Looking for love at this stage-- during this electronically-fortified and convenience-driven society-- has made my every attempt at it turn pathetic instantaneously.
Lickety-split.
Well, that...or I have somehow managed to do it all on my own.
(Ludicrous, I know.)
Truth be told, I am weary of the need for us to be endlessly connected and thus constantly reminded of a) your existences and b) your utter lack of interest in maintaining more than a millisecond-long relationship with any human being who passes your way. (Especially me.) I am weary of falling victim to my fingers habitually mousing their way over to your latest tweets. I am weary of noting moments in my life that remind me of you so I can text them to you, and, in a wonderfully abrupt and all-too-soon-forgotten turnabout, remind you of me. I am weary...because during these brief brushes with you, my cyber-crushes, my heart gets put on the line. I get attached to you so easily, yet to you I'm just another thumbnail in the "Followers" section of your oh-so-addicting, goddamned blog.
I miss the days when I was reminded of you because we grazed hands in the hallway, instead of because you're bookmarked on my favorites. (Gasp! Real human contact!! Who knew?) I miss the days when it took some time to get to know a person-- you couldn't just claim you've got it figured out by looking at a 140-word summary. I miss the days when a relationship had meat on its bones. It was involved enough to withstand a lack of communication for months at a time if need be, whereas nowadays most would throw a red flag if sentiment isn't reciprocated within five minutes of being "sent".
My truth is that I would probably embrace this html-formatted path toward love if I were getting more positive results from it. I happen to like the idea of being connected to others no matter how far away and always adore any opportunity to express my utter devotion to those who least expect it. I just think this focus on what/who is next/new sends potential relationships--friendships included-- to the executioner, whose mantra revolves around the age-old greener-grasses theory.
You know where it all started, though, don't you?!!
We grew up in an environment that encouraged this fact-paced, yes-or-no kind of love. Nurtured it like a fungus... On the playgrounds. At daycare. In our own backyards...!! (Look at all those PTA moms shoving their children into the back of their minivans, where they'll be safe from these elements. Too late, Mom. Too late...)
I mean, what else cold explain the incredible weight of that lone circle etched around the YES or NO options on the back of our just-passed-back subtraction worksheets? What else could explain the bipolar experience in the sandbox, where you'd get an unexpected peck on the lips from that little tyke in the Pooh Bear overalls, coupled with a follow-up handful of sand to the face, and--look--that brat is now in hysterics because they've decided you weren't what they thought you'd be.
I am very aware that this is a ridiculous argument.
Yet I am wracked with frustration and belligerent shock when I am rejected without a fair trial period. (Though time and again, I am the guilty party. I admit.)
In my victimized state, however, I am the ever-adamant protestor:
I protest the walls we build to protect ourselves. (Mine. Yours.)
I protest the excuses relied on to explain our reasons for not pursuing. (Mostly yours.)
I protest the importance of convenience to a relationship.
I wind up protesting the way society is run, the way people look past others without a second thought, the way my heart aches when you blow me off via text, FB, Twitter, snail mail, AND in person.
What I am really protesting is the fact that your rejection is not concrete, but implied, leaving me open to my own interpretations, along with my loneliness, and my inability to figure out a way to woo you.
In the end, I should not need to put forth endless amounts of energy to get your attention.
You should want mine.
[Sidenote: What a silly rant to have on an online blog. Oh, the hypocrisy of it all...!!]
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