Tonight was the first time I had the so-called pleasure of watching the movie, "He's Just Not That Into You." Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the movie very much so, and it was possibly the most honest of movies when it comes to relationships that I have seen. It did however cause me to do WAY too much pondering in my behalf of past relationships. Actually, just ONE past relationship. For those of you whom have already seen the movie, you would recall the scene where Jennifer Connelly and Bradley Cooper's characters are shopping in Home Depot, and Mr. Cooper suddenly reveals the horrid truth, "I slept with someone else." You will recall Ms. Connelly's response as she stops, frozen, a blank expression on her face, as if she is quite not sure just HOW to react towards the situation.
As soon as the words had left Bradley's mouth, they echoed in my mind over and over again, but with another's voice behind the words. I no longer payed attention to the movie at that point. I was in a flashback memory, standing in the parking lot at Cherokee Park, street lamps the only source of light, and that same, exact, literal line spoken to me. Word for word. I wasn't looking at the TV screen- I was staring into those bloodshot, swollen, tear-filled eyes, knowing that it had been said in all seriousness. As much as I had wanted it to all be some kind of sick joke, I knew the truth had been spoken. And my reaction was very much the same as Jennifer's- I stared. I was blank. I was frozen. I was speechless. I honestly had NO idea how to react. I had never anticipated that this could happen to ME, let alone HIM being the one to do it. He kept asking me to say something- ANYTHING. But I didn't know what to say. To be completely honest, these were the only three thoughts that crossed my mind:
1. How could he?
2. Why? What did I do wrong?
3. I can't believe I actually took time and made an effort in my appearance to see Him tonight, only to get this in return. What a waste.
And much like Jennifer's response, I started blaming myself. I started rationalizing. I started thinking that maybe if we talked things out, if we worked things through, the relationship could be saved. (And I do not condone his actions by any means, but you have to admit, it takes balls to admit that to someone and tell them that you were wrong and you are sorry. Especially the VERY NEXT DAY after it had happened. Which any person who also commits this act of selfishness and actually has a conscious should do. So props to him in that regard, but none furthermore.) But no matter how much blame; no matter how much talk; no matter how much work, the deed had been done, and nothing was going to change that. All trust had been lost. The relationship was essentially over.
As the movie resumed playing, Savannah and Laura, with whom I was watching the movie with, along with myself often made our own comments and remarks, igniting the spark for another discussion on the subject of relationships. (You can't really help doing so when you're in a group of girls- especially while watching that movie.) All of us were relating to one another, making our remarks and discussing our very own past relationships. Unconscious and unaware of what was being said through my very own mouth, I blurted out, "I just feel so foolish for falling for it all again. He just used me. I'm such an idiot."
All at once it hits me. Everything rushes to my head, and I finally see it all for what it really is. It's so clear, so how did I not see any of this before? And I feel so foolish. He told me he loved me. He told me he never stopped loving me. He told me he wanted to marry me. He told me he wanted to spend his life with me. He told me that he had never felt this way towards anyone else. He told me what we had was so unique, so different, and no one would ever find Love as we had found. After that night in Cherokee Park, yes, the relationship was essentially over. Except, for some ungodly reason, I couldn't let myself believe it. Time and time again, he came crawling back, and I being overcome by Love, stupidly gave him the benefit of the doubt and took him back. Over and over again, he feed me the same words he knew would make me wooed and smitten, held me in his arms just the right way, and kissed me passionately oh so perfectly, convincing me that yes, he was sorry, and yes, he did love me. And like the gullible fool I am, I believed him. I completely fell for it. Twice. Which makes it even worse. I should have known better. I should have trusted my instincts. But no- Love blinded me and caused me to act irrationally and do this to myself. Twice. I had become the abused puppy- when I had been beaten, and was broken, I ran away. He coaxed me, luring me back with those words of comfort. I knew what I was getting into when I came back. I knew it would happen again. But it was all I knew to make me feel better. Saying it aloud only solidified the truth.
Anger and resent and hatred build up inside of me. Not for him- rather for myself. I'm so angered that I could even let myself believe it all again. I'm ashamed of myself. I'm ashamed because I fell for it. Again. I'm ashamed that I let this happen. I'm ashamed that I wasn't more guarded. I'm ashamed that I allowed Him to do this to me and to use me again. Tears are brimming my eyes, but I refuse to let them escape the walls of my eyelids. No. I will not let him have the satisfaction of this heartbreak once more. I will not waste a single, 'nother tear on him. He's not worth it. At least that's what I keep telling myself to make me feel better. The end of the movie is on the screen. I know I should feel all giddy and happy and estatic since the very predictable ending had finally surfaced in the resolution of the all too simple and familiar plot, but I'm on the verge of tears, and all I feel like is letting these tears, and these feelings, and letting Him go.
Driving me back to my car, Savannah and I discuss the situation. Somehow, we seem to always have the most intricate conversations, and we seem to always know exactly what to say to the other. We listen to each other I feel in a different sense than most. I always trust discussing things of this nature, as well as other topics, with her. I repeat out loud how I feel like a fool, how I am nothing but used merchandise. I'm broken here and there, although I can still function proficiently, but no one is going to want something that only works partially when they can get it brand new and working the way it should be. We discuss the hidden truths of Love. "Love is both ends of the spectrum," she says. "Yes, Love is great and wonderful, and no matter what happens, it lasts forever. But at the same, it lasts forever. They always tell you how amazing falling in Love is- they tend to leave out how hard it is to fall out of Love." She pulls into the parking lot next to my car. "That's what makes Love a handicap. It's what we make of it," I reply, before opening the door of her car and stepping into my own.
Love is a handicap- and it's what we make of it. Too many times, Love is the obstacle that keeps us from so many other things. Love is what sets us back. Love is the hurtle in this race we pretend is so essential that we must throw our bodies over and land gracefully on our feet to continue running if we want to win. Sometimes we stumble, sometimes our foot gets caught and we fall, scraping and skinning our knees, breaking bones and spraining ankles. All that's left of us is this bloody and bruised and dirty mess on the ground while everyone passes us by. We can either make the most of it and bring to ourselves back up, progressing onward and making ourselves better. We can look at Love and take it as a learning experience, and grow and develop from what Love has done. Or we can be miserable, and blame all our misfortunes and karma (or lack of) on Love. We can sit there at the hurtle, staring, and refuse to jump, blaming Love in not letting us do so. It's scary, and if you want to jump, it's a very big risk. You may land perfectly, but there's also the much more possible chance of falling and getting hurt. But how are we going to get further in the race if we don't use our momentum and hurtle our bodies over that piece of wood in our lane?
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