Establishing a relationship is, at best, difficult and at worst, impossible. Because relationships are generally of primary significance regarding one's happiness or lack thereof, they are elemental to life. Unfortunately, there is no prescribed formula pertaining to flawless success in relationships, and one is left to mimic the designs wrought by others or resort to one's own intuition. Without a doubt, life is hard. . . barring any drastic handicaps with which one is born.
There are those who yearn for youth and pine forgotten tatters of memory, yet I would not choose to relive the pangs of childhood and relearn the expectations of society. I recall too well the ill-chosen words which sprang from my tongue, the unintended regrets which stemmed from an unimpeded glance or action, and the troublesome problems whose solutions, though somehow problems in themselves, would have been solved likewise had the identical factors been presented a second time. With regret I remember instances which haunt my recollections, though long passed; there was a boy in church who nervously asked if I would be "his girl"…and through my pitiful degree of shyness, never gave a reply; and the homecoming dance, my first and only formal function, in which I was so utterly nerve-stricken that I was unable to pin the boutonniere on my date, to eat my dinner, to speak cordially on even the most trivial and insignificant subjects. I remember the disappointment which accompanied my first attempt to secure a "date."
Oct. 27, 1977… I want to ask Scott to go on the hayrack ride.
Everyone is really pressuring me.
Oct. 28, 1977… I asked Scott today…I followed him to his locker and asked. He said that he was having one on the same night and he'd let me know. Oh, I sure hope he comes.
Oct. 30, 1977… Hayrack was tonight, but I didn't go. Scott never even called.
Filtering through my memories are also the times in which I was asked on a date and for reasons of my own, chose to refuse the invitation. I tried to say "no" without hurting, for I knew how difficult it was to pose such questions, and the way in which a reply was given could either demean, depress, or simply disappoint. Being asked on a date is a compliment, no matter how distastefully one might view his "suitor."
My dating career was short-lived, as I began to view romance in a highly cynical manner, having found little in the way of true happiness while "playing the field." I had difficulty enough when I dated one person at a time. Moreover, I was unable to bear the pretense which accompanied romance; I had little of the "romantic" in my personality, and if I played a farce, I knew it would reveal itself in time. It would be more appropriate, I resolved, to always be myself and thereby avoid a later explanation of my mistaken identity.
With my indifference toward romance came an amplified emphasis on friendship, for it alone seemed real. Platonic relationships had no intrinsic pressures or expectations such as the obligatory kiss after a "date"; a touch, if given at all, was supportive, not demanding.
I loved talking with people and tried to treat everyone in a like manner. Most of my friends were of the male gender. As always, I was better understood and enjoyed for my humor by guys and felt more comfortable in such company. Generally this was no problem, however, I found certain people so delightful that occasionally one of them would mistake my enthusiasm as being more than simply platonic in nature, and not desiring my supposedly romantic inclinations, would begin avoiding me. Eventually I would realize I had indulged in one too many smiles or had been too energetically involved in the conversation, and to solve the misunderstanding without damaging an ego, I would ignore the individual completely for several days. When my staccatoed lack of interest toward him finally obliterated his illusion of my deep feelings, he would resume friendly interaction. It was a rather humorous chain of events, but one that yielded favorable results. As long as misunderstandings are possible, I find it comforting to know that at least some have the potential to be corrected with relative ease.
Since stability was one of my higher prerogatives, I continued dating one guy rather exclusively, especially toward the latter portion of my senior year. However as he bested my age by a year, he was away at college, coming home only once each month. Having to reaquaint ourselves every visit, the resulting relationship was hard to maintain and wrought havoc on my emotions far more than I had ever expected. I see-sawed between that which I desired the relationship to be and what it was. I battled between saving the enjoyable friendship at the expense of an uncertain romance. Although I cared for him, it was not the type or degree of caring which should have been associated with our relationship. Therefore, I often asked myself the validity of the entire affair. At times the gulf between us was so great that distance was welcomed because it secured our friendship. I did not have the furtitude to put an end to our psychedelic relationship, for I was easily cornered by his overt persuasiveness and flow of rhetoric, which smothered my ability to think or listen to myself. Moreover, for better or worse, the relationship provided me with a sense of protection and an excuse to refuse other dates. Thus, the relationship continued, despite its flaws, interwoven with other memories and dreams.