Rejection
This is a vent essay; please bear with me.
For context, I am greyromantic. By definition, romantic love is something rare for me to experience. The idea of loving someone romantically feels distant; I don’t get attracted to people as often as my peers do. I also start to fall for someone once I get to know them more. I always thought that to fall for someone, you have to get to know them to truly fall for them.
In my case, I did fall for someone. She was in a different department from me, but we go to the same buildings, so the chances of running into one another were always there. At first, it was a simple crush—someone I found really pretty. But after words of encouragement from my friend, I pursued her. I went to close the gap between us, from an acquaintance to something more. Two months passed since I started to pursue her, and I landed a date with her, she said she had fun. A week after that, she rejected me; her eyes were on someone else.
I won’t lie and tell you it didn’t hurt. It was the most painful thing I had that year, second only to me almost failing a subject.
It changed me, truly. It made me reflect on things. I avoided looking at places. Unfortunately, the place where we went on the date was also the place my friends and I frequent for coffee. I avoided songs I’d associate with my feelings for her. I avoided drinks she told me she liked. I hated looking at different flowers she told me she liked.
The feelings come and go. One minute I’m moving on, thriving despite that, then there are these fucking doomer thoughts that make you want to tweak—loser-ass behavior, thinking about her when she chose someone else (the reason for my rejection). I hate the conflict between my feelings; it’s something I have been managing since she rejected me.
To fall for someone as an aro-spec, to clear the air, I didn’t love her, not yet. I liked her, and I was starting to fall for her, to the point that I was open to the idea of loving her. The rejection stopped that. Even if I still like her, I respect myself enough to stop pursuing her.
Our last messages felt final and like closure at the same time.
“There are plenty of fish in the sea,” they said. I don’t like that term because it feels insensitive. I wanted that fish, and I don’t even actively look at fish. Sure, I used to hook up, but I never longed for a romantic connection until recently.
To long for connection and to desire it are two different things. I want to hold hands with someone, but I’m not looking for that; it isn’t a priority.
It isn’t easy moving on, especially if I rarely look for romantic pursuits.
I stopped pursuing her, but I still wanted her. After the date, she went radio silent for a week, until I confronted her about it. There, I got rejected. She said she got more interested in someone else, that I was a nice guy and she enjoyed the conversation, but was sorry if it felt like she was leading me on.
I told her no hard feelings (Liar! I cried like a bitch that night), but she could’ve been honest instead of waiting until the end of finals and leaving me hanging. That was not the move.
It forced reality on me. To continue to hope and wait for her would do bad things to my psyche, I know that. Hell, I still want her, and I even dreamed of her the other day, though we just avoided each other in that dream.
It’s so lonely. I feel so lonely.
I see my friends going out, and I didn’t join for other reasons. It pains me. The loneliness I felt as a teen crept back up on me. Rejection didn’t end my feelings; it only ended my initiative to act on them.
What do you do with feelings you refuse to act on? I don’t know. Push through it. The world kept spinning. Feel it without acting on it.
To you, on the unlikely and off chance you see this niche blog of mine: I confessed to you on that date, so we don’t have to talk about my feelings. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you, even if you didn’t choose me. I do wish you had told me sooner, but I still wish the best for you. I wish we could talk again someday. You were fun to chat with when we were both tipsy. I hope you’re well and happy.
Anyways, We ball. We got rejected. Lock in. To future me: Don’t message her or my wingwoman will kill me if I do. Peace out.