Resistance

In advance, I say Forgive Me just in case these ramblings don’t seem to make much sense; I am having a harder time today putting into words what I am thinking. Possibly because the problem is so pervasive and common, that even trying to think about it starts a spiral of all the what ifs and should haves that we all suffer from. See, I said it would be confusing but I should be clear: I am talking about the unrequited love trip that we all go and we all have sent one (or more, depending on your hotness/lovability quotient) people on.

I myself know I am guilty of inspiring love (or at least, longing) in many a boy who mistook my brash manner (read: bold) and flirtatious (read: lovingly sarcastic) manner as a sign of something more. I have ended up at coffee shops and bars and restaurants, sitting across from someone, as the slow realization dawns on me that it is a date. Or, at least, they think it is a date. To me, it is just a random meet up with someone I consider a friend (sometimes acquaintance) in order to chat and laugh and share a good time.

And, sometimes, depending on my mood, it is has either spiraled into a hasty retreat or if I am feeling particularly desirous of being loved, an ego boosting exercise at the expense of someone else’s feelings. Shake your head if you must, but I never said I always played the good girl. Nor am I the only girl (or boy) who’s guilty of keeping someone hooked and available for that temporary assuage of the voices and thoughts that tell us we are not desirable, lovable, want-able unless someone is hanging off our every look and word. Narcissism, thy name is human.

But for all the times I have been on the giving end of inspiring feelings in others, I have been inspired to feel more than I perhaps should for others. I have played a lovesick idiot, boring my friends to death with myriad conversations about the meaning behind words, phrases, looks, and promises. I have spent nights comforted by a fleeting touch or glance, and been crushed by what I interpret as a lack of return and what others, perhaps more sanely, see as simply a busy schedule in a life already loaded with responsibility. I have been the one to want more, to survive on morsels of kindness of compassion – perhaps out of that person’s boredom, general insensibilities, or perhaps –w hat attracted me in the first place – their kindness. I have been the one who is hooked, like bait for the sharks. And loved every second, in an otherwise dull existence.