Bryan W. Alaspa 1A heart’s journey
November 1st 2009 20:26
I was in the second grade when I got my first crush. I remember staring for long periods of time at my second grade class photo at the pretty little blonde girl named Jennifer, or Jenny, in the front row. I told everyone she was my “girlfriend.” I thought that was all you had to do. You saw a girl you liked, you declared her your girlfriend and, voila, she was. It was my dad who burst my bubble in asking me if she KNEW she was my girlfriend and had to agree to it for it to be official. I knew I was in trouble right then and there.
It would have been so much easier if it had worked the way I originally thought. Granted, supermodels would have it tough. Imagine Cindy Crawford, in her prime, having to date the one-and-a-half million men who would have called her their girlfriend. So much for photoshoots and calendars with that dating schedule. Although, she might have not made that awful movie with the Baldwin brother either, so it’s a wash there.
So, I quickly settled into my role of being the dateless wonder with the crushes but no actual girlfriend. Of course, it didn’t matter much for a while. I remember, however, being about 14 or so and suddenly realizing the girl, named Toni, who lived down the street wasn’t just this kid I could run around with. She was beautiful. I fell hard in what probably actually qualifies for my first “real” crush. I was a little more worldly-wise by then. I held quite a flame most of that summer and then, somehow, her friend convinced me to let her tell Toni about my crush. I had already turned into a portly, braces and glasses-wearing freak by then. I will never forget when that friend came back and said, “Toni says you’re fat and you’re ugly and you can stick your d**k in some other girl’s va**na because you aren’t sticking it in her’s.”
Those words still echo in my head. I entered high school with bad hair, a mouth full of metal, and glasses. I remained the dateless one. Homecoming dances came and went. Junior prom followed a similar path. I had no dates, no girlfriends, but lots of crushes. Senior year came and I went to a Homecoming dance without a date and then came the Senior Prom. The girl I had the biggest crush on and wanted to ask to the dance kept telling me she wasn’t going to go and that she didn’t want to go and, finally, some girl I did not want to go with asked me and I said yes. Later that same day, the girl I really wanted to go with, and who had excuse after excuse not to go, accepted a date to the prom, right in front of me, at lunch.
My dateless life continued right on through college. I dated one girl Junior year, another Jennifer, and even let an internship opportunity at a radio station in California go by to stay in St. Louis to try and make something out of it. She soon shoved me into the “friend zone.” I was still a virgin, and still mostly dateless headed into my senior year of college.
I met a girl while visiting friends back in Chicago who were attending a different school. It took a while, but we finally went on a date. She took my virginity that same day. I finally had a girlfriend. My plan was to graduate from college and then spend time finding a job in my chosen profession (at that time it was radio) and then I would ask her to marry me. I figured I had to marry her, I mean, it had taken me all those years to find someone. If I let her go, I reasoned, it would take me another couple of decades. That summer she hinted that she wouldn’t just wait around forever. So, while driving in a car one day, I asked if she would like to get married. She said yes.
It didn’t feel right, but I was like Cameron in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” I was marrying the first girl I laid. I figured, it would somehow all work itself out. We bought a ring via a Sears catalog. I never got down on a knee to propose. We spent that final summer apart, her in the city where the wedding was and me in Chicago.
We were married in October of 1994. Things went bad almost immediately. Nothing I did was right. I didn’t make enough money. I didn’t clean the house right. I didn’t do anything right. We moved to St. Louis because it was cheaper to live down there and I struggled to find a job that I could stand. She began using sex as a reward and punishment. By 1997 she had moved into the spare bedroom. By 1998 she was gone, I had a destroyed credit rating and no phone and I was living in a city I did not like, working a job I hated.
I moved back home. I stayed with the folks for a long time, sorting out the credit issues. I met a girl in a chat room named Amanda. She lived in Canada and we seemed to hit it off. She was with someone. Then, in 1999, she and that guy broke up. She had one brief fling and, suddenly, our chats got romantic and I began making plans to see her. This was different than it had been with my wife. This was more powerful. I began buying phone cards to talk to her on the phone every night. We chatted all evening, then talked on the phone until we went to sleep and I flew to Toronto as often as I could to be with her. I still remember the time she told me she loved me. This was it, I thought, this is what people always talk about when they talk about soul mates. I figured she would graduate from college, settle into a teaching job in Toronto, I would move there and we would get married.
Then, in January of 2002, she broke it off with me, over the phone. It was something she had been considering for a long time, but it caught me by surprise. I was shattered. I spent nights screaming into a pillow and crying myself to sleep. I would get to work and have to run to the restroom to weep uncontrollably. It took me a solid two years to even consider looking at someone else.
Since then, there hasn’t been anything resembling a “girlfriend.” There were some long distance things that never really worked out. There were some flings. There were some attempts a friends with benefits. However, it took another few years before I even considered maybe having a real relationship again. I tried, in earnest, in 2007.
Then, I thought, I would try in earnest again in 2009 and this time use eHarmony. I got hundreds of potential matches. Of those, maybe 50 responded to my initial inquiries. Of those, maybe 20 got to the point of “open communication.” Of those, maybe 10 got to e-mails and phone calls. Of those three lead to dates. Of those, zero lead to anything else.
So, I have traveled long and I have traveled far, mostly wandering in the desert, wondering what everyone else is always raving about when it comes to love. Now I am tired and weary of wandering and fighting and losing. I want to come home. I want to lay down my burden and rest. So, I leave the field of battle, and close my eyes and call for sleep.
It would have been so much easier if it had worked the way I originally thought. Granted, supermodels would have it tough. Imagine Cindy Crawford, in her prime, having to date the one-and-a-half million men who would have called her their girlfriend. So much for photoshoots and calendars with that dating schedule. Although, she might have not made that awful movie with the Baldwin brother either, so it’s a wash there.
So, I quickly settled into my role of being the dateless wonder with the crushes but no actual girlfriend. Of course, it didn’t matter much for a while. I remember, however, being about 14 or so and suddenly realizing the girl, named Toni, who lived down the street wasn’t just this kid I could run around with. She was beautiful. I fell hard in what probably actually qualifies for my first “real” crush. I was a little more worldly-wise by then. I held quite a flame most of that summer and then, somehow, her friend convinced me to let her tell Toni about my crush. I had already turned into a portly, braces and glasses-wearing freak by then. I will never forget when that friend came back and said, “Toni says you’re fat and you’re ugly and you can stick your d**k in some other girl’s va**na because you aren’t sticking it in her’s.”
Those words still echo in my head. I entered high school with bad hair, a mouth full of metal, and glasses. I remained the dateless one. Homecoming dances came and went. Junior prom followed a similar path. I had no dates, no girlfriends, but lots of crushes. Senior year came and I went to a Homecoming dance without a date and then came the Senior Prom. The girl I had the biggest crush on and wanted to ask to the dance kept telling me she wasn’t going to go and that she didn’t want to go and, finally, some girl I did not want to go with asked me and I said yes. Later that same day, the girl I really wanted to go with, and who had excuse after excuse not to go, accepted a date to the prom, right in front of me, at lunch.
My dateless life continued right on through college. I dated one girl Junior year, another Jennifer, and even let an internship opportunity at a radio station in California go by to stay in St. Louis to try and make something out of it. She soon shoved me into the “friend zone.” I was still a virgin, and still mostly dateless headed into my senior year of college.
I met a girl while visiting friends back in Chicago who were attending a different school. It took a while, but we finally went on a date. She took my virginity that same day. I finally had a girlfriend. My plan was to graduate from college and then spend time finding a job in my chosen profession (at that time it was radio) and then I would ask her to marry me. I figured I had to marry her, I mean, it had taken me all those years to find someone. If I let her go, I reasoned, it would take me another couple of decades. That summer she hinted that she wouldn’t just wait around forever. So, while driving in a car one day, I asked if she would like to get married. She said yes.
It didn’t feel right, but I was like Cameron in “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” I was marrying the first girl I laid. I figured, it would somehow all work itself out. We bought a ring via a Sears catalog. I never got down on a knee to propose. We spent that final summer apart, her in the city where the wedding was and me in Chicago.
We were married in October of 1994. Things went bad almost immediately. Nothing I did was right. I didn’t make enough money. I didn’t clean the house right. I didn’t do anything right. We moved to St. Louis because it was cheaper to live down there and I struggled to find a job that I could stand. She began using sex as a reward and punishment. By 1997 she had moved into the spare bedroom. By 1998 she was gone, I had a destroyed credit rating and no phone and I was living in a city I did not like, working a job I hated.
I moved back home. I stayed with the folks for a long time, sorting out the credit issues. I met a girl in a chat room named Amanda. She lived in Canada and we seemed to hit it off. She was with someone. Then, in 1999, she and that guy broke up. She had one brief fling and, suddenly, our chats got romantic and I began making plans to see her. This was different than it had been with my wife. This was more powerful. I began buying phone cards to talk to her on the phone every night. We chatted all evening, then talked on the phone until we went to sleep and I flew to Toronto as often as I could to be with her. I still remember the time she told me she loved me. This was it, I thought, this is what people always talk about when they talk about soul mates. I figured she would graduate from college, settle into a teaching job in Toronto, I would move there and we would get married.
Then, in January of 2002, she broke it off with me, over the phone. It was something she had been considering for a long time, but it caught me by surprise. I was shattered. I spent nights screaming into a pillow and crying myself to sleep. I would get to work and have to run to the restroom to weep uncontrollably. It took me a solid two years to even consider looking at someone else.
Since then, there hasn’t been anything resembling a “girlfriend.” There were some long distance things that never really worked out. There were some flings. There were some attempts a friends with benefits. However, it took another few years before I even considered maybe having a real relationship again. I tried, in earnest, in 2007.
Then, I thought, I would try in earnest again in 2009 and this time use eHarmony. I got hundreds of potential matches. Of those, maybe 50 responded to my initial inquiries. Of those, maybe 20 got to the point of “open communication.” Of those, maybe 10 got to e-mails and phone calls. Of those three lead to dates. Of those, zero lead to anything else.
So, I have traveled long and I have traveled far, mostly wandering in the desert, wondering what everyone else is always raving about when it comes to love. Now I am tired and weary of wandering and fighting and losing. I want to come home. I want to lay down my burden and rest. So, I leave the field of battle, and close my eyes and call for sleep.
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