She probably thinks some other professor is really great now, anyway.
She’s the type.
What type?
The type who admires around indiscriminately.
The intellectual’s whore.
In some ways, the task for the would-be lover is to move from thinking this person is the only person she could feel this way about, that fire and home reside only in this person, to understanding that she has gone through a universal human experience, and there will be others who evoke similar responses;
Whereas the task for the rejecter is the opposite – to move from thinking it was “just a crush, it could have been pretty much anybody, I’m not important” to understanding that she does have a uniqueness in the would-be lover’s perception of her, that she does matter as an individual in the process, that the would-be lover actually felt that way about her.
I felt a tug or pull from an invisible cord, somewhere in my gut. What’s that? Oh, nothing… The tug continued irregularly, then gaining a regular rhythm and an increasing power, like the music from Jaws. What? What’s going on? Something’s coming…{anxiety}…Then, I tripped, or suddenly fell over the edge of a cliff. It was like being hit on the head with a sledgehammer. Oh shit! All I saw was red, flashing like a slow-moving strobe light. All I heard was low bass, a whomp…whomp…whomp in time with the strobe light, the sound of a helicoptor’s blades rotating in slow-motion, the sound of the alarm on the sinking Titanic. It was not my fault. I was just standing there, I did nothing to invite this, to make it welcome or let it think it might find a home in me. This foreign body, this interloper, this usurper, this love. It’s like being struck by lightning. Suddenly, life makes sense at a much deeper level, all the pain, the fear, and the joy. Even knowing, always knowing, it wasn’t mutual, it was never going to be.
And she’s going to have children with this asshole, this man.
Who may be perfectly charming.
I don’t care. And I don’t wish them well.
You wish them ill?
No.
You wish for screaming fights?
No.
For cold distance, or bland indifference?
No.
You wish for stillborn babies?
No.
For bitter disappointments, for financial ruin? For car accidents, for lost limbs, for lost dreams?
No, no, no, no, no.
For kids with ears that stick out?
No.
You wish her well?
Yes.
You wish them well.
No.
So, what did you wish for, what did you want?
I wanted her!
To be with, to know.
To nurture, to protect.
To have and to hold.
To possess. To have her as mine.
I wanted you so much , you were all I could see, I couldn’t stop staring. “Please, move this way, move that way, look up and smile.” I wanted to make you feel secure, make you feel happy. I wanted to see you out of control. I wanted to be with you, to be inside you, to hear you moan, to make you come. I wanted you to come home with me. I wanted to talk with you, to make you laugh, to laugh with you and for you. I wanted you so much, and you hardly saw me. I wanted you so much, and you thought I was cute, you found my nervousness charming. I wanted you, and you didn’t want me. I wanted to love you, and you were flattered. After, I thought about you all the time, couldn’t sleep, barely ate, lost in a fog of memory and desire. Time stopped for me, and you went on with your life. Time stopped for me, and you never looked back. I can never forget you, I can never forgive you.
Unwanted.
Unforgiven.
Unrequited.
Link: Unrequited Love
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