Will I ever love again? It’s a question that has been on my mind for a while now. It’s the question that led me to go on my mancation1.
The honest answer right now is: I simply don’t know.
I find myself avoiding thinking about things that have happened2. It’s unlike me. The moniker fragileheart wasn’t coined because I wanted people to walk on eggshells with me. It’s supposed to remind me that I wear my heart on my sleeve and that I like to feel things because it makes me feel alive. Finding myself running away from memories that make me smile is a little unnerving.
I don’t think I know how to be in a relationship. It’s been so long since I’ve been in a real relationship that I don’t know that I’ll ever manage to maintain one again. My last real, meaningful, mutually respectful relationship ended in 2004. Everything else after that I consider a mess. Yes, even my relationship with the Irish boy3.
Then again, I’ve gotten better at maintaining deeper and more meaningful friendships and I think that every good relationship is built on a solid foundation of friendship so maybe there’s hope for me yet.
Oh whatever. Maybe you4 were right; what was it that you said, sir? Something along the lines of, “You’d make a great mistress [but not a wife]“. And yes, I still think about it to this day.
Sometimes, you just need to blog things out loud.
Footnotes:
vacation from men, and more importantly – meaningless sex[↩]
I’ve experienced rejection. In fact, I’d like to say I experience rejection on a daily basis because I ask for things even if I’m afraid to ask for them1. But this one rejection has shaken me to my core… and I can’t figure out why.
Logic would tell me that based on his actions that contradict the words he used means that he isn’t the person I thought he was and should be written off. But another line of logic tells me that the person I thought he was would have a reasonable explanation for his actions2. And so I get stuck in this loop.
If he was the good person that I thought he was: the person who would only do something because he thinks it is the most respectful way of treating me then that means I am not a worthy person. But I know that I am a worthy person. That means that he isn’t the good person that I thought he was. And I don’t like writing people off that easily. I think it’s rude. I don’t think he has done anything to intentionally hurt me and so it doesn’t warrant my being rude.
But continuing to believe that he is as good a person as I thought he was hurts me on a level I have no experience with. I’m dealing with it but it’s going to take a lot of time. Time that I feel I could have saved if he had respected me in the first place and just told me the truth: either he never wanted to be friends or he just can’t handle being friends with me right now. If he did tell me the latter, I didn’t understand him clearly enough. But I’m not going to reach out again so I’ll never know.
There is so much more going on that I want to write about but I’ve run out of time. I’m off to see 50/50 with the lovely Ashley Gibson.
Oh but quickly before I go: Thank you so much to the smoking hot Raymi for the shout-out on her blog. I feel like I’m on fire
You know, it has been one heck of a wild ride. I would be more specific but I am not sure I can see when said ride began anymore -it was that long of a ride1!
Two years ago a very big chapter of my life ended. I wasn’t sure what to expect and I’m not so sure that the last two years is something I could have predicted. What it comes down to is that I know I’m ready to try my hand at a monogamous relationship again. As a bonus I’m also now in a headspace where I don’t feel an urgent need to find it2.
The last guy3, was unexpectedly spectacular but in retrospect he had many personality traits that I was overlooking. I get why his gut feeling was telling him that we weren’t that compatible; to be honest I think he would have driven me crazier than he already did in the oh-so-brief-but-freaking-intense romance that we shared. It still stings a little to think about so I know I’m not ready to have him in my life just yet… I just hope that I actually can one day4.
Then there is the other one. The one who really shook me up two years ago; wanting to make friends… wanting to re-connect. I don’t think I’m ready and to be completely honest, I’m not so sure I will ever be. Yes, I am the type of person who can forgive and forget anything but there is a certain comfort level that I need to have with the people I keep close to me ((What I’m trying not to say is that I simply need to be able to trust a person and I don’t think I can ever trust him again)).
Sigh. Boys5. I don’t even know what to say sometimes. Do you ever stop to think about what you’re saying to us women? I mean, if you were a father and some boy were saying the same things to your daughter -how would you feel? Enraged, I’m sure. Yet you don’t have a problem saying it to a girl you barely know or talk to? JUST because she’s nice and open minded? I’m pretty sure that is balls.
And I’m apartment hunting again. I really hope this is the last time for at least 2 years. After that I’m hoping any move I make is either to another city or… space?
Making the effort to talk to my parents daily and/or see them more often seems to be helping things despite my obliviousness to the fact that said things needed help.
I need more time to think… but I should also get some sleep. Meep.
Footnotes:
Don’t get excited, I’m not about to tell you either…[↩]
at least not anymore… though I can’t quite explain why so I’m tempted to think that I’m in denial about it but only time will tell[↩]
The above is a cute movie I found when I went on flickr and searched for the tag “Hope”.
I am almost 30 years old and I never thought I was one of those people who let the numbers of their age affect their outlook on life but I suppose that’s one of the last1 naive sort of things that you think when you simply haven’t realised any better yet.
Some people who may be reading this and know exactly what I’m talking about will nod in understanding and some who haven’t experienced this2 will be confused and for that I apologise because I’m not going to elaborate on this right now.
What I want to talk about is dating; more specifically: sex and dating. Why is it SO difficult for us to be honest about what we want? Why is it so difficult for us to be more open-minded when we finally hear the truth from someone?
My heart hurts right now because some very dear friends of mine have gotten hurt recently; regardless of whether the hurter3 intended to be dismissive of the hurtee’s4 feelings or not – a sudden change that causes the hurt doesn’t make the hurting any easier to deal with.
Almost two months ago, I decided that I was done with the lifestyle that I had been keeping: casual, distant and unattached5; I decided I wanted to try being in a serious relationship again. I guess in a way, I decided that enough time had passed since I broke someone’s heart and that my heart had been tricked by someone else. I thought I was ready.
Naturally my focus shifted to other things a little more: exercise, eating right, work, my passions, friends, family… and I haven’t really been dating. And the recent news of my friends getting hurt has made me realise just how much I have been hoping6 that this date that I have tonight is somehow going to be the one I’ve been waiting for.
What a dork. That certainly snapped me out of that! However, it also got me thinking about my past relationships and the hurt I’ve experienced in the past. I wondered why it is that I’ve been able to keep hope in love. I don’t have an answer yet. But I did want to ask everyone out there…
Except my Mum’s favourite colour is red. Strong, passionate and solid red. I have been blessed with a Mum who’s selflessness is unlike anyone I’ve seen. She’s dedicated -to her husband, her children, her parents, her friends, her job; and naturally least of all herself. I don’t talk to her about boys but that’s more my doing; I’m sure she’d be able to offer me a lot of great advice if I let her1 but she taught me so much of what I know without my knowledge. I watch her now when I visit and notice that I’ve taken on so many of her great qualities and learnt a lot of the same lessons she’s learnt as we’ve shared a home and part of our lives together.
I hope I’ve made it obvious but to say that I’m grateful for being raised by a Mum like mine is most certainly an understatement. I can’t wait for the next phase in our lives where we become closer as friends and start to share an even deeper bond that’ll always be with me.
