I’ve been sitting on the concept for this post for the past three days. On Friday night, at the end of a 3-hour phone call with my Libby (one of my best friends since college who currently resides in Atlanta), I found myself immediately captivated with an unforeseen thought as our conversation led to a familiar topic from our past.
Yes, it involves a boy. A boy who Libby and I have had many discussions about over the past 6-7 years. Yes, that boy. However, this is a universal topic and could be about anyone- and is the point that I’m hoping to make. But who am I kidding? This focuses on ‘him’.
Even with an adventurous weekend in Chicagoland with my guests, Carrie & Ben, I could not shake this idea that centers around lyrics from Ingrid Michaelson’s Giving Up, which includes those used as this post’s title: What if I’m not what you think I am? I thought about this in the shower, in between sips of wine, while drinking a potent Ultimate Margarita from Cesar’s, during the tripptastic Blue Man Group performance, and before finally falling asleep on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights. Let me explain.
Blame it on the wine (because I can), but I found the need to ask Libby a very simple question that evoked an unexpected answer. First let me add that Lib was a little drunk and therefore misheard my question, leading her to elicit a different response. But no matter what, the topic was still relatively the same . So, am I glad I asked? Yes. Why not? But was I caught off guard? Absolutely! Okay, I’ll cut to the chase.
The question that Lib thought I asked elicited her response to tell me that she was “so glad that you (I) asked.” After a few sentences of explanation, Lib informed me that (he) was ‘not a good guy’ and that her boyfriend mentioned that he had been ‘going through something back then’. (Of course I immediately started to worry about him, prompting Lib for answers.)
Now I know I’m being vague here but it has a lot to do with me not being sure what to think, what to believe. When I first heard this from one of my best friends, I, of course, took it to heart. How could I not? Afterall I’d trust her with my life and if she heard something like this firsthand then I know she felt it was right to tell me. Within seconds of hearing those little phrases, I started questioning who he really was: Did I have it all wrong all along? What did I think I saw in him that was so different from that? Is he really ‘not a good guy’?
Three days later and I’m still wondering what the truth is, of course factoring in the wine (for both parties on the call) and the fact that 1) that was between 4-6 years ago; and 2) people’s opinions are not always accurate. That being said, how do I know that mine was the right? Was I blinded by love? Or worse, by lust? Part of me feels foolish, and the other part keeps saying, follow your heart. You know what you felt (feel). Trust that instinct.
This is far from a life-and-death situation so I’m not really stressing over it too much, but it is something for my overthinking mind to, well, think about. Up until Friday, to me he was perfect. Flawless. Or maybe it’s better to say that I loved him above any thing that could be perceived as a flaw. I loved him because of his flaws. He was (is) someone who I care enough about to willingly sacrifice my own happiness for his each and every day. Isn’t that what love is all about? Seeing an imperfect person perfectly? Can I please throw in a blah, blah, blah there? Guess I just did.
You know I’ve never had someone look at me the way he did. And I’ve never looked at someone the way I looked at him either. That’s what sticks with me the most after all these years. I’m still haunted wondering, what did he see in me? How did I make him feel?
What if I’m not what you think I am? What if he had me all wrong? What if he thought I was something that I wasn’t? What if he was blinded by love? Or worse, by lust? What if I meant nothing to him at all? What if this was all just an illusion in my mind?
When it comes to love I think I fall into the hopeless romantic and cynic categories. That’s kind of where I am right now as I end this rambling of a post. I’ve spent all of my life, especially the last 7 years, believing that true love & soulmates (can) exist. I’ve listened to my heart, ignoring logic, believing that destiny is more than just a concept created by Hollywood to make billions from girls like me. I’ve found myself in hundreds of movies, TV shows, books, and songs relating to themes of unconditional love, heartbreak, and waiting…and more waiting. But then I also find myself shaking my head and rolling my eyes when the distressed female lead cries that her life is over and that she’ll never love again. I ignore my own history and decide that love is an illusion and that there is no happily ever after. Afterall the divorce rate is… (I’ll stop my cynical ways now for your sake.)
I want to end this post by asking you- the believers and the cynics- how do you know what what’s real and what’s an illusion? What does it (love) really feel like? How do you know if what you feel is real?
What if I fall further than you? What if you dream of somebody new?