New Year's Eve and Bruised Egos

So, it occurred to me after pondering my latest crush, that if you never get to be someone’s girlfriend, then you can never get to be their ex-girlfriend. And that brings me comfort, knowing that if the relationship was never meant to be, then I have a better chance of never tiring myself trying to make the relationship last. Having said that, there are a few things that I need to vent before I rest my head on the pillow tonight. Knowing that I have no business even being in a relationship, let me just say that knowing is not the issue. I am completely obsessed with being in a relationship… always have been, and unless something changes in me, I probably always will be. But what comes after the guy reciprocates the feelings that I have expressed to him? Do we like, date or court, or frolic and play the Eskimo way? Does he start thinking of how my first name would sound paired with his last? Not likely… Or, better yet, what happens when he finds out about my so called crush and he doesn’t possess the same feeling? After living a decade without voicing my interest in men, or boys I should say, I decided to do something bold and brave, but not at all brilliant on New Year’s Eve. I texted my cliché wish for midnight… to kiss him while listening to millions of people count down from ten on Dick Clark’s New Year’s Eve televised party. Of course there was no response to my confession and he left the party with my bruised ego riding shotgun in his Subaru.

After a day and a half of wondering if I completely ruined our friendship, I decided to pick the scab, pour salt on the wound if you will, and texted him an apology for my sober, yet very impulsive confession. What is it about complete desperation, pure animal instinct that leads me to put myself out there without even a hint of reciprocated interest? If all this time I have liked him, and he ends up voicing his knowledge of this, then why the look? Why the conversation with witty banter, and flirtatious undertone? Is it because he is safe in that bubble of time? When thinking that I like him, but knowing that I don’t know he knows gives him a cushion to flirt, without having to admit that he doesn’t have the same feelings… In the words of the great Chris Isaacs, “it’s strange what desire will make foolish people do…”

Admitting to the great obsession is something that I rarely do, only to protect myself from the big bad wolf that is rejection. Believe me; I would rather push bamboo up my fingernails than be rejected after biting the bullet, and putting myself out there… It’s all in the game of the chase though. For example, admitting that I have had it for him for a while, and that I would like to partake in an old, American tradition and pastime… kissing when the ball drops on the new year… admitting to that bears my desires to someone, and allows them to do with it as they wish. And in the same regard, when someone else professed interest in me and I didn’t return the same feelings, they chased even harder.

But what is it about being in love? Or loving being in love? For me, it’s like the best feeling in the world. The rejection part is of course, the worst. But being in love, like head over heals-I’ll compromise the movie of my choice-will you be there tonight?-I burned you a great cd-love is the best feeling in the world… If I could bottle it and perhaps administer it through my veins with a constant drip then I would. It’s like no other drug I have ever received a high from. It is the best damn feeling in the world, and riding that high has a harsh come-down… When it comes to love, lust, infatuation, flirting, obsession, or whatever you want to call it, the crash from that high is the worst feeling I have ever experienced, and so a constant morphine-like drip would be necessary… please and thank you…

And here I am, new year, but same old single me… What is it about being alone that makes the new year so dreadful. Someone told that what you are doing at midnight is what you will be doing all year long… If that is the case, then I will be letting my heart ride home in someone else’s car… and it’s getting old… I only hope that whoever is driving fastens it in a seatbelt, because if this year is anything like the last, we are in for a bumpy ride…