Freeform Mondays (Post 0)

From this point on Monday is going to be Freeform day. What that means is I’m going to do one post about whatever the fuck I feel like writing about. Today is going to be about women, it’s going to be as long as I damn well please and you can read or not and I don’t fucking care. There’s a man shouting outside my apartment and I think he’s cheering for Freeform Mondays inauguration. Let’s go!!!

The thing that’s been on mind the most, as very evidenced by my overly poetic post this week, is a woman and un-requited affection. Now I’ve dealt with un-requited love in my life (who hasn’t by the time they’re 29) but this was a different experience for me. The reason it was different was because of the hot and cold nature, the extremely hot and then after I shared an (I will freely admit absolutely horrid) picture of myself the total chill. It was an immediate shift and it honestly took me back, it was like
she thought I was misrepresenting myself???

There’s some context here, the main context is we had a ton in common and were texting on four to five different threads, planning future dates, acting as if we were going to be part of each others lives forever. For any men reading this, don’t do this
it leads to hurt and I promise you meet the damn girl first and don’t be like me. The Scots have now arrived outside my apartment
to yell about something to do with skirts and throwing logs. We had been texting for days and I was honestly in retrospect sure
that I was going to fall in love with this girl. I told her I do my laundry in a Slayer T-Shirt (Christ Illusion is the best album, fight me if you want) and she asked for a selfie. I don’t take pictures of myself so I sent one from when I was at a midnight hockey
game and we’d just won our championship and I looked like shit. I thought to myself, “Hey, I look like shit but I won my game and had a hat trick and that’s alright to be vulnerable and show yourself at your worst.”, not actually a mistake here lads.

Well I sent that and I got, “ngl you look really different than your other pics”, like wtf of fucking course I do it’s 1am the lighting is shit, I’m sweating and exhausted, and I felt like poo, and I was six beers deep. Well the texting dropped off a cliff, the future
plans, gone. I look back and think to myself I should have just called off the date, been like this girl is obviously immature and
if one picture of me in the sweat is going to take her this aback that ain’t a girl who’s anywhere mature enough to date. I didn’t do that, that was the mistake.

I was smitten, it seemed like we had every interest in common, same shows, same art, same humor, same goals, but when that single picture hit her phone it didn’t matter. I still took her out, she still came out, and we spent 7 hours together. For any
woman out there reading this, if you’re spending 7 hours with a dude and you’ve already decided to only be his friend just fucking
tell him. It’s just inhumane at some point, most guys will be fine with it but if you’re enjoying the night enough to be there for
that long then you’re obviously capable of being mature friends. I had thought to myself okay maybe we’re past it, maybe it’s fleeting, but I was most assuredly not past it. I can tell when I think back, the momentary pauses, the unreturned glances. The weird thing is the conversation still flowed, she still talked at me for hours, it’s not like it was awkward at all. So that one picture
had somehow left this impression in her that I was something I wasn’t, that’s what was so weird.

I’ve dated quite a few women and been with way fewer, I really don’t like to take girls out (sorry ladies I find most of you boring).
This was genuinely the first who had told me straight up essentially that I wasn’t who I had portrayed myself to be. I was at first
kinda hurt, not just kinda I was hurt, because I had thought we had so much in common and had been out for 7 hours. I’m not
always looking for a wife or a partner but I just like people I can spend time with, there’s no requirements on them. This one hurt
worse than most because of how strong it was and then how distant almost immediately. I wrote that poem Glimpses of Sun
in mourning for what I felt could have been but in some ways I think it’s a sign of her own immaturity. I’m 30 (fuck me I’m
old to any other zoomer out there now, put me out to pasture with Old Yeller) and she’s 26 and I honestly think maybe that’s
the real thing.

Maybe I’m being conceited and maybe I’m being that old guy shitting on new music but those four years are a huge time period.
You really learn who you are in your late 20s, what you like and don’t like, what you want to be, who you want to be with, and most importantly, who you don’t want to have in your life. That one picture chilled the vibes and I think those vibes were somehow too much for her to get over at this moment in her life. Now I don’t blame her, I don’t hate her, and I certainly don’t
want her to do something she’s not about. I might forget about her or take our texting and night away in a positive light, but I can tell somewhere deep down I’ll see her again somehow.