10 August 2011

The Final Three Years

It's a funny feeling.  It was almost exactly three years ago that Hannah and I officially started dating.  I can still only remember the good parts, though that's bound to change.

The last three years have been a learning experience for sure.  I've met so many people who have impacted my life, those who have endowed me with bits of their wisdom which I am attempting to mold together into wisdom of my own.  I've loved, I've lost, I've learned what is really important to me and what is just fluff.  I've learned what I need and I can live without.

I know that "You can do it!" is leading in my poll by quite a bit, which was my plan regardless of that outcome, so the sudden change may seem curious.  I am a very proud boy.  To the surprise of some, I'll admit it's my greatest flaw.  The romantics I know will accuse my of letting pride get in the way of what "could be", but I would say it is more self-respect attempting to protect me than pride.

I explained how Hannah called me the morning she was released, and how confused I've been since.  That call still remains the only time Hannah has initiated contact in the weeks that she's been home.  After this weeks get together we've seen each other on four separate occasions.  Usually if a woman is not initiating contact after the first time I write them off, with Hannah however, between our history and her condition, I allowed for some lee-way, but my patience has been quickly sapped.

I am told that you have to open yourself up and be vulnerable for a relationship to develop.  I agree, but I will not become a yuppie, and any woman who requires me to become so to earn her attention is not my type.  I'm only human, I need reinforcement of some kind, and instead the last two rendezvous have actually moved in reverse, I haven't even received the obligatory, awkward side-hug since the homecoming.

Where do I go from here?  Who knows what my fate has in-store.  There's a movie quote that always brings me comfort that I'd like to share before I go, which, in a way, strangely parallels the final three years:

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