I Think I Can… I Think I Can…

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Lovestory (repost)

Published September 26, 2011 - 0 Comments
[Originally posted Jan 29, 2009]

The title is from a song that I can’t get out of my head for some reason.  I’m not sure why a song from a 17 year old country music star, singing about the pains of teenage love is bouncing around in my head so much, but I’m sure that there’s a good reason for it.  For those who haven’t figured it out, the song is Lovestory, by Taylor Swift.  I recently saw her performing this song on some awards show, and it was very well done.  They even managed to create some wardrobe magic where she was suddenly wearing a white dress at the end of the song, which is pretty much what it’s all about.  Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what the white dress is for.

I think that I’ve written the final chapter in the whole “love triangle” saga.  Wednesday was a very difficult day, but one that had to happen sooner or later.  I work on the same floor that She does, and although we don’t directly work together, there is a small overlap in what we do.  I might not talk to Her directly most days, but I usually have some dealings with Her group.

We had actually talked a couple of times this week.  I think that there was a rekindling of Her emotions, which of course did the same for mine.  It doesn’t take much.  There was obviously a strong bond between us, but it was doomed from the beginning.  Apparently I’m a good writer… I can evoke emotions through the written word.  That’s great, but in the end, it’s not enough.

For a long time now, I’ve been asking Her point blank…  a simple yes or no question.  She’s avoided responding to it, and by doing so, shouted her answer loud and clear.  On Wednesday I was finally able to read in Her own words what I already knew.  There would be no “us”.  Had we met under different circumstances, maybe.  But not now. No.

Although it was not unexpected in the least, it was still difficult to acknowledge.  I ended up leaving the office for my lunch break, and wandered down to drown my self-pity in junk food, while listening to my iPod.  It was hard to read.  It hurt.  There’s no denying that.  But I know that it was the best thing.  For months, we’ve been riding the emotional rollercoaster, and that’s not healthy.  For either of us. It was best to have a clear definition of my role.  There would be none.  Friendship is out of the question.  The fact that my workplace involvement with Her is sporadic at best, is probably a good thing.  It puts a safe distance between us, so we can concentrate on other things. I don’t know if She continues to read this blog, but if She does… I understand.  Truly.  I do.

So now that THAT’s over, what next?  My psychologist thinks I should concentrate on my studies.  “It’s a skill..” was something she said to me recently.  I could certainly do that.  I’m in my last 3 courses, and if all goes well, I will graduate in May….  let the crowds rejoice!  There will be music.. there will be drinking.. there will be merrymaking across the land.  Perhaps a national holiday is required to commemorate this joyous occasion. Sadly, I think that I will just sit around and wait for my degree to arrive in the mail, so I can laminate it and use it as a place-mat while I’m eating.

There is one other not-so-insignificant piece of the puzzle that will now reveal itself.  I recently met someone at school.  (I can imagine the eyes rolling.. doesn’t he ever learn?)  She’s great, but the timing was not.  You can certainly argue that I was not ready to meet someone new until I had sorted through all my baggage of the last few months.  I honestly thought that I had, but I was wrong.  She reads this blog, so she is well aware of the issues surrounding my life.  We’ve never really discussed it, other than eluding to “past relationships”, which I guess weren’t so much in the past as I had thought.

I’ve had this conversation with the psychologist on more than one occasion.  The fear of being alone.  Ironic, considering I love to push people away.. at this very moment, my cellphone has been turned off since yesterday… my home phone is off the hook..  I’m not reading any new emails from anyone… I don’t live close to family or friends, so there’s no fear of someone stopping by to check on me.. I’ve cut myself off from the outside world.

(Listening to one of the most under-rated gut wrenching songs… Brothers in Arms, by Dire Straits…  “Let me bid you farewell, every man has to die”   That line slaps me in the face every time I hear it…)

What was I saying?  Oh, the fear of being alone.  The fear of waking up some morning and realizing that I’m an old man, whose time has passed him by.  The house is empty, except for a cat.  There’s no warmth or joy within those walls.  Just emptiness.  So to counter that, do I have unrealistic expectations of my relationships?  Probably.  Do I cling to the last shred of hope, even when everyone else sees how futile it is?  Absolutely.  Does it cause the emotional rollercoaster that I seem to enjoy riding so much?  Without a doubt.

So that brings me back to the this new budding relationship.  After yesterday, I don’t know if it’s still budding or not.  It might have very well ended before it even got off the ground.  I just don’t know, and because my phones are all turned off, I won’t know until I turn them back on.  Before yesterday, we were able to do some things that I had been waiting a very long time to do.  We went out for supper a couple of times, I cooked a really nice dinner, we watched some great shows and shared some fantastic conversations.  But as positive as all that sounds, I was not really able to give her 100% because I was thinking of someone else.  Not all the time.  But enough of the time to make me feel guilty and confused because I didn’t think that I SHOULD be feeling guilty.

I think that I’m going to give up on writing about relationships for awhile.  It gets so confusing, and I don’t imagine that the reader really cares at this point, since it looks like I just jump from one heartbreak to another without any real thought.

And maybe you’re right.