“How many boys have you liked?” I think for a second, but slightly less longer than previously. Five. Again, that number didn’t account for those who I simply had an attraction to. This was more focused on those sentimental feelings that every teenage girl seems to pathetically experience.
“How many boys have you dated?” Easy. Two.
“And how many of those boys have you loved?” Of those boys? None.
“What about all those times you said ‘I love you’ during those relationships?” Oh, puh-lease. Like those three words will ever mean anything, especially coming out of my mouth. That’s hysterical.
“Well, then, have you loved?” I bite my lip and look up to the blue sky. I can feel my eyelashes touch my skin – it’s always been a funny feeling. Loved? Hmmm. One.
“So, you’re saying that you never loved any of the boys you dated, but you have loved before. Is that correct?” I nod.
From a person who’s sworn off relationships for a year so far, I’ve managed to be dismissive towards the male population, brushing them off like an old toy.
Through the entire year, my peers are beginning to finally understand that I – and most women, I hope – are never to feel obligated to show interest in a guy. Oh, he likes me? Well, I guess he’s cute, and I guess we could be together. I mean, I guess I sort of like him. Sweetie, no. You will know when you have feelings for a boy. It’s not supposed to be this frantic, mind-throttling debate with yourself.
Between the boys I’ve been involved with and those I’ve liked, the average is approximately eight. With those, I call them “flirtationships.” Nearly the same as friends with benefits; just without promiscuity. They’re eye-candy males who are entertaining to talk to. Time will give a day when those flirtationships stop, but that’s okay because it’s quite simple to find another.
Recently, I’ve been receiving questions from my curious and nosey girl friends such as: “Do you like him?” “Does he like you?” “How are things in that situation?” No. Stop, stop, stop, stop. For the bazillionth time, my emotions stand the same as they did five months ago – mutual, steady, and quite boring. But, every now and then, the real questions of genuine concern arise. For those, I’ll give you a reasonable answer.
Although I approach myself with a brutal honesty almost everyone seems to take into offense and my attitude radiates such negativity, I can say that I’ve loved. Someone who’s apathetic to kicking someone in the core and isn’t afraid to say the most vulgar comments without any hesitation has loved.
Four years ago, when I first met the boy, it wasn’t “love at first sight” as most would say because I frankly don’t believe in such optimism. However, I remember sitting across the classroom, and without knowing his name, I knew he drew me towards him in one shape or form. I didn’t think much of it until the last day of school when he sat behind me in class during finals. The following year commenced, I forgot about the boy, but then he somehow jumped back into my life. He became my best friend, and I cherished every moment I breathed.
Of course, he didn’t know I had this adoration for him. He’d ask me for girl advice, I helped him through his first relationship, and I taught him the complex ways of hugging, which he didn’t understand. He was the first boy I opened up to and the first for me to never forget.
All was magical, and he always made my heart palpitate like a race horse speeding down its last lap. But time progressed, people changed, and the wind tore us apart. Less talking, less hugs, and less laughter. But more gazing from a distance, more wishing, and more missing.
Four years later, we reunite, and though my initial infatuations have slimmed through the years of trial and error, I still look at him and my heart flutters. The world goes into a blur, and my entire focus narrows to him and his smile.
He wasn’t another boy I could brush off like the hairs off my shoulder. He didn’t force me to think one way, but he listened to my tangents about why socks shouldn’t be worn in bed. He didn’t make me question who I was, but he emphasized all the colors in me that I was scared to paint onto the world. And even after all these years, after I lost my best friend, he still steals my heart but gently puts it back and says, “You don’t ever want to lose that. It’s too special.”
That’s the difference between having insignificant attractions to uncanny men and being in love. You’ll just know.
photo accredited to http://julythirty1.tumblr.com/post/130697616991