It’s been 9 days since he broke up with me, seemingly out of nowhere, and I still haven’t heard from him.
I’m starting to be OK with that. I keep telling myself that I do always get over it. Rather than obsessing over what the ex might be eating for dinner, I’ve started focusing all of my attention on the previous “loves” of my life.
I made a list of all of the boys who at some point, I believed to be ”the one,” and let me tell you something- I fall in love way too easily. I can count the number of grown-up relationships I’ve had on one finger, but have more boys that I’ve claimed to be the”love of my life” than there are freckles on my face.
I studied the list and recalled the heartbreak that some of these experiences have caused me. I realized that there were several times in my life when I’ve been the one to walk away from something or someone that I loved, and those were usually the most difficult ones to endure. There are some instances that I don’t even remember getting over, where the person of interest just faded from my life, the same way that Joey Fatone or “Beverly Hills 90210” did. But the majority of the time, it seems like I was the one who was broken up with or ignored, and somehow… I have survived.
And you know what the funny thing is? I don’t hate any of them. There are a few lost “loves” who still bring me fleeting pain, but none of them have the ability to ruin my day. In fact, I can now think fondly about (almost) every failed relationship, each crush that never played out, and each obsession that I never even knew.
I’m still not sure yet how much these “loves of my life” have shaped me, or if they even have.
I do know, that at the end of every one of them I’ve assured myself that “this has been a learning experience,” which from what I’ve been told- is supposed to make the whole ordeal a positive experience.
For some people this may be true. But for me? I can’t figure out what any of this has taught me. Oh sure, I now know that if a guy is hiding his hand between his legs, he probably has on a ring, along with a wife and 3 children at home. That- or he has an itchy crotch disease that I want nothing to do with. I’ve learned that if a guy loves musicals and “So You Think You Can Dance” as much as I do, he’s probably gay. I’ve even learned how to smell a douchengoyle from a mile away. And I’m starting to learn how not to care.
In the big picture though, I’m not sure any of these really qualify as learning experiences.
If that was the case, wouldn’t I be an expert by now? Shouldn’t I be able to tell if a guy is a liar, or if he’s just in it for the sex? By now, it seems that I should be able to tell when a guy just wants to be friends, or if he’s not emotionally available.
Alas, I still find myself dating assholes. I continue to fall for guys with whom I have zero communication, or worse- zero compatibility… and I’m tired of it. I’m over telling myself that it was a good experience and moving on to the next obsession, without taking any time to really figure out whether or not my last “love” really improved my life.
I live by the “better late than never” philosophy, and I figure it’s time to really examine my past, as well as my current thoughts on relationships and love. I need to see if maybe there is really something to the whole “there are no bad experiences, only learning experiences” adage. And I need to try to figure out what it all means to me, in my current state of dispair.
I’m not exactly sure what I expect to learn from this little project or if I will actually learn anything from the people of my past, but in the very least- I hope to learn something about myself.