Archive for January, 2012

You had an infectious smile. Everyone in town thought you were great. Even now if I meet someone from the area, they know you. The girls all love you (unless they dated you).
The boys all hate you (you took their girlfriends). The parents can’t decide if they love you for your joy or hate you for your sneaky, sly personality. Must be rough being so slick.
I can picture your huge smile. Both devious and loving at the same time, which is why it’s so fucked up.

I have never hated anyone the way I hated you. You made me hate myself. You made me hate being open. You made me unable to be vulnerable.
It’s weird looking back to see how you can be so well loved and so hated at the same time. It’s hard to live with these contradictions.

The number of times I’ve yelled at you doesn’t heal what you did to me. The numbers of times I’ve looked at you and known you might as well be a stranger doesn’t heal it.
The number of times you have apologized doesn’t make it better. I think I am slowly starting to get over it now though. You were a kid. Can I forgive the part of you that was a kid?
And still hate the situation?

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You always had a crush on me, but I think you are actually gay now. That may be a rumor or may be my imagination. Either way, I don’t think you would have a crush on me still. As with everyone you see later, you had gained weight, especially in the neck region. You still hugged me a little too close, but that was probably out of habit. Can it be habit to act every so slightly creepy towards someone?

You used to pass me notes in history class. They were dripping with innuendo, but never explicit. You wanted to take me off-roading in your jeep with your buddy. As I write that, it doesn’t seem like innocent hick behavior. That sounds like a date rape set up from a bad teen movie. Nevertheless, teenage girls can’t help but finding any male attention flattering in whatever way. I think you were just whipped into a frenzy by the fact that the kid sitting next to you in class had a crush on me, so it seemed like a good idea to do the same. I think you are a good person. I hope you have a boyfriend now. That would be kind of amazing. I hope you don’t feel like you have to keep it a secret. I’m glad I never took off my clothes for you. That would have been super weird.

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Why I am a bad person #1.

I may have been able to handle the lying if the sex was better.

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You told me “I actually kind of like your tits” and have no idea why that would be potentially damaging. So no, I don’t feel bad about your broken heart.
Don’t feel bad I won’t call you back. Don’t feel bad I am gonna fuck your best friend. Don’t feel bad that I refuse to see you.
At the end of the day, you were kind of a dick.

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To my Unbeknownst Love,

When I listen to your heartbeat I forget how to breath. I can’t even speak when you smile at me. When I remember those few simple moments we shared, I smile a smile that will last for days, and years. When you are hundreds of miles away I still look around every corner in hopes of catching a glimpse of you. My heart breaks at the thought that you will not return my feelings and aches for you to share even a faction of what I feel for you. How it burns to wake and find you are not there to hold me. I live day to day thinking of ways to make you laugh or even smile. Won’t you turn your face towards me? I pray. I pray that your eyes will catch mine and you will see all of what I feel for you. Please let me make you happy. As I sit here to write this, I realize that I will never say these things to you. I can’t even look you in the eye. It feels as though my heart dies with each word that is written here. There is a burning piece of me that still clings to the hope that you will love me.

This, the truth of my heart, I lay bare at your feet.
– An overlooked woman

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I’ve never been friend zoned so hard by someone I wasn’t even interested in.
Can you even friend zone someone you aren’t interested in?
Is that in the rulebook somewhere? Did I miss the memo?

And yet, with a minor clue that I was more seriously involved than you had previously imagined with another boy, you immediately stopped approaching me.

So was it just a temporary friend zone? More like you were back burnering me so hard. Just in case you broke up with that girl you were really into.
Just keeping me around in your sphere of friendly lunch goers in case one day ten years down the road you felt like getting romantical?
Very strange tactic if I do say so myself. Your long rambling emails indicate some sort of confused but potential interest, but every time we hung out I was surprised you enthusiastically suggested we do it again.

You are simultaneously interested but terrified. It’s the only possible analysis. I guess that makes sense for someone who is excited on the day they wear their snazzy shoes.

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You have been in the U.S. at least 15 years. You refuse to speak Spanish with me, only English. Even when I ask you to practice my Spanish with me.

When I want you to tell me I look nice or want some passionate affection – you warn me “I’m not one of those typical Latin guys who’s going to be all affectionate with you and romantic.” When I ask you to be on time for something important or to make plans with me in advance you say “You need to understand. We come from two different worlds. You are white and white people make plans and schedule things. In my world, we Latinos don’t make plans – we do things spontaneously.”

Stereotypical macho man – you eat at my house and won’t even carry the dish to the sink. But you never pay for dinner or anything without complaining about it. Then where was the machismo and chivalry when I needed help caring boxes up and down the stairs but you were surfing the Internet instead?

Of course this is all ridiculous. I know white men who are very affectionate and romantic. I have Latin friends who make plans and keep them and show up on time. Men and women of all races and cultures are different. You just use stereotypes so you can continue being the most selfish man on earth.

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