Hopeless

I've always been so hopeless with love.

When I was in 8th grade I wrote my first love letter to a boy named Kevin. I did not give it to him; I never really had any intention to give it to him. My grandmother actually found it (and read it). I don't even think I was that embarrassed about it, and she didn't really press the issue - she even admitted to have read it purely out of curiosity while knowing maybe she shouldn't. It surely made it's way to the nearest trash can soon after the fact because I have never come across it again. I had written it in a Lisa Frank kitten notebook and I believe it spelled out the reasons why I thought he was the greatest boy in the world - my mom was never quite sure I was his type. To be honest, I still think he was pretty cool; whether or not he liked girls.

In high school when I thought a guy was cute, I'd make him a card. And I mean make - I would form their names into my best bubble letters, pick out the perfect combination of colors with which to outline and color them in, and sometimes there might have been glitter involved. I made this boy Lucas a really big card my Junior year. At least this one was for his birthday (from what I remember). Now that I think of it - I'm pretty sure he likely had a girlfriend at the time. (I promise I was being very innocent.) Fast forward to college and I actually went out on a few dates with him. Turns out maybe we weren't meant to live happily ever after - but boy did I ever think he was dreamy in high school.

I didn't just work with cards, I made a boy a friendship bracelet once (what was I thinking!?). In no way could I ever explain where these ideas came from or why I thought they were good. The best part is, the guys I set my sights on in high school were always very good natured about it.

I wrote my second love letter Freshman year of high school. This time, I did give it to him. Chris. I don't know for sure if he ever read it; but one day after school I had to ask if he read it - he said no. So I then had to awkwardly tell him what it said. He smiled at me and clapped. Let me repeat: Clapped. The poor teenage boy had no idea how to react to this awkward girl he barely knew confessing her "crush." Sometimes I wish I had records of these dumb notes, but mostly I'm glad I will never truly remember everything I wrote in that letter, or any other things I may have written.

My last high school crush was my first boyfriend, Bryan. We worked together and I took every chance I could to flirt with him. My flirting consisted of stuttering, of course. I wrote him a few notes (for which his friends made fun of him, I was later told). Finally he agreed to go out with me, and not too soon after I was his girlfriend. I used to do silly things while we were dating, like only eat half my meal at restaurants so I could give him the rest later. Or make dinner and bring it to him at work so he could have a homemade meal at break time. We would talk on the phone at night, and for a while we would take turns leaving each other voicemails for the morning. Young love? If this is what I had to compare the rest of my life in love to, was I ruined?

In college, I can be honest and say that my relationships with guys took a more physical form. I can't remember ever putting glitter on a homemade name card for any guys I liked, or thought I might like. I just tended to put trust in places where trust didn't belong. A part of me was missing, and I failed to clearly realize this fact. I tried to fill that missing part with other people - specifically shallow relationships. Sometimes these shallow relationships put something that could have been more real in the shadows. I always believed I could see the best in people, when what I should have seen was the best in me - enough to see that I deserved better.

The next love letter I wrote wasn't until Junior year in college. I wouldn't really so much call it a love letter, as a love lost letter. I detailed, in writing, to a boy named David all the reasons why I thought he was a great guy (including some things I'm sure I'd be embarrassed to remember fully) and to make sure he knew I'd always be there if he ever changed his mind. There's obviously a lot more to the story than just that letter, but that is not what this post is about.

The fact is, I've just never really known how much of myself to give to someone. I also don't think I've ever been fantastic at expressing myself verbally to another person; a card, or some other trinket, was the best I could do. I'm still trying to learn a balance. I'm trying to learn who and when to trust, and how much of myself to invest in any circumstance. Getting to know myself has certainly helped. Growing up and into my skin has helped relieve some of the awkwardness, but I do still struggle. I still do small, silly things to show a guy that I like him. I still say silly and awkward things; I smile too big and giggle.

Trusting another human being and treating them with the respect I'd like in return comes easily to me. In my recent post-college adult life I once drove a young man named Jeff around the great state of Connecticut because he had lost his car keys the night before. I wasn't expecting a fantastic love affair - I was hoping we were friends and that me doing him this pretty big favor was a result of this friendship. I was wrong. The thing is - I'm too often wrong. I can't change. I don't think I want to change. I think it's more important to try these friendships and say yes to someone in need; I couldn't sleep peacefully at night any other way.

So, the reason I wrote this post was because of the term "hopeless romantic." I think this is me. I started wondering why the term is hopeless romantic, when what this term generally means is a person with too much hope in love? Not a lack of hope.

Here's the Merriam-Webster definition of 'hopeless:'

1  a: having no expectation of good or success : despairing

    b: not susceptible to remedy or cure 

    c: incapable of redemption or improvement

2  a: giving no ground for hope : desperate 

    b: incapable of solution, management,
        or accomplishment : impossible

 

It seems the best definition of hopeless that fits with this term is "not susceptible to remedy or cure." Someone who is a hopeless romantic believes in the power of love and there's nothing that can change them. There's nothing that can shake their belief of fairy tales and a happily ever after; no "remedy or cure" for their notions on love. If you knew me, you'd know that I could easily be someone who doesn't believe in a true, full, overpowering and lasting love - but, oh, I really do.

 

I believe in a look; I believe in a feeling; I believe in forever and a day. Could there be any other way?

 

 

 

*The names have not been changed because I do not believe love to be innocent. It's sometimes dirty, but always worth it.*