"Love is Strong" by Patricia

*sigggggggghhhhh* Almost-love is the worst. When I say "almost-love," I'm talking about a sort of love (or a really sweet chocolate kisses-waiting by his locker-type crush) that almost happens - but falls apart very quickly and usually unexpectedly.  

You meet someone who you feel drawn to by a magnetic thread. You see them out of your peripheral vision - sweating - just waiting to think of something to talk you about. You avoid eye contact, speak at the same time awkwardly, and you're concerned that there has been lipstick on your teeth the entire time you've been speaking.

The text exchange is playful and dumb, you talk about everything and nothing, and you use the blushing emoji far too frequently. Your dates are cute and very smiley, and just like eating McNuggets after 4 McDonalds-free-months, you remember just how fucking AMAZING they are and how much you missed the joy of having a crush. 

Uh-oh, you've found that you've transformed into the human personification of a Hallmark valentine -- butterflies in your stomach, fireworks when you kiss...

but then... 

reality strikes.

Something happens - a miscommunication - another lover - distance - or simply no text back - and the One Direction vinyl that's been playing on repeat in your head screeches to an abruptly stop - all before you really even got to enjoy it.

“I am mastering my love for you and turning it inwards as a constituent element of myself” by Patricia

UGHHHH, You hadn't felt like that in such a long time! And instead of pursuing a relationship that would allow these feelings to germinate and bloom into something forreal -- someone or something just smushed your good feelings like a stampede of kindergartners in rainboots. 

You told a few of your coworkers and friends about it, because this time you felt it was different...it wasn't. And now you feel like the world's biggest asshat.

They ask you out of plain curiosity and boredom while pretending to space the racks, "what happened to dreamboat?" and you'd feel pathetic making up a lie, so you hang your head low and say something along the lines of, "he swerved me." 

They respond with something humiliating like, "I could've told you that." Or worse, they pity you, "oh Caelan, there are plenty of fish in the sea," to which you give them a Liz Lemon status eye-roll and casually explain to them that you're gonna die alone after slipping whilst getting out of the shower (my biggest fear). But since no one was there but the 15 cats you own, who can't dial 911, (or use chopsticks - they are literally useless), they begin to feed off your corpse when their Fancy Feast automatic-dispenser stops working.

You're coworkers look back at you befuddled and just say, "noooooo" very unconvincingly. You sigh.

You then become that friend that everyone hates, the one who is constantly trying to come up with justifications for why he hasn't texted you - maybe he's waiting for you to text him - maybe his phone was eaten by feral pink-eyed rabbits, or maybe he's so in love with you, he just doesn't know what to do with himself? And even though one part of your brain realizes that you've become that annoying friend - just like a meth addiction or an America's Next Top Model marathon on VH1 - you can't stop once you start.

You then begin to swirl down a drain of depression and humiliation finding yourself "UUUGHH"-ing out loud and flip-flopping between a myriad of emotions: general irritation, minor sadness, humiliation, and horniness (you just thought you'd be getting laid on the regular, and now you have to make an effort again, UGHHH).

You find that the worst part about almost-love is that you know you didn't even like them that much, but you liked them enough for it to still hurt. You never got to learn that you hate them, that he eats corn-pops (who da fuck eats those), that he has a million unpaid parking tickets or that he thinks The Big Bang Theory is funny (heaven forbid). 

Your only memories of him are a series of mental polaroid snapshots of him being dreamy, how he smelled nice, and how he said he read your blog (literally my favorite/least favorite thing to hear). And since you never got answers and you were vaguely humiliated about how embarrassingly excited you got, almost-love is kind-of the worst thing to try to get over.

Almost-love doesn't hurt enough to cry over - it doesn't hurt enough to leave angry texts, although apparently it does hurts enough to write an entire blogpost about this subject...oops...

The good news is that almost-love hurts mostly on a superficial level. You didn't really know him, you're mostly just bummed and embarrassed. But you need to know, your coworkers don't actually care about your life (like...at all) and your friends shouldn't be judging you, (if they are, they aren't cheetah sister-friends). 

In no time you'll see a cute guy at Starbucks and fall in love with the way we spelled your name wrong and how his green visor accentuates his hazel eyes. You'll begin a flirtation with him and you'll find yourself constantly hopped up on caffeine and love-mojo after all the "random" encounters you planned. 

You'll begin to think sort-of fondly of what-almost-was with your almost-love and it'll be a story for the blog and your little black book. 

Almost-love sucks because you almost got vulnerable and almost let someone into your deadbolt-locked-heart. But the great part of almost-love is that it reminds you that you are capable of having school-boy-crushes and feeling butterflies for people just when you were begining to doubt it (I certainly was). 

And hey, maybe next time your almost-love will just turn into love-love and you'll be happy you were single at that magical point in time. 

"He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same" by Patricia

Have you ever had a case of almost-love?
Let me know!

Keep it sassy,
Sasssquatch aka Caelan

P.S.  If you're currently going through this, here is a pro-tip: Cut the sad One Direction ballads that make you want to simultaneously cry and shove a cupcake in your face, and play Beyonce's 2006 album B-Day, trust me, you'll be glad you did. 

P.S.S. All photos were from this amazing photographer Patricia (not sure her last name) who I found on flickr, go check her out!

No comments:

Post a Comment