About a year ago I sent a letter to a girl I know, who I’ve admired and liked for a long time. In the letter I confessed my feelings to her, and that was pretty much the first time I’ve ever done anything like that.
That was a year ago. Time really flys.
Somehow, I don’t feel much different than I did then. Outside of a few emails back and forth, I’ve pretty much lost touch with her. Even so, even after a year, I feel exactly same.
Unrequited love is something else. It’s certainly one of the cruelest things that happens in this world. It leaves you dizzy and tired as it happens, and downcast when you think on it, even a year after the fact.
At one point I used to tell myself that if you don’t think on something, eventually it will leave your thoughts, and you’ll no longer desire the thing in question. I think I was mistaken on this issue.
I think all that amounts to is filling your mind with different things. Since it is only able to process and handle so much information at a time, thoughts on the particular thing you’re indirectly avoiding get pushed away into some sort of storage area. Your mind is just temporarily occupied thinking on something else, for the time being.
If you genuinely admired something, or someone, years ago, and if you’re honest with yourself, and don’t give yourself to hatred and denial, chances are you feel the exact same way still today.
My grandma died about a year ago, and I was at the dinner table, alone with my grandfather. He told me about a girl he fell in love with back 1950-something. And no, it wasn’t my late grandma. This was a girl who he referred to simply as “the beautiful thing”.
He was 18 years old, just out of school, and working in a cafeteria just prior to joining the U.S. Navy. One of the waitresses there had a younger sister who visited the restaurant from time to time.
He mind seemed to leave the room as he retold the account of the “beautiful thing’s” entrance through the restaurant’s back door, and his nervous approach. There was a pause, a smile came over his face, another pause, then he simply said, “And then we had coffee.” I suppose the between events are embarrassing, even 50 years after the event.
Then he stopped the story, and assured me that he always loved my grandmother. Always has, and always will. I didn’t doubt him a bit. I saw how he treated her, everyday. He’s always been an example of how a good man should treat his wife.
I suppose you psychoanalysts out there could say he was regressing to a past time now that he’d lost my grandmother. Maybe. But if you ask me, I’d say he’s always loved the “beautiful thing”.
At some later point he visited the “beautiful thing” and she told him to never come back. He said from time to time, when he would lie in bed, he wondered what happened to that girl. Was she doing well? Was she happy? And later, was she still alive?
So almost sixty years later he made contact with her. Her former husband had died a long while ago, she was a widow for a long while, and now has recently remarried to a Baptist minister.
Sixty years later… Wow. Still thinking of her. Now that grandma is gone, he no longer has to suppress the thoughts.
Will I be telling my grandkids, or possibly students, about my own “beautiful thing”, and my experience with her, fifty to sixty years from now? That’d really be something.
As for my own “beautiful thing”, I’m sure she’s off somewhere, and I’m sure she’s still amazing. I’m sure she’s still beautiful. I’m sure she still speaks her mind, is dependable, intelligent, and is still really kindhearted down inside.
Some fall in love with an ideal in their own mind and project that onto another. Those people love themselves, not the other person.
Some think and daydream on a thing until the thought process becomes habitual, and linked to each day to day activity. These people suffer from an obsessive-compulsive disorder, and mistake it for love.
Some have cruel events happen to them, and throughout the experience come to learn how much the person they left behind means to them. These people regress to an earlier, happier time, in search for a now missing security.
Some are lonely or desperate. Some are just running from their problems. Some are looking for a provider. Some marry so they can have children. Some get sucked in by sex appeal. Some mistake sympathy for love. Some look for a mate to complete them.
None of these describe me. I suppose I was guilty of wanting to get to know her better. Still am really. Well, and mayyybbbbeeee just a lliiitttlleeeee guilty of finding her absolutely gorgeous. I’m human too. Heh. 🙂
Enjoy the good times, and remember the good memories. Life’s way too short to worry about everything that goes wrong.