Love sucks.
Today, I must have spent hours trying to think of something to write about. Some people have that natural gift, where they can just start writing and end up with a great piece of literature. Others just have a lot to write about. For me, it takes a little more. At least, for now, anyway.
You see, I’ve never been big into writing about things in my life. The only time I wrote journal entries was when my teacher required everyone to do so back in middle school. I had a certain amount of journal entries that I was required to write per week, but nevertheless, I almost always shrugged the whole thing off and somehow managed to get by with little or no entries each week. Sure, my grades in that area were a bit lacking, but frankly, I didn’t care. I just didn’t want to write. One of the main reasons was that I didn’t have a lot to write about. I generally don’t go out of the house much, and I’ve only had one girlfriend in my entire life. There just wasn’t a lot going on in my life. And whatever was going on in my life just didn’t seem to be worth writing about.
Like I said, I only had one girlfriend in my whole life. Her name was Amy. She and I had gone to school together since fifth grade. To tell you the truth, I hated her for quite a long time. You see, she was undoubtedly the smartest person in the entire school. And I was the second-smartest. Except for winning the school geography bee in fifth grade (I beat out even eighth graders, setting a school record for the youngest person ever to win it) that’s what I always was: second. I placed second in every single one of the school math competitions, and she would place first. I was always one place behind her in the spelling bees. I couldn’t stand a bone in her body. She was so…perfect. I would always bug her about how perfect she was.
Then, things began to unravel. Suddenly, Amy was gone from school for a week or two. Finally, when she returned, I sat down next to her. I was simply trying to be nice, and asked her where she had been, assuming that she had been quite sick. I guess I got a little too deep with my questions, because that night, she confronted me on AIM. She asked me why I had been so nosy, which took me by surprise. I told her that I had just been worried about her. She explained to me that she had not been sick—at least, not physically. She had been in a mental hospital. She suffered from depression, and had been physically hurting herself as an outlet for her emotions. As she continued to tell me the details, I felt more and more sorry for her. Suddenly, Miss Perfect wasn’t so perfect after all. I don’t know whether I confused sympathy for love, or if it was that I always do whatever I can to make people feel better. But the next thing I knew, I had typed a sentence and hit enter, and “I love you” had appeared on the screen, right next to my screen name. What had I done? A few days earlier, the most beautiful girl in the entire class had said that she would go out with me the following summer. And I had blown my chance with her on this girl that I had despised for years, and was clearly in a very bad point in her life. And on top of that, a few days later, Amy and I were officially a couple.
I actually was in love with her at the time. I’m not sure if she loved me in return, though every time I said “I love you,” she would say “I love you too.” I have to say, she was a great girlfriend. I had the worst luck ever of being sick on Valentine’s Day, so she came halfway across St. Louis County to bring me flowers. I kept the note that she wrote to go with the flowers…it was beautifully written, and I still have it somewhere in my house. But anyway, she truly was a great girlfriend. After a few weeks, we finally decided to go on a date.
We decided to see the movie “Chicago.” We probably spent more time looking into each others’ eyes than watching the movie, but that was fine by me. Afterwards, we had a fancy dinner at the St. Louis Bread Company (which anyone outside of St. Louis will know as Panera Bread). I was far too shy to just lean over and kiss her, so I was naïve enough to ask her first. Fortunately, she said yes, and we kissed about two or three times. After my parents picked us up and dropped her off at her house, I walked her to the door. I said goodbye and just walked off. No goodnight kiss. I was such an idiot.
To make a long story short (well, it’s too late for that now) our first date ended up being our last. Things really became a mess when she went to Colorado for a week to visit her sister. Well, when she returned, she explained to me how she had smoked weed (or Mary Jane, reefers, pot, whatever the hell you kids call it these days) and gotten so drunk that she passed out and conked her head. And apparently, she didn’t want me to “get hurt” so she decided to break up with me. Good job not hurting me, Amy.
I cried nonstop for days. Finally, I had something to write in my journal about. I must have written so many entries that I made up for the ones that I had neglected to do in the past. That was just about the only time in my life when I actually had something to write about. That didn’t make it any less painful, though.
After Amy broke up with me, it took me a few months to get over her. I found myself desperately trying to replace her. I asked a few different girls out, and they all said no. And, of course, Amy found out, and confronted me about it. If she had any ounce of love left for me, it disappeared right then and there. Once again, I was a total idiot.
So now, here I am, a year and a half later, and I haven’t had a single girlfriend since my relationship with Amy. She and I are good friends, and a few weeks ago I took her to the Muny (it’s basically an outdoor theatre where they perform musicals). I suddenly found myself falling for her again. And the other night, I asked her out again. Once again, she didn’t want me to “get hurt.” So now I may have screwed up our friendship. My God, am I an idiot.
The funny thing is, I started writing this article planning to tell funny stories about my Uncle Kevin, who has somehow caught on fire on several occasions. I guess I’ll save that for another day. Until then, thanks for reading what I had to say. I hope you have better luck in love than I’ve had.
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