I Was His

Jul 9, 2015 by

“Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new.”

Do I Wanna Know? Arctic Monkeys


          Having feelings for someone can make you very close-minded. I was well aware of how close-minded I was while I liked the guy that I liked. There was no denying that wanting him was stopping me from considering anyone else. I was his. He wasn’t mine. Not even close. But I was his.

          I didn’t like being his. There were many times that I could have applicably quoted the line by Arctic Monkeys above and expanded on the problem. After all, my feelings for him were my biggest obstacle in dating, and that quote described the issue perfectly. But I didn’t want to own that. There was something about straightforwardly writing that I was too much his to be anyone else’s that felt powerless. I didn’t like the idea of promoting to you, friends, that it’s okay to let unreciprocated feelings for someone stop you from having feelings for anyone else. Nonetheless, I was doing exactly that. I didn’t stand for it, but I was doing exactly that. I’m writing about it now, now that I’ve had some distance from those feelings, in hope of sparing you the repeated self-scolding that I gave myself and to better relay how much wanting someone unattainable impacted my pace of coming to terms with it.

          I’m stubbornly determined, making it difficult for me to drop what I want before I’ve made a solid effort to attain it. I wanted him. I remember my best friend telling me without doubt that I’d get him. When I asked what made her so sure, she answered with a shrug as if it were obvious, “You get what you want. You want him. He’s fucked.” I laughed, but I wasn’t convinced. I knew from the beginning that this guy would not be my guy. I wasn’t what he wanted. I could tell by the way he cut me off with his tongue while I was speaking, the way he suggested seeing each other and then stopped answering me come time to make a plan, and the way he came and went. I was the one that was fucked. I knew this guy that would not be my guy had me. I was his. I was his before I realized it, and long, long before I ever cried about him at the Eiffel Tower. The Eiffel Tower was merely the point that I had given up on him, hence the giving up care about writing about him. I knew whether I wrote or not wouldn’t matter, because nothing would become of us regardless. So I wrote. I wrote because that’s how I cope and because I felt I owed it to the people following my experiment in happiness to show what it’s like to have unreciprocated feelings and get past them – because I would get past them.

          Being his was not okay with me. I promote independence and self-reliance and being sexy for yourself. How the fuck could I let myself be his? I decided I wouldn’t have feelings for him anymore, like feelings are that simple. What I found was that I had to be ready to get over him, and I wasn’t. I wanted to want him. I worried that if I stopped, let myself like someone else, and eventually became another guy’s girlfriend, I’d be unavailable to him if he ever did want me. With timing being as inconvenient as it can sometimes be, I had this ridiculous fear that he’d want me once I no longer wanted him. Because I was so infatuated by the idea of he and I given our chemistry, the notion of wanting each other at different times made me sad. I feared that I’d miss out if I didn’t keep waiting.

          I think it was at the Eiffel Tower that I got over that fear. I was in the most beautiful city I had ever seen, crying and wanting to go home. He was no longer worth the wait. I finally understood that not wanting him so that I could like someone else and eventually become another guy’s girlfriend would be the optimal situation. I got to work on not wanting him or not wanting to want him or whatever. It sucked. I mean, it was fucking bullshit: the tears, the Tinder swiping, the no-contact rule. But it was also empowering: the getting another guy’s number, the spinning on poles, the forgiving him and myself. As my best wingwoman repeated to me from the moment there was a him: “You don’t get to choose who you like.” You do, however, get to choose how you cope.

Happiness Tip: Stop wanting who you can’t have.

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