If there’s something I’m an expert in, it’s unrequited love.
Yes, I’ve been with my husband for over ten years, but before that? I’ve suffered through years of heartbreak.
It started when I was a teenager and in some ways, it never really ended.
In the third class of high school, I was in love with a classmate. And it remained that way all those years in high school. The objects of my affection changed, but not that I was pining away, feeling continually rejected.
There was one boy I was in love with, and it was incredibly intense. From thinking about him all the time to replaying all the nice things he ever said to me. Regular nice things, you’d say to a classmate, nothing more.
I often look back at those days and wonder why I put myself through these hardships. Cause I suffered from them tremendously.
And what’s worse: this boy wouldn’t have been a right partner for me. We had absolutely nothing in common, apart from a similar taste in music. He was very much into sports, something I have no affinity with whatsoever. So we would never have made a good couple. And yet I pined and pined and pined.
Rock Star Fantasies
In essence, my rock star flings are the same. I know a rock star who has access to the prettiest groupies around will never pick me for a one-night-stand. I know I wouldn’t. And no, not for a long-term relationship either. The irregular and crazy lives they lead would drive me mad in no time.
But these flings are different from my teenage ones. I know it’s not gonna happen, but they’re a great source of inspiration for dreams and stories. And my husband like my rock star flings too since I’m more sexually minded during those times.
Clearing the Way
Speaking of my husband, I met him because someone else turned me down a week before we first chatted. I had sent an e-mail asking a friend of mine if he’d want to be romantically involved with me. He turned me down via e-mail, saying he admired my courage, but no, he wasn’t interested. And because he turned me down, I continued my search and met my now-husband a week later. So it doesn’t always have to end badly.
So Much Drama
Thinking back to my teenage years, I remember all the drama vividly. I’ve spilt so many tears. I don’t know why I did this, why I tortured myself thus. I’m only happy I came out well on the other side. I don’t think it was necessary. I could have gone without this pain, my life was troubled enough already. But hey, teenage hormones, what can I say?