"Love Bites" - Deux

Missed the beginning? Read it here.

February 9, 1999

Dear Cupid -

     Thanks ever so much! You said, “Love is blind.” Well, infatuation is blind too, and boy did it ever blind me. But not to worry! Thanks to you, good buddy, my eyes were unexpectedly jarred wide open. I was sitting in Dairy Queen with a cute guy, thinking, Hey, this just might work out! Maybe Cupid and I aren't on such bad terms after all, when lo and behold, you shot me in the butt.

The object of my affection said, “Yeah, I came over and cruised around Small Town last night.”

I eagerly responded, “You were in town? You shoulda called and we could have hung out.”

[Watch out – here it comes – KAZAP!] “Well...I was with another girl.” [OUCH!!!]

Looking back on it, the situation seems slightly amusing. I was so dumfounded, so shocked. I never saw that coming. Replaying the scene over in my mind now actually makes me laugh. It was a classic scene from a stupid teeny-bop movie – CLASSIC. But really, I don't blame you. Mr. “I-Was-With-Another-Girl” wasn't the person I'd wanted him to be. He wasn't interested – just a flirt – which was good to find out now rather than later, I guess. So really I'm not mad because there's nobody for me to be mad at. I'm not mad at myself because I didn't know what he was like. (Not that he wasn't a nice guy – just not my type, that's all.) And I'm not mad at him either. After all, he didn't pretend to be anything he wasn't. Honesty. Yeah, I respect that, which is why this affront doesn't sting too badly.

Why do I sound like I'm trying to convince you? Probably because I'm still trying to convince myself a little. Honest or not, his words still bore the sting of rejection. At least I wasn't too embarrassed though – he didn't seem to have a clue that I had a crush on him. At least you didn't completely ruin my life by letting my blind obsession drag out to an ending where I got completely humiliated and hurt. Instead you gave me a good dose of reality. To quote Hamlet: “He was a good man, take him for all in all.” No fault of Crush Boy's, but he wasn't who I wanted him to be. No fault of my own either, but I wasn't anything more than a gal pal to him. Still, believe you me, had this not been a weekend when I'd caught up on sleep, thus regaining my hold on sanity and emotional strength, I would not be taking this disappointment so well. But as it is, I say c'est la vie! Or, to quote the Beatles, “There will be an answer, let it be.” So let it be!

I've discovered something. I've always loved Jim Croce's “Lover's Cross,” but I'd always thought of myself as the person singing the song, never the one being sung about. These words are infused with meaning for me right now:

“Still I hope that you can find anotherwho could take what I could not.He'll have to be a super-guyor maybe a super-god. 

'Cause I never was mmuch of a martyr beforeand I ain't 'bout to start nothin' new.And baby I can't hangupon no lover's cross for you.”

I'd always thought of myself as the person who wouldn't martyr herself to become more likable by someone else's standards. I am that person: I won't give up who I am. But I'm also the girl who needs more than just a regular guy. I want and expect and won't settle for less than a super guy, albeit a super god. I don't want a corny, superficial relationship with some stereotypical guy right out of one of those aforementioned dumb teen movies. I want something deep, something real. But then are my expectations realistic? Or are they too high? I know I'm not going to find the love of my life in high school. But I guess maybe that's what I'm looking for, and I don't want to waste my time and energy on anything less. For the time being, maybe I had better just stick to friendship and leave the rest alone.

Yeah, I know – I still sound like I'm trying to convince myself. But hey! Romantic bliss would be bad for my inner artist. If I were all bubbly and in love, this letter would be much less insightful and more like a cheesy movie script. I'd make myself sick looking back on it. So yeah, I'm disappointed that things didn't work out the way I'd planned, but continuing my flood of song quotes, “I will survive.” And I'll wait for my super-guy. I mean, really, is it too much to ask to find a perfect guy who is everything I want him to be who also thinks of me as the perfect girl who is everything he wants me to be? Nah, I don't think it is too much to ask. Because, to further quote Jim Croce,

"Like the fool I am
and I'll always be,
I've got a dream,
I've got a dream. 

They can change their minds
but they can't change me.
I've got a dream,
I've got a dream."

Don't misinterpret my hopefulness! I'm still terrified that I'll never find someone, that I'll never get married, and that I'll be lonely my whole life. But hey! I can always be a park ranger and serenade a pine tree! And no, I never thought I'd marry this guy – or any of the other guys I've met in high school. I'm just looking way, way, way down the road. I was just hoping that this was the start of my journey. But oh well! All I can say is next year in college I better have so many guys fawning on me that I don't know what to do with them all! Haha.

But getting back to the original point of my correspondence with you....Cupid, I swear, if on our half-day of school on Friday February 12^th, you turn the school cafeteria into a pre-Valentine's Day circus overflowing with balloons, stuffed animals, and the sickening, overwhelming, nausea-inducing stench of soon-to-be-dead flowers from teeny-bopper boyfriends looking to get lucky with their teeny-bopper girlfriends over the weekend, I'll bring back my Love-Bites with a vengeance. Or bet yet, those chalky candy hearts with dorky messages like “You're Cool” and “I Think You're Groovy” written on them – because if the “heart-felt” gifts that ambush our school don't make me puke, that chalky crap is sure to do the trick. Yeah, I'm still harboring a hint of cynicism – maybe even a tiny bit of jealousy – in my voice.

Thanks for your help anyhow, but I think I'll handle things on my own from now on. And thus I conclude our brief courtship with this Jewel quote:

“My hands are small I know, but they're not yours - they are my own. No, they're not yours, they are my own and –I am never broken.”

Love always, Jennifer