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OK, all you tough ladies and men.....

.....Now's the time to fess up. Most of us can recall our first (or for some here, thousanth), episode of unrequited love. What went on in our heads and in our hearts? Was it a growth experience?
What better time than Saint V's day for the job. So I'll go first. What valour, if I must say so meself, which I always manage to do.
I've already mentioned that snooty little R. in HS, who always beat me at maths. Well, on reflection, it was more a case of puppy love, even at ages 15. I got to sit next to her hottie Yiddish bottom on the bus trip to and from NYC for our annual theater visit. Few will believe it, but these were days well before my ability to charm to the core with gut ripping humour, and such. So how much fun could it have been? 8 hours in total. And the teacher chaperone, who was on to me, sitting right nearby. Reminded one of Father Ben Dover, who loved to walk about at our CYO dances, tapping shoulders, if these were too close.
But several years later, in the dormitory, where just that year (1969), the admin began to allow ladies in for a few "visiting" hours weekly conjugal visits. Test balloon if there ever was one.
Two hottie tarts from the neighboring 22 story ladies dorm were on our floor, no doubt sniffing about. And right in front of my door, one of our mates had a brief grand mal seizure. Here was the floor clown, writhing on the floor, his silly boy role no doubt a reaction to his epilepsy, about which none of us knew anything. We see the same dynamic here, in this case masquerading as bragadocio, for fake life failure. But I digress.
Well, the gathering crowd were all standing around laughing. Toby was just being Toby, to impress the females. But one lady and I knelt down next to him to try to comfort and protect, neither really knowing what to do for Toby-man.
Now I had been hot on this girl for some time. A Daughters of the American Revolution high cheekboned, lovely debutante, of English extraction. And a much older first year graduate student in art. Word got around that she thought the world of me, for being the only one as compassionate as she believed herself to be. The little John Bircher.
Of course, this being the total initial opposite of unrequited admiration, I was smitten. Involved for the year, and many letters back and forth (no email), after I left for foreign study. I actually flew back over the mid semester, claiming family ties, but mostly for her.
Well, our first date was to the Campus Center weekly half dollar movie. 2001. a Space Odyssey. Both drenched in MJ. A year later, when she dumped me for another, I was devastated, but finally recovered. This last item calls for much comment, but I'll just here note how it all started, as the elements were all there. Mom image older sort, vastly different in terms of home culture, who paid attention to me (not one of real mommy's strengths, due to a jealous dad), and saying she would keep her powder dry in my absence. Lots more, but at the time, I thought it not possible to experience more day in/day out pain---for a few months. Felt it even in my bosom. WTF?
Who hasn't been THERE, Saint V??

Comments (5)

and likewise a token reply - don't imagine I read your turgid rubbish however, I assure you I didn't, but I giggled a little.
Now, where was I? Oh yes, life once more after her. She who must be obeyed.
Well, of course, many instantly latch onto the next wrong, VERY wrong, choice of main squeeze. Actionis estupido reboundo reflexorum. Rarely advised, for obvious, or oblivious, good reasons. Doubt me? Just catch the acts of many here on CS, all my lucky gorgeous GF's of course excluded. But I do worry about that hottie Cyberscrutinizer, should I ever tire of her many charms. Same with the homies.
But clearly, these neurotic movements do have heuristic value, but mostly as enjoyable distractions from the hunt.
So, what are the many ways out of the forest of self pitying pain? Normally, I recommend the tincture of time, while purposely NOT looking for the next wrong choice.
Then of course, there are the counselors, if one can find one who is really hip.
Lots more.
But oddly, I still have feelings for number one. The power of lust.
...hey ! had me at 'little john birch [ er.'

Good to see you & F troop starting to find the international rainbow.
OMG (I don't have one) you do talk such crap.
Continuing, all.
While the pain of loss, for that which is really best gone, and which one never really had, intensifies, some turn to religion, liberal politics, gender change---or worse, pets, burying themselves in hobbies or work, geographic cures, travel, and much more, rarely with more than mixed success. Some succeed with self harm, or worse. Actively, or passively, as with the drink. Other forms of life on the edge.
As always, in such circumstance, try to remember what Grandma said.
From Grandma Vierk.

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