After a semester and (almost) whole summer of hookups, out-there bar encounters and awkward moments, I have come to a startling conclusion about my love life: any and all of my budding relationships have a two week shelf life.
It’s the age-old college love story. Boy meets girl. Girl likes boy. Boy seems to like girl. Boy and girl text, then get together, then end up making out in various places. Boy and girl are good for another five to seven days. Boy has commitment issues or girl does something that makes boy upset. Boy and girl drift apart and end up having at least a few uncomfortable encounters in a plethora of social situations. All within a maximum of two weeks.
After a couple of days, I look back and, in hindsight, see the many problems with that particular man of the moment. I shrug them off and start getting ready for my next night out.
The cycle started again recently and, again, I am staring at the beginning of the end. Constant unavailability. Minimal communication. Frustration on my end, maybe on his end also. I don’t know. Like I said, minimal communication.
At this point, I realize it isn’t going anywhere. I have to cut my losses, cut off contact and keep telling myself that I’m going to be okay. I can just move on.
But, this time, I don’t think I’m ready to give up yet. The expiration date may have arrived, but I don’t think I can toss this one out in the garbage just yet.
I don’t do this. I don’t like this. I don’t like the idea of lingering in something that is, more than likely, not going anywhere. Yet, something in me wants to linger just a little longer. Part of me wants to be an optimist. Part of me knows I’m wasting my time. So, does wanting to give this another shot make me romantically hopeful or ridiculously hopeless?
As I’ve mentioned before, I have a tendency to regret. If I try this again and it fails, I’m going to hate the time and effort, both physical and emotional, that I had put towards it. All I will say to myself is, “I should have seen it coming.”
But, it could all turn out okay.
I could actually get hurt. More disappointed than I even have been, or want to be, thus far in my life.
And yet, it could all turn out okay.
