|PC: Jhune Li|
I really believe that gaining "closure" is one of the most difficult parts of the human experience. How are you supposed to just close the book on a relationship or something as seemingly trivial as fictional characters in a television series that you adore, when you're left hanging. How are you supposed to shake off these feelings of sadness, confusion and frustration, when they've officially been deemed socially unacceptable to have anymore, by your peers, loved-ones and your own rational mind?
I didn't intend on making this blog a virtual clothes-line for my dirty lingerie, but being vulnerable on here has really allowed me to look within and learn more about myself, and hopefully will lead to healing, and if not, I'm out of luck for ideas, and at least you get a good story out of it, right?
So here it goes.
A few months ago I "dated" this
We bonded over beers, board games and shooting b-roll, and our relationship evolved from platonic to not-platonic, pretty seamlessly. He was my study-partner, drinking-buddy and editor, and despite the fact that we never labeled anything, this was my first, what felt like real, relationship.
I describe my previous relationships like easy-bake-oven cakes: quick, sweet, and not as good as anticipated. But our relationship was different, it wasn't just this puppy-love tooth-ache fantasy; we fought, we had boring nights-in, he watched Drop Dead Diva with me (y'all know how much I love shitty television), he took care of me when I was sick, and I even introduced him to my family (A first for me).
He was older, quiet about his feelings, and had a lot more life experience than me, and compared to all my previous boyfriends who were in the same stage in life as me, he had lived. He had this whole life before me, including random jobs, intense previous relationships, years at other colleges and even a three-year-long stint working at Blockbuster (which always seemed to fascinate me).
On the surface we didn't have much in common other than a love of writing and drinking beer, but in a weird way I always thought that that was enough, I guess I was wrong.
He initially told me of his plans to go to Brazil to see the 2014 World Cup, a life long dream of his, for the summer. But his plans began to waver as our relationship intensified, and he began to flip-flop between the idea of going to Brazil and the idea of following me to New York. The night he told me that he was going to Brazil instead of following me, was also the night he told me I had the loudest silence he'd ever heard. I was crushed, but being the occasionally level-headed person that I am, I understood, I kissed his nose and I promised to stay in touch, no matter what.
I guess things between us were always more real to me than him, and I guess for the first time in my life, I liked anyone more than they liked me. When I moved to New York a week after he left for Brazil, I filled my tiny room with momentos of our time spent together. The Jenga game that led to our first kiss, the basketball shorts he gave me to replace the pair of his I always stole, books he thought I'd appreciate and photos from the night of my 21st birthday decorated my room. And at nights I'd wrap myself up like a burrito in his old comforter, creepily smelling it to remind myself of him and to maintain a feeling of home when I was so far away.
I knew communication was going to be difficult between us because we never relied on technology for that, nor had we ever been physically so far away, but I always assumed there would be something. We emailed back and forth and he told me not to worry about the fact that he was going to be living with his
However, I began to see photos she posted on Facebook of them together (hand-on-knee cuddly type shit) and my heart began to gain consciousness from the love-struck coma it was in. He denied that their "relationship" was like that, and he told me she is going to post whatever she wants, and he has no control over what she does. I found that response to be very blunt, and it made me angry, I thought to myself, "what about me, what about us?"
And in an immature final attempt to validate myself and his feelings for me, I sent him an email telling him not to worry about me anymore. It was loaded with apologies for my "crazy" behavior (which was not that crazy FYI) and promises to send positive vibes his way no matter what, with the overlying message that I didn't want to be his responsibility anymore.
Part of me wished I meant more of what I said at the time, but I know that I sent it, secretly hoping he was going to say everything that I wanted to hear. He was going to tell me that she meant nothing to him and tell me that I meant as much to him as he meant to me. He was going to beg me to be patient and he was going to return to America as soon as possible. I should've been more honest with him instead of pretending I had it to together in a self-sabotaging attempt to do what was "right." I was trying to be "strong" but on the downlow I was trying to use some reverse psychology on him to get validation.
I sent it hoping that, best case scenario, he would book a ticket for NY and we'd be cuddling and watching Netflix in no time, and, worst case scenario, that our friendship would still be intact and I would see him eventually.
Four months later, I have yet to hear from him.
I pathetically sent him an email in September asking him to give me a brutally honest explanation for what happened, so I could have some closure.
I recently ran into one our classmates who is an absolute doll, but seeing her reminded me of him. My feelings for him are like the glitter confetti in a snowglobe, and just as they all settled to the bottom of the idealic winter scenario, being reminded of him shook them around again. I remembered how his ski-jump shaped nose had been broken via a dodgeball accident, how he'd call me "pretty lady" or "sexy pants", and how he wore bear hats with me and took me to see a movie about bears (my favorite animal).
The most frustrating part about all of this is that it's not like our relationship was that great. But the insufferable feeling of not being heard, or feeling ignored, is enough to drive a girl absolutely bananas. He's been showing up in my dreams, I facebook messaged one of his roommates, and I hate to sound like a total idiot, but even after he ignored me, I was patiently counting down 90 days from when he left, assuming that maybe he'd hit me up when his visa expired. Still nothing.
Getting closure on this relationship is like getting closure on the TV show Full House. It was cancelled before they had a finale, and the last episode was stupid and cryptic (it was the one where Michelle falls off a horse and gets amnesia). All we wanted was a great finale that tied up all the loose ends and made sense and we could turn off the TV, smile and sigh. But instead we're left in the dark.
I feel dumb for still caring about him after 4 months of not-talking. I feel like an idiot every time I check his stupid twitter to see if he's still alive, or to see if I can pull a Nancy Drew and figure out the mystery of where he is and what happened to us. I feel especially stupid because if any of my friends were in this situation I would say "BYE" *peace sign emoji* *hair flip emoji* *airplane emoji*, but for some reason, I'm still not 100% over it.
But where do I go from here. I can gain closure in the fact that he doesn't want to continue our relationship, which is obvious. I can gain closure by donating his comforter, Jenga box and other mementos of what was, to someone who wont hold such disdain for these physical objects. I can gain closure by forgiving myself for blaming myself for everything. I can gain closure by remembering that all I really did was care, I just happened to care about a jerk. And I can gain closure by blocking him off twitter (despite the fact that now I have 499 followers...ugh) and blocking his girlfriend on Facebook.
Honestly, after writing this and having a good cry while doing so (*sang like Tswift* he's the reason for the teardrops on my keyboard) I'm already feeling better.
We won't ever get a finale for Full House and maybe I'll never actually know the full story with this boy, but that doesn't mean it wasn't worth experiencing. I mean, I certainly think a life involving John Stamos is a life worth living (plottwist I was talking about John Stamos this whole time loljk) And there will be always be another show and another boy, that will make the life studio audience in my heart go "awwwwwwww."
And if you take ANYTHING away from this article, please don't just stop talking to people. I used to do that all that time and now that it's been done to me, I will try my hardest to never do it again. It's mean, it's not fair and it's not that hard to tell someone that you aren't interested or that your feelings have changed.
Keep it sassy,
Sasssquatch aka Caelan