The Phantom of The Opera

The Phantom of The Opera was playing at the Broward Center for the Performing Arts and I have a date. I was to be there at 6: 45 sharp. But I was so excited that I lost track of time and so I was late to arrive at my aunt’s house. I abandon my car on the front lawn and climbed into her Eclipse. We take the 95 and arrive with plenty of time to spare.

I love the theater. I love the lighting, the atmosphere, and the seemingly affluent patrons as they glide about the premises, like the ghosts of nobles. Each person, dressed in their most excellent, a tiny blessing to mankind; they were the best of the best—at least for tonight, for they were to attend the theater. And even as they were lost and didn’t know where to go, they looked as if they were doing it with purpose and style.

Everyone looks as if all was right with the world, so I try my best to do the same. I arched my back, and took longer, more determined strides to the elevator. I smiled at and was smiled at in return. Once in the elevator, two older gentlemen, accompanied by their dates, provided an impromptu comedic opening, which I credit to the overpowering smell of scotch and tobacco that wandered in after them as they entered.

One man faced the opposite way of everyone else in the elevator so he was facing a woman, who I assumed was his date. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” He bellowed at her much louder than our little theater’s acoustics could handle. His date and his friend, his friend’s date and the rest of us all allowed a polite buzz of laughter. I wondered whether everyone actually thought it funny or was laughing out of nervousness. I thought it was funny and appreciated the simplicity of this man’s sense of humor—I’m facing the opposite way of everyone else and I’m really close to your face; obnoxious, yet somehow brilliant. In an age of dry wit and sarcasm, we need guys like this man to be charming. “I’m the one who should be uncomfortable!” His friend, who was standing facing his much larger friend’s backside, chimed in—with considerable timing, making me aware that he was expecting a much larger donation of laughter; I wondered if we had it. The six or so of us who weren’t apart of the comedy troupe all dug down deep and gave it to him. The truth is the six of us were uncomfortable. These well-dressed, affluent, drunk ladies and gentlemen broke the unspoken rule of not interacting with strangers in enclosed spaces (elevator, bus, train). No one knows how to act when this happens.

The elevator doors opened from the opposite side that we entered from. I looked at the man who was facing the wrong way, pasted on my theatrical smile, and said, “It looks like you were the one facing the right way” His eyes lit up like I were the Watson to his Sherlock and I had finally come up with something. Everyone laughed. And I knew I was meant for the stage.

I think they were giving away crack in the ladies restroom; the line was too long for any other explanation. We took our seats, and shortly after, the show began. It was wonderful.

At one point during the show, just a few rows behind me and to the left, someone’s phone begins to go off. And you know how that goes. Immediately that person’s humiliation is thrust outward onto anyone who is in the vicinity and could be confused as the “idiot who couldn’t follow simple instructions” A similar phenomenon occurs when someone in a group of people farts; the degrees of disgrace grow less compelling the further you’re sat from that person. So those closest to him are probably horrified and asking, of all people, why he had to be the one sat next to them; and those furthest from him, though still affected, feel a mild tinge of embarrassment for that person, but not for themselves—there will be no one confusing them for the culprit. Fortunately, I feel no more than a tad bit embarrassed for that poor person, whom I could easily identify with. In fact, I checked my phone several times to make sure it was on vibrate, and finally just shut it off after envisioning it going off during the production. One can never be too prepared. What makes the situation worse is that it isn’t during a song, so the AT&T theme is now being written into the play as the sound bounces off the walls like a spoilt child and forces itself upon the ears of everyone in the theater. After the longest 20 seconds of this person’s life, they finally get it to stop. And then it starts again. “Jesus Christ! Turn it off!”came the desperate whisper of someone seated at ground zero, wallowing in second-hand humiliation. As one after another everyone seated in the center mezzanine section exchanged scandalized looks, I focused on the play, content that it wasn’t me.

The rest of the show went by smoothly. Now I can mark that show off my list. Tomorrow I’ll travel to the keys to bring in the New Years. I think it’s fitting to bring in the New Year traveling.

Song: The Point of No Return- Andre Lloyd Webber

Strawberry Peace frappuccino, tall please.

I’m Christian and Sabrina is Muslim, so I guess we should be enemies; I bought her a tall strawberry frappuccino. As we moved outside I thought that if I were a foreign diplomat, I would always make sure to bring the world leaders I meet with a strawberry frappuccino. I would walk into the Japanese embassy to meet with a diplomat visiting from Tokyo. I would walk in holding two ice cold frapps and Mr. Yamamoto would first look at me with a blank but dignified expression, I of course would have a smile plastered on my face—I love the art of gift giving.

“うそです！”(“Na ah!”) he would finally exclaim as I push his water aside and place the drink in front of him. “本当ですよ！やまもとーさんはスターバックスがすきだ希望しますよ！”(“Uh huh! I hope you like Starbucks, Mr. Yamamoto!”) I would take my seat as he uses his straw to tease the whipped cream lightly balancing on the surface of the drink with the skill that comes from using chopsticks all his life. I'd drop my straw on the marble floor attempting to emulate his skill and would have to drink mine from the cup. “苺の味が飲んだことがありませんが、おいしですよ。(“You know, I’ve never had this flavor before, but it is delicious.”)　“そうです。”(“I know, right”) I'd groan as I endure a brain freeze, a punishment for eagerness when handling cold desserts. We would both sit quietly for a moment in our own little worlds of strawberry deliciousness, before I begin, “今、始めましょう。。。” (“Now, let’s begin…”)

I would be a kick-ass dignitary. All the other world dignitaries would wish they were me, or would want to hang out with me, smoke black and milds, and work out peace.

Sabrina and I were speaking about peace. I explained to her how much evil was in the world and how I was ready to turn my attention onto others. She shared stories with me of the good she has done and seen others do. I got excited thinking of the small projects I could do; I felt empowered, like most women must feel after Oprah gets done with them.

The sky was crystal clear as if God had just finished polishing the globe and I was in a good mood. “You know, I know I can’t change the world alone, but I can do good.” I explained to her as I was deciding whether it was worth the work to get to the whipped cream at the bottom of my cup. “Exactly, even if it is just one small project at a time, it can inspire others.” She agreed. She put it like this, “It’s like if you wanted to throw amazing parties all over the world, if you travel around and try to throw 10 crazy parties all at once, you’ll run out of money and you’ll just throw 10 sucky parties. But if you focus on throwing one monumental party, it will inspire the people who went to that party to throw epic parties, and people that go to those parties will be inspired.” I wondered if sometime during the party I could turn down the music and instruct everyone on the importance of throwing parties and some resources where they could learn more on throwing parties. They would love it because it would be brief, and I would use a lot of pictures in my powerpoint.

Sabrina put it perfectly, and I think that’s how helping the world works. Far too many people are disturbed by the injustices of the world, but feel like they can’t do anything to change it. That’s a lie. Joining and working toward a cause can, volunteering at a shelter or school can, donating and raising money can. Sabrina helped me realize that it isn’t the people hurting others who are the reason for the state of the world, it’s the much larger majority not doing anything that is.

Song: Him- Lily Allen

Sabrina hates that I sing; I sing anyway.

"Mark, you are such a great guy. You're driven and attractive, intelligent and funny."

I was staring at the fire in front of me as it mustered all its strength to come back to life as a full blaze. I nodded as my friend Sammie continued, "That's why I get mad at you and Matt when you act like you can't get girls. You two are hot." The fire wasn't; it was losing it's battle, there wasn't enough fuel. I watched on knowing that I could help, but the threat of being cold had not yet outweighed the luxury of laziness. Against my better judgment I slowly looked away from the fire's private battle and made eye contact with her. Immediately I saw that she meant what she was saying. She had a pained expression, as if she were about to cry. It was as if I were the fire- struggling and losing- and she were those camped around it- except she was helpless to do anything but tell me what she thought of me. Sammie spoke with an urgency, that to me, made it seem like it was imperative that I understand what she was telling me and accept it as truth. I started to feel again. I felt appreciated. Then I felt cold; the fire was almost out.

Rarely is it that someone tells me those things. I feel guilty resenting that, because no one is obligated to tell me what I should already know. Sammie stared at me for a reaction, but I didn't know what to say. I stole another glance at the fire, who at this point was begging someone, anyone, to give it a twig. I refused. I was just too comfortable. Finally I spoke. "Thank you, SJ. It means a lot to me that you think so highly of me and you know, sometimes I need to hear it." She smiled, kissed me on the forehead, and walked into the darkness by a shed. She reappeared with a log which she tossed to the fire, who embraced it selfishly, reminding me of a child given a new toy. Soon it was crackling cheerfully and thanking her for her charity.

This wasn't the first time Sammie successfully conveyed her esteem toward me. Because of her openness and bold appreciation for her friends, boyfriend, and family, I have a lot of respect for her. I also consider her one of my closer friends. I have another friend who loves me and whenever I sing, she tells me how much she loves me and then explains that the sound of me singing makes her want to stick sharp objects (pencils, pens, screwdrivers, syringes, sticks etc) into her ears. I laugh although I know she is serious. Mike tells me the same thing oddly enough. Sabrina and I have been close friends for several years. If anyone were to say anything against me, she becomes extremely defensive of me. She, much like Sammie, is not afraid to solemnly explain to her closest friends that she is well aware and appreciative of the people that they have grown to become, and that she will not allow them to think any differently. That's why I love her. Sabrina is a loyal and appreciative friend. A loyal friend who has no problem mutilating her own body when I elongate sounds in a rhythmic and melodic fashion. And I think it's beautiful.

I often wonder if there were times in which a friend needed me to tell them their worth and look them in the eye until they were uncomfortable, like Sammie did to me, so they know I mean business. I imagine myself talking to one of my friends and saying, "You know, man, you're a funny guy." He would say something along the lines of "Thanks bro, you are too." but I would press the issue "No, you don't understand, you are a really, really funny guy, and I appreciate you, and I love you for that. I love you and I love the element of comedy as a whole and I want you to think about that for a very long time." I would have effectively alienated my friend, but I would feel like a very good person. In fact I would turn to the girl next to me and begin, "You have a very pleasant speaking voice..."

We do live in a social world and while many people believe what others think of you doesn't matter, I would concede that what our friends think of us matters terribly. I mean they're our friends for a reason, it doesn't hurt to inquire why they remain in your life. Likewise, we often forget how much weight our words have to our friends and family. And while flowers, or a gift, help to lift the spirits of those people, our words are free and priceless.

When I'm spending time with my friends I'm going to take a moment to think about why I spend the fleeting moments of my life with them. And whatever I come up with, when the time is right, I'm going to tell them. And like Sammie I'm going to be genuine and desperate that that person truly believe me.

Song- Overkill- Colin Hay

Puerto Rico

I don't know why Mike, black and milds, and I all get along so well, but we do. Whenever the three of us are together, we seem to enjoy each others company. I talk. Mike talks. The black serenely switches back and forth between us, allowing its smoke to drift off into the cool air and scatter like ideas in a brainstorm.

As Mike and I negotiate topics of discussion, throwing metaphors and examples at each other like two professors at war, trying to teach one another at the same time. We weave in and out of reality and fantasy as the black slowly fades, growing shorter and shorter with us, like a mother of three who's losing her patience.

Eventually the black completely vanishes leaving only it's cap to remind us it was once part of the conversation. I'm not sure about Mike, but I immediately miss its charming presence. I don't look forward to the day when we stop inviting black and milds to join us in our discussion.

Mike and I spoke on his back patio tonight. I ceremoniously placed the black's cap in a cup full of ashes and garbage and allowed myself a moment to miss it. Mike and I were in the middle of discussing the coming year. We also shared some lessons we learned this past year. I explained to Mike all my thoughts about creating a story out of my life in the next year, embellishing that it would be full of epic scenes. One after another we began to come up with places we could travel and things we could do and worked ourselves up. I thought of us and some friends in the mountains of Georgia some where, all taking turns saying whatever it was that the view of the mountains kneeling in front of a sky dressed in stars would induce. I imagined one of the girls in our group would begin to tell us about how much we all mean to her and begin to cry as she talks. Another girl would move in to hug her and Mike and I wouldn't make any motion to look at each other for fear of catching the other choked up. A few of us would go inside, and the others, not wanting to feel lonely in their beds that night, would linger on and talk. And although we're all tired, we would constantly keep each other up by saying, "I feel bad for everyone who went to bed, the sunrise is going to be epic." And three or four of us would make it to the sunrise. And for the rest of the trip we would have felt like we witnessed something special, although the sun rises every 24 hours.

Mike said he loves going on trips with people he doesn't know that well because it makes them closer. I think the Georgian mountains striking poses for our group would do just that.

I lit two dusty scented candles in front of me and began to play with the flames as I spoke of the scenes I wanted in my story. After listing off several American landmarks we could possibly visit, Mike pitched me the idea of going to Puerto Rico. I thought of Mike and I befriending some Puerto Ricans our age who would show us around the city. I figured they would want to take us out for drinks at a small bar, open to the ocean, so that we could still hear the waves as they arrived and departed from the shore. And later when Mike was good and drunk, I, with the help of some of the girls, would convince him to use his Spanish to order us another round. After the worst shots we've all ever taken, and as one of the natives try to figure out what the hell Mike just ordered, we would all have a good laugh. I made a mental note to check fares.

Although it's pleasant enough to daydream about an adventure, it is nothing compared to actually living it. So I'm giving myself until the end of January to plan out a trip.

Song: A Movie Script Ending- Death Cab For Cutie

My reflection hit on me once, it was weird

Sometimes I feel so empty inside I blow off the whole day and distract myself with take out and digital cable. I drink in the nonsense, alone in the dark, feeling sorry for myslelf. Commercials left me with 4 and a half excruciating minutes to think of what I was putting off, think of why I was depressed, and think of more excuses why nothing that is wrong with my life is my fault.

With the end of one of the most rewarding friendships I've ever experienced, and it's disturbing unjust death, I was forced to try and make some meaning of the whole thing after the shock wore off. I was no longer angry, I was more so deeply saddened and almost grieving the loss, as if she were no longer in this world. I would be working, and her face would come to mind. I constantly replayed the first time I met her in my head. Memories I had forgotten all about resurfaced, conversations we had, advice we exchanged, her smile, her laugh, her touch. To make the situation worse I think God wanted me to have nothing better to do but think about it because I sprained my ankle so badly I was pretty much immobile. "Take a seat, Mark" I could kind of see God saying that right before exhales in my direction and I fall flat on my face playing tennis.

So there I was, pathetic on the couch, swollen ankle, movies on demand, memories on demand, sadness on demand (offered in HD)

In the coming weeks I began to really analyze what happened. I did some reading online which led me back to myself. One of my lessons of this year taught me to stop avoiding responsibility and placing the blame. When I stopped blaming her for what happened and looked at myself I was disgusted. All at once the ideas flooded in: I did this. This is all my doing.

Yes it's true that I really cared about her. But the thought of not being with her, to me, I'm embarrassed to say, was like I was doomed to unhappiness. I swore no one would come along that would make me feel the way she did. My emotions were immensely strong and linked to her actions, if she called me I would immediately get excited, I would be all smiles. If she spoke about another guy I would get immensely jealous, my day would be ruined. How sad, right? And so is the fate for someone who thinks love from someone else will make them happy. They grow dependent, and desperate, and ultimately pathetic. The money and power people have their own equally dark rewards for putting their faith for happiness in those things.

I have no doubt in my head that my feelings for her were real, but the way I saw our relationship as a whole was unhealthy. She somehow knew this as she would explain that she felt I put her on a pedestal. After accepting this, a weight was lifted off my shoulder. It somehow felt good to stop denying everything, and finally say "You know what? Yes, yes I am guilty s charged" The truth will set you free. But I had enough. I was going to have to be completely honest with myself, and figure out where to go from here. Because my insecurities cost me something dear to me and it's only because I was trying to protect myself from the truth and stay in my comfortable little bubble that this happened. In other words, out of pure immaturity. And this isn't the first time this has happened which makes it all the more frustrating. I never learn, I keep lying to myself and giving the same mistakes different names and reasons. That is why stripped my belief system down to the very basics and took my focus off of women and to happiness as a whole. Where as before I would go through this and think "It's just that Heather wasn't the one, Felicia is the girl that will make me happy." Now-"No girl no matter who will make me happy, happiness is found somewhere else." With this realization the pressure is off of my love life, and I should be able to find a suitable girlfriend with the knowledge that she, in and of herself, will not be able to make me happy.

I asked myself the question again, "How will I be happy?" I researched it online. The more I read the more I saw a pattern. This is what I learned:

Happiness is a life long journey, it is a sort of commitment to oneself. It isn't just attained one day. Also, happiness comes from within, not from anything on the outside (ie cars, promotions, night clubs, girlfriends, president's list etc)

Since I was thirteen I spent my life with the idea of finding that perfect girl to make me happy burning a hole in my consciousness, every year the pressure growing, every year the thought that I was unlovable getting louder and louder, threatening to become reality and fact. I've been enduring low self esteem and self hate for so many years trying to find validation in specific girls eyes, all of which, every single one rejected me for one reason or another, several leaving me with the consolation prize of Lasting Friendship. Every rejection served to confirm what I feared the most and left me a little less confident as I interacted with the next girl. But with her, she and I had spent so much time together, and enjoyed each others company so much, of anyone in this world who saw my worth, it had to be her. It shouldn't even be a question as to whether she ought to date me or not, after all the time we've shared together. This isn't how she thought, obviously. And there would be no recovering if she rejected me. She is the only girl that has ever gotten that close to me. If she didn't want a relationship with me, no one would.

With every rejection the first thing I would do was blame it on a lack of something in myself ( I lack ambition, I lack "confidence", I lack muscle mass, money, popularity, social status etc.)

But something beautiful happened when my best friend rejected me. When she left that evening, I went up stairs to see what I was missing. I looked in the mirror. I took a long scrutinizing look. I found nothing wrong this time. I thought I looked very handsome that night, actually- and confident too. Very handsome and confident. I thought of what I had going on in my life, and I was pleased with where I was in life and where I was going. I thought about how I treated her and others, and I felt good about that too. I told myself out loud, "There is nothing wrong with you," and then I added "any girl would be lucky to have you in their life." And I meant it. That night I didn't sleep as restlessly as other nights of rejections past. I felt right in my own skin, I felt kind of happy even though externally there was no reason to be. I think that was God's version of a sample taste of what I could have. Because when I woke up the next morning the feeling was gone, but I didn't forget it. And I had a clue of where to start looking for my happiness.

That in short, is how my one of my best friends showed me my worth and also set me on the right path for what I am looking for. I'm retiring the goal of girlfriend from my New Year's resolution list, it has no use to me anymore. I'm replacing it with "Happiness".

In our friendship, I think we both meant well. And I like to think that we both really care about each other, but we both made some pretty bad mistakes. We both hurt each other in some form or another. At this time, I can't get her back. But I did apologize, and with that apology, laid our friendship to rest and gained closure. I wouldn't be surprised to find myself with her in my company in a couple years. But for now, her absence in my life will serve as a reminder of the dangers of putting my faith in others to make me happy, and avoiding taking responsibility for my feelings. It was a high price to pay for some life lessons, though.

Song: Play the Part- Little Joy

Something keeps bugging me.

My first blog, how exciting! I'm not sure how this works, I don't know whether I am to just jump right into things, or else declare some sort of mission statement. Mission statements are for chumps, I guess.

My Mission Statement: I want to chronicle my thoughts and experiences over the next year. Not only do I want to start actively preserving my memories, but I also hope to enjoy some personal growth. And while it is cool and exciting if people were to read it, I'm writing this more as a reminder to myself than to take up time in others' busy lives.

New Years is a week or so away and come Friday morning at 12am I am going to tune out those celebrating around me, enjoying drinks, embraces, kisses, dancing, and vomiting and I'm going to be briefly sad. Not long enough for the DJ to turn on the lights, lower the music, and call me to the VIP to "share my feelings", but nevertheless long enough for it to bother me for the rest of the day.

You see, I had some goals this year. Some were met, others weren't. Those goals that I don't accomplish get rolled over to the next year, no biggie. I'm rolling over one goal for the tenth year now. This goal I've affectionately given the name "Girlfriend." Oddly enough about this particular goal is that as I grow and evolve, so does the goal. Every year more rules and stipulations are added to the goal. Where as when I was 13, accomplishing girlfriend simply meant to get a girl, any girl, and I mean any girl to like me enough to let me hold her hand in public, and the privilege to call her house after nine. It never happened. And every year after that more requirements were added. By 15, I was to have a girlfriend that was attractive and I could make out with. By 18, I needed a girlfriend I could be "in love" with and who's parents would let her stay out all night on prom. And by 22, she had to not only meet all of the requirements of the past but I had to know that I truly cared for her, I had to get a feeling every time I looked at her, I had to be able to see myself spending the rest of my life with her. Of course now I could easily find a girl that satisfies the primitive requirements of my younger selves, a girl who would let me hold her hand, and call her after nine, and we could make out sometimes, and she could stay out all night when we go out and not have to have her mom call my mom to make sure we were supervised. And I'm sure she would be a wonderful girlfriend for a 13, 15, or 18 year old, but at this age, I need a girlfriend who can not only engage me physically but also mentally and spiritually.

It is precisely because I keep upping my own ante, that I never accomplish this goal. I can't evolve as fast as the goal itself can. I can never figure out how to get the girl I'm looking for that year that year, I always realize what the answer is in the following years, but by that time I have another troublesome requirement to fulfill. Of course the pressure at the thought of what my friends and family think of this does nothing to speed up this process. There is no doubt that suspicion is starting to rise as to what's the matter with me, why I am 22 years old and I have never had a girlfriend. Other than being gay or "too picky" (as if picking the person you can potentially spend the rest of your life with were as whimsical of a decision as to whether one should have the spinach salad for lunch although that person doesn't particularly care for pine nuts) , I can't imagine the creative things people come up with in their minds to explain the paradox. I one day found myself daydreaming that some people think that academia is my mistress, and that I am satisfied as I learn foreign languages and excel at mathematics. I laugh a bit to myself at the thought of myself spooning with a Harvard law school application that I've been dating on and off, or surprising my undergraduate thesis to John Mayer tickets in a section where we would end up standing the whole concert. I'm not gay, I won't even humor people who think I'm picky, and I'm not spending romantic evenings at Lake Ella with my graded final exams.

I hope my tone doesn't come off as apathetic, because I am quickly losing my patience. And in doing so I am mixing up emotions of caring, friendship, and love with dependency, desperation, and fear of loneliness. I can't tell which is which. If I were to tell a girl "I really do love you" could I possibly be saying, "Please, like me, I'm so comfortable with you I couldn't imagine having to get to know another girl, if it doesn't work out with you I'll never find someone else. Please love me. I'll give you a dollar." And that's where our story begins.

Let me make this clear. My only goal in life is to be happy, that's it. Everything I do is in pursuit of that goal. I don't think I'm the only person who will admit this. People come up with many ideas of what will make them happy, for some it's money, for some it's status, and for some love. I'm sure you can guess mine. I thought I was smart picking love as my key to happiness, for you see I could be wealthy and I could be powerful but without someone to share it with I would be miserable. But if I could find the right girl, even if I was broke and at the bottom rung of society I would be happy as long as I have her. (Of course none of this has been proven)

This years girlfriend goal was especially "thought provoking" as I lost a good friend in trying to date her. Of course in that loss is a lesson. I would go as far as to say this is the biggest lesson I've ever had to learn as it was a "gateway lesson": it lead to other, harder lessons.

I've always been a really open minded person. I'm always ready to discard an erroneous belief or thought, and replace it with one that I think makes more sense and is closer to truth. But I feel as if I can never get my bearings, just a basic set of beliefs I can trust. I wish I could strip everything about myself down to nothing and build myself from the ground up. I have too many fears, prejudices, insecurities, faulty thought process, and mind traps, all of which I will refer to as bugs, that have been embedded in me since I was a child that I can never do anything right. Even though I have my ideals, when I try to carry them out one of these bugs mess everything up, I ended up making the wrong decision out of fear of something, or selfishness, or jealousy, etc. So after I come to terms with one of my bugs I feel like I'm ready to do good because I will never "x" again. But then in living, I end up hurting someone or myself by doing "y" and after days of introspection, talking to friends, and reading articles on the subject I will finally come to decide that I was wrong for "y" and take measures to live my life without doing or believing "y". Soon after I learn the lesson of "y", "z"- and I'm back at Starbucks trying to figure it out with a friend. I'm at Starbucks so often now that I help set up in the mornings...that's how numerous these things about me that get in the way of me a) being happy and b) being a genuinely good person are.

The realization of a bug always comes the same way, first I deny it, then I think about it, a queasy feeling grows in my stomach, then I accept it, disgusted with myself. I always chastise myself, telling myself I should have known all along. It is always so obvious that I was being "x" after I figure out that I was being "x". We call this in the field, hindsight. Lets apply this theory to the lesson I learned from my ex-girlfriend (candidate):

Simply put, I have a good friend for a little less than a few years. Midway through our friendship I develop feelings, but she doesn't feel the same way. She insists she cares deeply for me, but not in that way. I call this rejection's older, hotter sister "Lasting Friendship". Lasting Friendship is the sister who is always in her room and only comes out for a snack, or to let her friends in and you kind of sneak a glimpse. You know she's related to Rejection and you shouldn't want to hang out with her, but for some reason you can't help but to want to. You want to figure her out. If it were Rejection you'd be like, "screw him, I'm out of here." But his sister, Lasting Friendship, there is something about her that makes you want to stick around and see what happens; she's gentle, she mildly resembles what you were after in the first place. In that way, Lasting Friendship always confuses guys who actually care about the girl who offer them this. On one hand the girl just rejected them romantically, on the other hand she claims that he's special to her and that she wants him in her life. If you're cynical you assume the girl doesn't mean that and she couldn't care less whether you were in her life or not, after all she did just reject you (but in a nicer way). If you're optimistic you focus more on the ideals: she was your good friend before you asked her out and you mean a lot to her, you should remain her good friend even after she turns you down.

I considered this person one of my best friends for years, and I certainly wanted her to remain in my life indefinitely. But at the same time the thought of staying in her life as "just a friend" while I watch other guys walk in and out of her life, or worse, watch one walk in and not walk out. How was I supposed to do that? For the rest of my relationship with her I will always feel like any guy she did decide to date had something that made them better than me in her eyes. I mean she didn't even give me a chance, she wrote me off as undatable (add it to your dictionary) immediately. I could not not take that thought.

On the other hand, she is someone I really, genuinely cared about. What kind of a friend would I be if I walked out simply because I didn't get my way. After all, just because I had feelings didn't mean she had to. Of course I already learned this lesson and wasn't about to let it happen again. I thought up a compromise. I would put my feelings to the side for a few months, and try to be a good friend, later on when we are a bit older I would ask her out again on an honest date. I figured that by then the thought of dating me would have grown on her. I'm not going to lie I was proud of myself for my mature restraint.

It didn't last 4 days. We managed the screw the whole thing up, and I got hurt pretty bad in the exchange. So badly, that I questioned the very substance of our friendship, whether she even cared about me as a person. I allowed myself to speculate that she was using me for company, capitalizing on my "good guy" nature. I indulged in the thought of me being the crimeless victim and her heartless and manipulative. So badly, I decided I would never speak to her again. Things went from one extreme to another.

It took me almost a month to calm down and reflect on all the events that lead my once healthy, satisfying friendship to nothing. It took me almost a month and a day to figure out there were a number of bugs present in it's destruction.

Song: The Weepies- Simple Life, Rachael Yamagata- Worn Me Down,