If I Say I Want You Back, Would You Turn Around And Say You Want Me Too, 'Cause I Say I Want You Back, This Time I Really Mean It
--"Want You Back", Mandy Moore
The subject of my much delayed novel centers around a guy who was so devastated by the loss of his childhood sweetheart in sixth that he spends the rest of his life comparing how his life might have turned out if she had lived to the life he has now. He wonders if the dissatisfaction and growing restlessness he is experiencing as wanders through his marriage to the beautiful, but career-oriented, wife and fatherhood to a boy who adores him, but whom he barely knows, stems from their actual flaws or from his constant need to put it up side-by-side with this fantasy of a life he's held onto for so long. What could have been, what should have been, as opposed to what is and what he has encapsulates the main conflict of the story and, honestly, I don't know what kind of resolution the story is headed towards.
Mostly because I don't know how to answer that question myself.
Ilessa keeps insisting we should drive up somewhere for the holiday weekend. She keeps telling me we should leave early tomorrow and just spend the next couple of days somewhere. I know I'm probably going to end up doing that road trip in October or November with her, but for some reason I keep stalling her on this weekend trip. I keep insisting it's because I want to save some money for the "real" vacation. Yet that doesn't feel like the "real" answer. It's much like my theories, it's just something to say aloud to explain an answer that I haven't quite been able to put into words yet.
The real answer is that I'm still holding for somebody better, or, more specifically, for one particular somebody. I too have this fantasy that the literal girl of my dreams for the last fourteen years will suddenly extricate herself from the circumstances preventing her from being with me and I will, at last, have the life I was supposed to have. I too have been guilty of formulating comparisons in my mind that I've never quite voiced, even to the principals involved. I too have spent nights wondering if Ilessa would seem half as obnoxious and pushy if not placed in comparison to the individual I've spent the better part of my life comparing every woman I've ever liked to. I try to be strong. I try to believe that I'm being objective when it comes to new opportunities in my love life because, heaven knows, I'm not the type of person who gets opportunities all that often. A huge part of me is screaming that I should be seizing every gift I'm being given and not to play the part of spoiled brat, holding out for something better.
When it comes down to it, Ilessa is no more flawed or perfect than anybody has a right to be. She's neither a duchess or a devil. She drinks a lot, but I've already moved past that aspect of her personality, and, as I've written before, that is no longer the dealbreaker it once was. She's forthright in her opinions of people, but almost everybody I know could be accused of the same crime. Lastly, she has a lot of guy friends, but I cannot in good conscience lay my petty feelings of jealousy as being her responsibility. We haven't promised anything and, if I really stopped to ascertain the situation sincerely, she asked me to go on this trip, which I should take as a good sign that there is some level of attraction there. That truly should be enough to allay my feelings of being just another fish in her pond. That truly should suggest to me that she has some thoughts of me being special to her.
Then what's the fucking problem?
She isn't bad to look at. She isn't bad to be around. She's smart enough, witty enough, and informed enough to hold a decent discussion with. Yes, she's quite a bit younger than me, but twenty certainly does not carry around the baggage that eighteen or seventeen might. Even if it did, I've certainly have grown accustomed to the stares and backstage gossip-mongering that seems to follow me around like a lost dog.
Nope, the problem is, just like the main character in my novel, I seem to have met someone better first. Worst than that, I seem to have lost someone better first. Because of that dynamic, of having someone I think is as close to perfection that any one person can attain and not being able to have her, everyone else I meet is doomed to play, at best, second fiddle, or, at worst, to be a constant reminder of how much better my life could have been. Is that fair to Miss Nancy Drew? Is that the chivalrous thing to do in this situation, to constantly think of her as sloppy seconds? I don't think it is. I don't think it's fair to agree to go out with someone if the whole time you were wishing you were with someone else.
The problem is I don't know if I'll ever stop wishing. I don't know if I'll ever be that person who can give another woman a decent shot at my heart. I don't know if I'll ever give up chasing that dream, chasing my Amy (as Kevin Smith so aptly put it), the one who got away.
I think my biggest fear, aside from finding out that the dream really isn't all that perfect, is that many years from now I'll come to realize the real one who got away was Miss Ilessa Campbell. I'll try re-connecting with her, I'll tell her I want her back, but by then it really will be too late. I'll come to realize that I wasted some many years going after the wrong woman when the right one was living all this time not more than thirty minutes away. I'll come to realized all the years we could have spent together while I refused to see what she really was. I think that would be the saddest fate in the world, chasing after somebody I never really had a chance of getting and pushing away the only person who could have been everything to me.
After that, my only recourse would be to write a book about a guy who spent all his time wishing for one girl, while the perfect girl was in front of him, changes his mind, and now spends all his time wishing for the second girl, all the while pushing away other potential perfect girls.
It's like I'm always one step behind the curve.
I still don't know what to tell her when Ilessa calls about driving out tomorrow morning. I still don't know if I'm ready to pull up anchor and shove off for parts unknown. I've been tied to this one hope, this one dream, for so long I don't know if I have enough energy to set sail for another one.
I also don't know how long she'll wait for me to make up my mind.
But chances are not long.
Fuck.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
The subject of my much delayed novel centers around a guy who was so devastated by the loss of his childhood sweetheart in sixth that he spends the rest of his life comparing how his life might have turned out if she had lived to the life he has now. He wonders if the dissatisfaction and growing restlessness he is experiencing as wanders through his marriage to the beautiful, but career-oriented, wife and fatherhood to a boy who adores him, but whom he barely knows, stems from their actual flaws or from his constant need to put it up side-by-side with this fantasy of a life he's held onto for so long. What could have been, what should have been, as opposed to what is and what he has encapsulates the main conflict of the story and, honestly, I don't know what kind of resolution the story is headed towards.Mostly because I don't know how to answer that question myself.
Ilessa keeps insisting we should drive up somewhere for the holiday weekend. She keeps telling me we should leave early tomorrow and just spend the next couple of days somewhere. I know I'm probably going to end up doing that road trip in October or November with her, but for some reason I keep stalling her on this weekend trip. I keep insisting it's because I want to save some money for the "real" vacation. Yet that doesn't feel like the "real" answer. It's much like my theories, it's just something to say aloud to explain an answer that I haven't quite been able to put into words yet.
The real answer is that I'm still holding for somebody better, or, more specifically, for one particular somebody. I too have this fantasy that the literal girl of my dreams for the last fourteen years will suddenly extricate herself from the circumstances preventing her from being with me and I will, at last, have the life I was supposed to have. I too have been guilty of formulating comparisons in my mind that I've never quite voiced, even to the principals involved. I too have spent nights wondering if Ilessa would seem half as obnoxious and pushy if not placed in comparison to the individual I've spent the better part of my life comparing every woman I've ever liked to. I try to be strong. I try to believe that I'm being objective when it comes to new opportunities in my love life because, heaven knows, I'm not the type of person who gets opportunities all that often. A huge part of me is screaming that I should be seizing every gift I'm being given and not to play the part of spoiled brat, holding out for something better.
When it comes down to it, Ilessa is no more flawed or perfect than anybody has a right to be. She's neither a duchess or a devil. She drinks a lot, but I've already moved past that aspect of her personality, and, as I've written before, that is no longer the dealbreaker it once was. She's forthright in her opinions of people, but almost everybody I know could be accused of the same crime. Lastly, she has a lot of guy friends, but I cannot in good conscience lay my petty feelings of jealousy as being her responsibility. We haven't promised anything and, if I really stopped to ascertain the situation sincerely, she asked me to go on this trip, which I should take as a good sign that there is some level of attraction there. That truly should be enough to allay my feelings of being just another fish in her pond. That truly should suggest to me that she has some thoughts of me being special to her.
Then what's the fucking problem?
She isn't bad to look at. She isn't bad to be around. She's smart enough, witty enough, and informed enough to hold a decent discussion with. Yes, she's quite a bit younger than me, but twenty certainly does not carry around the baggage that eighteen or seventeen might. Even if it did, I've certainly have grown accustomed to the stares and backstage gossip-mongering that seems to follow me around like a lost dog.
Nope, the problem is, just like the main character in my novel, I seem to have met someone better first. Worst than that, I seem to have lost someone better first. Because of that dynamic, of having someone I think is as close to perfection that any one person can attain and not being able to have her, everyone else I meet is doomed to play, at best, second fiddle, or, at worst, to be a constant reminder of how much better my life could have been. Is that fair to Miss Nancy Drew? Is that the chivalrous thing to do in this situation, to constantly think of her as sloppy seconds? I don't think it is. I don't think it's fair to agree to go out with someone if the whole time you were wishing you were with someone else.
The problem is I don't know if I'll ever stop wishing. I don't know if I'll ever be that person who can give another woman a decent shot at my heart. I don't know if I'll ever give up chasing that dream, chasing my Amy (as Kevin Smith so aptly put it), the one who got away.
I think my biggest fear, aside from finding out that the dream really isn't all that perfect, is that many years from now I'll come to realize the real one who got away was Miss Ilessa Campbell. I'll try re-connecting with her, I'll tell her I want her back, but by then it really will be too late. I'll come to realize that I wasted some many years going after the wrong woman when the right one was living all this time not more than thirty minutes away. I'll come to realized all the years we could have spent together while I refused to see what she really was. I think that would be the saddest fate in the world, chasing after somebody I never really had a chance of getting and pushing away the only person who could have been everything to me.
After that, my only recourse would be to write a book about a guy who spent all his time wishing for one girl, while the perfect girl was in front of him, changes his mind, and now spends all his time wishing for the second girl, all the while pushing away other potential perfect girls.
It's like I'm always one step behind the curve.
I still don't know what to tell her when Ilessa calls about driving out tomorrow morning. I still don't know if I'm ready to pull up anchor and shove off for parts unknown. I've been tied to this one hope, this one dream, for so long I don't know if I have enough energy to set sail for another one.
I also don't know how long she'll wait for me to make up my mind.
But chances are not long.
Fuck.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
Labels: hedging, Ilessa, safe bet, second chances
posted by mojo shivers @ 8:30 PM
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