As promised to a loyal reader, here is my take on unrequited love. This one’s for you.
To me, love is simply when you have this empty, unexplainable feeling (usually in the stomach region), so you consider eating something. And then even after you’ve eaten that Double Cheeseburger, you still find yourself longing for something more. Or someone… In this day and age, when you want someone too desperately, it’s called being ‘Thirsty’. When you want something too much, it’s called ‘Motivation’. Those two words are exactly how I feel about cheeseburgers. Everybody who knows me knows this. Yet, even a trip to McDonald’s can’t fix what I really need.
Yes, I might be in like. Not love. Like.
I’m not going to give you a detailed description of my sad like story. Not love. Like.
I just hope he never gets to read this article.
To summarize, I had, and still have thee biggest crush on a guy (whom I have so much in common with and who probably doesn’t even know how to spell my name), for a few years now. Hopeless it seems, since we don’t even live in the same time zone (no, he’s not a hallucinating drug addict), and to me (and everyone else besides him, or maybe him too) it’s pretty obvious I like him. I knew him for a whole year before I left for China, he never made a move until the week I was leaving and he cut off contact with me after. So if this is meant to be, Destiny is a bitch.
To make matters worse, he is not gay, married or a robot. To prove this, a year after I left he dated a troll who didn’t even like being with him. We all like to think that when we’re in the same dating league as our crush we’re pretty special. And I’m fucking awesome okay. So either I have a gnome instead of a vagina or I am a gnome. Which is it Kamikaze?
I see him every year when I come home since we have mutual friends, and it’s very easy to talk to him. But then I wonder… I don’t know if he’s The One, and I don’t know if he could have been the one. I never got that chance and maybe that’s a good thing. I’ll always have this huge “What if” following me around in lonely times. Because I find that there’s magic in the mystery, and I’m usually disappointed when I uncover it.
Most people who get married will never love their spouse as much as they love the mystery of their own “what if”.
“What if she and I never broke up 10 years ago?”
“What if he wasn’t a sterile psychopath? He was very romantic.”
Even people who go on dates can never fully recover from the one person who wasn’t meant for them, but whom they loved and maybe still love so much.
That’s not me, and probably never will be because I haven’t met that person who “could have been the one only it didn’t work out”. And like most girls, I hope that never happens, because I want to marry the one. Not have dated him.
News flash: Most people never marry the one. They just settle for a close second.
That’s why I like having my “what if guy”. He’s a companion when I’m lonely, the hope when I’m sad and the knowledge that possibly it would have only led to heartbreak.
What if he was a bad kisser?
What if it turns out he has a weird pelvic floor fetish?
What if we had dated? We would have either been miserable and broken up, lived a happy life together, or he would have been hit by a car and died.
What if he’s always been into me but I live in another country, or what if he never thought twice about me? I’ll never know. And it’s better that way.
I’d rather live with the unknown regret than the fulfilled disappointment. Everybody should have, and probably has their “what if” person.
I’ve come to terms that it will always be unrequited like. Not love. Like.
Because there’s magic in the mystery.
And I love magic shows.
To me, love is simply when you have this empty, unexplainable feeling (usually in the stomach region), so you consider eating something. And then even after you’ve eaten that Double Cheeseburger, you still find yourself longing for something more. Or someone… In this day and age, when you want someone too desperately, it’s called being ‘Thirsty’. When you want something too much, it’s called ‘Motivation’. Those two words are exactly how I feel about cheeseburgers. Everybody who knows me knows this. Yet, even a trip to McDonald’s can’t fix what I really need.
Yes, I might be in like. Not love. Like.
I’m not going to give you a detailed description of my sad like story. Not love. Like.
I just hope he never gets to read this article.
To summarize, I had, and still have thee biggest crush on a guy (whom I have so much in common with and who probably doesn’t even know how to spell my name), for a few years now. Hopeless it seems, since we don’t even live in the same time zone (no, he’s not a hallucinating drug addict), and to me (and everyone else besides him, or maybe him too) it’s pretty obvious I like him. I knew him for a whole year before I left for China, he never made a move until the week I was leaving and he cut off contact with me after. So if this is meant to be, Destiny is a bitch.
To make matters worse, he is not gay, married or a robot. To prove this, a year after I left he dated a troll who didn’t even like being with him. We all like to think that when we’re in the same dating league as our crush we’re pretty special. And I’m fucking awesome okay. So either I have a gnome instead of a vagina or I am a gnome. Which is it Kamikaze?
I see him every year when I come home since we have mutual friends, and it’s very easy to talk to him. But then I wonder… I don’t know if he’s The One, and I don’t know if he could have been the one. I never got that chance and maybe that’s a good thing. I’ll always have this huge “What if” following me around in lonely times. Because I find that there’s magic in the mystery, and I’m usually disappointed when I uncover it.
Most people who get married will never love their spouse as much as they love the mystery of their own “what if”.
“What if she and I never broke up 10 years ago?”
“What if he wasn’t a sterile psychopath? He was very romantic.”
Even people who go on dates can never fully recover from the one person who wasn’t meant for them, but whom they loved and maybe still love so much.
That’s not me, and probably never will be because I haven’t met that person who “could have been the one only it didn’t work out”. And like most girls, I hope that never happens, because I want to marry the one. Not have dated him.
News flash: Most people never marry the one. They just settle for a close second.
That’s why I like having my “what if guy”. He’s a companion when I’m lonely, the hope when I’m sad and the knowledge that possibly it would have only led to heartbreak.
What if he was a bad kisser?
What if it turns out he has a weird pelvic floor fetish?
What if we had dated? We would have either been miserable and broken up, lived a happy life together, or he would have been hit by a car and died.
What if he’s always been into me but I live in another country, or what if he never thought twice about me? I’ll never know. And it’s better that way.
I’d rather live with the unknown regret than the fulfilled disappointment. Everybody should have, and probably has their “what if” person.
I’ve come to terms that it will always be unrequited like. Not love. Like.
Because there’s magic in the mystery.
And I love magic shows.