I'm going to try to real blog. Maybe only like one or two or three or four pictures or something (oh man, slippery slope right there), and lots of words. Maybe I'll even only do one picture and even more words! You guys excited? I don't know if you should be, but whatevs, do it anyways. Get stoked. Be like
DRAMAAAA! We love it!
Time to talk about the elephant in the room. Or, as Lena Dunham - I mean Hannah Horvath - says, "at least
an elephant in
a room."
So here we Gogh.
(On a totally unrelated note, how annoyed are you with my bad puns on a scale of "It's whatevs" to "STFU"?)
The nature of the beast is that it's temporary. ^^^
That's a beast. Like in case you weren't, like, sure.
The beast is that stage of flirtationship - vaguely friends, vaguely crushes. It's kind of undefinable. But you know what I'm talking about. Amrite or amirite? So you meet someone that has good legs and a sweet sense of humor. Really good legs. You're a little Leslie-Knope-awkward, but you also rock it with Leslie-Knope-level-class.
You work through the stages: Introduction, small talk with enough solid jokes thrown in that you move to the next step; Accquaintanceship (it's a word, guys); and after that, an easy flirtationship/friendship: lunch before class sometimes, study dates, etc.
But just as surely as you've worked your way through the steps, getting more encouraged with each one, something happens. And I don't think it's just me, because when I mention this, everyone knows what I'm talking about. It's nothing especially, you just find a nasty sort of ennui slipping in. It takes more to make him laugh, and you yourself are finding him less funny as you remain in perpetual vague friendship. The stagnation is so uneasy. It's like subconsciously you both understand that this stage is pre-
something, anything, even if you can't quite vocalize it.
At this point of frustration, you'd give up a potential romance if you guys could just be real friends. Because this stage has to go somewhere or it'll go backwards. And like, yeah, of course you still want to date him! He's still sweet, still has those rockin stems on him, still absurdly attractive. Did I mention he has great legs? Once or twice? But the ennui's hitting him too, and what was easy becomes strained, awkward, and you have
no bloody idea how to get out of it and make any progress at all.
(Look, if Jennifer Lawrence doesn't know what to do, then screw it. We mortals don't stand a chance.)
You no longer have any freaking idea what's happening. It's all very He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not. (Not the Audrey Tatou movie, though. That stuff's mental.)
It's unstable stuff. If you're in it a second longer than you should be, it becomes radioactive. Did the Imagine Dragons song just pop into your head? Yeah, me too. Sorry about that. The word might not even be radioactive. Retroactive, maybe? Googling "retroactive definition" is not helping. GOOGLE. Y U NO HELP? Look. The point is that the nature of the beast is that it's temporary, and so if you're in it too long, you began to slip back into Accquaintanceship. You just peter off, and in college, awkwardly crawl back into your little "not-quite not-quite friends" thing as the semester drags to an excruciating close. You still sit by each other, but only because it would be awkward and say too much to not any longer. It would be admitting that there was something, some spark, and now there's not. And we're just not invested or mature enough to admit that, amirite? And you still politely ask each other how your weekend was, etc., but that's just it. It's out of politeness. It's not out of any real interest, or out of any hope that you'll be part of the next weekend's plans, you know? And as soon as the class is done, FIN. The curtain closes and there's maybe a smattering of polite applause. You might like each other's statuses every once in a while, but that's it, besides being mocked by the ghost of what-could-have-been.
And you hang out in this kind-of-occasionally-mildly-depressed-about-it-thing (Guys, using
really clinical and correct terms esta noche) for a while.
But then you convince yourself he was
far too conservative/liberal/serious/goofy/uncultured/cultured for it to have really worked out anyways. Like you'd have been like "THAT NEW STROKES ALBUM." And he'd be like, "What about it?" And you'd be like, "Um, it's amazing?" and then it would just be like,
Or, you know, think of a situation that actually relates and isn't just some weird extension of my #firstworldhipsterproblems. You know? He wouldn't want to go to the museum or he WOULD but he'd want to analyze Rothko and you'd just be like IT'S COOL BUT DO WE REALLY HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT? Or you'd be talking about equal marriage rights and he'd joke, "Adam and Eve, babe, not Adam and Steve." And you'd be like REALLY? THAT'S WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY?
So you convince yourself that it was, like, sooo not gonna work out anyways. And after you have accordingly comforted yourself, and are feeling solid, you're going to remind yourself that, you know, they probably just weren't that into you (and yeah, this time I am referencing the movie, because it's a vaguely accurate rom-com with Ginnifer Goodwin, and you know what, I like her hair lots, so consider the reference made.) You know how I said you were feeling comforted, solid in your position of "yeah, it would never have worked out anyways, so nbd."? Whatever. Considering that they were probably not that into you anyways: gonna make you feel REALLY AWESOME. I mean, like insanely awesome. Like you're gonna feel THIS good.
That's right, it sucks a latte. (Somehow I'm obsessed with that pun even when it makes zero sense. Maybe if I inserted a picture of an actual latte? But I've gotta resist the urge to fall back on pictures as usual. Fight it.
Ugh, I didn't fight it. Moving on.
And then you remember that like, what kind of logic is that? YOU liked HIM a lot(te) and still let it get weird. So couldn't he have liked you that much? What was true for you could totally be true for him, right? OMG, IT TOTALLY WAS. HE TOTALLY LIKED YOU.
And then reality is like, sugar. Even if he did, it's kind of pointless now? Once you fall from flirtationshipfriendshipish to Accquaintanceship, you can't get back to and beyond flirtationshipfriendshipish. Impossible. And don't listen to that Audrey Hepburn stuff. As gorgeous and excellent as the lady was, "I'm possible!" is not what the word means in this case. Accept it. Embrace it. Move on.
Maybe shouldn't border on sacrilegious by abusing an Audrey quote like that, huh?
You slowly level out to mild nostalgia for what never was. The ghost of what could have been no longer mocks you on the reg, it just kind of floats by pityingly when you're having a bad hair day and bombed a test. Hang out in this saddish little level until you meet someone with great hair and a dorky laugh. Did I mention he has great hair?
Rinse & Repeat.
xxx
A couple of notes, and I'm wondering if you guys have answers:
When you do things this way (aka always), do you ever really let all the way go?
And does "sad spiral" of Almost-to-Impossible build on "sad spiral" until you just eventually become actually sad? Because I think I'm a little bit afraid of that being the case. Do you think it is? Are ghosts of what-could-have-been just as detrimental as ghosts-of-christmas-past, or not?
I don't have answers. Thoughts?
Also thoughts on the whole actual-blogging-things-about-real-life thing? Working, not working...throw all the ghastly insults and gorgeous compliments you can think of at me, you beauts.
xxx
And one last triumphant note:
ONLY TEN PICTURES! WHASSUUUUUP!!!
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