Sunday, February 20, 2011

love, loss, hope, repeat.


It's funny how your heart works.

You meet someone. You two click -- he makes your knees weak just by looking at you, or is as passionate about cheese and wine as you are, or hates Olivia Munn the same way you do. He does yoga, or shares the same deep faith you do, or has a career that makes you admire him. He makes you laugh, or can talk politics, or just makes you feel a bit more alive. Basically, he does something right. And maybe you start to think hey, this one might be *the one.*

But then something goes wrong. He learns to like Olivia Munn, or decides to change career paths, or just becomes lactose intolerant. He does something wrong, or he stops doing something right, or maybe it's even your fault. Whatever it was, you've stopped feeling alive when you're together. You go your separate ways.

It doesn't happen every time, but maybe this time you're heartbroken. You eat a lot of ice cream, or you stay in bed for a week, or you go out and drink a lot. You do whatever it takes to get him off your mind, to make you stop feeling like you're drowning in your heartbreak. Eventually, the immediate pain fades, but then you're left feeling bitter and empty. You swear off dating for a while, or maybe you even swear off dating forever.

You do your own thing. You realize you don't need someone else around to hate Olivia Munn, or to still enjoy your yoga classes, or to feel alive. Slowly, you remember how to be happy on your own. You stop drinking as much, you start to laugh again, maybe you rescind your decision to never date again ever.

Then, one day, seemingly out of no where, you notice someone. Maybe it's the guy that's always at Starbucks at the same time as you every morning, or he sits down next to you in class, or you meet randomly on a plane. Maybe it's someone you've always been friends with, but something has changed.

You're hesitant, but a long talk over coffee, or a few sweet text messages, or a grand gesture make you think that maybe you shouldn't brush this one off. He doesn't do any of the same things the other guy did -- he doesn't do yoga, or would always pick beer over wine, or is apathetic to politics. But he has a lot of dogs, or agrees that Jon Stewart hosts better interviews than Stephen Colbert, or is incredibly invested in the volunteer work he does. And it turns out that you think those things are good too.

Without even consciously deciding it, you allow your heart to open just a little bit. You're not head over heels yet, but there's a little flutter of something there, and you find yourself thinking that maybe you could try at least one more time.

Love, loss, hope, repeat.


  1. I know only too well what that's like, and this is one of the best ways that I've seen it described. Totally reminds me of (500) Days, and it's that last part, the "repeat," that makes me continue to have a blind hope about the concept of love, much like Tom. I'll never become jaded, because who would want to live a life like that?

    Great post, I really enjoyed reading it, and especially got a kick out of your hatred for Olivia Munn. :)

  2. ah i know how this is all too well.. im trying to get past the first part again.

  3. i'm not to the repeat stage yet, but someday maybe.

    this post touched a special place in my heart though.


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