I’ve been thinking about this a lot. How I defined myself through the people I liked.
I found a lost I wrote in 2001 describing my perfect guy:
I liked him instantly. I didn’t notice him for six months but my friends knew him. One day he was sitting in front of me in a lecture. It was the first time I knew he existed. He said something stupid funny and I decided he was the one. The more I got to know him the more perfect he was. He fitted me… Intellectually.
My theory was the I was a writer, he was a speaker. I played guitar and he sang. He wanted to be an actor, I wanted to direct movies. Our funny was the same. I enhanced his jokes, he enhanced my ideas.
It was what I had been searching for my whole life. My partner in crime. My perfect creative match. He lived his art so freely and confidently despite his massive insecurities… And I hid mine. Because of this, he spoke to my soul.
I tried convincing him how perfect we’d be together. Over and over. For four years i was addicted to him. Then he destroyed me (tore me into pieces). It took me two years to move on. Eight years later I still think about him. Not in longingness. I feel nothing for him anymore. But I think I convinced myself that he was my match.
There’s only been three guys that matched this list. Three guys who were witty, who i enjoyed minutes of banter from the moment we met. The creative crush was the first. Love unrequited.
The second was a guy from another city who i had met in a script writing course. Again I liked him the moment I met him. I was in the class, he was late. And as he walked in I thought damn he is beautiful and he looked straight at me and I melted. A year later he had told me that he experienced the moment the same way, and I had never shared my story to me. As he walked him, he caught my eye and thought I was beautiful.
Again it was sparked by banter and teasing about my love for pink wafers. We started emailing and sharing our lives. He told me my eyes were like confetti and that he loved me. At that moment I wasn’t ready for love… But then slowly fell for him. I guess when I did it was too late. He courted me. Used me. Abandoned me. All in one weekend. It was a whirlwind. When I tried to contact him he called me crazy and told me I was throwing my toys around and that we just were never meant to be together.
Again he was a writer and lived his dream authentically. He owned his artistic side. Embraced it’s hardships. And kept fighting for it.
The third is the current ex. I’ve written about how we met… Again it was the witty banter and teasing. With him, he had nothing. He was working as a driver and slowly grew into the company. But he saw my talent. He bragged on about my artist skills and how good an editor was. Even when I met his dad a few months ago, he mentioned how talented I was.
He was like the two teachers in high school who i obsessed about. I wanted them to be my morries. To nurse my writing talent and push me to go somewhere.
The ex still talks about my goals. He asks when I’m going to paint again. Or tries to make me think more positively about work. Or asks about why I don’t write or do stand up anymore.
He gives my creative wounds attention. A part of me that had always been neglected by my family.
I guess when you’ve grown up always understanding and forgiving those you love for hurting you… It’s hard to not forgive and walk away.
He agreed to therapy. If nothing else, it’ll bring closer.