Breadcrumbs

A dream - or a nightmare - made me think about some obsessive behavior over a guy in my adolescence. And I decided to write about it (The Tiny Apple is also about my heartfelt musings).

I woke up that morning feeling a little agitated and anxious. I could also say apprehensive. It was because of a little story that my brain had played in my mind while I was sleeping - also known as a dream or, perhaps, in this case, a nightmare would suit the description better. That whole action that took probably seconds in my mind, according to science, made me think for a couple of days about a lot of things. It was a dream about K. 

That dream - or nightmare - felt so real. But don't we all feel like these crazy stories we live through while we are sleeping are real? If we were aware of the lack of reality while dreaming, I'm pretty sure none of us would wake up feeling nostalgic, sad, angry, or even happy the next day - or perhaps in the middle of the night, when the storyline is abruptly interrupted. Sometimes I wonder if our brains are playing a game with us. 

---

Meet K. 

I was 17 years old when I came face to face with him in a dance club, on a Sunday night. He approached, and said something flattering about me, but nothing else happened. Through our quick chat, I learned he was a 20 something guy that lived in a town that was relatively close to my hometown in Southern Brazil. As a girl who had a lot of self esteem problems and had never been popular with boys, I immediately regretted not giving him a chance when I got home that night. Even considering he was not the prince charming. K. was tall, with dark black hair, and large shoulders - but I can't say he was super handsome. I remember being bothered by the fact his teeth were not completely aligned. This probably sounds awful - at the end of the day, we all know that someone's personality and character should be more important than the way they look. I'm not proud of judging a book by the cover, but since we're being honest here, I'm not gonna pretend I thought he was perfect. 

But destiny wanted us to see each other again, and that happened during another party, some months after our first encounter. Then, we finally kissed that night - in Brazil, when you are a young boy or girl, you go to parties, flirt, talk a bit and then you kiss - sometimes you don't even talk or flirt, just kiss. Could we blame the hormones for that? It's not official dating - there's no strings attached. You can possibly continue to see this person or maybe you will be kissing another boy in the next party. It's supposed to be fun and  casual. Nothing else. Let's be honest and reasonable here: no one should wish for a serious relationship during adolescence. We don't have the maturity to ask the right questions since most of us don't even know ourselves enough. Unfortunately, this is something we only learn as adults - and I assume our parents and other adults around us try to warn us about it, but the truth is we don't care enough. We think they don't know better than us. Then we grow up and we realize they were right. 

And, for reasons that are unknown or can be blamed on my innocence, I thought I should have a boyfriend. At that time, all my friends were "dating" someone, or had dated a boy at some point, while some of them were not even virgin anymore. And I was feeling left behind. Not because of my grades - or perhaps because of some kind of grade, but not the ones used at school. Looking back, I wonder how I could not wish for a boyfriend when I was reading teenage magazines where 80% of the content was around relationships. How could I not have desire when my body was going through an explosion of hormones? How could I possibly feel safe in my "single" status when everybody around me was seeking that and having that? If it's already hard not to feel judged by other people's opinions and living by your own values when you are an adult… I don't even know how to describe how hard it is when you are a teenager. Not that I was aware of my values at that time.

So, of course I didn't take it "casually" when I met K. And not because K. was perfect. It was just because he was the first guy that paid attention to me. He said the right things, gave me compliments, and made me feel special, desirable and wanted. He sounded… different. Or perhaps he really knew what to say. 

He even asked for my number. OMG, he asked for my number! 

I mean, it was not my number, it was my house's number, but he asked for it. Why do even ask for a girl's number if you have no intention to call her?

Of course he never called. And that should have ended there. But I waited for his call. I had hopes. And it's so clear to me today I should have forgotten about him. I wish I knew more about self-respect and self-love. If a guy asks for your number and never calls you, it's pretty clear that he is not that interested enough. That, alone, should be sufficient for you not to pay attention to him anymore. If he doesn't care about you, why should you care about him? 

Some weeks after our first "date" during that party, K. and I had another encounter and then it happened. I had officially started to fall for him. It was not that K. was an extraordinary guy. He wasn't also a bad guy. He was just a guy that had a great conversation, wore a great perfume, and was somewhat cute. And the fact he was also older than the other boys I was around, made me feel special.

"I don't care about you anymore, I have K. K. likes me, he is special and more experient" - I would think when I saw my ex-crushes. 

But 20 years ago, dating was way different than it's today. The world was different. There was no internet, calls were expensive and cellphones were a luxury. And because of that, and because K. lived in another town - and because he didn't care enough, let's face it - I never knew when I was going to see him. It was not like he would call me to catch up or make plans - I was totally blind in that "relationship" - a "relationship" that only existed in my mind. At some point, I really felt like we were going somewhere. Until he told me he would be leaving soon to work and live in another state. It was like the earth was opening under my feet and I was falling. I couldn't believe it. I was going to lose what took me so long to get it. 

"Why? Why does it have to be this way?"- the question became a routine in my mind. 

If this story was a fairytale, K. would have gone away, but we would talk every week. He would be back eventually and we would be together and happily ever after. But fairy tales don't exist. Happy endings may happen here and there, but K. was not emotionally involved and invested as I was. 

And then he eventually left - not before saying he would come to my high school graduation party and never showed up, which led me to not enjoying the party I had spent months helping to plan and even crying at the end of the night. I remember feeling so miserable. He didn't even call me to say congrats or sorry. When I decided to call him and ask what happened, he just told me he couldn't find a ride (and it didn't really sound like he cared enough). 

And that could have ended there, again. But I didn't have self respect or self love, remember? So, of course we saw each other two or three times - and I also bought him a really expensive Bon Jovi CD as a birthday gift and gave it to him over our last date. Those last times we saw each other were really special. I remember the butterflies in my stomach while walking around holding hands at the beach town we were both spending the weekend at. We went out during the night and had drinks and long conversations. 

Perhaps because the last date felt so special, I then felt comfortable calling him one last time before he left and humiliated myself by begging to see him one last time. He was so cold over that call.

"Forget about it, it's not gonna work" - he would tell me over the phone, while I was literally desperate for his attention. 

K. left. And that could have ended there. 

I was starting preparatory classes for the exams to be accepted at the university (that's how things work in Brazil) and I had to focus on my studies. 

But three months after K. left, he called me. It was a Sunday afternoon, a gray Fall day in Southern Brazil. I was watching a movie laying down on the sofa, covered by a cozy blanket, when the phone rang. I didn't even check the caller ID of the house phone. A modernity that I was obsessed with - it was so cool to know who was calling before picking up the phone or even knew who had called when you were not home. 

"Hello?" - I said.

"Hello!" - said the voice on the other side of the line that I recognized immediately. 

Suddenly, the butterflies on my stomach were back. Pink, orange, purple and red butterflies. Those same butterflies that had been sleeping for months, the ones I had forgotten about, because they had been replaced by a storm in my anxious mind. Now, these butterflies were partying in my belly, and the storm in my head was over and gave place to a sparkling and beautiful rainbow while my heart was beating so fast that it felt like I was in a race. Isn't cringely amazing to be in love with someone?

Why did K. call me back? I still wonder. Did he really like me? Did he really miss me? It took another 9 long months for us to see each other again, when he came back home for a few weeks while on vacation. No, I didn't properly "wait" for K. during these months. He would call me here and there and I dated other boys. I was finally enjoying my "freedom" as a "single". I guess being out of the school environment was really good for me. I know some people are nostalgic about that period of your life when you go to school - but I guess these same people never had bullying issues or rejection problems. I don't miss that period of my life, neither those people. Period. 

The night of our reencounter was a special one. It was not preplanned, but I think he mentioned he would be there, so it was a date. It was a concert from one of my favorite bands, Nenhum de Nós. Their songs - along with the songs from other bands I used to listen to - were the soundtrack of my adolescence. While writing this piece, I decided to look for one of the songs on Youtube. The song that translated everything I felt during that whole story. The video quality is bad - but what matters here is the song. Oh gosh, those initial chords are so familiar. When the lyrics start, I get goosebumps and chills. Wait, are my eyes watery? 

Why didn't you say you were coming?

Just now that I had healed from the wounds

You opened when you left

Why did you arrive without warning?

I wanted time to prepare

With clean clothes, an organized house

And a fake smile to deceive

I don't understand your return

I don't understand your indecision

One day I'm your great love

The next day I'm not

Why the surprise of your return?

Just when I'm trying a new life

You come to ask if everything I felt is over

You even seem like an addiction

That is almost impossible to quit

It requires a lot of sacrifice

And when I considered myself clean

Here you come to offer me more

Perhaps that date was our best date ever so far. There was nor certainty about another date or even the future. And what happened in the past was just… in the past. So all we had was that night and some hours together, while my favorite songs were played live in the background. No, we didn't have sex in case you are wondering. I was too "traditional" - or perhaps afraid of people's judgment - to have casual sex with a guy that wasn't officially committed to me. 

Shortly after that, I moved to another town - still in the area - to start college, and K. would text me almost every day, with love and cringy notes. "I miss you" was a constant in his messages. It went like this for months - until he completely disappeared. Later I discovered he was dating another girl back in the other state. 

And that should have ended there. 

But, it didn't. Before you feel sorry for me - or call me stupid - let me reiterate that I thought it was, indeed, over. He had moved on. Although I can't say it was something nice to do. You know, I think the world would be a better place if people were more emotionally responsible. Though I guess I was expecting too much from a guy considering his past behaviors. 

I lived my life. I dated other guys, I had my heart broken, I went to parties, I got drunk. But one day, during a party, his sister, who was someone I'd encounter constantly - and would usually share good and bad news about him, dropped the bomb. 

"K. is moving back!" - she told me, in some exciting voice. It had been what? 8 months since we had the best date together? 

The storm was back in my head. Or were perhaps the butterflies? I wasn't happy but I wasn't sad either. I guess I was desperate. Desperate to realize that maybe I still had feelings for him - or it may be that I was afraid of seeing him and figuring I still had feelings for him. Or it was possibly my fear of rejection. It was easier to deal with him far away from me - but how would I deal with him nearby, living his life? I also believe that part of me now was hopeful. If in the past what prevented us from staying together was the fact he had moved away, now that distance was not a problem anymore there was nothing preventing us from trying again. 

My first encounter with K. when I saw him again was embarrassing. My brain played a lot of scenarios for that night - except for the one where he would say hi and would move on. The rejection, besides being sad, is also humiliating. We were in a loud party, so I grabbed him by his arm and went outside and just vomited my words and my frustrations towards him. Honestly, I don't even recall what I possibly had told him, but I do remember him saying we could be friends.

"I DON'T WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND!" - I yelled at him.

Some months went by, I saw K. with another girl - a scene that I didn't want to believe and, for a while, I kept asking myself if that had really happened. Games that our brain plays with us in order to protect us from the pain? And some weeks later, during another party, K. approached me for the last time. Why did I listen to him? Well, remember: my lack of self-respect was humongous. So, we stayed together that night but I barely remember anything, cause it felt he was more focused on having something he didn't achieve until that moment rather than spending a good time and fixing things. But he didn't get what he wanted. I guess I had some self respect at least. I wished I had his self-esteem though, cause that's the only explanation for a guy trying so hard like he was trying and believing he was gonna get it after his previous behaviors towards me. 

One thing I do remember is that we made plans that night. We would see each other in a week, at another party. It was a date. I don't know if he mentioned he would call the next day - he probably did, but he wasn't good with keeping his promises. So, I wasn't that disappointed when he didn't call. I was expecting that. I was satisfied with those breadcrumbs. Was I really tired of that whole situation and telling myself that was the last chance? Consciously, no, but I wonder if that was happening in my subconscious. Was my battery - I  mean, tolerance - running low? Was my self-love getting bigger and stronger?

I was excited for that date one week later. It was a new beginning. It felt like a new beginning. A new chapter, at least. A new season. The season when everything is fixed. The happily ever after. I arrived at the party around 11h30 pm. One hour later, I spotted him. I smiled and I approached, I said hi. 

He didn't kiss me. He was… odd. 

Wait… is he… ignoring me? 

He was so weird. 

He was cold. 

There were no smiles on his face. 

That suddenly became so uncomfortable. It was the rejection. And the embarrassment of feeling rejected. Like every single person around us was seeing that scene. Suddenly, my self-respect was finally able to make some room in my mind, cleaning that storm and telling the butterflies in my stomach to shut the f* up. 

"Don't you remember what we talked about last week?" - I asked him seriously, with no smile on my face. "I can't play the good girl now" - I thought. 

“No, I don't” - he answered like he didn't care, barely looking at me. 

“Ok” - I said.

I don't know what happened at that moment, but I just shut all the hopes in my head, I turned and I left. I didn't say "bye", or "thank you", or "enjoy the party". That party was over for me, so I just went home. 

I wasn't sad. I was mad. But I was also tired. But, at least, I didn't drop a single tear that night. 

One or two months later, during a weekday afternoon, my phone rang. It was him. He called me not once, but twice or perhaps three times. And I never picked up the phone.

"Tomorrow or the day after; it doesn't matter if after means never again". I think I could use these lyrics here as well. It's from another song by Nenhum de Nós. 

---

I don't have strong memories of that dream. I just remember that I was at some event or party while waiting for K.. And what I felt in that moment was the same feeling I had 90% of the time of my story with him: anxiety. Fear of abandonment. Fear of rejection. I never knew if I would see him, or when I was going to see him.I never really knew if he was serious about me. And in those seconds during that dream I felt everything again. That storm in my head. That lack of faith. I was waiting for him but I wasn't sure he would come until the last minute. Until he shows up. And then I woke up. 

The reason why I got apprehensive for days after that dream was not me missing K. Not at all. I don't know a lot about his life, but the little I knew was enough to make me realize that my life would have taken a completely different path if we had "worked out". I don't think we have the same values. But what got me reflective about this story was not K. but my behavior through him. K. was not the one. He was not special. He just happened to be the first guy who paid attention to me, a girl who had serious issues with self image during high school, a girl who was not popular among boys, a girl who was extremely insecure and, perhaps, extremely emotionally needy, someone seeking affection. If I started to name all the boys that I "dated" and I fell in love with, they all have something in common: none of them was emotionally available. 

While I was so desperately seeking for love outside I completely forgot to seek self-love in the first place. I was content with the first guy that looked at me. I was happy with the breadcrumbs.