Sunday, June 5, 2011

Time to Reevaluate the Mandy Situation

Since there have yet to be any exterior feedback/comments (I give myself feedback often but that doesn't really count), I have no idea how YOU (the reader) take to my posts about this person named Mandy. Mandy is a real person, around my age, and the most amazing girl I know. She is beautiful, kind, funny, and a Christian. I have written considerably about her before, either explicitly or mentioned her in one of my posts (here, or here, or pretty much anywhere with a "Mandy" tag). In short, I am in love with her.

Yet this sentiment thus far has been relatively one sided. Despite what I perceive to be a form of reciprocity when we first met, this has lately become a one-way street. It involved mostly conversions via Google Gtalk (thank you Google!) for almost 2 (?) years. Our predicament climaxed at the end of last year, when I (shyly) presented with a gift and a note and was returned a straightforward email saying she did not feel the same. It was a heartbreaking revelation at the time but I, always the optimist, still held onto the faint hope that her sentiment would change in the future. Given our limited interactions as of late --a result of us living in different cities-- it has been difficult to gauge the plausibility of this so-called "dream". But an occurrence earlier today has pushed me to reevaluate our situation --and present it in this blog post.

While I attribute the quality of kindness to Mandy, it is an assigned quality out of my observations only. In our interactions, what I experienced have been a rough split between apathy and "engaged interest" (it means whatever you think it means). Perhaps out of my shyness, it has mostly involved an exchange of pleasantries and nothing else. Yet earlier today, I was shown a very concrete expression of her current sentiment toward me. This occurred as a I walking out of our church meeting room: she unexpectedly joined into the caravan of people I was walking with, I greeted her ("Hi Mandy"), she greeted back ("Hi____, how are you?"), but before I had a chance to respond, she had speedily walked to the front of the caravan and eventually out of sight. I was just shocked by this quick encounter. My immediate reaction is that her action showed a complete lack of interest in me -- to be point of not even bothering to have a conversation. On second thoughts, she might have been in a hurry but this succinct experience has nonetheless been traumatizing. In other words, it was heartbreaking to the person you have fallen for be so...cold. I think now that I should have better heeded my previous realization about the situation.

In more ways than one, I have thought Mandy as a surmountable wall and not a locked door. The difference between the two is that, while a wall can be climbed over, a locked door cannot be passed through -- unless one wishes to break down the door entirely. For a while now, the Mandy in my eyes has been analogous to a brick wall I have to scale over; and brick walls are there to give people an opportunity to show how truly (or badly) we want something. But I am really beginning to think that a locked door is a more realistic analogy. The truth is, I am powerless over our situation and her every indication lately (after taking off my metaphorical tinted lenses) that she does not like me. Perhaps not even as a friend.

And I don't blame her. She did not ask to be included in my numerous schemes or in situations where she'd have to interact with her. For the most part, I was the culprit behind those so-called opportunities. In her reply email last year, she gave a direct verbalization that she did not feel the same about me. Yet I have egged myself on. Revoking another Great Expectations quotation, I feel just like Pip when he was told by Estella that he would quickly forget her:

"Out of my thoughts! You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read, since I first came here, the rough common boy whose poor heart you wounded even then. You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since -- on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets. You have been the embodiment of every graceful fancy that my mind has ever become acquainted with. The stones of which the strongest London buildings are made, are not more real, or more impossible to be displaced by your hands, than your presence and influence have been to me, there and everywhere, and will be. Estella, to the last hour of my life, you cannot choose but remain part of my character, part of the little good in me, part of the evil. But, in this separation I associate you only with the good, and I will faithfully hold you to that always, for you must have done me far more good than harm, let me feel now what sharp distress I may. O God bless you, God forgive you!'"

It dawned on me (for the second time) that we are likely to be worlds apart, in spite of being seemingly so close and so alike. In this unhappy ecstasy of a blog post, maybe I am really like Pip and she really is Estella -- that we will never be together. I will inevitably continue to see her, but must practice what I preached about in the "Limerence" post. It is time to be thankful for all the experiences I have had with her and...move on. There is always hope -- but it appears to be a fool's hope.

[My apologies about this wordy and emo-esque rant about a situation. I am sure my situation is not unique, but sometimes it is helpful to put in words.]

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