Have you ever #dated or met someone you wanted to know better, but either the feeling wasn't reciprocated or logistics precluded the continuation of the #relationship?
I have, and recently it's been cropping up in a not-so-great way at all times of the day and night. Perhaps by writing the story for public #consumption I can accomplish two things: share a human reaction many people experience and purge the feeling once and for all.
It's about a summer #romance and a guy, but you probably knew that already. A friend of the #family introduced us when I was 19 and he was about 26. (Let's call him Ted because I have neutral feelings about this particular name.)
For me, Ted was the physical embodiment of all my fantasies of what a good-looking guy was. I always preferred the cute types to the #muscle-bound. Although his hair was already thinning a little and he didn't have the toned #physique of someone who worked out at the gym, I was charmed by his aquiline facial features and #sexy smile.
At the outset I knew it would never last. This was a guy who dated a lot of girls and was not afraid to mention that. Because of our age difference and probably due to my lack of self-confidence, he frequently criticized me and suggested I do some things differently. For instance, I'm sure he dis- liked the way I wore my hair, but during the muggy NJ summers I had a problem with hair frizz and an over-curly appearance. It didn't help that since I was a counselor at a day camp, I was always subject to "water damage." I also dressed conservatively, even wearing pantyhose on hot summer evenings. Never called pretty--even by my family--I might be considered attractive by the male #sex if I dressed becomingly and used the right makeup.
The one sure thing I had going for me, however, was my figure. At 5' 4" and 110 pounds, I could wear form fitting clothes and look svelte. For some reason, my complexion was devoid of #acne that summer, so I didn't have to worry about pimples (I would, however, be tortured by the scourge of acne after our breakup and for the next several years.) All in all, I looked pretty good.
Our courtship was comprised of once-a-week dates to concerts, plays and the like, but Ted never spent much money on me. He never took me to dinner or surprised me with flowers. He never called just to talk or sent me a funny card in the mail. I got the feeling that he considered his presence alone to be ample reward. I also don't remember receiving any compliments from him on my appearance or my career ambitions. We talked about everyday events, nothing too profound or challenging. I was taking a Biology class that summer before my senior year in college because I needed it to graduate, but I don't remember if we talked about my studies or how I was balancing work and school. I do remember that when I was sick with tonsillitis, I kinda shamed him into dropping by for a visit. I put on my sexiest baby doll pjs and let nature take its course.
Perhaps the break-up is not the only reason I continued to think about Ted after his abrupt and unwanted departure from my life. He was my first #lover, introducing me to sex in a simple, uncomplicated way. Of course I equated the physical intimacy with emotional intimacy, but I also knew I was deceiving myself. Later, good judgment kicked in, and I knew Ted wouldn't be there for the long haul. But no one likes to be shafted, kicked over into the gutter like so much garbage. I had invested much of myself in the relationship, and I wanted to get something more out it than a limp goodbye. I desperately wanted--and needed--to be a winner, but in a matter of seconds, I became a loser.
Ted knew nothing of my #mental problems except what he might be able to infer from my behavior. Looking back, I think he pigeonholed me as a timid young woman with little life experience and some odd introverted and bookish ways. That our relationship lasted four months probably was more a matter of convenience than desire on his part. On the other hand I have to give him credit for postponing the break-up until after my student teaching assignment ended. He probably figured that would be a trauma that would negatively impact my performance. Ted prided himself on doing the "right thing," only his idea of the right thing was not always noble. In any case only a miracle could have spared me from the horrors of my student teaching program. Ted had nothing to do with what I perceived as boring day-to-day instruction and the distaste of working with #unmotivated, unruly children.)
To be continued next time....
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