Eternal Optimist

So it's Valentine’s Day. 

You're either enjoying this night with someone you love, or you're on the internet. Since I'm on the internet team for the (redacted) straight year, I may as well try to be productive. Today, I aim to inspire. I'm writing the advice column that no one ever sent me. I'm writing for the saddest group of people at home today: the kids with an unspoken crush. Fine, second saddest. The recently widowed are probably worse off tonight.

Unless they just met Chaz. Source.

As an eternal optimist, the lost cause is very important to me. This particular lost cause is especially close to my heart. I've lived every version of the "best friend" archetype that Hollywood has put on film. As a veteran of the both the unrequited love and undying longing games, I'm well qualified to pass some sound advice on to the next generation. As the song goes, I wish that I knew what I know now, when I was younger. The following is the first letter from Joey to the “nice guys”:

So losers, let's talk about why you're alone tonight. Let's talk about the girl.

You know which girl.

When you walk into a room she’s the first person you see. It seems like lights shine a little bit brighter around her, or does she just glow? Somehow she's in sharper focus. She makes you want to succeed, and feel like you can. She can make you laugh or cry with barely a glance. She’s a collection of contradictions. You're terrified to be around her, and starving for her when she's not near. She makes you feel witty, all while dumbfounding you. When she smiles your stomach knots up with nerves, but you also become weightless.

The two minutes it takes her to return your texts last longer than the dinosaurs roamed the Earth. You ignore your other friends. You lose sleep over her at night and day dream about her in class. This girl has unwittingly built a summer home in your subconscious. She's the most powerful person in your life. She can make you cross state lines, forget to eat dinner, and write terrible poetry. She makes you question who you really are at your very core.

She doesn't have to be classically gorgeous. You may even fight with your friends over whether or not she's pretty. This isn't an archetype thing; it's not always the prom queen. She can be Mary Jane or Lois Lane. A tom-boy or a valley-girl. It's different for everyone, and that's the point. She is the specific combination of parts that make up the person you didn't dare to dream existed. 

Now that you know who I'm talking about, I'm going to tell you what to do.

Tell her.

Tell her that she's all you think about. Tell her how much you care. Tell her you'd treat her like royalty. Tell her you're the best man for her, and you know with every fiber of your being that she's the best woman for you. Tell her you'd be incredible together. Tell her about the moment that you figured all of this out. Then tell her about all of the moments since then that have proven your theory. Tell her it’s the weirdest thing that you can't stop talking, even though you're positive you stopped breathing ten minutes ago. Tell her you've never been more certain of anything in your life.

Just tell her.

I do feel that at this point that I should warn you, it won’t work. The impassioned speech is the biggest lie Hollywood has sold us. A more fabulous fib than Clint Eastwood's accuracy, Sly Stallone's muscles, and the future having flying cars. People just don't talk that way. It doesn't matter how many times you practice your monologue in front of the mirror or in your car. When you finally find the cajones to say it to her face, you're going to skip some stuff. Your voice will falter. You'll realize halfway through that you sound like an unstoppable serial killer/stalker hybrid that was born specifically to scare this shit out of this girl.

WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME??? Source.

And even if you nailed it, she still isn't going to say what you want to hear. The reasons may be different: she's moving, she already has a boyfriend, she's only attracted to Asians... doesn't matter. The point is, for all of their terrifyingly squishy parts, women aren't really all that different from men. If she wanted to be with you as much as you wanted to be with her, the two of you would already be together. 

So why am I advising Seppuku? Kamikazi? A third Far-East term for suicide mission? I have three reasons. First: have you ever made a bad decision on purpose? I mean really sought out doing something you knew would be a negative. I'm not talking about using crystal meth or anything, just a little decision that you knew was the wrong one. Maybe you stayed up until 3AM on a school night, had a midnight snack at Mickey D’s, or Facebook creeped on an old flame. Most of the time these actions would only give you a headache, stomachache, and heartache respectively; but sometimes they can be empowering. Taking yourself in a negative direction can be the ultimate proof of free will. "Look how badly I can screw myself" may not be a battle cry to aspire to, but at least it proves you can still shout.

Ok, so you’re too smart for self-destruction on that scale? Fine. Let’s talk about honesty. If this girl thinks you’re just her BFF, then you’re lying to her. And more damagingly, you’re lying to yourself. Pretending you’re happy when you aren’t, and bottling excess emotions up isn’t healthy for you. Aside from the many terrible side-effects of stress, you’re screwing up your expectations for future relationships. Whether it’s in the form of learned helplessness, or deep seated anger and resentment; the built up emotions will sabotage you for years.

This is what you're doing to yourself. Plus, you made me explain my joke. You suck. Source.

So let’s say you’ve considered my previous points and you’re willing to deal with those consequences of hiding your true feelings. It’s cool, I’ve got an ace in the hole. The question, “What if?” The same two words that brought us the atomic bomb, are the ones that will burrow into your brain and attach themselves to her memory. Every day you see her face it will be your first thought. Long after you’ve graduated it will still be there in the back of your mind, taunting you with the thoughts of what might have been. That sadistic, masochistic, circuitous mind game is what makes “What if?” the most destructive phrase in the English language.

Also, I lied. I have one more reason for you to tell her. It’s the same reason teams throw up Hail Marys, half-court shots, or pull the goalie. It’s the thing that sustains us in our darkest hours. It’s the most important word to the eternal optimist. It’s four powerful letters that allow us to believe that everything will turn out ok.

Hope.

Machak's Six Mix:

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