I watched his brown eyes fixate on my face, and I felt my cheeks begin to heat from the power of his gaze. I didn't like the attention, and I didn't want it. I had told him that. I had told him I didn't want anything other than friendship. I had explained in great detail using a variety of analogies how I couldn't feel any emotion after a certain level. Why is it no matter how many times you tell someone and warn someone, that they still disregard everything you say, and then punish you for being right?
I told him not to love me or to even like me. I had told him that every time he had brought it up. I had said that I didn't want anything more than friendship. That I was fed up for the time being with relationships. They all felt the same to me. Every guy ranked in the same range of emotions, and every relationship had become a simple running through the motions.
He was wonderful, sweet, kind, caring, and attractive. If life were easy he could've been my future spouse and I would be done with all the other bullshit that came with being single. However, I knew my emotions, and I knew my instincts. I knew that he felt like only a friend to me. I, of course felt guilt ridden, but at the same time annoyed that he kept pursuing me after I had told him multiple times nicely that I did not foresee us ever dating. I was not trying to be a cold or callous person, but the more I was pushed, the more I shut down to them. I was done. I always left with the vaguest of farewells and a brief hug.
Tonight I knew had to be different. I could feel the intense discomfort building, the anxiety rolling around in the pit of my stomach, and worse yet, the slight tremor in my hands that meant I feared whatever negative outcome was about to happen.
However, I also knew that it would take me approximately ten minutes into the conversation to shut down, and then I would be fine. He had asked me for the dozenth time why I didn't see a future with him and I. How could I not when it was so clear?
I gave the same answer, "I'm sorry but I just don't feel that way." He had the same look of twisted anguish on his face, and I knew I had to go on this time. I couldn't just let him keep re-asking me every three days. "I know you mean well, and I know you aren't trying to pressure me, but it really is starting to feel like that. I would really appreciate it if we let this go." I could barely meet his eyes. I had seen that look too many times in my life. That look that could be compared to the wounded look in a puppies eyes when you accidentally kick them.
It made you feel like the worst person in the world, because you knew exactly what you had just done. You had given them the worst sensation possible. The sensation of your stomach dropping, heart stopping, choking feeling in your throat . . . all of a broken heart.
I know that feeling. Except I had that feeling pushed to a new extreme. I had my heart full and grown upon, fed with affection and happiness. Then once my heart was plump and juicy, it was slaughtered. Like the prize cattle.
It was because of this feeling of indulged love, that I knew I should always try to nip it in the bud before it became too much. That meant lots of warnings, informing the guys of the emotional rollercoaster they were about to step aboard if they refused to understand that I did not feel strongly for them. Nothing more than friends. I was always right, and they always had to admit I had determined every phase they would go through.
It was within moments of him giving me that look, that I shut down. The familiar emotions of guilt and compassion for him becoming more and more distant by the minute. Until soon, I felt the need to leave. I softly mentioned that I had to leave after he apologized, and fell into a sobered silence.
I arose and donned my black coat and blue scarf. I turned to him where he sat absolutely still, until my eyes locked with his once more. The feat was much easier thanks to the numbness that continued to spread.
He arose fixing a half smile on his face as he shoved past whatever emotion he had just been overcome by. I knew what was going to happen. I knew he would make light small talk, maybe slide in an extra apology for my discomfort. I would hear from him less, the conversations would have a tinge of awkwardness, but we would be accomplished friends. He would pay less attention to me, maintain a respectable distance, and at times would hesitantly ask about my dating life.
I would spend a few more nights in silence, maybe make mention of the occurrence to my best friend. Sadly, she too had heard the familiar tale from me many times, all that was needed to be said was that it had happened again. No further description needed.
I could easily say that the reason for my lack of depth, or power of emotion could be from when I was last truly in love. Which would be years ago. However, it was not just that one time where my life became a nightmare when I discovered the boy I loved had cheated on me. It was the relationship that came after; with a boy I did not feel the same for, but stayed with, and he in his own way chose to break me.
It was my own fault for letting the latter of the two hurt me. I stayed with him for over a year, and he had given me plenty of reasons to leave, but I didn't like the notion of giving up. I felt it was my duty to give everything, and leave no stone unturned to make sure that the relationship really was as doomed as it seemed to be after a few short months.
Through bad luck and poor decisions, my emotions had maxed out, and they no longer flexed properly. I had become numbed to that experience in life, and because I found myself more akin to the male gender, I found myself the object of affection for more than just one. Shockingly I discovered guys had more of a tendency to develop feelings of tenderness, rather than being thrilled to have a girl they could chew with their mouths open around, wear sweatpants, and swear with like their old football friends.
Majority of the time when they saw me they asked for affection. A hug, or permission to wrap their arms around me during a TV show. I always consented, on occasion enjoying the closeness, but usually they would overstay their welcome, and I would become annoyed that they would invade not only my private time, but also my space.
I honestly didn't know when or how I would stop the feeling of nothing, and truthfully even if or when it happens; it would be unlikely that I would inform any of said males. I didn't want to have any of the discussions I had already had, resurface. I did not want to have to test our friendship further by bestowing the emotions upon them once more.
I know how vain and narcissistic I sound. For that, my apologies, this recounting of my emotional disability is not to be a reflection on looks or superiority. I believe myself to be rather unremarkable as girls go to be honest.
What I am explaining to the literate world, is my lack of connection or feelings so that maybe they can relate or understand the girls that are like me. The ones who mean well, and do genuinely care for people, but have a barrier that no one, not even themselves can cross. It is not for lack of hope or trying, it simply remains a frozen waste land. I do not know for how long.
The worst part of all of it, is when they decide to disregard my cold reaction, and place it under the category that I am simply not myself. That the cold, lack of emotions person is not the real me. It is the 'shadow' of me when I was not made distraught by relationships. I find this highly offensive. They cannot take the rejection so instead they make me out to be lesser, instead of just realizing that people go through changes, but that it is still me, and I simply don't reciprocate their feelings.
People are like that though. They need to find answers or fill them in for themselves. Mankind has never been one to like questions without answers, or a reasonable explanation of why strong feelings aren't returned.
The part that gets truly irritating is when they tell me that they believe whole heartedly that I will change my mind. They tell me they believe I would be the one person they could eventually marry. I inform them that I do not feel the same, and they have the audacity to tell me that I am wrong. That their feelings will turn right in the end.
I have started informing them of the others that have promised me this. They become far less self-assured once I reveal that piece of information to them, and they allow the correct amount of doubt to flood in.
I walked out into the night, there was a sheen on the black road from the mist that had drifted in hours before the sky had darkened. I felt my mind already churn over the events of the evening, and I allowed my thoughts to drift back to my time alone in my bedroom.
The cycle was a sad, and lonely one, and all I could do was hope that one day, something about it would change for the better. Yet, even that hope felt as though it dwindled tiredly somewhere in my mind, as though it too were ready to succumb to the numbness and nothingness. Time was running out, and the fear of time had been growing internally for a while.
I measured my steps, biding my time as I made my way home, and continued to silently wish for a miracle.