The Love Letter that Wasn't

Now, you should know, when I start out with a title like that, you're in for a bumpy ride. Then again, since I haven't actually put anything down yet, maybe it won't be that bad. Time, as usual, will tell.

Tonight, I hung out with some of my closest friends; one in particular is the subject of tonight's diatribe. We'll call her Jenny, just to keep things suitably anonymous. Perhaps I'll slip up later, but for now, it's Jenny.

Jenny and I have dated several times, beginning when I was sixteen, and most recently ending this past February. Or maybe January? I suppose it depends on which one of us you ask...but, for the sake of integrity, posterity, and consistency, we'll just say February, since that's when I found out it was over.

The thing about Jenny is, all these past ten years we've known each other, is that I cannot stay away from her. Even when I wasn't emotionally attached, something about Jenny always kept me coming back for more. Maybe it was because she always kept my ego in check. Maybe it's because she's a hottie. Maybe it's because she's one of the perhaps 5 people on this planet I can be completely honest in front of. Maybe it's all of those put together...

Jenny's ruined a lot of things for me, most notably the smell of vanilla. She's been wearing vanilla oil for as long as I've known her, and I tell you true, I cannot deal with that smell anymore. Unless it's her smell. Then, it's like being home again after months away. (An apt analogy, since the majority of our quasi-relationship has occurred whilst I was hundreds of miles away.) But I'm digressing, aren't I?

Jenny (still not her real name, mind you) loved me for a long time, and most of it, I had no idea. I never knew if I loved her, which is a strong sign I didn't. Then, somewhere around New Year's, I realized I DID love her. And it was everything I remembered, and a whole lot more. It was the great thing my life has been missing.

Problem was, Jenny wasn't in love with me anymore. Oh no, she'd given up waiting for me to come around. Over ten years, bad timing has been our hallmark. I wouldn't be suprised if the day I realized I loved her was the same day she decided to move on. If it wasn't so damned ironic, it'd probably be depressing.

Jenny is still one of my closest friends, and I'll admit, I'm having a lot of trouble divorcing my romantic and carnal urges from the platonic ones. Tonight I had a big problem. Something about that woman just makes me forget the rules..

It's not like I haven't tried to get her back, because I have. She wasn't intertested. And I don't blame her; in fact I understand her feelings as completely as a man can understand a woman's feelings. That's a big part of the irony.

But tonight, I had to say something, had to try again. Ultimately, I failed again to get her back.

Sometimes I think this limbo is killing me. Sometimes I couldn't care less. Ambivalence in love is no fun, believe me.

I've recently realized there have only been three women I've ever truly cared about in my life. Jenny, and two others. The first was another girl in highschool; we lost touch years ago, though occasionally I hear from her. She never writes back. The other was about as brief as brief can be. Only a few days, years ago. I don't really know if I regret caring for her, despite the pain that came later. All I can say is that for a short while, I thought I'd found someone special. She never believed I cared for her, to this day I still don't know what she thinks about those days. I often wonder, though.

The point of tonight's (or should I say "this morning's"?) diatribe has escaped me. Of course, eloquence went the way of the dodo a while back, too, so what am I worrying about?

Either way, I'm starving, and there's still no damn food in this house.

Zen Happens