How often do we find ourselves falling for the same types of people? Sure, we have our phases that bounce from varying types of physical appearances, personalities, chemistry, etc. Sometimes the world throws an equal, but opposite attraction to see how much you valued one over the other. Of my first set, if the fact that they share two of out of three names is beyond bizarre, their inward way of thinking is parallel. Stuck wandering in the same life, but in different stages. They are one in the same.
Pete seemed to have this shit together. With a constant smile on his face, the world around him was spinning, but he was flying. After our time together, I figured out that he wasn’t actually flying. He had to jump because he had no choice, and no matter where he landed, it was better than where he was before. Learned in mistakes, he understood what it meant to be at rock bottom, crawling from the darkness once before. Though he had lost some footing and fell again recently, he knew how close he was to the top, to the better view.
RePete, one could call him, is at the bottom of his pit, slowly losing his voice to ask for help. Or maybe worse, he thinks no one can help.
As their comparisons became apparent, I wondered if the blue had faded from Pete’s eyes the same way it had from RePete’s big, bright doe eyes.
RePete doesn’t believe in Pete’s motto of learning; he doesn’t think mistakes need to be made to learn. Little does he know. I can only hope RePete ends up happy and on solid ground as Pete did. Both great men who deserve the brightest view the world can possibly give them.
Then there’s a different type of fuckboy: the one who ruins your soul.
I’ve been seeing one dude on and off for about five months. From the first moment I met him, I understood that we were very different people, which worked out in our favor for the circumstances. Coming from different backgrounds, different money, different education, everything was polar opposites. After the first or second time, I started to see how he saw me: as someone below him on life’s totem pole. While normally this would bother me, I didn’t give a shit about his opinion. Dickasaurus Jr. was fully aware of that too. He had many small quirks about him that turned me off. I made our visits as short as possible for this reason. Until the most recent time. Everything was the same as usual, except for a few small details that I had ignored in the past that became quickly alarming. He looked me in my eyes, straight into my eyes, for prolonged periods of time with that certain smirk. He started to tell me about his past, which I replied to very wide-eyed. Throwing random compliments in: “You’re not only physically strong, you’re mentally strong too. Don’t need no man!” He went out of his way for me to stay, by putting on movies starring my celebrity crushes. When I was finally running out the door, his goodbye was a little too much for me. What’s “a little too much” you ask? He swung his arms over my shoulders from the back, so his cheek was touching mine, and sang, “….okaaay byyeee”. Homeboy really just sang Frozen to me.
How the fuck did Dickasaurus Jr. go from seeing me as a lowly college dropout to seeing me like this? What in God’s name..? Then I realized this happened once before, except I waited far too long before ending it, which later fucked me over hard.
The first time I went through this, he didn’t value me or my opinion, until he suddenly did. It annoyed him that his money and status were of no interest of me, that I didn’t want him to buy me dinner or drinks at the bar. He didn’t understand why I was going into a profession that paid minimally. Dickasaurus Sr. had exact same small quirks as Dickasaurus Jr. had that drove me up a fucking wall: talking SO loudly just to be loud, eating like complete shit all the time, the unwarranted overconfidence in bed, the claims of being “so busy” when in actuality, he was too lonely to admit. The original in this situation ended horribly. Embarrassed from the rejection after I ended things, Dickasaurus Sr. retaliated by embarrassing me in front of all of our friends by dressing up as me on Halloween. Now, we can all say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, which is what I told myself when I was in tears after I saw him with a unruly, bright red wig and giant balloons in a shirt that was three sizes too small. I wasn’t as strong then as I am now. If that were to happen now, he’d be washed up somewhere along the Chicago River. Then, I just crawled into my mental space and pretended it never happened. The moment these dots were connected, his predecessor had to go. And junior was gone.
There’s the short stories of the certain type of fuckboy: very good looking, educated, awesome in bed, but the most boring people you have ever met. I can make conversation with anyone and this was just painful. I’d rather have dirty SnapChats from Carrot Top than go through that again.
Then there are the men that destroyed you, the men who broke your heart.
I met the Aquarius about a month ago. We had such an awesome time. He made me laugh in ways I forgot I could. Even just after the first night, I’ll never forget the way he made me feel. We had a bubble around us. With each passing moment, I learned something new: his middle name, how his mom is counting on him for grandkids, his birthright trip, how he hates certain parts of his body; the seeping information that was not intended to be share, but not regretted. I was on the same plane as him; small hints of who I am outside of what we choose to tell one another. As the information poured more, our bodies unconsciously became closer as well.
He looked at me like an ex of mine did: like there wasn’t a soul outside of our bubble. Like enjoying my voice as if it were the first time he heard music. Like there was no one in his peripheral. Like the only shade of blue he recognized was the color of my eyes. Like I was a piece of art meant to be admired. And it tore me into pieces, then and now.
Not only did he make me feel the same type of special like the previous ex boyfriend, but said dude was also an Aquarius. Sure, this is the part you roll your eyes and laugh at my silly beliefs, but they were more alike than I cared to admit the first time I saw it. The vivid personalities, unashamed of anyone’s opinions of them; the caring smiles that could instantly warm me inside; the silly nicknames we gave one another; the insane love and admiration of Tom Haverford; the worst of the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ mentality they both shared; the avoidance of spoken emotion, but always an abundance of physical affection. When they were present, nothing else mattered. Phones were off, everything was just background noise to us. But when they were gone, man, they were gone. Literally the hardest people to get a hold of. If it weren’t for the in between, very below surface conversations, I wouldn’t even believe I was still a part of their memories. I wouldn’t even categorize myself as a high maintenance lady friend and I still felt ignored. I pined so hard for his attention and received nothing in return, except for the most well written break up e-mail in history. Never imagine I’d be sobbing into my Gmail. It didn’t work with the first guy but I still hold hope with his younger zodiac twin. I keep solid grip onto every good thing that that ex had taught me, especially the things that can apply with Mr. New Aquarius. I know I can get as weird as humanly possible and it’s embraced and encouraged at the utmost with their influence. I am now unafraid to be myself, in all the outlandish and bizarre ways. Exampled by new homeboy singing the Dracula song at the end of Forgetting Sarah Marshall into my ear as I tried to sleep. I understand words and feelings are not always on the same page. The saying “actions speak louder than words” can only go so far; there are times where those spoken words are absolutely necessary.
Some people hide behind their words; others, behind their actions.
Inching forward with the new and improved Aquarius, I try my best to improve what I had with the men prior; things I knew only drove him away instead of making us closer, thinking not of just myself in these equations. I am just a tad older, but I understand that emotions do not rule everything; they are not the defining lines of who people are and what they are willing to give. There is a strategy in dating, as if playing a game of chess. What I didn’t understand before is that there really is no winner, or ending, to these games; just how to improve yourself for the next match. Check Mate, motherfucker.