Unrequited Love Blog

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I’ve been thinking of putting another post on this blog for a while, a sort of update on what’s been going on and how I’ve been feeling since July 2009, about a year ago when I made the “final” entry on the blog.

So, what’s changed? Well, for one thing I feel like more of an idiot.  I believe I was in love with Jessica, but I now take that set of feelings less seriously or less intensely.   The whole thing feels much more like something that happened to me in the past, and not something that is currently happening to me.  When I think about Jessica now, it’s the memory of love that I feel, rather than the experience of being in love.   And I was in love with her, but did not know her enough to love her.  I might have been able to love her, I certainly wanted to love her, but I didn’t have the opportunity to really love her.

Unrequited Love.  It’s just a bizarre, bizarre set of feelings.  Being in love feels like having a fever dream, during the most intense part of it everything seems much more vivid, colors more intense, feelings more acute, yet everything has a sense of unreality or surrealism to it at the same time.  I had vivid, intense, intrusive images and thoughts, almost like a PTSD reaction, but positive rather than negative in emotional tone.  My head was preoccupied with a ceaseless whirlwind of thoughts about Jessica all the time.  During the height of love’s intensity I felt love for many people around me, for strangers, for the world — it all spilled over from being in love.  But there was also a sharp edge of pain, of disappointment, that would rise up unexpectedly.  All the feelings just sort of rushed up in me and out of me, like I was picked up by a giant, invisible whirlwind, possessed by a djinn, then deposited on the side of road exhausted, depleted, and left with a lingering sense of grief.

Whatever this blog and the associated website say about me, they say.  If I seem obsessive, immature, pathetic, socially awkward or “off,” so be it.  I can’t take the whole blog back, and I really don’t want to.   I mean, I don’t really want to be perceived in those ways, it’s embarrassing, sometimes humiliating and shameful; but this blog IS a personal truth of mine, it’s pretty honest.  So if that’s who I am, it’s who I am.

I truly regret causing Jessica any discomfort, or creating any awkwardness between us, as we are bound to meet casually at some future point.  I truly regret making my feelings or attraction clear to her at all, it must have been weird and uncomfortable.  Most students don’t want professors to seem out of control around them , or seem overly vulnerable.  Students want to be able to rely on professors to set boundaries.  I regret asking her to deal with my feelings in any way, even though it was (I thought) relatively subtle and indirect.  But I also think that I must have wanted her to know, on some level.  I was so classically obvious in the last class — dilated pupils, stuttering, nervous, confused, agitated, weak in the knees — who wouldn’t see this as a declaration or at least display of love?  It seems my unconscious just took the choice away from me and showed my love despite my best intentions.  I don’t know why it happened to me, but it did feel out of my (conscious) control.  I don’t know why I would do this to myself — fall in love with a straight, engaged/married former student and drive myself crazy.  I mean, I know I did do it to myself on some level, and I don’t know why I felt the need to be so punishing.  Perhaps I needed to punish myself for seeking a divorce.  Or maybe I needed to fall in love with someone who I could love without taking any action, so I could try out whether I really wanted to end my marriage or not.

Regarding my divorce and life in general, I just feel overwhelmed — more than half my life is over and it’s not where I want it to be.  I wonder if I’m too old to try and start over, if I’m being (unbeknownst to myself) ridiculous in thinking I can date women in their 30s without looking, well, ridiculous.  I’m very overwhelmed with thinking of selling the house and moving out.  The market is terrible, I don’t want to lose money, but I don’t want to keep living there.  I’m painfully aware of every second I lose not being out dating, moving back to the city, crafting a new life.  Yet I believe I need to be in the best financial position possible to start dating.  Also, I can tell Spouse is hoping the split won’t happen, that I’ll change my mind, she says as much.  So, I’m being emotionally irresponsible by continuing to stay and/or not making clear and rapid moves toward changing the relationship.  And, still, am I making a bad decision?  I’m in a relationship where I’m loved, and I love Spouse in return — what more can I expect to find?  My continued decision to divorce is, at this point, based on feeling I simply cannot live with Spouse’s messiness, cannot live with her lack of motivation, feeling we don’t have enough common interests such as outdoor recreation or going out in general, and it would be nice to be in romantic love with someone who loved me back the same way.

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I’m thinking this will be my final post on this blog.  It seems a good day for it, I have a sore throat and a fever so I’m kind of out of it and have more distance on everything.

What to say?  Jessica just feels so far away from me now.  She’s probably had kids or will be having them shortly, probably has moved, is surely further along in her career.  I still think about her and miss her but I can’t continue to focus on her.

So what has it all meant?  It was very difficult for me to recognize and admit that I was in love with Jessica, and it was very difficult for me to see that her not loving me back didn’t have to be a tragedy.  To see that the meaning of this love falls somewhere in between — in between crush/limerence and committed love is real romantic love, in between comedy and tragedy are real non-hyperbolized feelings, in between labels of “can’t live without her love” and “of little consequence” is “vitally important.”  My ability to feel and recognize my love has been vitally important for me.  It has served as a catalyst for change in my life — my divorce, re-evaluating what I am looking for in a relationship, taking more risks, becoming more engaged with life.

So why was this experience so intense for me?  Did I love Jessica more than other women, unrequited or within a relationship?  No, not really.  Did the love feel different in substantial ways?  Well, sort of.  The physical and psychological “symptoms” of being in love are pretty consistent with all my previous experiences.  But the longing, sense of grief, and edge of desire were much stronger with this one.  Overall, it somehow felt more “real” to me.  Probably simply because I am older, more self-aware, more confident, more ready for an experience that envelopes all of the qualities of love — strong desire, sustained intimacy, and responsibility or purposefulness.

I hope I fall in love again, I hope I fall in love with someone who loves me back.  But even if I don’t fall in love again or get what I want, this experience has been meaningful and worth it.  Although I hope I never fall in love with another student or otherwise unavailable person, it’s just too disappointing and painful.   My love for Jessica has been real, has been fun, but it hasn’t been real fun.

Thanks for listening…

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So, why didn’t I declare my love or at least my sexual/emotional attraction more clearly to Jessica?  Straight-forward question, complicated answer.  It was a delicate situation due to her recent status as a student of mine.

One part of the answer is I felt I did what I could, said what I could.  I waited until after the end of the semester, then emailed with the subtext of trying to start a conversation or identify any interest on her part.  I felt confident she knew of my attraction and interest, knew I was sort of knocking on the door, and replied with the subtext of “no thanks, i’m not available/interested.”  Considering she was a former student, it was probably most prudent for me to retain this level of discretion.  Therapist also reinforced this level of discretion, although we were discussing it when it was memory, not a current situation.

Also, I didn’t want to be offensive or pushy because I knew she was engaged, because I was her former teacher, because I don’t want to be intrusive in general.  As I’ve said, I really had to fight with myself not to contact her again after my last email.  I really wanted to, and went back and forth about it for 3-4 weeks.  But I didn’t want to freak her out, and I felt she had already said “no,” and…

…I was afraid.  Afraid of rejection, afraid of what she might have to say to me to get me to “get it.”  Afraid of hearing how she really felt, whatever that may have been. What did she really feel, or how did she really see me?  Did she think I was kind of interesting as a teacher, but really not sexually or romantically attractive ?  Did she think I was interesting as a teacher, and reasonably attractive, but she is sooo straight she could never see me in any other light?  Did she think it was cute that I was so nervous around her, but became offended or embarrassed when I hinted in emails and tried to start a conversation?  Would she have said something like “I had no idea you were interested, I didn’t realize I was staring at you so much.  I’m sorry and I didn’t mean to lead you on, but no, I’m really not interested, you’re not my type, I’m very happily engaged.  And to be honest, you’re a good teacher and I like you, but not my favorite teacher, I really liked {Professor Hot Guy}.”  Well, she probably wouldn’t have actually said the last one, but I bet it’s true nonetheless!

But all in all I wish I had talked with her, told her something.  Not necessarily that I was in love with her, but I wish we had had a conversation about what was going on, about how I felt, how she felt.  But I just wasn’t ready for it at the time.  I didn’t even allow myself to become fully conscious of my feelings until after the end of the semester, and the email exchanges seemed an awkward lead in at best to that type of conversation…I really wasn’t sure how she was reacting to the emails — positive, negative, neutral?  So, I let it go, and didn’t say anything, and now I wish I had…

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“The Mississippi’s mighty, but it starts in Minnesota, at a place you could walk across with five steps down…And I guess that’s how you started, like a pinprick to my heart, but now you rush right through me and I start to drown…”  Ghost, The Indigo Girls

So, when did it really start?  The first time I saw Jessica?  No.  The first time I spoke to her, or she to me?  No.  The first time I was really aware of being sexually attracted to her?  No, long before that.  The last month or so of class, when burgeoning self-awareness surfaced?  No, long before that.

It’s hard to identify when my feelings really began.  I mean, I can identify what I call the point of falling in love (Jessica just walking across the classroom, saying hi to me, and me becoming acutely aware of my attraction to her).  But I was not consciously aware of falling in love at the time, I only recognized being in love after the semester ended.  Looking back, I can identify that moment in time as a sort of falling over the edge of the cliff.

But I had felt the pull, or tug, of love for a long time before that.  I’ve begun thinking about when that love may have started, or at least when what eventually became love first began to pull on me.  Certainly, I felt it building during that whole semester, a sort of heightened interest in her, which of course I expressed by ignoring her.

Jessica was in another class of mine about two years prior to this one.  I don’t remember a whole lot from that class.  But I do recall feeling a sort of very low level pull toward her, just a barely perceptible heightened interest.  I remember a man in class who was interested in her, saying out loud in general “I’m not seeing anybody, how about you, Jessica?”  And she sort of widened her eyes, and said something like “Yes, I’ve been seeing someone for two years now.”  The guy goes “Oh….is it serious?” Jessica goes “Well, it’s sort of serious.  We’re not engaged or anything, but we’ve been living together for about two years.”  The guy said “oh”, looked disappointed.  I remember feeling such empathy for him and thinking to myself ouch, poor guy.  Later in the semester, or maybe earlier, I can’t quite remember, Jessica was talking about being at the Pride Parade and a student (it may have been the same guy, but I don’t know) goes “Jessica?  You’re gay?  Or bisexual?” and her eyes widened and turning away she said “Well, no, neither one actually…my boyfriend and I just like going, we think it’s fun!”  I felt amused and thought Well, she handled that pretty well. I remember when she nervously asked me about her topic for her paper, and I remember feeling kind of disappointed when she didn’t want my feedback on the paper after the end of class.  I pushed the disappointment away.  Individually, none of these recollections is particularly important or meaningful, but taken all together, I believe it indicates an interest in Jessica that I simply did not allow myself to be fully aware of.

In the next class, two years later, I barely remembered her.  Consciously.  But it’s funny to remember that even very early in the semester, I think around the third class meeting, Jessica was absent and I remember feeling kind of sad and wistful, and thinking I’m not going to see her today. I remember trying to talk with her before class and she kept referring to this other professor whom she clearly admired in more than one way, and I thought Ok, she doesn’t really seem to want to talk to me. When a conversation amongst a few students took place in front of me, and it became clear Jessica was engaged, I remember kind of thinking oh well, that’s that and feeling sad.  I remember sort following behind her like a puppy, going to a seminar, then apparently staring at her like a, well, like a lovestruck idiot, and others sort of noticing.  Then I noticed them noticing, and thought oh, was I staring?, felt embarrassed and looked down.  But again, I really wasn’t conscious of what I was doing, I was just doing it.  All of these thoughts were sort of conscious and unconscious at the same time.  I just wasn’t spending any time with them, didn’t put them together, didn’t allow myself to dwell on these thoughts and feelings at all.

Looking back, I can’t identify exactly when love started, only that it did start, and grew and grew and grew until it wasn’t containable anymore and spilled over and through my heart’s defenses.  What-would-become-love began with an imperceptible pinprick, then grew and grew, slowly and quietly but purposefully, until I fell over the edge and was truly fully in love.

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