I've started writing this post and deleted it three times in the last ten minutes. I don't think I want to talk about it, because talking about something makes it that much more real. But I created this blog for this purpose: allowing girls to unburden themselves of their woes, however insignificant, and letting other girls pick apart those woes until they're gone. My mind refuses to acknowledge that there's a need to post this - my heart says otherwise. (I would be perfectly content to exist without emotion. It's the only thing between me and happiness.)
Newsies Boy, also known as The Pirate, has been in my dreams two nights in a row. I haven't even spoken to him about anything that bears any importance for 6 months (nearly to the day), and I have only seen him a few times since then. But for two weeks during the summer, he played a very important part in my life: unrequited love. I love that term! It flawlessly expresses the situation. Rather, expressed the situation, since I'm resolutely disinterested in his life.
After the second dream, I decided to go through my journal from the summer, from when I met him. The situation was too ideal. A painful and difficult summer in my life. A vulnerable time. A boy dressed like he'd just stepped out of Newsies. A beautiful foreign country. A kiss on the deck of his hotel room. I was hooked.
I loved the movie "He's Just Not That Into You." It was practically revelation. Sometimes, you have to take a step back, slap yourself, and face the music. For me, I have to do that over and over and over again. From the sarcastic, loud, usually pretty, sharp and honest, independent, seemingly confident writer-girl who can win any game of B.S. and model nude without any hesitancy (stories for another time), I'd like to make a startling confession. I can fall for nearly anyone. Of course, that's within the confines of male, reasonably attractive, and talented, but that's a pretty big pool to choose from.
I had two weeks where I was never more than half a mile away from him. It started fun. Then it was confusing. (Some readers may recall my question "Kiss, Bow, Hug, Handshake - What the %#** does that mean?" from that time.) Then it was miserable. He was a bad boy, and I knew that from Day 1. I was a good girl, resolutely so, and knew I couldn't change to make him more comfortable around me. So I would just be a non-participator, just a presence in the room, amid the activities I could neither condone nor condemn.
Going home was a relief. I was emotionally exhausted from all the brain cells I'd burnt up just thinking about him. All the brain cells I burnt up inhaling his smoke. All the brain cells I'd burnt up wondering how I'd finally met a guy who was smarter than me - and how that same guy could be so infinitely stupid. All the brain cells I'd burnt up in the effort to tell him no on that beach late one night. All the brain cells I'd burnt up wishing I hadn't said no! All the brain cells I'd burnt up forcing myself to laugh while watching him flirt with that girl at the airport. Once I got home, none of it mattered. There were more important things to worry about.
I have theories. Of course I have theories. I over-think everything almost as much as Red Tulip does (but not quite as much, thank goodness). One night in the hotel room, the TV was on as background noise. It was Peter Pan. It was in a different language, so we didn't understand it, but I know that story well. I don't think any Disney movie has caused me to become so emotionally involved before. At the part where Mr. Darling is deciding that it's Wendy's last night in the nursery, I almost cried. I barked at my roommates to turn it off. They were used to my whirlwind of emotions and obliged. After much consideration, I realized why that got to me so much.
Due to the circumstances in my life at that time, I would be returning from that trip to a life racked with problems I was expected to handle. I didn't want to be on that trip, but more than that, I didn't want to go home. I was Wendy, and that night was my last night in the nursery. Of course, Wendy got one last hurrah with Peter Pan in Neverland, a luxury I was not given. I was clinging so tightly to Newsies Boy because I wanted him to be my Peter Pan. Get it? The boy who never grew up.
I promise I think about him only once in a blue moon. But two dreams, two nights in a row? What am I supposed to do? I can't think about this - about him - anymore. I don't want to be that girl that gets so acutely attached to any guy that waltzes in and sweeps her off her feet and then drops her a second later. I want to see guys more clearly instead of buying in to all those dumb chick flicks where the girl is the exception to the rule. (That's an idea from "He's Just Not That Into You." Most girls and guys are the rule. There's an occasional exception.)
In my hour of need, I ask for insight. Even if it hurts. Even if it's, "Wow CC, I didn't know you were so pathetic. But I always suspected." Even if it's, "Be a man! Rub some dirt in it!" Anything. Give me anything. One more dream about Newsies Boy and I'm jumping off a cliff.
First off... definately dont jump off a cliff! I have those random dreams about past guys sometimes.. they suck because usually theyre really amazing and you wake up missing them and all sorts of depressed. As far as being a sign goes... This guy sounds complicated and we all know that when a man is complicated that makes him SO much more desireable. We like a challenge right?! Maybe this means the time is right and in the words of Cinderella "A dream is a wish your heart makes!" In other words get on it!
ReplyDeleteThen again it could be a completly random coincidence and he happened to fly through your unconscious thoughts those nights... Only time will tell!