“There are all kinds of love in this world but never the same love twice.”
-F. Scott Fitzgerald
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My friends always tell me that I'm being too picky--and I know I've said this five hundred times, but there's just this spark that has to be there. I'll stop myself here, because I've talked about what I'm exactly looking for, in extensive detail before (WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR, EXACTLY).
And sure, maybe my standards are high, but they don't call it one in a million for nothing. It's not easy to find, and even though some days I just want to give up, and be a millennial spinster that bakes oatmeal cranberry chocolate chip toffee bit cookies all day and watch Netflix, somehow I keep on going. It's probably because past the spicy, sassy, loud, brazen, bold as fuck, no nonsense, boss ass bitch exterior, there is still that girl who believes in soul mates and forever. Deep, deep, deep inside. Like, waaaay deep.
And it's also probably because minus the bad parts, I've met some pretty great guys. In the least embarrassing way I can phrase this, there's three types of exes you can have. There are guys like Haz, where you have just completely forgotten about them and their existence, and only remember them if they're brought up for some reason. There are guys that you think about regularly, individuals that have profoundly touched you (maybe physically if you get all sexually, but mostly emotionally- ha!) and that you share fond memories with. And then there's the assholes like Chuck Cuevas that are pieces of shit, and never deserved your attention or love. Assholes.
And the people that made you so happy, that you drifted away from, and weren't total shits are the best. They're the best because you can remember the fond memories you shared, and the unique experiences that you had with them. Kind of like that old grandma at the end of Edward Scissorhands. Or the old lady in Titanic.
God, I just cringed for a brief moment imagining myself as a grandmother in a floral cardigan telling my grandkids about the time Jake Reagan showed up with a six pack of PBR, and how we laid and talked and got drunk. And then later, Kayresia called me as I was getting smashed from behind!
The weekend that Chuck showed up drunk and projectile vomited everywhere, the infamous weekend where he became my boyfriend... that weekend almost didn't happen. Instead of staying home that weekend, I almost went to Milwaukee to see Jake. Sometimes, I wonder what could've happened, what should've happened, and what almost was. Especially now that I know what happened instead.
I try to convince myself that things would have been the same, and that Chuck and I would have gotten together, even if I had left that weekend. But who knows? And sometimes when I wonder, it scares me. It scares me because of what happened with Derek, and how the fantasy was far better than the reality--and it also scares me, because I could have been madly in love with Jake and been hurt fifteen times worse (although nothing in my entire life hurt as much as Chuck did--that hurt more than anything I could have imagined or wished upon my worst enemy).
This doesn't mean that the time Chuck and I spent together meant nothing, or that I didn't love Chuck. I did--just in a different way than I loved Jake. Sometimes I'm scared that I'll always love both of them a (tiny, tiny, tiny) little bit, more so Chuck. But the thing is, the two types of love I had for both of them were completely different, because they're so completely different.
I fell in love with Jake Reagen spontaneously--it was all at once, and completely unexpected. I fell in love with him, the way he laughed, and the way he looked at me, as we talked all night until the crack of dawn. I fell in love with him fast as hell, and I dove straight into it, fearless and carefree. I didn't worry about my heart, or the walls I had put up, I just let myself fall, and go all in. I loved how spontaneous he was, and how everything with him was always carefree. I loved how he called me Smalls, and how he was just so easy to talk to, and so easy to spend time with. How he was always full of energy, and full of life. He was crazy and ridiculous, but he was always real and genuine.
I fell in love with Chuck in time, more and more each and every day. I discovered new things that I loved about him each and every day, and he made me feel safe and secure. He always could tell if something was bothering me, and he always knew how to make me laugh. And even though he was a sociopath and liar with narcissistic tendencies that emotionally manipulated me, and treated me like shit, in the beginning he was my favorite person in the entire world. He was my world. I usually don't think about it, but I sometimes I wonder how someone that made me feel so safe and secure, someone that I trusted so much, could be the person that let me down the most, and hurt me more than everyone else combined.
The last person that I felt sparks for was Rafael--not the Rafael now, but the Rafael that I first met. The one who wasn't a total shit and a complete asshole.
When Rafael and I first matched, we clicked. We talked nonstop and he made me laugh. He was sweet and funny, sarcastic and stubborn, and somehow we just complemented each other. Of course, he's still funny (sometimes), and always sarcastic and stubborn now, but it's different now. Now that we've gotten to know each other, I'm just not romantically interested in him, and he's also not sweet or that funny anymore. But when I first met him, there was instant chemistry and instant sparks, which is also why he is the last person I slept with, that I actually do not regret.
Of course now, he's just a booty call, but it's crazy to think that at one point I really saw Rafael potentially being my next boyfriend.
So yeah, it's been a while--but I definitely know what I want, and I know how I'll feel as soon as they're apparent.
And do you know what other gut feeling is undeniable to me too?
Whenever I feel like it isn't the end. Sometimes, there's just this crazy gut feeling telling you that it isn't the end of the story between you and that person, even if you really, really, want it to be. Sometimes, the universe has more in plan for you, and you're destined somehow to see each other again. Whether you say hello and move forward, or you end up taking an Uber to 3950 for a spontaneous casual romp--it's up to destiny. And that gut feeling telling you that it's not the end, sometimes it can be the actual worst.
Sure, sometimes it can fuel hope--but I'm not that type of person.
I'll never forget, how months ago, I said that there was this terrifying gut feeling that things weren't done between the two of us.
"My heart felt heavy for a moment, as I analyzed all these situations inside of my head. And as much as I wanted to pretend that this was still an option, I knew in my heart that the ending with Rafael had disappeared long ago, when that book closed. But, truthfully, a gut feeling inside of me told me that this wasn't going to be the end."
And I was thinking about it recently, because I have that terrifying gut feeling that it isn't the end of Chuck and I. I definitely want to avoid him for the rest of my life, and never want to talk to his whack end, but there's this horrifying gut feeling that says that we're bound to run into each other again. Not necessarily that we're going to fall together--but definitely that me never talking to him isn't the end.
Trust me, it's terrifying.
Almost as terrifying as the thought that I might never feel sparks again.
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