Here’s the thing.
I’m an idiot.
I often let my heart get carried away before my head knows what’s going on. I can’t help it. I can fall in love in a day or two, which is insane. Brooklyn Nine-Nine has a term for it: going “Full Boyle.” It really just means getting in over your head in love (which ends up biting you in the ass). Normally I can distance myself from my Full Boyle behaviour and come off as a normal functioning human person, but if the person I’m interested in shows signs of mutual Full Boyle-ness I let my defenses fall. And by that I mean I open wide the gates of my heart and throw a welcome party.
At first it was working out in my favour. It felt like something real and significant was happening. It hadn’t been a long time but we became very close and spent a lot of time together. We were making plans. Little trips, things we wanted to do together. He asked me to make an actual list of stuff we should do together while he was away in Mexico. So I did. I put it in my bullet journal and made it all pretty. Some things for now-ish, other things for the summer.
The week went by really slow because I was so used to spending every other evening with him. The day after he came back we talked. Mexico was good, but he got really sick towards the end. I’ve been sick while abroad before, it’s not fun and you just want to go home. You want comfort. And for him, that was his ex. They’d been broken up for a year but he realized he still had some unresolved feelings that he needed to deal with, on his own. He was very kind to me when he said we couldn’t see each other anymore, and I understood. He didn’t know he had these latent feelings until he got sick, so I can’t be mad at him for allowing me to believe we were going to be something substantial. Telling me ASAP and taking the space and time he needs to heal is the best thing for both of us.
But here remains me, running full speed into a potential relationship and slamming face first into a brick wall. And that brick wall hurt. It hurt more than it should for something that lasted less than a month. I cried. A lot. I had a friend come over to spend some time with me. She brought me flowers and ice cream and chocolate. (What a gal!) It felt like a breakup, and it took me a weekend for my emotions to settle down. I took a couple of long thinking showers to figure out how I felt. You know the kind I mean. The result:
I’d do it again.
I have no regrets about what happened. I don’t want to be the kind of person that doesn’t let people in because they’re scared of getting hurt. I don’t want to be callous. I want to let things affect me; to learn from them and let them become a part of me. I want to be the kind of person to have big dreams; big thoughts; big feelings.