Rejection: A Broken Heart's Education

It's Valentine's Day, so I want to write about love, specifically when it isn't mutual. Don't worry though, this isn't a bitter anti-Valentine's Day post. This is about about when unrequited love teaches you something, which—spoiler alert—can be every single time. (Get it? Single time? Haha.)

I've been, for lack of a better term, "boy-crazy" pretty much my entire life. I distinctly remember my first kindergarten crush (who is also the main character in the only recurring dream I've ever had) and almost all of my puppy love episodes since then. Off the top of my head, I can count about 30 crushes from just my first 9 years of formal education. That's more than 3 boys per year!

My third grade portrait

In high school and college, similar patterns were evident, though I started becoming slightly more selective in my crushing. Much of that growth can be credited to the time my high school boyfriend and I were together. Our relationship taught me how to distinguish attraction/fascination from actual compatibility. It also taught me that although giddy butterflies and twitterpation are really fun, mere infatuation is nowhere near as great as real, tried-and-true, well-worked-for yet comfortable and natural love.

*Side note: I kind of wish it were possible to experience First Love again, because it's amazing. But I'm also grateful to have already had that opportunity, and for pretty much every detail about it.

Anyhow, to this day, I still find it easy to become extremely fond of people after very little time, which, as I've written before, is both a blessing and a curse. It's really amazing to be able to recognize and appreciate the good in people so easily . . . but repeatedly letting myself "fall in love," so to speak, can be exhausting.

As you might expect based on the ridiculous number of crushes I've had, the majority of my great loves over the years have been unreturned, so I've learned a thing or two about rejection. Sometimes I was "rejected" because I didn't even make an effort toward expressing interest, whether that was for lack of self-confidence or a bummed-out understanding that the chemistry just wasn't there. Other times, the rejection was more forthright, as it came in kind response to my more valiant efforts (e.g., the famous four-page long "You're the noodles in my spaghetti, you're the syrup on my waffles, you're the sugar on my frosted flakes" note that I wrote in seventh grade. . . . Those metaphors are direct quotations from the letter, FYI. I still don't know where I got the nerve to actually deliver that thing.)

The point is, to my knowledge, I've been the crusher a heck of a lot more than I've been the crushee. That used to be a major slam to my self esteem, until I realized that my worth is not measured in the amount of affection I get from others. Plus, it's not that I wasn't good enough for these guys, but that I wasn't good (meaning "right") for them. Or that they weren't good for me. And when it all boils down, I'm only going to end up with one, so why get heartbroken or angry when another possibility that wasn't meant to work out anyway gets crossed off the list?

The pain of being rejected by a crush is only skin-deep.

In my extensive experience as a lovesick girl, I've learned that sometimes love feels exciting. Other times it feels difficult, confusing, agonizing, awkward, or just plain sucky. But opening your heart and loving people is always a good thing—even in the face of rejection. I'm sure one day I'll find the perfect kind, witty, musical, knowledge-thirsty, hand-holding, Nacho-quoting, dog-loving, uninhibited-dancing man for me. But in the meantime, I don't mind letting my heart ride roller-coasters with a few of the others I encounter.

So to all my adorable, fun, smart, talented, goofy, kind, charming friends who never liked me "like that," thank you for earning the title of Crush by doing just that with my heart. Whether I confessed my affections in person, stuck a sappy love note written with neon gel pens in your locker, declared it in one quick sentence before blushingly logging off of AIM or Yahoo! Messenger, or just hid my feelings entirely, you have been part of my love education, getting me one tiny step closer to Real Love each time.

Happy Valentine's Day!