not in love, but I’m in something.

Awhile ago I tweeted something that pops through my head often. I said “I’m not in love, but I’m in something.” Because I like a boy, but I am pretty sure he doesn’t like me. Do you know about Lucy and Schroeder? Sassy little Lucy van Pelt is smitten with Schroeder, even though he is pretty clear about not feeling the same way. The boy I like hasn’t (yet) expressed annoyance with me, but it doesn’t seem like he likes me.

So I went on a date. With a different boy.

Who was really great. We walked around for a few hours, talking about lots of different things. and he said we should have dinner sometime and I agreed and made note of how fantastic he was.

and I got in my car…. and I started comparing him to the boy I like. and that made me want to cry, because if this was a few months ago, I’d be over the moon. Gavin DeGraw captured it in song perfectly: “You’re amazing, I’m attracted, but I’m terribly distracted.”

I thought of something Madeleine L’Engle once said:

“It’s a strange thing, how you can love somebody, how you can be all eaten up inside with needing them–and they simply don’t need you. That’s all there is to it, and neither of you can do anything about it. And they’ll be the same way with someone else, and someone else will be the same way about you and it goes on and on–this desperate need–and only once in a rare million do the same two people need each other.”

It’s so true. and that first part of it sucks, that part about being all eaten up inside with needing someone who doesn’t need you.  But that last part seems to make it all worth it, the once in a rare million part.

I’m not in love. I’m in something. and I’m trying to pull myself out of it. Sigh.