I Feel

From my paper journal: 1.13.10,

I Feel

I just got this notebook and I’m not sure if I want the weight of the events from this past weekend to heavy what will essentially deteriorate into a simple record of my workouts and dietary failures. But my feelings are important to me, if nobody else, and so much the worse I would feel if I were to leave this to linger in the void between books because it scares me.

I’m in love. I cannot hide behind inexperience or uncertainty when I say that I am. I may perhaps have a flawed concept of what love is and I don’t rightly care.

I am not at a point where I am going to dissolve something whole and pure simply to analyze its constituents nor open am I to discouraging debate on the matter: I am in love with [name omitted.] The only person wrong is the person who says I am not. She is a person with whom I related to. Her hobbies are not mine, though I understand them from having once cherished them independently. I feel that if I had taken things less seriously, I would have gone further with them, both with her and with what could have been common pursuits.

My major regret in dealing with this wonderful person is the utter ineptitude I’ve displayed socially. I am not ordinarily a shy person. If our first meeting had been by chance rather than calculated… then I suppose by definition there could not have been any error… and I wouldn’t be emoting through a pen.

I first came into contact with her through a dating site, a groan-worthy method of meeting anyone I’ll admit. I do tend towards a rather spartan method of writing; I could take my list of faults as originating here. It’s a rather standoff-ish way of writing, certainly nothing conducive to communicating “Hey, I really like you!” Nevertheless, she maintained contact with me and I slowly started to believe she was interested in me; her perseverance attracted me if nothing else.

Now, to be clear, I wasn’t expecting her to be romantically attracted to me. I still don’t; she probably never will. But when she offered to arrange some sort of in-person meet-up, I was secretly overjoyed. Of course, I’m continuing the trend of withholding critical information, are you kidding? Whatever. I had/have been single since Thanksgiving, I was probably just glad to have some contact with someone who seemed to be genuinely interested in who I am and what I had to say.

Which I royally fuck up by not saying a god-damn thing and being ridiculously withdrawn. I got a couple of things right, which stood out only in the sense of  “Check it out, I’m being a normal ‘date’ for the next thirty seconds! Derp!”

Pretty much the only time I spoke at length on anything at all was when her friend came by to pick her up and we lingered for a bit at the bookstore. He mentioned Robotech, and NERF. Way to fucking go, Me. Way to fucking go. Could have said any number of nice things about her outfit and you have to go on a tirade about NERF. You truly are subconsciously… talking to yourself in your own journal…

I don’t wholly believe I should have done anything differently, however, at any stage of my knowing her. For once, despite it not leading to a relationship, I shut the fuck up and listened to her. I gave her center stage, watched her kick ass back and forth and I loved every goddamn minute of it. Should I really be so crushed that I’m not allowed to be part of the show? YES. BECAUSE IT’S A GREAT FUCKING SHOW. I DON’T GIVE A DAMN IF THE ROLE IS TAKEN, GIVE ME AN AUDITION! This is why I’m so attracted to her as I am now, and also the reason she doesn’t really have any attraction towards me.

She said of me, later, that I showed her too many sides of me. That she only really likes to do things/be with people that she can be sure of. I don’t think being multi-dimensional was really the problem she was getting at, but… she definitely didn’t see enough of anything to understand how the pieces lock together to form a whole. Too disjointed, too irregular? I can’t explain how they do; nor provide a cheatsheet. I’m just one person. There’s only Eric here. I can be quiet or loud, simple-worded or verbose but it’s just me after all. And I’m sorry.

Back to my point: In everything I’ve had that could possibly be considered a relationship, barring the first two, I’ve always played up the ultra-confident side of me, which is about the size of the bottom of my right foot (which is smaller than the left one, mind.) Does this work phenomenally well for attracting women? Yes, absolutely. Don’t go squashing your confident aura if all you’re into is bagging chicks.

But, for me, it doesn’t afford me the latitude to truly appreciate other people. I have to be so loud and convinced of how great I am that I can never hear other people. I can only see or touch them. She told me several times to be more open, and I could have very easily reverted to this cocky bastard of an act, but it felt like I was being asked to retire the part of me that was appreciating her in favor of being someone who would be more party-friendly. That act makes me feel so shallow, so appreciative only of physical traits. She has gorgeous traits, even especially when she isn’t hiding under make-up.

In short: if I wasn’t being the type of person she only wants to be friends with, I would then be the type of person who only wants to be friends with her. Which I guess knowing what I know now would make the latter seem preferable, certainly… but what if she then fell for me? I couldn’t let myself continue the trend of accepting people who I only liked because of their attraction to me. I don’t “win,” no matter how I plausibly twist the scenarios around.

It hurts a terrible hurt to know that I’m only good enough to be her friend, truly, but how many people have I hurt in this way without realizing it? I have had many friends come and go, did they go because of this? I don’t really hear it commonly reported that people are extremely open about their feelings with the person of their affections, but still. Who have I had suspicion about liking me, and summarily neglected in favor of the one with the brightest hat?

It hurts, but I deserve it.

Though it hurts, I won’t let it destroy me. Hurting isn’t a flaw, and my difficulty in overcoming it proves it more real to me. That there is something immaterial to my desire that is making it that much harder for me to put away in the recesses and ignore. Will it prove it to her? No. Crying and whining about it is only going to make it seem like she’s afflicting me with something necessitating her removal. Like she’s cancer.

She is not cancer.

It’s as though I’ve been given a wing, not a tumor. Bypass for a moment the physiological implications: I’ve sprouted this fantastic, radiant, and functional wing that can wrap around me and provide warmth and protection that is natural to me.

But it’s not enough to fly.

It makes me look, feel, and BE better than how I was prior. I don’t want to cut it off, at least not until I’m sure that having it is killing me.

More than anything, though, I’d want to lift into the sky with her and point down at every other person on the planet and tell her: “Now you see how far away everyone else is, too.”

It seems the only way we’d ever work out is a fairy tale.

So I’d better get writing :)

It's only really sad because I actually said that...

We’re still friends, of course.

I just need a little time to kill my feelings before I can see her again. It was so embarrassing crying in front of her…

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