I remember the first time I felt that feeling. Second grade. Mark Spittler. Of course, the grown-ups didn't call it love. But, whatever that feeling was, I liked it! It was not returned, but that didn't stop me from chasing the poor boy all over the playground and school bus, embarrassing him to death. Of course, that feeling came and went and caused me another feeling-pain-many times over my 40 years in the romance business.
I remember the first rejection, as well. Mark Spittler, second grade. You know it took me 20 years to figure out that guys don't like to be chased. That's alot of rejection. Alot of hurt. Once I figured it out, I made great guy friends. Friends. For them. Watched them meet their dream gal, while I silently grieved another love lost.
Don't get me wrong. I had some real love. Wonderful, curl your toes, love. Roger was my first adult romance. He was way too old for my 19 years. Twenty eight and divorced. But, he was funny, handsome, hard working, and he loved me. He hated that he loved me, but he did. And Tim loved me very much. As they say on Facebook, "it's complicated." Everyone could see how much in love we were. Many commented on how cute we were. But, for some reason, we labeled it "friends". Wow, if that's what friends are, I want me a boatload!! It finally came to a point of choice. He found another gal attractive, and asked me if we were friends or more. My experience was that telling a man how you really feel--in love--will send them running for the hills. I told Tim we were just friends. I cried for days. He went on to marry that girl. And every now and again I wonder...what if I'd told him what everyone already knew? What if...?
After my romance with Tim I went through a string of affairs and one nite stands. Honestly believing that if a man would have sex with me, he must care. And always in the back of mind, the need to prove my dad wrong. I was not ugly. Some man would want me. I really had no idea, until I was in my 30's that men really don't care as long as they get sex. All men. Every man. So, I stopped pursuing my dream of a "Mr. Right."
I met my husband several years later. He said he loved me. I said I loved him. And now I wonder. I landed in his life at a pivotal time for him. I am a strong believer that things happen when and where and with whom they are supposed to. I fit a need in his life at that time. When that need was filled and accomplished, there was no longer a need for me. We drifted apart, and divorced after nearly 13 years of marriage. And a wonderful son. A whole other kind of love.
In the two years since the divorce, I have stayed pretty secluded. And then my hobby, Facebook, threw me a curve. It's been a roller coaster for the past six months. An old "flame" crossed my cyber path. What a wonderful time the beginning of that reconnection was! Chatting, talking every day. Rediscovering each others' lives. Each other. I was a friend, listening to his trials--a sounding board of sorts. I was a lover. Giving him every slice of passion I had. And then I wasn't. And there's that feeling again. No different than being rejected by Mark Spittler in the second grade. And that drama continues.
Today, I am in second grade, and for the umteenth time, Mark Spittler has punched me and run away laughing with his friends.
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