When I was about twenty-two years old, I met a guy that we’ll call Blake. I was working at Warner Bros Records and soon realized I had to stop wearing my favorite Lacoste polo shirt if I wanted to be taken seriously among my new hip friends. I wanted to reinvent myself. I planned on doing that by convincing myself how crazy passionate I was about the music business. Turned out, I was just really passionate about getting to see Gerard Way in the halls and wearing band shirts all the time of bands I didn’t like. Anyway, this is not relevant to my story, although you can add Gerard Way onto the list of people I loved from afar who never noticed me (There’s still time for us, GW.) (You know where to find me.) (Ditch that wife of yours.) (JK.) (NOT JK.)
Anyway, I met this guy Blake through my new music loving friends. I was immediately like, hello, dream boat. He was a musician, duh; that would become a pattern in my twenties. But he had the soul of a sweet Midwestern boy whose parents still loved each other. He was kind and soft spoken and very tall, like, 6’5 or something weird like that. We hung out a few times with our mutual friends, both asking everyone about what the other thought of us, and soon enough he asked me out. I don’t remember what our first date was, but I remember Halloween came pretty soon after it and we considered ourselves in a relationship. He dressed up as that drummer with one arm and I pretended to know who that was when everyone told him how clever it was. I could look it up right now, but I’d rather you have the satisfaction of knowing something I don’t know. Generosity alert.
Blake and I had been dating for about a month now and I really really wanted to like him. He was by far the most thoughtful person I had ever dated. He was so kind that it was almost… annoying? Our sex life was… interesting. He would constantly ask me if what he was doing was okay. By the time I had told him what he was doing was okay, I didn’t really want him to do it anymore. My family was going on a big family trip and since everyone had an important significant other at the time, they were all invited to join. The trip was to a tropical place on a boat, and it was to celebrate New Year’s Eve. I definitely didn’t want to be spending NYE alone in a corner with a party horn while all my sisters and step-brothers held hands with someone in front of the sunset. I would fall in love with Blake on the romantic vacation if it was the last thing I did. And it was. I died after that trip.
When we got to the boat and started to pick out rooms, we all realized that one unfortunate couple was getting stuck in a room with two separated twin beds. Of course, being the selfless person I am, I shot up my hand as the volunteer. Blake seemed disappointed. I was relieved. Every time there was a quiet moment that could leave room for looking into each other’s eyes, I looked in a different direction. Anytime another couple kissed, I made a joke. I think it’s possible that at midnight on New Year’s Eve, I pretended to not be able to find him, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to avoid that kiss. He found me. We had that kiss. You can’t escape someone when you’re on a boat.
Of course it goes without saying that my family loved him. What was not to love? He was and probably still is a wonderful person. He was sweet with my nieces, blended in with the other guys, was polite to my parents and loved me in spite of everything my family knew about me. And the sight of him made me gag a little. But they considered that a character flaw of mine, not his. There is a picture of us flying home on the plane, with him cuddled up to me while I’m recoiling into the window as far away from him as possible. Get me wasted and I will show you that picture.
Every woman I know – scratch that, every person I know – has wasted years of their life stressing over someone they would eventually find to be awful and overlooked someone who would have devoted everything to them. If I could have any super power it would be to love that desperate ass person who would be my bitch throughout this life. But, alas, I’m only human. Fine as hell, but a human all the same. And I like the struggle. You can’t force these things. You can’t love someone for reasons. You can only love them for feelings. And our feelings always seem to just do whatever they want, go where they want to go, spike when we want to hide them, hide when we want to show them. Give up now, you are at their mercy. And Blake had a small penis, so I wouldn’t have been happy anyway.
Note: My dad still asks about him, hoping he will come back.
Second Note: When he moved on and got a girlfriend, I was legit annoyed. That’s how sick I am.
Feel better about yourself overall now?
Featured image via s-implistic.tumblr.com
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