The Separation of Mind and Heart

I was somewhat amused the other day when I heard someone close to me tell me that they didn't want to hook up with me for fear of "hurting" me. I cocked my head to the side in response. Did I hear her correctly? Hurting me? I thought to myself, "you gotta be kidding?" I wondered if she took the time to realize just who she was talking to, and at what period in their lives. I agreed with her on the hooking up part; someone was going to get hurt, but it certainly wasn't going to be me. See, I tried explaining to her that she stood to lose a lot should she get with me blindly, and that she might develop expectations of me that I couldn't even think about fulfilling at this stage of my life. (You know what stage...the whole post-relationship "Can't Make a Ho a Housewife" stage.) We could hook up, I said, and if she went to someone else afterward, I really wouldn't care. She was offended by the concept, as if she really wanted me to be in pain over her, should she move on. She stayed quiet for a second, and then repeated a line similar to, "I don't want to hurt you."

I didn't press the issue any further, but one thing is clear. "If she don't know, she betta go and ask sumbody!"

All throughout high school, people told me that I "wore my heart on my sleeve." For whatever reason, I got carried away making assumptions about particular girls, and then wound up getting hurt when they disappointed me. There were stark exceptions here and there, but for the most part, I was the one who was heartbroken. I began to turn a new leaf during my senior year, only to make a stupid mistake in expecting the world of someone at the end. But whatever. We all learn.

When I began my college career at SU, I was determined to change all that. I became, as my roommate Nelson so eloquently named me, a "Manwhore." My first two months at Cuse became a daily excercise in juggling, kicking out one person to get with the next. Then, Evelyn came along, bringing in problems that have now become legend. The combination of distance and lack of intimacy brought about the demise of that relationship. So, when I met Chiyo months later, she was like a breath of fresh air. Chiyo was like the girl I wish I had during high school. She was carefree, not afraid of commitment, mature, intimate, and goofy. And she was on-campus. And I loved it. So, for a year and a half, I was living in a time-warp while I was with her. I was living the high school dream of being with your significant other all the time. No more wishing to wake up with the warm body of my girl next to me. It was actually happening. Parents didn't get in the way, either, like they did during high school. To me, it was perfect.

So, when I was rudely awaken from my dream. I looked around, and I realized, emotionally, I wasn't in high school anymore. I was a junior in college, studying abroad in London. And when you fall from the sky, it hurts like a bitch. Not only was I mad about the end of the relationship, but, also, I was upset over the time that had passed. It's kind of like waking up late for classes. You're angry because you had to wake up from a nice dream, but, you're also pissed because of what you missed. You can either sit there and try to go back to sleep, or get out of bed and sprint to class. What did I do? I set my alarm clock to snooze, woke up five minutes later, and sprinted to class.

So, I moved on. And right now, I sure as hell ain't raring to jump right back into a relationship. I've adopted a lassaiz-faire attitude. You wanna chill? Bet. Just wanna talk? That's cool, too, but I'll catch you on the flip side as I keep truckin. Some have asked how can I do that without getting attached. It's quite simple, really. I think with my brain instead of my heart, constantly reminding myself all the time...

"You can't make a ho a housewife."

Yes it's a defense mechanism. But, what's wrong with being a bit more reserved? After all, I just woke up.