on your finger, it will be better for you if you pretend you're deaf. (it really is shocking...)
14. Guys get resentful, too.
19.
26. My mom always said, "Men don't think." I thought she meant, "They are mistaken in their thoughts." But they're just not thinking anything at all. About you. They're watching the game. That's why they haven't called.
31 things.
Best Laid Plans
I used to plan. I used to be a planner. There was always a Plan A, and when Plan A didn't work out, I brushed my shoulders off and moved on to Plan B. Then Plan C, D or E, if necessary. I suppose what that should have told me was that there was really no point to planning, as I had control over nothing. But the semblance of control was enough. The wheels never stopped turning, my mind never stopped imagining possibilities.
Professionally, this mostly remains true. Because I'm in law school during an economic downturn, it's absolutely necessary that I have a contingency plan. It would be foolish not to have one. Even though I can predict nothing about my professional life, if you were to ask me where I see myself in five or ten years, I would have an answer for you. And it wouldn't be a bullshit response because I believe in my five- and ten-year plans.
Personally, I can't see beyond my own nose. I used to plan. In high school, I knew that I wanted to be married by 26. I turn 26 in July. I gave up on that plan when I turned 22 and realized 26 was four years down the road. In high school, I also knew I wanted to have kids by 28-30. I suppose that's still mostly true. By the time I graduated from college, the plan was to be married by 28, with kids by 30-31. I actually think that's quite reasonable; just pointless. And it's not that planning isn't pointless - it is and it isn't. It isn't because planning takes you from Point A to B. It pushes you forward, and compels you to reassess the present on a variety of levels. It is because just about everything is out of your hands.
A professional plan works because I have control over the courses I take; the networks I create; the jobs I seek and choose, etc.. I have no control over those who wake up one day and tell me they're no longer interested; or they're interested, and have been for awhile, but cannot do long distance. I have no control over the course of my own emotions. Maybe one day I will again tell someone that I used to love that I no longer love him. Maybe I will do so callously, and without emotion, because I simply do not care. Or maybe, next time, I will be just as stunned as he at my change of heart. There are simply too many variables - accounted and unaccounted - that make planning seem absolutely absurd. So, maybe this isn't a bad thing?
Perhaps it reflects a growing awareness about myself or life, in general. Perhaps it's me growing wiser, even if only marginally. Whatever the case may be, I also see it as a sort of loss. I used to plan because I used to be hopeful and optimistic about love. It's possible that what I am feeling now is the middle ground, but the change has a bitter flavor, and is laced with terror. I suppose you could now classify me as the non-believing romantic because I know that shit exists, but I don't believe it exists for me. And I can't tell you why. I know what my daddy issues are. I know what (some of) my man issues are. And I do not think they fully explain this. I do not believe in my own happy ending.
I think it's telling that I've always seen myself as a mother before seeing myself as a wife. I've always chalked this up to my mother being a single parent - she was my example. I'm certainly not discrediting that theory, and I think a strong case can be made for it, but I also think it has something to do with a general uncertainty I have about men. I do not trust them (Cue daddy issues). I do not believe in their ability to protect me anymore than I am able to protect myself (and honestly, why should I?). But growing up, I drank the kool-aid about love, life, marriage, and picket fences. I'm from a very lovely suburban town in Maryland, where white picket fences, yorkie terriers, and disturbingly friendly people exist - of course I drank the kool-aid. I swam in it.
Mother before wife. Never wife before mother. Or mother and wife. Just mother. Because I've believed in the certainty of a child's love for her mother. I've believed in the fierceness with which a mother loves and cares for her child. This love is real to me. This love isn't remote or imagined. This love transcends the happy ending. But at the same time, I have to question my desire to have children. It's a selfish desire; one that stems from a need to be loved and love in return. Wholly. Fully. Selflessly. I've always wanted children. I've had brief moments of complete disdain, where I've found them to be bratty little monsters, but these moments were fleeting. I've even settled into a feeling of actually being ready to have children, even though I'm not at a place in my life where I think it would be appropriate for me (that place = law school).
But now, during these late night ramblings, I think I have reached the conclusion that I'm nowhere near "ready." I don't want the reasons I stated above to be the reasons. A good reason cannot be wanting children because I can't envision any other happy ending for myself. That is a very very bad reason. This obviously doesn't mean that thinking I won't find love or get married necessarily precludes the possibility that I'll have children. The two really have nothing do to with each other, but I won't consider myself ready until I can divorce the two in my mind and fully articulate my reasons for wanting children.
So, where does this leave me? Cynical. Yes, definitely. Jaded. Yes, definitely. Without any sort of plan for my personal life. Yep, pretty much. And I think this is where I need to be right now in my life. I don't know why, and I don't need to know why. My only takeaway is that I can't plan anymore.
Planning seems to have been unsafe. Planning seems to have been the modus operandi of the more confident, optimistic me.
Professionally, this mostly remains true. Because I'm in law school during an economic downturn, it's absolutely necessary that I have a contingency plan. It would be foolish not to have one. Even though I can predict nothing about my professional life, if you were to ask me where I see myself in five or ten years, I would have an answer for you. And it wouldn't be a bullshit response because I believe in my five- and ten-year plans.
Personally, I can't see beyond my own nose. I used to plan. In high school, I knew that I wanted to be married by 26. I turn 26 in July. I gave up on that plan when I turned 22 and realized 26 was four years down the road. In high school, I also knew I wanted to have kids by 28-30. I suppose that's still mostly true. By the time I graduated from college, the plan was to be married by 28, with kids by 30-31. I actually think that's quite reasonable; just pointless. And it's not that planning isn't pointless - it is and it isn't. It isn't because planning takes you from Point A to B. It pushes you forward, and compels you to reassess the present on a variety of levels. It is because just about everything is out of your hands.
A professional plan works because I have control over the courses I take; the networks I create; the jobs I seek and choose, etc.. I have no control over those who wake up one day and tell me they're no longer interested; or they're interested, and have been for awhile, but cannot do long distance. I have no control over the course of my own emotions. Maybe one day I will again tell someone that I used to love that I no longer love him. Maybe I will do so callously, and without emotion, because I simply do not care. Or maybe, next time, I will be just as stunned as he at my change of heart. There are simply too many variables - accounted and unaccounted - that make planning seem absolutely absurd. So, maybe this isn't a bad thing?
Perhaps it reflects a growing awareness about myself or life, in general. Perhaps it's me growing wiser, even if only marginally. Whatever the case may be, I also see it as a sort of loss. I used to plan because I used to be hopeful and optimistic about love. It's possible that what I am feeling now is the middle ground, but the change has a bitter flavor, and is laced with terror. I suppose you could now classify me as the non-believing romantic because I know that shit exists, but I don't believe it exists for me. And I can't tell you why. I know what my daddy issues are. I know what (some of) my man issues are. And I do not think they fully explain this. I do not believe in my own happy ending.
I think it's telling that I've always seen myself as a mother before seeing myself as a wife. I've always chalked this up to my mother being a single parent - she was my example. I'm certainly not discrediting that theory, and I think a strong case can be made for it, but I also think it has something to do with a general uncertainty I have about men. I do not trust them (Cue daddy issues). I do not believe in their ability to protect me anymore than I am able to protect myself (and honestly, why should I?). But growing up, I drank the kool-aid about love, life, marriage, and picket fences. I'm from a very lovely suburban town in Maryland, where white picket fences, yorkie terriers, and disturbingly friendly people exist - of course I drank the kool-aid. I swam in it.
Mother before wife. Never wife before mother. Or mother and wife. Just mother. Because I've believed in the certainty of a child's love for her mother. I've believed in the fierceness with which a mother loves and cares for her child. This love is real to me. This love isn't remote or imagined. This love transcends the happy ending. But at the same time, I have to question my desire to have children. It's a selfish desire; one that stems from a need to be loved and love in return. Wholly. Fully. Selflessly. I've always wanted children. I've had brief moments of complete disdain, where I've found them to be bratty little monsters, but these moments were fleeting. I've even settled into a feeling of actually being ready to have children, even though I'm not at a place in my life where I think it would be appropriate for me (that place = law school).
But now, during these late night ramblings, I think I have reached the conclusion that I'm nowhere near "ready." I don't want the reasons I stated above to be the reasons. A good reason cannot be wanting children because I can't envision any other happy ending for myself. That is a very very bad reason. This obviously doesn't mean that thinking I won't find love or get married necessarily precludes the possibility that I'll have children. The two really have nothing do to with each other, but I won't consider myself ready until I can divorce the two in my mind and fully articulate my reasons for wanting children.
So, where does this leave me? Cynical. Yes, definitely. Jaded. Yes, definitely. Without any sort of plan for my personal life. Yep, pretty much. And I think this is where I need to be right now in my life. I don't know why, and I don't need to know why. My only takeaway is that I can't plan anymore.
Planning seems to have been unsafe. Planning seems to have been the modus operandi of the more confident, optimistic me.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
About 1shot2many...
She's off romping with turtles in the Seychelles. She will be back this summer.
Yes. Hate her. Be jealous. I'm with you.
Paradise >>>>>>>>>> Law School Finals. Just saying.
Yes. Hate her. Be jealous. I'm with you.
Paradise >>>>>>>>>> Law School Finals. Just saying.
Good Luck Chuck?
So, this guy I had a very minor thing with/for is now in a relationship. Let's call him The Passive One (for future reference). And I'm happy for him. I am. I consider him a friend, and think he'd be a good boyfriend (but definitely not for me). But now I'm seriously wondering whether I have the Good Luck Chuck curse... whether every man I'm involved with or semi-involved with will find a relationship immediately after whatever we had. And as a corollary, I'm wondering where I can find a Good Luck Chuck, so I can reap some of the benefits of this crap instead of bestowing it on others.
It's not that I want to be with these people, but I can't help but notice a trend. A slightly disturbing one. I suppose I don't really care (but maybe I do?)... at this point, I'd probably only care if The Academic landed himself in a relationship relatively soon. Not sure how exactly I'd feel about that, but it would probably suck. A lot.
As a disclaimer, I'm well aware that these relationships are not about me. It's just an interesting trend. Wondering when the streak will end.
It's not that I want to be with these people, but I can't help but notice a trend. A slightly disturbing one. I suppose I don't really care (but maybe I do?)... at this point, I'd probably only care if The Academic landed himself in a relationship relatively soon. Not sure how exactly I'd feel about that, but it would probably suck. A lot.
As a disclaimer, I'm well aware that these relationships are not about me. It's just an interesting trend. Wondering when the streak will end.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Distractions
Law school is a necessary distraction, but sometimes there are moments that make it clear that I'm doing too good a job of suppressing everything.
The pain has mostly faded, but the self-doubt is chronic.
(this random update brought to you by Spring 2010 Finals! study breaks are lovely, no?)
The pain has mostly faded, but the self-doubt is chronic.
(this random update brought to you by Spring 2010 Finals! study breaks are lovely, no?)
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