I fall in love too easily. Well, it’s not even love, just a small amount of liking above the friendship level. The type where you get excited about an incoming text message. Yes, I think that’s my current level of falling. Text message related. The type where even the strangest compliment can make you feel special. And it seems the way I fall is through conversation.
I always seem to love a boy more than they’ve loved me. Unless I’ve got some secret admirers out there, in which case I invite them to make themselves known. A proverb I once read said to always marry someone who loves you more than you love them. I can’t recall who said this, but thinking back now, I may have read it in an interview with a Hollywood starlet in a trashy magazine. Darren Hayes, my own romantic prophet, once sang ‘it is easier to give than receive love’. Agreed. It is easier to give than receive love. How do you make someone love you?
In my 28 years I’ve truly loved three boys. Seven boys if you count my unrealistic
obsession love for Jack Jones, Shane Warne, Darren Hayes and Callan Mulvey. (And if you throw Hamish Blake into the mix, that is eight.) Two boys if you take away the one I felt unrequited love for over about three years. That leaves two relationships (if you can call them that) where (I think) there was reciprocal love. I didn’t feel love in my other two relationships (or maybe it was only one – one could be classified as ‘seeing someone’, the other was seven months spent by the both of us trying to get a word in edgeways – we both had a lot to say). And there you go, I’ve just done some very complicated maths about the boys in my life. Maths was never my strong point, and nor is love.
It’s strange because my life was going along pretty well. I didn’t think I needed love. Ok, truthfully, I was always guy spotting. And I see friends and strangers in secure, loving relationships and know that I want that for myself. But I have resigned myself to the fact that I probably will be a catless spinster. (Maybe I’ll have a dog if I ever own my own home and have enough time to devote to it.) Because it’s really hard finding someone who can accept the way I look. And I think I’m mostly happy with that. Maybe happy is the wrong word. Accepting of that, then. Because I got family, friends, work, life outside work, and education and lots of interests. (Secretly I hope once I’m on Channel 31 I will get some fan mail from men asking me to be their wife – ok, so it’s not such a far-fetched idea…is it?)
When someone came into my life, only last week, and I discover we have things in common, he can make me laugh, and make me feel special, my tummy does butterflies. I haven’t felt this comfortable talking to someone in years. I feel like I can tell him anything. And he said I’m pretty awesome to talk to. And then, on the flipside, something else is said, and life feels mopey. Even though all those other great things I’ve mentioned are still there. It’s odd how life can be going along pretty well and then you feel these spectrum of emotions because of one person. Life goes from the soundtrack to Love Actually to some ironed fringed, fingerless glove and black tshirt wearing emo song.
I rarely receive any signals from people showing interest. The last text message that I received that I felt the need to keep forever was ‘there’s a Carly in my mind stealing my heart’, and that was six years ago, back when I had a simple Nokia. A little after that, there was this weird situation, which deserves a blog entry of its own, where someone sent me a picture of his penis. That was showing interest, I guess…
So this week, when I received a text message with quite direct words expressing feelings towards me, I workshopped it with girlfriends, thinking maybe the words were true. There was some excitement brewing, and I held out hope. And then I decided that he’s probably just not that into me, because that’s how it always is. And now I guess he’s just not that into me.
It’s like one day everything is going along fine, the next day you can’t stop thinking about someone, and wham, life gets complicated.
Maybe the reason I don’t often write about romance on this blog (other than there not being any to report on) is so I don’t jinx myself. So I don’t share my feelings with the world and open myself up to heartbreak.
It’s probably because I’m currently really sore that I’m feeling this introspective. I marvel at how I can be in control, calm, sensible and professional, and then turn into a forlorn girl at the drop of a hat. I was talking to a friend about this and we both agree the best way to feel good about ourselves in times like these is to fawn over pictures of us with our celebrity loves. She said ‘keep looking at the Rush cast pictures and remember your prince is out there somewhere’. I hope so.
Post script, heard when watching Rush: