Once upon a time, I considered myself “boy crazy”.
It was diagnosed when someone grabbed my leg, slightly above my knee, and I couldn’t handle the tickling sensation. It was how you knew that someone was boy crazy or girl crazy, right? Did anyone else ever do that…?
But, in reality… I was just boy crazy and all the people in my inner circle knew it. I was that girl. I started reading through my journal from my freshman year of college the other night and I cringed as I skimmed through the pages. What a pathetic mess I was…. and then I wondered if, in another ten years, I might say the same thing about myself now. I hope not….
Let me expand upon this particular season in my life, though:
My freshman year of college, I was friends with a boy that I was in.major.like.with. We talked allllll the time over Instant Messenger (isn’t that the sign of true friendship?) and occasionally would meet up for intense walk and talks around campus. Our friendship was honest, raw, deep, centered on Jesus. He challenged me in ways that few guys had. Naturally, I was entranced.
I remember just waiting for the sound of my instant messenger’s door to creak open, eager for him to have signed on. I remember waiting for that ding to sound, certain that if he ever initiated conversation with me it meant he was probably interested in me beyond friendship. I played a lot of games in my head…. I’d wait for him to talk to me (clearly playing hard-to-get) and when I couldn’t handle it, I’d find some rational reason to make contact with him. Sometimes I wouldn’t even wait and I’d just jump right into conversation. We communicated on almost a daily basis and my heart was growing more attached at the prospect of this young man’s affections.
I went home for Christmas break and confided in my oldest brother and his best friend in our hot tub one night. I explained the situation and they immediately told me to stop initiating. They told me if he were interested, he’d do something about it.
Their words were true…and I think, at the time, I knew it…but I also knew, somewhere in me, that if I stopped initiating I would know the truth. That I wouldn’t be able to lie to myself any longer. I’d have to face the reality that my friendship with this guy was just that: a friendship. That the moment I stopped initiating, I’d have to recognize that our friendship thrived mostly on my desperate attempts to keep him in my life, to have deep conversation, to feel like I mattered to him in a capacity more than I did.
I knew it. And I didn’t want to have that reality check.
It wasn’t the first time in my life that it had happened… and it certainly wasn’t the last.
Holding on, refusing to let go, refusing to give up, refusing to believe that he probably wasn’t interested in me. In this case, I held onto the idea for almost two years. Two years of initiating, waiting, hoping, wishing, dreaming… two years of holding onto something that would never be, because I was too scared to face the reality check. Too scared to admit that it wasn’t going to happen. Too scared to think about having no prospects.
I hated reading that in my journal. I hated having to remember that I was that girl. The girl who was too unwilling to admit that a guy just might not be interested in her that she threw herself at him emotionally and spiritually. The girl who cried for help to get him to notice her. The girl who just tried too hard to make something happen that was never meant to happen. The girl who lived her life out of fear, the girl who lived her life as though being in a relationship was all that mattered.
I told my roommate the other night how I wish I could clearly communicate that life doesn’t have to be (and shouldn’t be) centered around finding romantic love. I wish that I could convey how small of a piece that it is. I wish I could tell you, through my experiences, how trying to make it happen doesn’t make it happen.
I wish I could convince you to let go.
To admit that he’s not interested in you like that (and it’s okay and better that he’s not… you’ll see).
To stop initiating.
To stop wasting your time.
To stop centering your life on men.
To stop being boy crazy.
And to seize all that the rest of life has to offer. To go on adventures. To take risks. To live outside of the ‘what-ifs’ and the desperate attempts we tend to make in our loneliness.
There is more.
Here’s your reality check.
I hope you make a wiser decision than I…