My English major dream guy

I’m bad with disappointment. Whenever something that I wanted doesn’t fall through, it takes me a couple days to get over it. I know. I’m pretty dramatic. To prevent myself from feeling shitty, I came up with a solution: don’t have any expectations. If you don’t have any expectations, you won’t wound up disappointed! I’d tell myself this to save me from another “ugh why do I even bother” days sulking in my bed, but I learned that you can’t consciously not think of something. I’ve experienced times when I really didn’t expect anything and that was great because I had nothing to compare whatever really happened to what I wanted to happen. But thoughts are thoughts – they swim around in your head and pop up randomly as if they have their own powers sometimes.

Let me explain. I’ve already mentioned this in one of my previous posts before, but I had this dream of what I really wanted. I hesitate to use the word “fantasy” because that sounds too extreme, as if I’m in some Disney princess movie. Geez, I know life doesn’t give you that much. Ok, what I wanted was to meet a guy and fall in love in one of my English classes. That’s not so unreasonable, right? I mean, I wasn’t thinking marriage or anything – it’s just I’ve created a romantic image of a fellow English major. We’d meet by randomly sitting next to each other in class one day and we’d hit it off right away – discovering that we have the same love of movies and authors and books in common. This would be the ticket to studying together at a café, and by studying I mean talk more about what we like and how we view life (he’d share my sarcasm and dead, dry, random humor). And that’s it – the next thing you know, we’d be together. I’d bitch and whine about not being able to come up with a thesis statement for my essay, he’d recommend me his favorite books and I’d buy even the ones that I questioned, we’d go on museum dates together, possibly apply to ph. D programs together, who knows? I wasn’t asking the world for that much of a ridiculous response. Plus, I actually had some friends who met their boyfriends that way, so I knew it wasn’t impossible for it to happen. Oh, and bonus points if he had a button-up shirt with rolled up sleeves, some nice fitting pants, slick yet fluffy hair and some laced Clarks shoes on. (That’s my superficial side talking.)

Looking back at my life in college, I think a lot of the times I unknowingly prevented myself from my “dream” to happen because I always sat with people that I already knew in my classes, especially during my senior year. Who knows ­– maybe if I had sat next to someone different, he could’ve turned out to me my “English major boyfriend.” But in classes where I did sit next to someone new, nothing happened either. I mean, we’d talk and the guy would be usually pretty nice, but I don’t know – I wanted him to stop me as I left class and ask me out to coffee or something. God, I know that sounds ridiculous, and my wish for that to happen is based on a sexist notion of men, how I view them as the first one who should initiate something, and I’m ashamed to admit it. Honestly, I could’ve been the first one to ask him to something, but I always refrained from doing so from the mere fear of him saying no thanks. It’s funny, though because I’ve made friends with girls by me asking them out to lunch or whatever first and I never was embarrassed by that. If it ended up that we didn’t really vibe well, I wouldn’t care too much about it. But with guys it’s a whole other deal because this would be a boyfriend thing, not a friendship. I know that realistically a guy asking me to something would only happen if he actually really clicked with me. Like I said, the guys that I talked to were nice but I knew that they weren’t my soul mate or anything. And yet what happened as I left the hall on my way to my next class? I’d be a bit sad! The next time I got to know a guy I’d tell myself the good old trick: don’t have any expectations. And I’d try. I’d really try. But then if eventually nothing happened again, I’d find myself honestly sad. It’s so ridiculous, I know, and the disappointment is really based on how much I fortify that image inside of my head of the supposedly perfect guy who, in reality, doesn’t exist. Or I don’t know – maybe he does; again, I’m not going to assume that it’s never going to happen, but I think real, gut-wrenching love usually isn’t born that way. It’s so crazy because if you asked me what I expected from the people who are currently in my life right now, I would say nothing. Because it’s true – I never would’ve guessed that I’d go on unforgettable adventures with them, laugh with them, bitch about life with them. And maybe that’s something better than my own expectations, than my “English major dream guy” – to just let the natural way of life surprise me.

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