I’m not sure what it was about him that made me fall so hopelessly hard. Maybe it was his sandy brown hair that during the summer would effortlessly slope over his eyebrows, or in the winter would return to his standard number 9 haircut that spiked ever so slightly down the center. It could have been his million-dollar smile that cast out any shadow of doubt or the feeling of loneliness. Or best of all, his alluring dark green emerald eyes that made me question his too often glances, but ultimately left me with butterflies in my stomach that fluttered up to my throat leaving me speechless. Despite his remarkable physical characteristics, it was his gentlemanly charm, sincere compliments, and tender strokes that stole my heart. Knowing I was broken, he picked up the pieces, carefully sewing them back together, leading me to believe that this love [for once] could actually work out in my favor.
After about a month of knowing him, going on a few dates, I nonchalantly inquired his intentions and the direction of our so-called “friendship.” He looked at me and laughed saying “I don’t want to label what we have, what we are. “Well, what the hell are we?” I analyzed every thought I had about him and every interaction with him. I silently grew frustrated because it seemed like all the “signs” were there: he liked me…right? But I knew, oh did I know deep down that he was trouble. I was heading over the waterfall.
We were coming back from our last date, and, well, the last time I would ever see him that he told me this: “I take these things (things…relationships? I guess?) very seriously and I need to (here’s the kicker – my favorite part of all this nonsense) PRAY on it before I make any major decisions (*side note: He’s a Christian).
Don’t get me wrong here, as a Christian myself, I completely respect all faith journeys and beliefs and would never dare to question them. But this statement-like request struck me, and not in a good way…
He kissed my forehead before he departed and then walked out the doors. Not ever looking back.
…foolish, foolish me…
“…that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.”
I tumbled down the waterfall. He was gone without a care. But after all, I knew this would happen, so I gave my heart a life vest and [tried to] let go.
(*Note: the story above is based on a fictional character, but the feelings, emotions, and experiences are quite real and frankly very recent.)
I’m a hopeless romantic. I love too much, fall for the wrong guys, and always find a reason to blame myself for failing.
Is there such a thing as loving too much? …caring too much? Maybe these feelings derive from my desperation to be loved or to love back. Now I know what you’re thinking, well Beth your friends and family love you – there’s a multitude of people surrounding you who love you more than you realize!
Yes, thank you, I do realize…
I’m talking about the crazy, ugly, beautiful dangers of falling in love. I hope you understand what I’m trying to get at here because I cannot find suitable words to describe it at the moment.
I woke up this morning
And I heard the news
I know the pain of a heartbreak
I don’t have answers
And neither do you
I know the pain of a heartbreak
But I know what it’s like to be hurt, heartbroken, and left with your own over-analyzed thoughts: IT. SUCKS. Even worse, today’s generation does more “feeling up” ” than “falling for” and “hooking up” than “committing to.” We take risks on fleeting sensual moments, only to wake up feeling used, mistreated, and forgotten.
but the big question for me is why. We know the consequences…but, why?
You want honest truth? Let’s get real, and let’s get raw (G-Rated).
I was in a friends-with-benefits relationship for longer than I’d like to admit… It started during the fall of junior year. He was smart, quiet, and attractive. Oddly enough we had nothing in common. He was interested in hunting, everything related to nature and “outdoorsy” activities. He even had a tank of piranhas in his basement…what that has to do with anything, well I’ll let you do your own analysis. I was and still am into reading, human anatomy, mellow music, poetic writing, that kind of thing. Clearly very, VERY, different hobbies and passions.
What was it that attracted me to him? I don’t know. And to this day, I could guess, but I still don’t know.
We texted. We hung out…and we *hooked up. We barely knew each other, but it was the touch that became all that mattered. Our conversations merely a cover story for this physical partnership that
we knew I knew was completely salacious, immoral, and out-of-character.
(*kissing, cuddling…fooled around…but no, we did not have sex. Use your imagination.)
So, why did I stay? 3 reasons: 1) I fastened myself to the hope that it would turn into a relationship. 2) The physical attraction, interaction, and feeling that came from it all was addicting. Lastly 3) I was naive, childish, and preposterously enamored with someone who could not even recall my birthday, much less care about me…
I let it go too far, much farther than either one of us could have predicted. We touched in ways that violated any sense of respect or dignity. I won’t go in to detail – at least not on this blog. Maybe if I decide to create one dedicated to my short story thoughts, I’ll post it there. But for now, it’ll remain quiet.
I do regret it, I really do. In order to get over all of it, I had to erase him from memory. Permanently. His number, snapchat name, Facebook friendship: all gone. It ended slowly and painfully. The temptation to revert was so great it’s indescribable, to text him and figure out what went WRONG…to fix it, to make it work, to rewrite the passage of time and come through with a different outcome… if only.
I’m not sure if this post is too revealing or profound for only being my fifth (I think?) post on this brand new blog of mine… I considered posting something like this later on so it did not come across as unexpected or incredulous early in the game, but here it is!
Alright…so what’s the point?
I pretended like everything was ok, like this was normal…like this is what love is. Please. Learn from me, from these mistakes: that is not love.
This goes for everyone: ladies and gentleman alike:
NEVER settle for what you know you do not deserve.
I do not care how much money s/he makes, how drop dead gorgeous she is, or what gentlemanly charm he has… NO. Enough. Let’s move past appearances and materialistic desires.
A man should treat you with respect. He should honor you, cherish you, and love you. He would be willing to give up his life for you. A man is gentle, but protective. Strong, but graciously humble. He becomes the foundation upon which new life will grow.
A woman should treat you with respect. She should honor you, cherish you, and love you. She would be willing to give up her life for you. She is the care-taker. She is courageous and a peacemaker. She gives the new life a place to flourish.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. ~1 Corinthians 13: 4-7
Love is beautiful. It does not come quickly, or even when its name is called. It will take time and effort. Not to mention patience and self-control… But I promise you, love is as real as you want it to be and you make it to be.
Your hopeless romantic friend.