Do We Need to be Loved?
2003-07-14 | 8:36 p.m.

music: nicolai dunger

I've noticed that I haven't really treated this as a proper journal for the past while. You know, of the lengthy this-is-what-I-did-today-and-how-I-feel-about-it sort.

Truth is, I'm getting that syndrome most online journalists go through - the act of filtering thoughts lest someone in our real life should encounter this silly thing that we convince ourselves we do for fun. Some things aren't matters for the public to see, really, but at times I wish that I could actually let everyone know what I'm thinking, just for the sake of release.

I don't know if this is a conscious sort of decision, but I've been surrounding myself with almost an entire crew of females for the first time in a long long while. And it's with this brief hiatus from boy friends that I am starting to get more conscious of girly decisions, things that I didn't give two thoughts about before when most of my friends were boys.

In the past, I have asked boys out to go shopping, to go to the movies, to a concert, almost 100% of the time seeking merely a friend to hang out with. I had a girl friend who would always ask me with whom I'd gone out with the night previous and she would respond with a "Ohhh...." as if to imply something romantic anytime I mentioned a male name.

And I wonder if I've fooled myself in the past that girls and boys can strictly be friends? In retrospect, I think a couple boys were convinced this was not the case and made situations like paying for the meal and my departure feel more awkward than they should have been. But I was nearly positive that girls and boys could be good friends. I wanted to prove this back home in Toronto. I really enjoyed the different perspective, the un-girlyness of it all. It was nice to just chat about whatever. Or so I thought.

The thing is, the farther away I get from boys in normal friend-sort of relationships, I start to wonder about my actions and if the playing field can ever be just a friend-friend sort of game. I still think it can be done, but being around girls here make me believe otherwise. I have not been around so many females in my life. And all these girls hang out with girls as well. And it's getting to the point whenever I mention a guy's name, I get the same "Ohhh... who's that?" sort of response as I did before. But on a grander scale, due to the number of females surrounding me.

I had a crush on a boy here and was convinced by my friend to drop him an email. I've never been one to deal with regrets too well, particularly in the past four years. In the past four years, I have told every person I've had a crush on that this was the case, or that I found them attractive and I thought it was nice to actually let them know that. I never approached these people seeking a long-term relationship, because timing was never right. For the most part, things happened, sometimes should not have, but I learned from those experiences.

My friend had found his email on a website through a google search. I felt disastrously uncomfortable with this idea - it was almost stalker like - but I didn't feel as I had anything to lose and gave in, given my lack of resources in getting in touch. I don't know if it was the right address, nor if it went to the right person. But I wanted to get stuff off my chest to properly move on and deal with my daily life.

I received no response to this email and wanted just that one chance to tell this person what I thought. Because it's nice for people to stand up and actually tell people what they think of them, not only in a negative but a positive way. There's far too few people who actually tell others in direct words that they think he or she is a pretty cool person.

Though I didn't expect a glowing, embracing response, I'd hoped that I'd get an email back, even just to say "Thanks, but no thanks." I can deal with rejection better than most people. The rejection of the communicative sort, that is. When the answer is left out in the open or is being ignored, I get anxious.

I ended up seeing this boy at a theatre performance the other night. My friend announced, "Oh hey! There's what's-his-face!" to which I follow with a wave around five inches away from the side of his head. He rushes past, swerves around my hand and heads straight to the person he was planning to talk to, fleeing just as quickly. It is near to impossible that he does not see or recognize who I am.

And this is how it ends.

I'm not humiliated, surprisingly. I am, however, a little irritated. Irritated that once you have a crush on someone and spend time stewing about it, you begin to fantasize about what type of person you hope they are, instead of what they really are. You begin to transfer your own interests and future goals onto this imaginary person (with a true-life physical casing). You begin to create this perfect character that is completely in line with every facet of your personality. Career, location, timing, it all works. You laugh at the same time. Life is just a rip roaring adventure and compromise is natural.

And then other parts of your life are peppered with phone numbers from two random boys you meet sitting in a park or while volunteering and because you're surrounded by all these girls who imply that boy-girl relations cannot be completely void of expectations from one side or the other, you wonder if you should call these people. You need all the friends you can get and you wonder if by dialing those seven digits if the boy on the other end will think it's an advance or if he, too, is merely looking for a friend with no implications of anything more.

And you look back at this boy whose physical casing represents the perfect match in your dreams, and you wonder if he ignores you because he fears you are looking for the same thing that you fear the other random boys in your life are seeking.

And then two hours pass, and I realize that I've wasted two good hours that I could have used to read a new book or learn about something happening in the world. And I wonder how many other people are wasting just as much time thinking about the same thing or about the people who love them now, or will love them in five years' time or when they're dead.

And you stop and wonder if what drives everyone is this inherent need to be loved and accepted. And if one doesn't believe they can get neither, if they will end up doing anything at all.

I'm all over the place again. I never vowed this diary would be coherent.

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And I feel fine....... - 2004-02-23
Eat Your Cake Too - 2004-02-17
Keeping the clouds away - 2004-02-10
Body Rock Y'all - 2004-02-05
You Can Have It All - 2004-01-29