A while ago my friend asked me what to do about a girl she likes.
“Do not like her,” I said. Sex-repulsed doesn’t even begin to describe her object of affection: she unironically, seriously, refuses to date until marriage.
I blinked as if she had suddenly started speaking a different language.
“You only have to wait less than a year until she’s out of your life,” I said, referring to that looming graduation date.
“Nooo that’s too long!”
Aw, how cute! The majority of my crushes last upwards of a year, the most ridiculous one dragging out for five years. I wanted to both laugh and shout “that’s sufferin’ SON.”
“Usually I just…compress the feelings inside myself? Let them kill me internally? Until that person is no longer relevant to me,” I said.
It suddenly struck me how valid her question was, and how ill-equipped I was to answer it. I’ve always Liked people too easily and only had my feelings returned once…so her question did not mean anything to me. My only answer seemed to be: “Internalize your angst and cry inside.”
Some people have their coping mechanisms — none seem very healthy to me, but I’m in no position to judge. If Liking someone is like lovingly growing a patch of flowers, once people realize that their feelings are unrequited, some claim that the flowers were hideous all along and relish mowing them down. Some plant new flowers that they hope will choke out the old. I can’t bear to uproot my flowers, even when they prove to be weeds. I’m just too fond of their scent and beauty. So I just let them be and watch them as they slowly, excruciatingly, recede and shrivel up.
My thoughts are pretty upbeat, aren’t they?