Yikes

I feel like everyone has some kind of story they can tell you about unrequited love. Something that goes like “Oh, she was only into football players,” or “He said I was too fat,” or even “They said if I didn’t stop breaking into their house when no one was home they’d file a restraining order.” It’s just a tale as old as time really.  

 

Ninth grade in particular is such a prime time for such a thing to happen. Your hormones are crazy; you have no idea how anything works, but you think you do; and people are expecting you to remember what meiosis is and how to transcribe exponential functions onto a graph. I had a friend at this time whom I was fairly close to. We got along pretty well. We laughed at each other's jokes, and most importantly, I thought he was cute, and he actually talked to me, which in all honesty, was probably all that really mattered to me at the time. I didn’t have many friends when I first started high school because we moved to a different school district after I left middle school. This particular friend of mine, however, was one I got to keep despite the move because we became friends because our parents were friends. Being a hopeless little romantic,  I had been debating if and how I should tell him how I was beginning to feel about him. It became a pretty big weight for me, and I just wanted to have it off my mind more than anything. 

 

So late one night we’re texting back and forth. Apparently, being tired affects your senses and perception in a similar way to being drunk, so I was conveniently feeling both braver and dumber in the moment. I decided to go ahead and say what I wanted to. 

 

I texted, “I like you. In like a more than a friend kind of way,” which was followed shortly by a “I don’t want it to change anything though” despite me very much wanting the exact opposite. 

 

To which he responds “oh alright. No worries then” and basically nothing else. If that seems like an unsatifying end to a conversation to you, then think about how I felt at the time. 

 

After realizing that I wasn’t going to get anything more from him, at least at that moment, I decided to just go to bed for the night. The next day eventually happens, as it is prone to do, and for most of it, I try to keep the whole thing out of my mind. I was just happy that I could start moving past this whole situation even if I didn’t really get any closure from it. Maybe he just needed some time to process what I said and I could just move on from this whole thing having grown a little. Then I got home from school and finally got a message back from him. Though I’m ashamed to admit it now, I did light up for a second. Maybe he just needed time to think and now he feels like he likes me too, but I quickly realized that wasn’t the delightful news he had to give to me. 

 

“Hey guess what I got us dates with twins” as if nothing had happened. This is what he decides our next interaction should be. Please note that me telling him about my feelings for him also doubled as me coming out to him. So I answer with what I believe is a fair response. 

 

“What did we talk about literally last night?” 

 

“What, do you mean that thing about you liking me?” 

 

“Yeah. Now with that in mind, tell me a conclusion you may be able to draw about me.” 

 

“Oh, you’re gay?” as if being gay should really be the only reason I wouldn’t want to go on a double-date where we aren’t one of the couples. “I thought you would be at least bi or something since you and Jenna are clearly pretty into each other.” 

 

“Jenna is my cousin. That’s literally how I introduced you to each other. How could you not know that?” 

 

“Huh, I dunno, just never realized. So I guess no double date then.”  

 

And with that little interaction, I had taken my first step on the journey to realizing a little bit more about the actual person I was fawning over. He was pretty tactless and would just act rude to people because he thought it was funny. He also made some less than savory jokes about women and minorities. So I eventually lost interest in him both “romantically” and as anyone I wanted to have involved in my life at all. Moving on was admittedly a pretty slow process, as most crushes are. I didn’t want to have to admit to myself that the person I was interested in and also good friends with was just kind of a douche. It was for the better because now that I look back on it, all I can say about him is that he was a moron, and a little bit of a self-important edgelord. Eventually, you manage to learn to objectively think about what you really like about romantic partners/interests and see if they’re really someone who’s worth your time. Though I really didn’t do a good job of internalizing that as a fifteen year old, so I ended up hurting myself a couple more times. But that’s just how life goes. We just have to keep trying to get it right.