Head over Heels
Let me tell you the story of the first time I ever fell in love.
I'm one of those people who believes that love is an omnipotent, all spanning universal thing. It disregards gender, race, family, background, financial status, intelligence, academic history, jobs, anything, if it is truly love. Love to me is unconditional. You don't just kind of love someone or something, and you don't just kind of love one thing about that someone or something. You love them in their entirety for what they are, taking into account all their flaws and misgivings, and fights and problems you may have had, and you still love them. Being in love is not just going on dates, or kissing, or having sex or being "facebook official". It's being able to sit with them without doing anything; their company being enough a joy on its own. It's smiling whenever you think about them, being happy whenever you see them, and being excited to get to be with them again, even if you've only been away for a few minutes.
Her name was Micaela. She went by MJ most of the time, but I called her a lot of things. I first saw her in 7th grade, working on the school play. She was working the curtains, drawing during the scenes. I had to move set pieces in between scenes, so I was hanging out back stage waiting for my cue. I don't really remember what they were that she was drawing (and actually, when I asked her a couple years later, she didn't remember either) , but I remember they were some kind of animal, with pointy muzzles and some kind of mane. But the point of the matter was she was very elegant in the way she drew. Just a few light scratches of her pencil, in long flowing lines, and drawings appeared. She would go in and add all these tiny details on the teeth and eyes and ears, quickly lending so much character and texture to these sketches. And then she would just boredly flip to the next page and start a new one.
As a just budding artist at the time, I was in complete awe. This was also my stupid emo-preteen phase where I refused to ever talk to anyone, so I sat a few feet away from her in a line of other stage crew kids, watching her draw.
She was a year older than me, so she left to move up to the high school before I did. I wouldn't see her again until my freshman year when I started playing hockey. I was dumbstruck to see her name on that jersey in the first practice. I didn't even really know how to pronounce it, I just recognized it immediately. (The first thing she ever said to me was that I had my skates tied wrong, and then brought me to the coach to have them re-lace correctly and tied again. She was so cheerful about it. In fact, she practically oozed enthusiasm about everything, no matter what it was. Just...life. Life and light. That's what was always around her.) The first time I tried to talk to her, I remember asking a mutual friend of ours what kind of person she was. All I got as a description was "She's pretty mellow. Just say something." I knew she like anime. I definitely knew she liked Naruto (she wore one of those headbands as a necklace a lot), which was just fantastic for me, because I fucking loved that series.
I wasn't in love yet. Just a shy kid who didn't know anyone trying to make friends with someone I remember admiring.
I screwed that up pretty fast. I guess I just asked the wrong question, because she immediately few into a short rant over one of the characters. I tried to just chuckle and say "Oh, huh." I don't think I ever opened my mouth in the locker room again.
Things got better the next year. Maybe it was just the way the team changed, losing and gaining players, or maybe it was just that we saw each other more often in school, or we saw each other through friends, I don't know. We started talking more. I didn't fuck up this time. We eventually became D-partners (which, for those of you who don't know anything about hockey, means that we are always out on the ice together, as the two defense men out of the five skaters. We would also then automatically be paired up for drills.) If we hadn't been spending time together before, we sure as hell did then. We carpooled, we hung out before and after practice. We had our own greetings and handshakes and inside jokes. We didn't have to talk to get things done on the ice. We were a team, and we did good together. She started calling me 'Cuz', because she called the goalie her 'sister' and I made a joke about being left out. It became more than just a nickname. We practically were family after that.
This all started with art. We eventually had an art class together too. God, I loved that class so much. I didn't learn anything I didn't already know, and the pacing of the class was slow, and the selection of supplies was awful, and both the students and the teachers were disengaging, and it wouldn't get me anywhere. But I had with MJ. That was enough of a reason to look forward to it every day. We shared an art drawer and sat next to each other. Our projects played off of each other. We left stupid notes and drawings and cartoons stuck around the room. We made each other stuff. We helped each other whenever the other needed another pair of hands. Everything we did was symbiotic. Me and MJ. My other half.
She had all these stupid little quirks I kept picking up on, and I adored them. The stupid sound effects she made while working, the way her voice bounced when she said things, the way her hair fell around her face when she smiled, the way she talked, the way she sang, the way her voice dropped when she was about to say something something inappropriate (and the absolutely ridiculous inappropriate things she said and did), the way she danced, the way she skated. I could probably go on forever talking about the things I liked about her.
I still wasn't in love yet. It wasn't until the summer that it happened.
We hung out nearly every single day. I could walk to her house from my own, so I did. We went to the mall, and watched movies and played Super Smash Bros. Brawl, and went to buy candy at the little store down the street from her neighborhood. We both had Season Passes to Six Flags, and we went almost every weekend. I don't think I've ever had as much fun there in all the times I went previously than I did when I went with her. Waiting in line and sitting around was more fun than the rides. We went to Chicago Comic Con together. It was probably the best day of my life at that point. Every minute that I spent with her was amazing. I never regretting hanging out with her. I never didn't like the idea of going to hang out with her.
Now here's what makes it love, and not just a best friend:
MJ was a manipulative, compulsive liar, cheater and a thief.
I didn't find out about the thief part until pretty far into our friendship, but I knew she was a liar off the bat. A lot of kids on the hockey team complained about the ridiculous stories she told, without proof, or the way she avoided ever letting someone else in on the truth, by say, actually allowing them to talk to the other people that were involved. One of them even pulled me aside and warned me when we started becoming friends. I shrugged and said 'Yeah, I know.' But did I? Did I know that she was lying and just smilin'n'nodding so she had someone to dump all the lies on, or did I actually believe her? She lied to everyone, friends, family, teachers, strangers. She lied about some of the stupidest things. But for some reason, I didn't mind. I looked past it. Telling absurd stories about having a blacklight tattoo, or going to Las Vegas and partying with Criss Angel didn't hurt anyone, right? Certainly leas of all me. So I listened, and smiled, and nodded, and I kept hanging out with her. And then her lies started getting to me.
She would lie about being grounded, or where she was in town, or who she was with, and what she was doing when I asked to hang out. She would lie about why she would be late, and what she was doing for the weekend, and then change those lies in nearly the same sentence. She would make and break plans with me regularly, show up from out of nowhere to do things we never said we were going to, or disappear when we had meant to do something for weeks. She was so cheerful about it. And I still kept hanging out with her. No matter how many times she let me down, or blew me off, or lied to me, the time I got to spend with her was worth any of the disappointment she could throw at me. And she would apologize sometimes. She would say she was sorry, and she felt awful, and that she would make it up to me somehow. Sometimes that was showing up out of nowhere to take me out. Sometimes she bought me knickknacks I had wanted. But she would apologize and I would jump right back in. I had been in a relationship like that before, the first time my heart got broken by my best friend. I knew that this was a bad place to be in, that this was not a person worth investing time in, but I loved her. I loved her like family, like a best friend, and more. I loved everything about her, lies and all. Maybe even more because of the lies, if you believed a few of them.
I would do anything for her. I would go at the drop of a hat to be with her, and I would wait endlessly for another chance to do so, no matter how many times she canceled on me last minute (or even canceled without telling me at all).
Even when I found out she was two timing a handful of boys. Even when I found out she drank somewhat regularly. Even when I found out she was a thief.
See, she would do art commissions. She also made things. Clay things, fabric things, jewelry things. She lied to me often enough about what she was actually making or who it was for or how much she was getting for it. She would lie about how she made it to people, or where she got it from. And she would lie about whenever she was having 'trouble' shipping it, or was too busy to finish it that week, or it got lost in the mail, or they only paid for this, and not this.
I still looked past it. I still believed so many of the lies. I still defended her from others.
I still loved her.
You know, there were these times she would jokingly lean in to kiss me during hockey. She would just say "Let's make out" and grab the back of my helmet, bump cages with me and the skate away. I would've kissed her (I think I was bi-curious at this point because of her. Maybe I still am. Sexuality. How does it work. :| ) I told her once while we were waiting for a freight train (over 200 cars long, I remember), that she was my first girl crush. She laughed and said "Aww, that's so sweet of you~!" I just kind of blushed and dint' say anything else until the train had finally gone by. I don't remember how I took that comment. But I bet there was something there that should've told me she didn't actually give a shit. And that was the way I should've took it.
When she graduated and went off to college, she forgot about me. She forgot about me for a long time. She didn't reply to my messages. You have no idea how happy I was to finally hear back from her. And I asked her if she was going to keep all the promises she made about coming back for ComicCon, and long weekends, and we would get to do all the stuff we used to do in the summer when she came back.
And then she started lying to me again. She made excuses for everything, and fed me bogus stories of why she couldn't come back (which eventually just devolved into the simple fact that she just didn't want to).
And I still loved her. I was pining, and I knew it. My friends knew it. My mom knew it. They all told me that MJ wasn't worth it. She was a bad friend. They didn't know that I was in love with her (And I'm pretty sure that none of them do now either, except for one, whom I told directly. He and I don't talk very often anyway).
Then I found out that she had stolen artwork from a friend of mine and tried to make money off it. My world shattered around me. I was absolutely furious, and I saw the proof with my own eyes, and I still couldn't believe that it was real. I believed so many things without any evidence what so ever, but when it was right there, on my computer screen, even if my brain comprehended everything, my heart didn't. That's what made me finally cut all ties with her.
It's been a couple years since I stopped talking to her. She hasn't tried to talk to me at all since, either. Sometimes I still pick up those cut ties and I play with the frayed ends, thinking about tying them back together. I know my friends would give me a smack in the face if I ever said that, and I would gladly do it to myself too, but I just want back what we I had. I want to be with someone who can make me happy no matter what, who I feel safe and sure of myself around. But it can't be her, and I haven't found anyone else to replace her yet.
Maybe because I'm still in love. Maybe because I'm still pining. I just don't know.
Love.
How does it work?
I'm one of those people who believes that love is an omnipotent, all spanning universal thing. It disregards gender, race, family, background, financial status, intelligence, academic history, jobs, anything, if it is truly love. Love to me is unconditional. You don't just kind of love someone or something, and you don't just kind of love one thing about that someone or something. You love them in their entirety for what they are, taking into account all their flaws and misgivings, and fights and problems you may have had, and you still love them. Being in love is not just going on dates, or kissing, or having sex or being "facebook official". It's being able to sit with them without doing anything; their company being enough a joy on its own. It's smiling whenever you think about them, being happy whenever you see them, and being excited to get to be with them again, even if you've only been away for a few minutes.
Her name was Micaela. She went by MJ most of the time, but I called her a lot of things. I first saw her in 7th grade, working on the school play. She was working the curtains, drawing during the scenes. I had to move set pieces in between scenes, so I was hanging out back stage waiting for my cue. I don't really remember what they were that she was drawing (and actually, when I asked her a couple years later, she didn't remember either) , but I remember they were some kind of animal, with pointy muzzles and some kind of mane. But the point of the matter was she was very elegant in the way she drew. Just a few light scratches of her pencil, in long flowing lines, and drawings appeared. She would go in and add all these tiny details on the teeth and eyes and ears, quickly lending so much character and texture to these sketches. And then she would just boredly flip to the next page and start a new one.
As a just budding artist at the time, I was in complete awe. This was also my stupid emo-preteen phase where I refused to ever talk to anyone, so I sat a few feet away from her in a line of other stage crew kids, watching her draw.
She was a year older than me, so she left to move up to the high school before I did. I wouldn't see her again until my freshman year when I started playing hockey. I was dumbstruck to see her name on that jersey in the first practice. I didn't even really know how to pronounce it, I just recognized it immediately. (The first thing she ever said to me was that I had my skates tied wrong, and then brought me to the coach to have them re-lace correctly and tied again. She was so cheerful about it. In fact, she practically oozed enthusiasm about everything, no matter what it was. Just...life. Life and light. That's what was always around her.) The first time I tried to talk to her, I remember asking a mutual friend of ours what kind of person she was. All I got as a description was "She's pretty mellow. Just say something." I knew she like anime. I definitely knew she liked Naruto (she wore one of those headbands as a necklace a lot), which was just fantastic for me, because I fucking loved that series.
I wasn't in love yet. Just a shy kid who didn't know anyone trying to make friends with someone I remember admiring.
I screwed that up pretty fast. I guess I just asked the wrong question, because she immediately few into a short rant over one of the characters. I tried to just chuckle and say "Oh, huh." I don't think I ever opened my mouth in the locker room again.
Things got better the next year. Maybe it was just the way the team changed, losing and gaining players, or maybe it was just that we saw each other more often in school, or we saw each other through friends, I don't know. We started talking more. I didn't fuck up this time. We eventually became D-partners (which, for those of you who don't know anything about hockey, means that we are always out on the ice together, as the two defense men out of the five skaters. We would also then automatically be paired up for drills.) If we hadn't been spending time together before, we sure as hell did then. We carpooled, we hung out before and after practice. We had our own greetings and handshakes and inside jokes. We didn't have to talk to get things done on the ice. We were a team, and we did good together. She started calling me 'Cuz', because she called the goalie her 'sister' and I made a joke about being left out. It became more than just a nickname. We practically were family after that.
This all started with art. We eventually had an art class together too. God, I loved that class so much. I didn't learn anything I didn't already know, and the pacing of the class was slow, and the selection of supplies was awful, and both the students and the teachers were disengaging, and it wouldn't get me anywhere. But I had with MJ. That was enough of a reason to look forward to it every day. We shared an art drawer and sat next to each other. Our projects played off of each other. We left stupid notes and drawings and cartoons stuck around the room. We made each other stuff. We helped each other whenever the other needed another pair of hands. Everything we did was symbiotic. Me and MJ. My other half.
She had all these stupid little quirks I kept picking up on, and I adored them. The stupid sound effects she made while working, the way her voice bounced when she said things, the way her hair fell around her face when she smiled, the way she talked, the way she sang, the way her voice dropped when she was about to say something something inappropriate (and the absolutely ridiculous inappropriate things she said and did), the way she danced, the way she skated. I could probably go on forever talking about the things I liked about her.
I still wasn't in love yet. It wasn't until the summer that it happened.
We hung out nearly every single day. I could walk to her house from my own, so I did. We went to the mall, and watched movies and played Super Smash Bros. Brawl, and went to buy candy at the little store down the street from her neighborhood. We both had Season Passes to Six Flags, and we went almost every weekend. I don't think I've ever had as much fun there in all the times I went previously than I did when I went with her. Waiting in line and sitting around was more fun than the rides. We went to Chicago Comic Con together. It was probably the best day of my life at that point. Every minute that I spent with her was amazing. I never regretting hanging out with her. I never didn't like the idea of going to hang out with her.
Now here's what makes it love, and not just a best friend:
MJ was a manipulative, compulsive liar, cheater and a thief.
I didn't find out about the thief part until pretty far into our friendship, but I knew she was a liar off the bat. A lot of kids on the hockey team complained about the ridiculous stories she told, without proof, or the way she avoided ever letting someone else in on the truth, by say, actually allowing them to talk to the other people that were involved. One of them even pulled me aside and warned me when we started becoming friends. I shrugged and said 'Yeah, I know.' But did I? Did I know that she was lying and just smilin'n'nodding so she had someone to dump all the lies on, or did I actually believe her? She lied to everyone, friends, family, teachers, strangers. She lied about some of the stupidest things. But for some reason, I didn't mind. I looked past it. Telling absurd stories about having a blacklight tattoo, or going to Las Vegas and partying with Criss Angel didn't hurt anyone, right? Certainly leas of all me. So I listened, and smiled, and nodded, and I kept hanging out with her. And then her lies started getting to me.
She would lie about being grounded, or where she was in town, or who she was with, and what she was doing when I asked to hang out. She would lie about why she would be late, and what she was doing for the weekend, and then change those lies in nearly the same sentence. She would make and break plans with me regularly, show up from out of nowhere to do things we never said we were going to, or disappear when we had meant to do something for weeks. She was so cheerful about it. And I still kept hanging out with her. No matter how many times she let me down, or blew me off, or lied to me, the time I got to spend with her was worth any of the disappointment she could throw at me. And she would apologize sometimes. She would say she was sorry, and she felt awful, and that she would make it up to me somehow. Sometimes that was showing up out of nowhere to take me out. Sometimes she bought me knickknacks I had wanted. But she would apologize and I would jump right back in. I had been in a relationship like that before, the first time my heart got broken by my best friend. I knew that this was a bad place to be in, that this was not a person worth investing time in, but I loved her. I loved her like family, like a best friend, and more. I loved everything about her, lies and all. Maybe even more because of the lies, if you believed a few of them.
I would do anything for her. I would go at the drop of a hat to be with her, and I would wait endlessly for another chance to do so, no matter how many times she canceled on me last minute (or even canceled without telling me at all).
Even when I found out she was two timing a handful of boys. Even when I found out she drank somewhat regularly. Even when I found out she was a thief.
See, she would do art commissions. She also made things. Clay things, fabric things, jewelry things. She lied to me often enough about what she was actually making or who it was for or how much she was getting for it. She would lie about how she made it to people, or where she got it from. And she would lie about whenever she was having 'trouble' shipping it, or was too busy to finish it that week, or it got lost in the mail, or they only paid for this, and not this.
I still looked past it. I still believed so many of the lies. I still defended her from others.
I still loved her.
You know, there were these times she would jokingly lean in to kiss me during hockey. She would just say "Let's make out" and grab the back of my helmet, bump cages with me and the skate away. I would've kissed her (I think I was bi-curious at this point because of her. Maybe I still am. Sexuality. How does it work. :| ) I told her once while we were waiting for a freight train (over 200 cars long, I remember), that she was my first girl crush. She laughed and said "Aww, that's so sweet of you~!" I just kind of blushed and dint' say anything else until the train had finally gone by. I don't remember how I took that comment. But I bet there was something there that should've told me she didn't actually give a shit. And that was the way I should've took it.
When she graduated and went off to college, she forgot about me. She forgot about me for a long time. She didn't reply to my messages. You have no idea how happy I was to finally hear back from her. And I asked her if she was going to keep all the promises she made about coming back for ComicCon, and long weekends, and we would get to do all the stuff we used to do in the summer when she came back.
And then she started lying to me again. She made excuses for everything, and fed me bogus stories of why she couldn't come back (which eventually just devolved into the simple fact that she just didn't want to).
And I still loved her. I was pining, and I knew it. My friends knew it. My mom knew it. They all told me that MJ wasn't worth it. She was a bad friend. They didn't know that I was in love with her (And I'm pretty sure that none of them do now either, except for one, whom I told directly. He and I don't talk very often anyway).
Then I found out that she had stolen artwork from a friend of mine and tried to make money off it. My world shattered around me. I was absolutely furious, and I saw the proof with my own eyes, and I still couldn't believe that it was real. I believed so many things without any evidence what so ever, but when it was right there, on my computer screen, even if my brain comprehended everything, my heart didn't. That's what made me finally cut all ties with her.
It's been a couple years since I stopped talking to her. She hasn't tried to talk to me at all since, either. Sometimes I still pick up those cut ties and I play with the frayed ends, thinking about tying them back together. I know my friends would give me a smack in the face if I ever said that, and I would gladly do it to myself too, but I just want back what we I had. I want to be with someone who can make me happy no matter what, who I feel safe and sure of myself around. But it can't be her, and I haven't found anyone else to replace her yet.
Maybe because I'm still in love. Maybe because I'm still pining. I just don't know.
Love.
How does it work?