Hello from a chronic extrovert (I’ve had many a debate about the usefulness of these American-produced descriptor words and the consequences of shoving people into predetermined categories). Yet I still consider myself an extrovert, like it’s just another freckle on my face after a long summer at the beach. And this extroversion has earned me the title of “wiz friend-maker.” A fortuitous skill in a graduate program centered around networking (I despise that whole concept). But I’ve reached a point where I’ve become so mired in sadness, confusion, anger, self-doubt, rupturing inside at times, and it all spills out, all over the people around me, my new, amazing grad school friends who I feel so close to but have only known for four months. I don’t really want to scare them away, so I thought it best to turn to an emotionless computer screen that won’t get fed up with my incessant bad vibes.
It’s a cycle. Every year it happens like this; normally centered around some sort of emotional turmoil surrounding a man in my life. I’m nearly two months into birth control - also not helping me very much.
This story will start with a man. A man who unexpectedly took my life by storm.
Fresh from a summer of working out, eating vegan, and looking and feeling undeniably beautiful, I was unstoppable my first few months of grad school. Even when imposter syndrome hit me hard like an unexpected slap in the face, I still felt like a conqueress. Walking and talking with confidence, making friends effortlessly, and also genuinely, an important point to mention. I felt like I was back at my privileged northern-Virginia high school, except this go-round everyone is popular and singing kumbaya through the halls. I had come to find a purpose in life, a path to wander (at a brisk, acceptable pace of course), a dream to strive for, and although it wasn’t quite clear to me yet (I’m not even halfway through my 20s), I knew I was on the way to finding it.
One day I went to a brunch. Amongst the shakshuka and foul, I experienced a rare moment of introversion while sitting in a neighbor’s home, hearing everyone around me speaking Spanish and convincing myself no one liked me. And there was one beautiful man who only exchanged a handful of words with me, and then seemingly lost interest. I was unaccustomed to feeling left out and began recalling moments from childhood defined by utter loneliness. The neighbor who had so graciously invited my roommates and me into his home on this lovely Saturday morning was the type of guy who makes an initial pass at every new woman he meets, just because he can. I was also in a stage of uncomfortably shying away from his advances, especially because my roommate seemed particularly interested at the time.
A few days later I asked the aforementioned neighbor for beautiful man’s number, partly to get neighbor off my back, and partly to alleviate the nagging annoyance in the back of my mind that I missed out on a potential friendship (hyper extrovert fomo, I know I know). I swiftly typed his number into my phone and shot him a message asking him to drinks. We agreed on Sunday night after his intramural soccer game. And so we met, and we chatted. About life, about Judaism, about soccer, about Chile and New York, about many topics that have already slipped my mind. It’s already been about two months since that night.
We decided to keep the night going, walking away from my house towards his after we finished dinner. It was already midnight and the target bar had long closed for the night. We just so happened to be across the street from his house, so we decided to go up to his place for tea and a smoke. Which turned into two hours of chatting on his couch.
As I prepared to leave, we stood up in unison, and he kissed me. Tiny electric sparks spread from my lips up my cheeks and down my neck, dancing along my spine to all the secret places that rarely feel this tingly, frantic sensation. That moment ended it all. I lost all faculties, which has led me into this deep, dark hole of confused, convoluted complexity.
Two months of joy, of the best physical connection I’ve ever experienced, of needing some sort of definition, reassurance from him after a certain point that we are together, that we are real, that this is committed, loving, healthy.
Some days we’re “together” in his mind, other days we’re some indescribable thing that leaves me feeling utterly alone in the worst way, the sort of way you feel alone in a crowded room, while the person you adore most is sitting right next to you.
1) Deal with it. He sees no future because I’m too young, because we are in different phases of our lives, because I don’t understand his culture and I don’t speak his first language. In short - he doesn’t see a future with me, he doesn’t really want to be with me, and he doesn’t want to call himself my boyfriend because he’s tired of relationships that don’t last a long time. He’s looking for a forever love, and I’m not eligible for that title.
I have the option to never bring up anything regarding status or titles again and continue the way we have been going, because it’s true that over the past few months he’s slowly warmed, we’ve slowly built a real friendship despite going from 0-100 that first night. So there’s a possibility he would fall into an unexpected love with me if it happened subliminally, but I have no chill, so I feel like this option would tear me the fuck apart.
He doesn’t show interest in being with other women. When we are together, he is only looking at me. The underlying feelings are there. The potential is there. But most likely these possibilities will remain completely untapped because he has indefinitely shut me out from the possibility of becoming his everything.
But if I can chill, it could end peacefully one day and I could re-conceptualize all the time spent together not as a waste, but as an adventure. He fascinates me, his brain is amazing, and I adore him. If I could see him first and foremost as a person in my life who could be important, a meaningful friend in the future, then this could be beautiful regardless of status. If I could be confident enough to stand on my own and not let other people tear me apart, not let the past trauma of my brother dictate my current mental state, then this could be an amazing year with an amazing guy.
This would also require me to stop talking to all my friends about it, collecting their opinions. My roommates are my age - they are smart and want the best for me, but they don’t understand him. They don’t know what it’s like to be in your 30s, to feel like you want something real and sustainable. To feel that you no longer want to live in the “anything goes” mentality. Rather, you want to find someone who is also ready to settle down.
2) Be his friend. Keep talking, keep supporting, keep being there, being above the pain and confusion, possibly dealing with him being with other people, but remembering that I am the master of my own life and no man can dictate who I am or how I feel.
3) Nothing. Radio silence, like nothing ever happened between us.
But one thing is for sure: I need to retake control of my life, my emotions, my negative thoughts that are eating me alive. It must be my birth control, because this behavior is so ridiculously unlike me. I feel sick, confused, alone, heartbroken, sometimes I feel like I’m dying. Everything seems like the end of the world recently. So hopefully this tiny diary will be a breathe of fresh air. A place to sift through my thoughts.
We don’t get this time back. Life goes by, day by day, and we have no option but to deal with the daily emotions, events, people, that come to us. It’s up to us how we choose to react, to perceive even. One thing is absolutely certain - reframing my life at this point in time is crucial for my mental health. I have no choice, because I refuse to waste more time in a sickening, depressive haze.
Step 1: Work on the relationship I’m in with myself, not the one I’m semi-in with some unreliable man.
