As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized a lot about myself that I thought I had figured out. It’s funny how little you know yourself in high school, especially if you’re like me and thought yourself an expert on everything. College was certainly a discovery period, but even more so, leaving college was like a slap in the preconceived notion part of my body (wherever that is housed…the nervous system? the humorous?). I was particularly shocked at how terrible I am at knowing how I truly feel about someone until it’s…well, not to sound cliche, but: “too late”.
If I like you a lot, the skin on my chest will turn red and blotchy. Yes, I am blushing. Like a five year old girl who just received her first daisy picked from the soccer field and clumsily passed to her from her crush. The blush will creep up my neck and into my face before I can say the word: “transparent”. Which my skin is. I am so pale that this blush is like a bright red STOP sign. I realize I am much more aware of this than anyone else, but hey, now you can notice it too!
If I like you a lot, a lot, I will get very nervous playing music for you, which is otherwise a liberating and nerve-free experience. As in, crippling nerves that will make me hit several wrong notes and my voice will more than likely break once or twice. And if that isn’t enough, I will probably start perspiring because I am extremely aware of what is going on. Super hot, right?!
And if I really, really like you a lot, a lot, the coup-de-grace of self-destructive things I do is act like I don’t and live in denial. This is a preservation/defense mechanism, which past experience has taught me I need. I’ll ignore all the signs that have come, including the blush and the nerves and the relentless butterflies that make me feel like I’m 12. On top of that, I’ll try to play it SUPER cool and treat you even more like just a friend. I’ll bro-punch your shoulder and sarcastically make fun of everything you do to a point one notch past sassy, and you’ll second guess whether I’m actually a nice person. And if we ever have a DTR-esque talk (that’s a “Defining The Relationship” talk…I’m trying to stay hip), I’ll play it down and say that I’m okay with whatever you want to do, it’s no big deal. Which is a boldface lie. I even lie to myself. I’ll look in the mirror and tell myself all the things about you that would “just never work” in a relationship with me. And ten months later, I’ll end up writing a song, which is a summary of my deep and, up to this point, seemingly irreconcilable feelings for you, asking you to try and be with me even though it’s pretty much against all hope at this point.
Here’s what I’m getting at: the whole “bottle it up/save yourself from rejection” philosophy doesn’t work. Go tell someone if you really like them. Be honest, even if they’re not asking for it. You both deserve to know what’s really going on. If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s this: if you don’t ask for something, you’ll never get it.
So stop living in denial and go make your own happy ending. You deserve it.
Love,
Whitney
P.S. It’s National Honesty Day…what a perfect time to do it!
